#nicadani

[brightbluezeniths]

|| Under the pink sky ||

Was supposed to be posted yesterday, but the internet was acting up ;; for @brinthie , even though you've probably read this already (:

Muichirou Tokitou x reader

Of fluff and pink in the setting sun,

The clouds like to have lots of fun.

Swirling and dancing to the tune of the wind,

The ones who watch are enraptured within.

<>●<>●<>●<>

A deep breath he took, and looked up. A mission had ended successfully, and he’d went through it with relative ease. It was effortless how he was able to slash the demon’s neck and sustaining no injuries, but now it was time to report to the master.

The sky had been dyed a lovely light pink by the setting sun, showcasing its lovely colors by spreading them around in wonderful splashes. The clouds were no different, taking the sky’s fluctuating hues and painting them on their own canvases, leaving them in fragments of orange, yellow, and pink.

Beautiful and stunning, like how he finds… how he finds who again?

“Muichirou!” a melodious voice came to his ears, breaking him out of his little trance. He looked to her, and ah, there she was.

Her. His childhood friend that he had come to love and cherish. He wouldn’t show it, he couldn’t, for he often forgot about who she was and why she was with him, but he subconsciously leaned towards her for comfort and company. Thankfully, he remembered her in this time.

Well, pieces of her at least.

He stared at her for a moment, “What was your name again? You look familiar…”

She laughed softly, reminding him of merrily chirping birds and the gentle rustling of leaves. He liked it. “It’s (Name)! How was your mission?”

She smiled at him, and his heart flapped around like a bird begging to be released. “The mission? It… it went well, I guess.”

Truth be told, he doesn’t know since his memory eludes him. He’s simply telling her the summary. He doesn’t remember much about his dearest childhood friend, but all he knows is that he’s fond of her and he won’t question that little piece of knowledge.

“That’s great!” she chirped, chipper like the tweeting bird, “You didn’t get hurt?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Well then, let’s go back to Oyakata-sama and report about our missions!”

After, they started their journey back to their beloved Master to tell them of their happenings. Along the way, (Name) told what happened in her mission, which was coincidentally in a nearby town from his place.

It would sound awfully corny to say this out loud, but even though her stories and chatter weren’t too interesting, he liked listening to the sound of her voice. It wasn’t too high of a frequency and not too low to be mistaken for a man, it was a perfect blend. It was very pleasant to the ears in his opinion.

It was one of the reasons he wants to be able to protect her at all costs. Her pleasant voice, her shiny (color) eyes, her soft (color) skin, and her lovely (color) hair…

He was in love, and he knew it. Though he wouldn’t dare to admit it, he knew it was there, and that’s that.

He knew that his feelings were reciprocated anyway, so what’s the point of causing a fuss?

He took her hand is his and relished in the smile that resulted and the warmth that he felt. The skin was a bit calloused and rough due to numerous hardships, but so was his.

‘For her, any hardship I’ll go through.’

Admittedly, he forgot her name again, but he can ask another time.

They walked back to the Master, hand in hand, and below the pink sky.

<>●<>●<>●<>

The sky that was blooming like cherry blossoms,

Had a lot in its mind to say.

But never anything against the love that blossoms,

Under the light of day.

[ashblackcallas]

|| Fire ||

Fire, it is a beautiful thing,

for its graceful dance is fascinating,

and its fiery embers enthralling—

even as it burns to ashes, everything.

The danger is in its beauty—

the beautiful sways of the flames.

It hypnotizes you in its haze,

as its glowing embers spin away.

[anthropocentrik]

one of two.

ft. @taeilyoo & @nicadanis

there was nothing quite like the experience of knocking on someone's door, guitar in hand, while tidied up in a suit and tie. it felt like prom night all over again. everything seemed better then—more permanent and constant. life was perfectly assembled by routine. sure, he was pulled in opposite directions round-the-clock but it's what kept him upright. nowadays, every deed, every task, every feeling was fragmented; waxing and waning. life itself has ceased to operate as a coherent whole nor a linear experience. he has loved his memory of childhood for so long and so dearly that its foundation would crumble like rotten wood at any attempt in seeing things for what it is. he lays the blame for the termites at the feet of time, or at least his brain does.

breathe, haru. breathe.

the trees danced into the welcome frosty whispers, each branches bare and clean, naked in their bold brown hues. february was kinder, the promise of horizon-rested springtime nestling closer to the tells of green leaves and farther from the wintry wind. he didn't mind the wait and he wasn't so cold either, considering his body's sympathetic response to the adrenaline release. any longer he stays out and his armpits would be embellished with a circle stain of sweat. he's hoping she's out before then because the suit was only borrowed after all.

after what felt like an eternity of pacing back and forth, and cycling through thoughts of nostalgia to distract himself from the shakes, the door finally opens. he's greeted by rosy stains and quivers, soft glitter like moonlight on the sea, a woman so sublime in every way. the day before, haru did wonder how he had never thought of dohee in any way other than a friend. they've known each other for years. in fact, she was one of the very few of his closest friends. and yet, he was nervous just before this moment. maybe even more now.

breathe, haru!

with the clear of his throat, he's back to earth. "look at you." he teased, though he truly did admire the ensemble she had picked out for herself. the riff of look at you girl by chris ledoux plays in his head and he hums out loud to it. his hands instinctively positions his guitar then his fingers strum to the melody. "just look at you, girl, standin' here beside me. starlight on your hair, lookin' like a dream i dreamed somewhere." he sings along, swaying his body while sporting a cheeky grin, and communicating with his eyes for her to follow suit. and she does, as this was their dynamic since the beginning of time. the pair's bond had been hinged into haru's existence as one endowed from both their passion for music. they were born with a number of vibrations which their sadness brings into relief. they carry within them all the music they have never heard in their lives, which lies at the bottom of the abyss of memory. they had even formed a band together, as every teenager’s rockstar dream.

what's the occasion? a wedding. he doesn't remember the last time he had attended one. it was good material for writing, but not good enough to go out of his way. people watching was accessible and required no effort apart from leaving the comfort of his home. attending weddings meant he had to actually make friends, outside of the connections he had relevant for work. he was equally uninterested in that as he was about dating, or as he keeps assuring himself anyway. again, to dispel his doubts on needing more regular human contact, he persuades his mind to think he only needed dohee among a few others. she would probably gladly agree, jokingly or not. so arm in arm, they arrive at this event.

the ceremony was unremarkable to say the least. the scale of it frivolous. to haru, that is. to the bride and groom, this must have been a dream come true. they detail their first meeting, emphasising that this man was her ideal type, as if he had just marked off a check list. haru thought it was shallow, but he decides to spare dohee with his reign of dread. he's thinking she's enjoying this, somewhat. they barely spoke about matters of the heart, but he could see her smiling every so often. he unknowingly mirrored it each time. 

the reception was spent cheek by jowl, not leaving each other apart from the periodic restroom visits. but it only takes dohee one trip for haru to get approached by a stranger. taeil was his name. it wasn't everyday that haru meets someone so forward. maybe it was the copious amounts of liquor, which makes him see the appeal of wedding parties. things were free and served in excess. but it had also been a while since he last laughed this much. the feeling lingers and he starts to think through a screen, embedding the memories as if they were being recorded. he was on the outside looking in and the pages of the script were being laid out squarely. his attention had been stolen and dohee was left sidelined, haru doesn't even realise. 

the rest of the night went on, conversations piling along with the alcohol, overriding some of the words exchanged as an effect of the intoxicant. next thing you know, haru has the ink of a marker lined through his skin and around his ring finger. it was almost like a prank, but taeil's proposal sounded so sincere in the moment. haru does the unthinkable and says yes. taeil does the unexpected and announces their little agreement, which he thought would stay private at least for the night, but it doesn't take a second longer. haru's hysterical laughter from two ticks ago turned into an awkward one as he finds himself standing in the middle of the crowd of snickering critics.

party's cut short when taeil starts to threaten the lives of everyone involved in the mockery and they leave the premises with just the two of them. caring for the drunk man that stood five centimeters taller than haru was too hectic for him to remember who and what he came there for. he essentially spends the night babysitting his future husband, the guy he met just a few minutes short of three hours ago. what the day that comes next held for the newly engaged couple, he tried predicting restlessly in bed as they both laid. aside from the soul-muddling snores that would occasionally disrupt the contemplation, the rest was hazy. 

haru wakes up practically naked, disoriented, and just looking for answers the messy room nor his sleeping 'fiancé' could explain.

[eclipsenoir]

Idiot's guide on how to get engaged. Part two: Effect.

(refs x, x) featuring @anthropocentrik & @nicadanis

It's saturday evening, and suspended between pale, late february skies and the humming earth below, was a momentary sprinkle of snow.

Taeil has been standing in the middle of his bedroom for as long as he can't bother to remember, statued on long legs as though the weather has frozen him in time. A steaming mug of tea silently counts the minutes–hours instead, and weighs his palms as flickering thoughts do his mind.

On the window frame, snow gathers into a soft ensemble. And through the thick glass, arms of moonshine lay outstretched in a chase after his bare back. He feels his nape flush and tingle at the feeling. But if he even registers that strange, brittle touch stroking icicles along his spine, he doesn't show it. He just clutches around the drink, blinks at the suit laid out on his bed and thinks.

Stuck on a page written since four years ago, Taeil wonders about his age and the expectations written between the lines of it. He counts with a dull nail rapping against the base of his mug, how many of the umpteenth times his mother had tried to coax from him any existence of a girl he could remember off the top of his head. I'm getting old, she would say gently, I want to brag about my son's beautiful wedding someday soon. Though he told it with his own mouth, the voice that always lied to her never sounded like his own. Like it rose from someone else's chest, whispered off in the far distance. I'm too busy for that.

He gulps down tea every time a thought passes, as though they were the wispy clouds chasing each other at witness of the moon slashed in the sky outside.

An unfair timeline, posing as an ideal no one human could possibly abide to. Love and it's complexities; of what they personally mean to him. The temperature of his tea drops a bit more, but that incredible degree of sureness Hansol might've felt as he proposed the idea of forever back then starts to bleed into the back of his lids. If he'd ever come across it with a lover himself, or missed the opportunity entirely, Taeil couldn't tell. Is it even as real as we make it?

Hansol had asked him to prepare a speech when they'd met some weeks back. Talk about us, he'd said, expectant. How so? Taeil asked. About their friendship, in relation to the way his friend loves was the final agreement. Taeil had agreed to it, while knowing that by the time he'd run out of words, part of his soul would be left agape. Torn from his roots by his own bare hands, laid out in exposure for the world to grasp at how it pleases. But for a friend as good as this, he'd always endure it.

With his last sip, Taeil finally settles at the foot of his bed, joints grinding in a crackle-pop. Comfort slips back under the bed as the mug falls cold and empty. Hansol and his fiancé had made him this mug for Christmas last year, in a pottery class somewhere in Yeonnam-dong. Hansol says you collect these without knowing you do. Taeil remembers tearing through the snowman flecked wrapping. We thought we'd make you another one for that collection. Thank you, Taeil had murmured. The girl smiled, plump with delight.

It's a heavy thing, the mug, since they made it large and thick to fit and protect the hands it were made for. It'd easily become a monthly favourite.

Taeil's eyebrows knit together at the charming memory, then slant downward as a hostile upwelling of what feels dangerously close to resentment surfaces from the depths. They're hardly in his life anymore, yet reminders like this still linger. Why is that? Were they solely a product of his imagination, or were they as tangible as a scalding mug? Dulcet as a lover's kiss?

Impulsively, he releases the dense cup from his fingers and hopes it does what he needs it to. It hangs in the air for an excruciating interval, though like sensing Taeil's intentions and how regret would wreck him later on, it disappoints with a soft thud as it hits the polished floor between his feet. A far cry from shattering.

As innocent as an object could get, it rolls clumsily until interrupted by the handle, stopping where the moon kisses a silver sliver on the floor. His puppy, who'd been lounging nearby, draws near on all fours for a sniff.

Anticlimactic, and a balm to his bitterness. It brings him back to earth, where he sighs with sudden exhaustion. Loneliness weighs his bed with its knees and pulls him back into his pillows, and Taeil simply obliges–settles for a dreamless sleep. But as rarely as they come, tonight, he dreams: of plunging his fingers into the earth and gripping an earthquake in his palms. Of never letting go.

—---—

Taeil never minded a freezing cold morning. He liked watching his breath smoke through the air, and tasting pinpricks on his tongue every time he spoke in and out of turn. The breeze catches in your lashes, flaps at the bill of a hat and ices tears across the cheeks of weeping children. It also intertwines between fingers like a lover not wanting to stray too far, and hides with coy intent underneath long, quivering coats and padded jackets. Coming along with it, illness. Or worse–that relentless sense of inner solace that can be bandaged only after the passing of snow.

Most, it drives where warmth can defrost the creeping numbness in their limbs, soothe the ache in their hearts; usually where the fragrant scent of grinded coffee beans and baked bread stirs harmoniously in the air, if not tucked further under the covers.

For today in particular, the cold morning brings with it love. Unconditionally, and forevermore.

The ceremony unravels around them like a peacock fluffing out its iridescent tail. Nothing short of ethereal, suave and composed. Taeil witnesses the beginning of a beautiful journey within the featherweight steps of a pianist as she graces her tiny side-stage, sweeps her black satin dress to the side with confidence and sits with her hands braced, ever so gently, over the polished keys.

The world withholds a breath, and a second of suspense shivers across the entirety of the wedding hall before the pianist begins to play. The band bracketed along the edge of the stage follows her lead shortly after, an elegant chorus of cellos and violins unraveling into a sonata Taeil can't name, but appreciates nonetheless.

Flanking the centered aisle are two elongated tables, stretching as far as the eyes can see, black tablecloth neatly draped over them for the obvious purpose of blending in with the meticulously lighted venue. Reserved for an explosion of brass candelabra that are flocked by fresh arrangements of flowers each. Parallel across the ceiling hang long strings of fairy lights that remind Taeil of the wispy arms of a wisteria tree. The air conditioned breeze pushes so subtly against them that their swaying goes easily unnoticed–as though rain had come to a pause in time overhead, curious of what becomes of the world before the initial splatter.

A brief introduction from the host delicately plucks the groom from backstage. Hansol ascends the back end of the aisle, achilles heels chased by a spotlight. As if purely drawn to him by nature, radiance accentuates his refined beauty and opulence of the tux enveloping his broadness, as smooth and black as a starless evening sky. The entire venue greets him with a vibrant, deafening tide of a round of applause, and with the regality only a prince could muster, Hansol drops into a humble bow.

Taeil claps his hands so hard he's almost surprised they don't kindle fire by the time he's finished cheering for the bride, who appears a few heartbeats later. More beautiful than Taeil ever could've admitted of her before, she's fitted in a dress that embodies the polar opposite of Hansol's suit. Taeil marvels in awe at how it shudders and pleats around itself as she clears the stage to her husband to-be; equivalent to a whirlwind of shimmering stars, or a condensed supernova. Rested on the stiff volume of her crown, a delicate tiara skewers the air, perfectly compatible and present as her star-dress.

Together, they're the beginning of an end, and the end of a beginning. A dark knight who'd swallowed an erupting star in his arms.

A searing kiss seals the enchanting promise of forever between the young lovers, and simultaneously deepens the fresh gap arching in Taeil's soul. Like twisting a knife in a fresh stab wound, it deepens and weeps. When the time to congratulate comes again, Taeil claps with every ounce of bittersweet bliss he'd gathered at home and brought with him within the reserve in his heart.

In his head, he pretends his hands are mallets and his pain hovers between them, and with each thunderous strike, he's being forged whole again. Even if he knows it's not so simple.

Ten minutes, the announcer says. He has ten minutes before reception to somehow turn the bitter film on his tongue around and stitch away the pit. To find a silver lining.

So ten minutes before reception officially begins, Taeil harrows a waiter for a shot of whiskey he thinks he desperately needs. I'm afraid we don't have whiskey, sir, the young man says politely, likely trying to avoid trouble for premature labour. What kind of wedding doesn't come with at least a single bottle of Jack Daniels, Taeil says with a quiet ferocity that wins him the discussion. The waiter folds himself in a curt, yet apologetic bow, and returns two minutes later with a proper whiskey on the rocks.

Unhesitating, Taeil downs it with his eyes hard-pressed on wisteria lights he'd been staring at for almost two hours. He blames the tears that cling to his lashes on the agonizing, knife-cut burning sliding down to the bottom of his throat.

Immediately after reception officially begins, Taeil briefly excuses himself from the table for three and goes to find Byeol. Framed in a barstool and the midst of gulping down free rosé wine, Byeol looks the same as he always did since Taeil had first met him in high school; clad in a sharp poise, his shoulders squared and his hair a stylish sprawl on his head. He's blonde now, but somehow, Taeil swears he could recognize that small head anywhere.

A pang of overwhelming nostalgia seizes Taeil's bleeding heart in a joyful interlude.

He goes for the shoulder, dropping a sudden, firm clap on the stern shaping of it. Squeezing hard. Startling, the hyung almost chokes around his next sip, if he doesn't spill it first. A humourless smirk climbs his plain, youthful features once recognition visibly settles in his consciousness–in those brown, tiger eyes of his. With a fox's mischief, Taeil responds with a cheeky smile.

"Doing drugs I see."

"Really?" Byeol starts, a rapid-fire string of blinking fanning out his blatant incredulity, "That's the first thing that comes to mind when you get to see me for the first time in almost two years?"

"For what reasons would you dye your hair blonde other than all that's suspicious?" Taeil considers him for a moment longer, then says, obnoxiously, "Even your fucking eyebrows. It suits you, though."

This earns him a flat grin, which dusts off another shelved memory in Taeil's head. Byeol's smiles, no matter the volume, always crescented his eyes. Taeil could never figure out if it were because of the swell in his rounded cheeks, or the broad grins he always had to offer. Like unsheathing a secret weapon from his sleeve, his boyish joy could slice a heart tender.

Finally, Byeol chastely elbows the younger in the ribs. "You were always such a pain in the ass."

"So were you... But I missed you, hyung. It's nice to finally see you again."

"Likewise. And great speech, man." Byeol says, "Didn't know you could talk like you have a girlfriend trapped some thousand miles away from you, and can only express your debilitating pining through writing her letters."

"Thanks." Fondness uncoils inside Taeil, tender as a bruise. As though following a sort of instinct, he slots an arm around Byeol's shoulders, "You were my inspiration, since that really does sound like us."

"Please, you might be huge but if anything, you'd be the girlfriend."

"I agree, actually. So tell me, boyfriend, about the kinda' drugs you've been doing."

This time when Byeol elbows him, he really makes it count.

Five more shots of hard whiskey and a glass of champagne are enough to introduce blinding disorientation. Byeol made drinking in excess dangerously easy, and Taeil was sure that if the hyung hadn't the need to drive himself home without an accident, they would've galloped into a rate that likely could result in them passing out at the bar. Or tag teaming the bartender if he were to start refusing them any more drinks.

With a feline's politesse, the latter eyeballs Taeil from below his curved eyelashes as he fills one last glass goblet with champagne, which Taeil had demanded be expensive. Emboldened by Byeol's splitting, Taeil saw the ten percent chance of his ability to carry six—one for each shot of whiskey he'd taken so far—by himself with an extra zero, poorly drawn at the end. So he'd ordered six of them for no one in particular, just to prove a point.

He sprawls out lengthy fingers and fits delicately carved stem necks up to the crevices and, with a considerable amount of faith in himself, lifts them off the bar counter. Gravity betrays him as they immediately stagger and spill some, costing the exasperated bartender his sanity, surely. But without a single care left to give, Taeil squares his shoulders and walks away with champagne a haphazard spill down his suit sleeve.

Like this he circles the guest area twice with an infinitesimal slowness that spares his head a spin, before he names himself confidently lost. With so much whiskey thickening his blood and the wetness now sticking to his arms, he would rather sit with a stranger anyway. One of them in particular, actually.

After having passed him once with a stunning girl hooked to his left, the second time Taeil circles back on burning heels, he finds him alone. Another blonde boy, jagged hair a shade darker than Byeol's and showing signs of overgrowth at the roots. In his head, Taeil convinces himself that this was fate's handiwork, if only to grant himself more courage to approach. Plus his wrists are starting to tire.

"Hey. Do you need some company? I do."

Sporting a coquettish grin, Taeil greets with the tone of a man who's already known the other for many years before. The champagne spills a lick one last time as he dismounts them on the table's surface. "Pardon my Italian, but if I don't drink all these, the bartender will probably find my address and come beat my ass. Help me out?"

Haru, he calls himself. And successfully pushes Taeil further into the clutch of his confusion about what it is with modern day musicians and dyeing their hairs in fifty shades of pasta.

They fall into each other with the ease of a biscuit being buttered, even if the conversation initially ranges on the typical side. Inevitably, Taeil understands, as there was no other way to break the ice between two strangers at a wedding but to introduce themselves, and talk about the tedious. But he's also well acquainted with the virtues of giving volume to flat things.

Haru smiles warmly, and soon after, Taeil discovers he has an equally rich laugh. In his blurry drunkenness, he reminds Taeil of pleasant summer days. The blazing sun baking his cheeks tan, pronouncing the freckles on his face and back. The smear of a soft-serve melting faster across his knuckles than he can eat it. Squeezing clammy palms together in midst of trapping a sunset within a kiss.

Most of these pleasantries would be lost by morning to plot holes in his memory, full pages torn in the middle of a long journal entry. Taeil almost considers mourning this fact as their absorption wears on in between pauses for breath, an excess of champagne and him meeting the lovely girl Haru had brought with him. Dani, a stunning young woman who makes a lot more sense at Haru's side than he ever would.

But then, spending the fraction of a second staring at Haru's hand with his jaded eyes, a brilliance occurs to Taeil. Epiphany wholly encouraged by intoxication alone, as he abandons all logic under-fire of alcohol. If the casuals will only be but a speck tomorrow, why not attach some extravagance to it, and while at that, a name? So it would be more memorable. Tangible, even.

After all, this was a wedding. Glorious and formal at every angle anyone could peer at it from. An event fit for the celebration of love, which was something to be found at any given second, if the illusion of free will ever allowed it to be. And just like Hansol and his wife invited them to share this moment, every other one of them should count as well.

In his chest, his heart begins to gallop as a mad horse at mercy of swelling adrenaline. While the world flocks and flails around them with indistinct chatter–less than a blot caused by spilled ink to Taeil, he turns his entirety to Haru and pins Haru's palm against the table with his own. Their pulses intertwine, and it sends the soft, fleeting hairs at the back of his neck into a bristling frenzy–a flash of lightning cutting through his veins.

Sitting straight, the corners of his mouth curl towards heaven. "I have a fine idea."

The chair almost flips over from him standing, and he wobbles on the way down to the knee that doesn't mysteriously ache every evening. All throughout, he awkwardly brings Haru's hand along, even when he rummages through the manpurse strapped across his chest for a sharpie.

"Earlier I circled this room twice, but every time I came back around, I could only look at you. I think that means something special, right? Sorry, Dani." Taeil's tongue lulls around his pronunciation, lisp thicker than usual, but his eyes hold a sort of obscure sincerity in them that he won't be able to explain by breakfast. He uncaps the sharpie, spits the cap itself at Haru's feet and draws a shaky circle around the circumference of his ring finger.

"For what it's worth, I'm asking your date to marry me. Will you, Haru?"

After Haru's earnest acceptance, the world starts to spin and transition much too quickly than he can keep up with, from a serene stillness to a jarring haste, like a running scene filmed handheld. The beautiful venue spirals out of his grasp, until Haru is the only thing left. The waxing moon their witness.

Next thing he knows, he wakes with morning knocking on his eyelids, a skull-splitting hangover that renders him completely useless, and a blanket hogger for a fiancé. If it weren't for him being right there, Taeil would've thought that the sun had hopped out of the sky and plummeted all the way into his bed.

For the first time since his first shot from yesterday, Taeil searches for the gap in his soul and finds it there still. Except no longer does it weep, or throb as much. Probably this guy's doing, he thinks, as he watches him wake with remnants of their night still whole on him.

Might this be sort of forever his good friend Hansol was talking about?

[brightbluezeniths]

a tomato and a popsicle ;w;

[brightbluezeniths]

Be kind as Heaven and strong as Hell.

—absolutely-rational

[brightbluezeniths]

Rengokuwu Kyoujurou. Huehue.

[ashblackcallas]

|| A moment in bed ||

A little oneshot of a couple.

Warning: There might be some triggering stuff, for this oneshot features a yandere.

2k words.

<>●<>●<>●<>

The sun set ablaze to the sleeping sky and torched it down with its restless flames. With this moment, the world was awoken. Sunlight eagerly bounced off every single crevice it could reach. It travelled down the mountains and pushed through the forests until it found itself sneaking into the household of an interwoven couple, who were still in the realm of dreams, and caressed their countenance gently, as if trying to nudge them awake. It lingered and lingered, until one of them was awoken by its warm presence.

The male stirred lightly, mindful of his lightly snoring lover, of whom he embraced from behind with a hold that seemed like he thought she could disappear if he does so much as adjust his grip. His eyes fluttered open slowly, revealing such deep blue seas that could put the oceans out of commission. They moved across the obsidian block of hair he loved so much and repeated the action over and over to burn its image into his mind. Sure, they had the same color of hair, but this man would argue that her hair shines more brightly than his. That it was woven from the depths of midnight, that stars were sprinkled lightly so that it could shine—

He buried his face into her hair softly and inhaled the ever-so-familiar scent that he was so infatuated with. He did it again and again to engrave it fully in his lungs. To him, the sweet and delicate scent made him experience heaven on Earth with just a whiff. He was addicted, he was sure of it. And he would gladly admit it, if ever to get another sample.

And her touch, oh her touch, her skin, and her lovely complexion. Her absolutely beautiful and caramel-like skin.

So soft and so s m ooth…

Oh, what extents he would go to just to feel her skin and against his. What he would do just to touch it, and every thing he would kill just to have a little taste. His lips went down to her nape and brushed against it tenderly. Then they went down to the nook of her neck and shoulders. In a moment of self-indulgence, his tongue flicked out and licked the soft patch of skin resting there.

There was nothing he could compare it to, how she tasted. That’s one of the things that he and the other person in his mind could agree to.

He continued slithering his tongue upwards to the base of her jawline, and kissed the still moist skin from his little ministration. He breathed out gently, trying to resist his urge to sink his teeth in her neck and taste her sweet, sw e et bl oo—

He noticed that her breathing had become a bit uneven, and was a little disheartened that this moment in bed he had with her was going to end soon. He unconsciously clenched his fist, and buried his face into the woman’s short and obsidian locks of hair, her lovely scent assaulting each and every bit of his senses.

‘If only this moment could last forever, brother…’ a voice in his mind said, vaguely sounding like his own.

It was the other person in his mind, it seemed.

The person eagerly added, ‘Scratch that, we could lock her up and have her to ourselves forever!’

Lock her up?

Have her to ourselves?

.. .Fo r ev er ?

And while he would gladly agree, he knew that he shouldn’t, for it’d be very cruel of him to keep his beloved little lotus hidden from the waters of the world, from the light, as delightful as it sounded. His beloved lotus would wilt and decay, and he wanted nothing like that to ever happen to his most precious possession. Her happiness mattered, and he knew that his little flower won’t be able to depend on him solely for that important nutrient.

‘But doesn’t it seem like a great idea?’ The voice threw at him, the offer taunting him despite his resolve being set in stone.

Great idea…

‘Well, if only it was without such dire consequences,’ he shot back, though not really disagreeing, and the voice quieted.

The woman enveloped in his arms squirmed, and he knew that he won’t be able to keep her there much longer. Unless…

Ah, yes! It was their resting period today.

And the day after.

And the day after…

A n d th e d ay aft er—

The sadness he felt earlier was a waste of feelings, it seemed. The sunlight began to pour in streams, the curtains proving useless for the bright beams of light that managed to creep in the uncovered strips of the window and disturb the stirring woman. He fixated his attention once more to the lovely visage of his precious lotus, who has probably been awoken by now.

She hummed, still a bit groggy from sleep, but he was very happy to be able to hear her voice.

“Shane, Aeron—both of you, good morning...” She greeted, sleep seeping into her tone of voice, but Shane and Aeron wouldn’t have it any other way. They adored her melodious and heavenly voice so that they would have fought monsters and devils just to feel it run through their ears and make their heart beat. Even for just a little moment.

“Good morning, Renchii. Did you get a good sleep?” Shane quietly voiced, waiting for her reply, eager to keep hearing his beloved Renchii’s mellifluous voice greeting his ears. Eager to feel it wrap around his head and make him feel more like himself.

If he could, he would make a blanket out of her voice and wrap it around himself for the whole of eternity.

She only hummed in response, and although the azure-eyed man wanted to hear more, there was always later…

She squiggled, suddenly, and squiggled and squiggled some more, until she has shifted her position entirely so that now, their faces were upon each other, and their breaths lightly mingled.

Shane, though he had already seen her face at least a few thousand times, still couldn’t get over how empyreal her visage is. Smooth and lightly blemished skin, imperfect, but still so soft and so loveable. Such plump, soft-looking, and inviting lips, ones that he would touch, kiss, and taste forever if he could…

He could go on forever. And oh, he would…

Renchii’s eyes flitted open, and Shane took a sharp intake of air. He was always like this whenever he met her eyes. Such curious murky brown depths. She could be dragging him down in the depths of the abyss right now with those eyes and he would be thanking her for it. And if he could, and he would, he would kill anyone else other than him that has dared to take a peek in those mysterious dark swamps…

Shane lifted a large hand up to her face and sweetly caressed her cheeks with his thumb. It was so soft that it could rival the very pillows they lie on. For this split-souled man, they didn’t deserve to be touched by his rough and calloused and obviously overworked hands.

Nevertheless, Renchii leaned in towards his warm palm, smiling, touched by the little gesture. She always loved his touch, always so tender and loving. Always so much warmth.

To summarize, she loved this man very much too, regardless of what surprises he brought with him. He was such a sweetheart to her, and she finds it so endearing. She loved him and how his presence and his scent always made her feel warm everywhere…

If only she paid heed to all the raging flames that fueled his ever-so-enthralling warmth…

The moment she smiled, Shane was struck with a lightning so powerful it reverberated through his body and shook his very core. He was awestruck and he absolutely loved every single moment and every single feeling that came with it.

He would burn in purgatory a thousand times just to see that smile.

No matter how many times she gave him her sweet, sweet smiles, this twin-souled man’s reaction will never stray from amazement. Her smiles were paradisiac and he would kill anything and everything to see it even just once in his life. Hell, she could just smile at him and he would worship her, offer his entire being for her, just to keep seeing her smile.

He smiled back at her, already filled to the brim with energy from the smile she gave him. It takes only that to energize him for a whole day, it seems. He wants to be the only one to see it every day, but he knows that that’s not possible.

He’s already ki lled for that e lect rifyi ng smile of hers—

They shared a little eskimo kiss, with sparks of warmth shared, and Shane buried his face into her chest, where some of Renchii’s ambrosial scent was most concentrated.

She was wearing a navy-blue-and-green-stripe round-neck sweater right now, but for his enhanced senses he could still hear her heart beating steadily and it soothed him and his other half like they were listening to their beloved flames crackling happily as it slowly burned. He contentedly closed his eyes and nuzzled closer, until she could feel his warm breath through her clothing.

Renchii ran her hand through his slightly gravity-defying and spiky hair and weaved through his fluffy mane. He could do nothing but breath out a sigh and to lightly tighten his iron grip around her waist.

Absolutely nothing else could give them these feelings.

Except her.

He loved her so much that without her, his life wouldn’t have much of a purpose other than to have an end. Without her hands and touches, he would be but a lump of untouched clay on the table.

Bland, shapeless, and faceless…

She’d saved him from his troubled and attention-depraved self when they were just children. While his mother and father ignored him in favor of his little brother, she was always there to provide him with all the love and care and affection he needed. All the things his parents never took the time to give him, she provided him with most of what she’s able to do so for him. For them.

Shane and Aeron would sometimes become so touch-starved and often times overcome with a heavy loneliness that he sometimes couldn’t lift himself up to do what he needs, but who was there to help them up and go through another day?

Renchii.

Shane would often over work himself trying to be the best he can, forcing himself to endure such grueling hardships and activities to be noticed by his parents. His little brother Luke noticed it, sure, and that always cheered him up, especially when he was praised by his little brother who looked up to him.

But his efforts were always brushed off. His parents treated him like a spare and it saddened him so, but Renchii was always there to cheer for him and give him her thoughts of admiration and amazement.

Yes, Renchii…

Shane and Aeron bonded with each other through those times and although they continue to annoy each other in this shared body, they’ll always agree on some particular things. Sometimes, though, they couldn’t agree with each other and argued inside the little space they have to themselves, which is their mind. This would often cause them to act irritated and tense at work and at home sometimes, but who was always able to get them into a civil agreement with each other?

Ren ch I i. ..

It was always Renchii. Always been her that was able to strengthen their flames or was able to douse them down. Always her.

So unconsciously, he went and attached himself to her to feel and get more of her love and attention. He gravitated to her and slowly, him and the other had become dependent and addicted to her presence that they wouldn’t be able to function properly for a day when she wasn’t able to give him attention and love in the morning and needed to leave earlier. He would always be uncomfortably shaking and trembling and craving to get that drug called her love and her care and her touches and—

She had him wrapped up and around her little fingers and he loved it, so long as she kept giving him what she always did, he’ll stay like that forever and ever and do what ever she might want and get her what ever she might need…

Oh, she wants him to end the world as we know it? Oh, sure!

A nyt hin g fo r h is b elov ed .. .

He’ll set aflame to nations and torch down whole continents with his bare hands if that will make her happy. He’ll kill anyone and everyone she wants him to. He will end his own life if she ever asks him to. He would even arrange her own death if she wants him to, so long as he gets to be the one to keep her body…

All of which, serves as an example as to how far Shane and Aeron’s love for Renchii can and will stretch.

He’s extremely weak for her. Well, they’re extremely weak for her, but these twins won’t have it any other way.

They’ll stick with her for the rest of time.

He laid a soft little kiss on her collarbone and went back to nuzzling her chest, gently being pulled back to sleep by her hands’ caresses that seemed to make him feel sparks of static electricity every time they moved and weaved through his silky and fluffy hair. A low rumble echoed in his chest seemingly like a contented purr.

It was pure bliss. A heavenly feeling that he’ll only get and take from his one and only darling little lotus.

'We’ll love her and have her to ourselves for the end of time.'

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"Is there water?"

She stood, there, in a field of blue. Forget-me-nots were all around her feet. It matched her water-y eyes in hue, with hers just a tad bit darker. Their faint scent wafted through the breeze and they swayed the best they can on the grassy grounds.

She went gingerly through the flower-y sea, careful not to step on the blooming buds she had worked on for decades. She couldn’t risk any of them to be trampled on, for her friend dearly loved them to bits. He loved taking care of these water-hued blossoms, his happiness bouncing off of him whenever he did, and so in turn, she took care of and loved these flowers with her whole heart, trying to feel the same emotions.

For not only did they remind her of the ocean’s never-ending waves and the water’s azure caresses, they made her feel at home. They made her feel like he was there, watching, smiling warmly at her and embracing her with all the love and care he had stored within himself.

She yearned for that love and care, for him, but Lady Fate had been cruel.

Upon reaching her destination, she prevented herself from going any further, just a few meters in front of it.

She stopped herself from losing her composure and wailing, from crying for him to come back and from sputtering out broken apologies, and from doing anything that might harm the innocent little flowers around her. It would do no good, aid not in bringing him back, and she knows it.

There, was a pristine yet slightly weathered tombstone that looked clean and maintained. It looked as if only a few years has passed it by, and not a century. It was free of the forget-me-nots, like how she wanted it to be, and a circle of grass surrounded the lone grave.

Beside it, was a marble statue of a man, sitting cross-legged and with his hands resting on his knees, smiling brightly, radiating kindness and joy like it was a real person. It’s intricate and awfully detailed, with the folds of the ‘clothes’ carefully carved and his face looking so true and so real.

Too bad it can’t be.

She scanned her glossy and glistening water-y eyes over the grave, reading the words set in the stone, eternally imprinted and unchanging.

[Lance Myosotis

Erimil Hameo

He was like the ocean’s waves, graceful and soothing, yet vivacious and wild.

He was a good man, and the greatest friend.

Hatika Lahameo.]

She heaved in a shaky breath, and walked closer, each step being heavier than the next, nearing the grounds where her dear friend, her one and only beloved, had rested and slept peacefully and undisturbed for the past century.

She sat down in front of the statue, shaking and trembling, trying to prevent herself from doing what her heart begged her to do, which was breakdown into a mess of sobs and salty tears in front of it. In front of him.

‘He’d said he would be sad if I was sad, yeah?’

She took out a framed photo from somewhere on her and clutched it in her shaking hands like it was her life line. And it is. It had the photo of her and her beloved Lance smiling, grinning without a care in the world, unaware of what tragedies await them in the future, framed and encased in reinforced glass and metal. The moment captured looked so timeless, yet at the same time so ephemeral and easily destroyed.

“Heh… hey. Hi. H-hello, Lance. How… how are you?” she sputtered quietly, afraid that if she went any louder her voice would crack and her tirade would fall into pieces.

“I wonder how you are right now…” she paused, gaining a fraction of her brittle composure back. “and I’d really like to know...”

“Is there water up there?”

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Smiley ShaneRon!

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No hands for the win.... c:

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I don't seem to have a consistent art style...

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Drawings of my OCs

Luke ShaneRon

Dayana Renchii

C:

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Some of my latest sketches and new designs for a character. (Dayana)

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Took me long enough!

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Haven't posted anything in a while now :3