#nicadanis

[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]

|| 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]

|| Her. ||

A yandere! Muichirou Tokito X Reader drabble.

Not much of a warning, for there's simply obsessive thoughts here...

<>●<>●<>●<>●<>

Such a beautiful voice...

Perhaps that was why he couldn't forget her. She was always in his mind, her smiles and her eyes and her melodious laughter, and it was like she belonged in there.

(Name...) Yeah, that was what her name was.

(Name.) (Name.) (Name.)

"(Name...)" he tested out, rolling it around his tongue like a piece of sweet sweet candy. It was a pleasant sounding name, and he always recognized the word, no matter how faintly it was called.

He looked over to her, smiling and laughing with those three boys that he'd come to befriend after the swordsmith village attack, and felt a bit the faintest wisps of anger brewing. Which he knew was wrong, but he couldn't push it away for a small part of his mind wanted to justify it.

Perhaps he has become too enraptured by this girl, and perhaps this is how love had felt like, but only time would tell on what he shall do next.

<>●<>●<>●<>●<>

[ashblackcallas]

Prompt: Person A using Person B’s lap as a pillow.

Prompt recommended to me by @brinthie . She good. Read her. uwo.

Muichirou fluff uwu.

<>●<>●<>●<>●<>

|| Interest ||

<>●<>●<>●<>●<>

The winds softly caressed the long and minty hair of a bored-faced man named Muichirou Tokitou. He stood there, bombarded by the giggling winds and his gaze fixed on a figure nestled under a yellow-leafed ginkgo tree, of which was peacefully polishing her sword and relaxing in the breeze.

He decided to approach her, his hair and clothing moving to the rhythm of his walking and his turquoise eyes continuing to give off their bored and faraway look. She looked at him, her eyes misted with confusion, and her hands putting away her colored sword.

He sat in front of her, her now closer visage making Muichirou feel more at ease, and stared at her features, like how he’d always stared at the ever playful clouds and how they changed their shapes gracefully and how they always journeyed steadfastly to an unknown destination. He focused this fascination on her lovely features, and noted how her eyes lightly twinkled in bemusement at his actions and the way her lips quirked up a bit.

He adored her very much, and he’ll let it stay that way, even when he forgets her name and face.

He then went on to lay his head on her lap, his eyes closing for a few moments due to how comfy and warm his head now feels, and then opened them once more to be able to look at her countenance better, for this time, he now had a much better angle.

Under the splinters of happy light that rained in through the cracks of the yellow foliage above, he turned his attention to her eyes, so shiny and pretty. Its colors swirled with a bit of purity and bravery, and a touch of kindness and integrity. He loved it very much, her eyes.

And now, he inspected her cheeks, her soft, squishy looking cheeks that are rough here and there but overall very nice. Then, his eyes moved to her lips, her plump and nicely shaded lips. Her very kissable lips, of which he longed to touch with his hands and to touch with his own, but he wanted to wait for a much better time.

She, the one of the name (Name), lifted her hand lightly to his cheeks and gave it a sweet little touch, with him closing his eyes and leaning into her hand. Her other had began to stroke his hair, tenderly and soothingly, and soon he’d began to fly up into the realm of dreams.

He’d ended up cuddling up to his dear in his sleep, but he wouldn’t have it in any other way.

[ashblackcallas]

guidelines

<>o<>o<>o<>

hello everyone! i’m going to try writing for y’alls. here are what i will and won’t write, though they’re going to be just some loose guidelines of what you can request. :’)

i’ll be mostly writing for kny for now, but i may expand to bnha once i catch up to the anime. 

<>o<>o<>o<>

i will write:

Headcanons

Scenarios

Fluff and Angst

Yandere (though i’m not too good at them)

i will not write:

Pedophilia, disturbing shizzles, you get the drift

NSFW

(please take note that more things may be added to this in the future.)

[ashblackcallas]

Hi! 👋 may i ask,, what are your hcs for demon rengoku?

Demon Rengoku HCs.

●Demon Rengoku would be an interestingly different character as a demon.

●He might have markings of flames and fire around his body, perhaps ranging from orange to red in color or simply black.

●His hair would remain as it is, for the most part.

●His eyes would have the same red and gold rings, except brighter and more alluring than ever before, and with a black sclera.

●He would be able to produce flames with varying temperatures and colors. White and blue being the hottest and red and orange being the coolest yet still having dangerously hot temperatures.

●He would, of course, be as strong and powerful as an upper moon.

●He is prone to protect weaker demons, due to remembering pieces of 'the strong are born to protect the weak,' or something...

●If he gets or already has an s/o, he will likely be very protective and possessive of them.

●Giving them gifts, growling at people who looks at them wrongly, the like.

●He would probably treasure his s/o very much.

●Well, that is, if he becomes one. :)

[ashblackcallas]

A very self-indulgent work involving an original character of mine.

Warning: A 'yandere' character is featured here. There's also some light gore-y things mentioned, for this one is a rather carnivore-y alien dude.

2k+ words fic, x reader.

<>●<>●<>●<>●<>

sweet as dessert

<>●<>●<>●<>●<>

The sun happily rose above the horizon, smiling down at the ones caught in its rays. Everything was caught in a yellowish-white tinge, and so was the one watching from behind the counter of the little dessert café the first customers of the day. He was more than a little eager, though not too obvious on his already cheerful visage, to meet a certain customer that caught his eye and often arrived here at this time.

Of course, she wouldn’t always come, and that always made him anxious and tempted to leave his work and scour everywhere for her whereabouts, but he knew that it wouldn’t be too proper, and his darling wouldn’t think good of it, so he kept himself in check, hyper aware of whatever movement there is. He was let down after the next few customers that entered because they weren’t really her, but if he wanted to keep up appearances, then this’ll have to do.

An hour passed after the usual time she’d enter, and Shane had started to lose hope that he’d slumped a little on the glass counter, but then, a certain aroma entered his nose while the bells at the door chimed, and he immediately perked up. His sapphire eyes twinkled like the night sky’s stars, and they burst into the colors of ruby, with his left mixed with wisps of lavender. The colors disappeared as quickly as they came and dissipated into his sapphire, and the voice in his head began excitedly chattering.

‘It’s her!’ Aeron chirped happily in his head, his voice a bit high pitched and mixed with excitement. ‘She’s here! I love her so much! Don’t you love her too?’ he added, obviously infatuated with her.

Of course, he agreed. ‘Yes, yes. I do love her too.’ Shane replied, quite a bit more mellowly.

 ‘I just wish we don’t have to wait like this for her someday. She doesn’t even always come.’ Aeron whined. Shane agreed silently, too, for one of his wishes⁠—their wishes—was to not have to wait for her to come everyday. He wanted to be able to wake up holding her in the morning, nose buried in her neck, enjoying her sweet, no—heavenly—scent...

“Um… Hello? Anybody there?” A sweet voice called out to him, albeit a bit jokingly. It made him close his eyes, for it was like delicious honey that he’d never get enough of. “ShaneRon?”

Ah, and there was that nickname. The endearing little nickname she gave him after finding out about his little 'condition.' What they might call ‘OSDD.’

But well, condition, as in situation, where the soul of his should’ve-been-dead brother latched onto him to be able to get another chance at living, and now they live together in the same body.

Which was a bad idea, when they’re supposedly these creatures that have instincts to eat and consume flesh that is not their own. Coupling that with the thing that they often need to be around people to live in this world, it gets a bit more complicated just to ‘control’ themselves from them.

And then there are these other instincts and urges that’re very unexplainable.

Very bad idea, no?

“ShaneRon?” (Name) sing-songed, smiling at him, perhaps trying to catch his attention. It worked, of course, and he answered with an eager grin.

“Yes, my dear?” He said, playfully, as if she was really their dear. 

They wished she was.

She chuckled, her voice sounding like the pleasantly chiming bells at the door, her face flushing adorably, “Hello. The usual?” She was leaning a just bit too closely, and he swallowed when he saw the visible parts of her neck.

‘Don’t you ever wonder how it’d feel to bite into it?’ Aeron started, the thought beginning to invade his fragile mind.

How tantalizing...

 ‘How it’d feel to have her flesh against your teeth and mouth? How it’d be to feel her blood gushing out and flowing continuously into your throat?’ 

That sweet, sweet nectar, that probably wouldn’t compare to any donut nor delicacy he’d ever taste in his life—

He blinked a few times, and nodded at her, finally getting to preparing her order. One steaming  hot cup of (preferred drink) and some delicious choco-butternut donuts. He liked those, too. He liked to eat them and think of her at the same time, and it was like he could substitute the donuts as her flesh—

A hot, and sharp pain came from his hand, and he realized he’d spilled some of the drink onto it. He let out a small hiss, and of course it was noticed by the (color) haired girl waiting patiently at the counter.

Her shimmering (color) eyes snapped to him, noticing him rubbing a spot on his hand and putting it under the small, nearby sink that was placed there for some convenience. She gasped lightly, breathing in a small serving of air.

“What’s wrong?” She voiced, tone tinted with concern.

He turned to her, a sheepish grin, “Just a little burn, nothing much…” 

She shook her head with a small smile, and told him softly, “Not that bad?”

“Not that bad.”

He returned to his station then, with a hidden smile, and continued adding what he needed to her cup swiftly. After, he set the cup on the marble counter beside the glass, along with the choco-butternuts in a smiley-faced, white paper bag.

She didn’t need to know that it didn’t actually hurt him that much.

She beamed at him, and he was temporarily blinded. He blinked for a few, before going to accept the money handed out to him. He purposely brushed his hand against hers as he took it, making his warm touch linger, to make heat rise in her face once more. It worked, yes, for that simple touch made her heart flutter, and he just loved hearing it so.

“Th-Thanks, ShaneRon,” She unwittingly stuttered, and she blushed a bit under his overly-bright gaze, making her look more adorable in his eyes.

He nodded, and what he did next was quite the daring thing. He reached out his hand to her face, and caressed it, gently as the dancing flames of a bonfire. Tracing from the bottom of her chin until up to her cheek with his fingers, he felt her face slowly burn like fire, aflame like his love for her that had been put on hold for thousands of years, before he finally found her once more. 

He cupped her face tenderly into his large, and a little rough, hand. They were warm, yes, they felt warm, and they were comforting. She leaned into it involuntarily for a moment, with him running his thumb over her plump cheek, fingertip slightly brushing into her half-closed lashes. 

Intensely striking azure and glittering sapphires like no one’s ever seen before, his eyes bore into her own, digging a grave into them for her knew that she would be his demise.  They greedily drinked up her soft gaze, burying themselves into them so deeply that they’d perhaps become lost in them forever.

His touch felt empyrean. An ambrosia that was so out of this world. (Name) probably would’ve stayed there forever if not for her brain subconsciously reminding her that they were in a cafe full of people.

“I-I—Um...” She began, as she gently removed his hand from her face, face ablaze like a raging fire. The hand holding his hand felt comfort and warmth from it.

He liked how the red looked on her face. They liked how the red colored her face. They wondered what other red, or perhaps in the color family of red, things would suit her. Lipstick, clothing, food, her blo—

“Ah, sorry about that!” He totally wasn’t, “I shouldn’t have done that, I apologize.”

Still a bit stunned, she simply shook her head and smiled at him sweetly, like sugarcubes dipped in sweet syrup, and shook her head, “It’s alright…” But that was still weird though.

He squeezed her hand gently, like how a lover would, and brought up another to tuck a lock of hair into her ear and away from her lovely visage. Beautiful, truly! His smile was beaming, bright as the light that filtered into the windows. He chuckled.

“Okay then, my darling. I’ll see you soon?” He dejectedly let go of her little hand and her lovely face, though he didn’t show it. He did plan to watch her in the evening much later, though. 

They won’t dare tell her how they plan to do so, but know that they will.

“A-Ah, sure. Sure, I’ll see you soon.” A streak of fire once more shot across her face, and she nodded.

And he grinned, like eager heat, like the flames that excitedly lap up at the inklings and wood of a growing fire. He always liked it when she came to him, sending him to ecstasy everytime she even looked at him. And her smile? Ambrosia. An ambrosia he'll never get enough of, no matter how much he gets of it. No matter if time has stopped, nor even if he goes to hell after seeing a glimpse.

She walked out the door, and took a last glance at him, and he gave her a small wave and a cute smile. She smiled back, yes, and continued on her way.

Shane stared at her walking for a few more minutes, until she was gone from eyesight. He sighed, a bit downcast that she left him again, while Aeron grew agitated. He was used to him being like this though. Besides, he understood the feeling himself.

‘Why does she always have to leave?’ Aeron mused in his head, frustrated. Of course he was too, and he could hardly control himself, see from the actions he took earlier.

 They both wanted nothing but to keep her to themselves. Too much to ask? Then that’s too bad. They can’t help it, they can’t help wanting, wanting so desperately to be able to one day have her only look at them and them alone. 

No one else. 

No one else. 

No one else!

Can they make it happen? Of course they can! They could just follow her—er, visit her house, sweep her off her feet, and take her away, right? Right!

‘If we can make it happen, then why?’ Aeron asked once more, ebbing away at Shane’s crumbling patience. They can, but they shouldn’t. They shouldn’t.

‘We shouldn’t.’ Shane snapped at him.

‘But we can.’

‘We won’t.’

‘Oh?’

A burning hot pain shot across his body, his soul, making his knees buckle, and he pretended to be looking at the desserts due to the onlookers. He gritted his teeth and breathed raggedly. It was way worse than that small burn he got, and it hurt. It was like getting a few gallons of lava being poured on you, and mind you after dipping his hand in lava once he does not recommend it.

It was painfully agonizing, and it reminded him of what Aeron can do, what Aeron will do if he doesn’t get his way. It was scary, but of course, he knew what Aeron wanted was wrong. He couldn’t, for his beloved’s happiness was on the line, and Aeron just couldn’t understand why they couldn’t simply just take her away.

Still, Shane held his ground against him, ‘We won’t. We won’t!’ He answered, a bit strained.

‘You sound like you’re only trying to convince yourself, brother.’

Thankfully after that, though, he’d quieted. That made Shane worry a bit, but well, there was another person at the counter, so perhaps he can worry about that later. Well, until—

‘Isn’t she so beautiful, brother?’ Aeron’s voice sounded smooth and smug, while the pain came back once more, rendering him unable to stand up once more. Nevertheless, he agreed.

‘Doesn’t she deserve to be protected by us, brother?’

He agreed, mind being filled with so many pleasant thoughts of him and her, together, and him protecting her from anything and everything else, like she was the only thing that mattered in this universe. 

She is the most important thing in this universe, after all.

‘Shouldn’t we take her away with us?

He agreed.

‘Shouldn’t we keep her away from the dangerous clutches of the world?’ His voice was dripping with honey, aiming to dilute his head’s thoughts with such intentions of his.

They should. Oh, they should.

‘Then let us have our little darling, no?’

His body ached and trembled. Ached and tremble with the desire to follow Aeron’s wants and to just break out of this wretched place and sweep her off her feet and take her away. He wanted to do so, badly, and so badly did he want to have her to himself, to themselves, to cherish and love till the end of time.

‘But why aren’t you doing it, then?’ Aeron snapped, anger lacing his voice, the pain and trembling in his body intensifying, like a dam wanting to break and spill its contents out.

‘Don’t you want her to be happy with us?’ Shane finally answered. ‘Don’t you? Don’t you want her to slowly become enamored as we court her? See how her expressions change, and see that adorable little blush creep across her cheeks?’ He’d said to him, wistfully.

‘Won’t it be better to wait? So we can treasure her even more? Like how we did with Sera—’

The pain he’d been in rose in intensity, and he was caught in agony for five seconds. He breathed in sharply through his teeth.

‘Do not say her name.’ Aeron hissed. ‘But alright, if that’s what you wish. I might take you up on that offer.’ He retorted, in a lightly mocking tone, but he seemed like he’ll stay quiet for real this time. He wished so.

Exhaling slowly, he attempted to stand, and though he stumbled in the first try, he succeeded on the second. He was thankful that no customer had come in while he was in that condition, and he went to busy himself with wiping the counter clean to clear his mind, though it had no visible speck on it.

He wondered how he’d watch over her sleeping form tonight.

[ashblackcallas]

|| Moonlight ||

A drabble for an obsessive kind of love.

<>●<>●<>●<>●<>

Staring at her seemingly iridescent figure in the moonlight was the best thing he was able to do in his life. The colors of her lovely eyes, hair, skin, and everything were absolutely highlighted by the full moon's shared radiance from the sun.

Beautiful.

Beautiful.

Beautiful!

She was so beautiful...

He was halfway tempted to just sweep her off her feet right then and there, but that wouldn't make for a nice love story like in those children's fairy tales.

He wanted her to trust him first.

It has been a while since they met, and he since knew that this was an unhealthy obsession, but he didn't nor will he ever care, and will continue pursuing her, no matter what it takes.

Even if it ends with her kicking and screaming in his grasp.

<>●<>●<>●<>●<>

[ashblackcallas]

a small idea

mmMMm i kinda wanna do a thing that’s not just kny nor any single fandom. like a writing challenge of some sorts - where anyone can send me prompts and i might try to write something out of it. who knows, but if someone(though highly unlikely) sends a starter/starter with no particular character, then maybe...

[ashblackcallas]

a bittersweet taste

<>o<>o<>o<>

The near-silent hum of the air conditioner filled the air as the man pressed the button of a small, white remote. A content sigh fell from his lips, and he set the remote down on the glass counter, right behind a quaint little bell.

The counter-top was filled with all kinds of what you considered toppings—nuts, chocolate chips, sprinkles, cashews, and there was even a whole can of whipped cream sitting there. Inside it, were some premade cupcakes and slices of some tasty-looking pastries placed on simple white dishes.

It was early, and the morning sun’s rays filtered in through the loosely curtained glass. It gave the little café a bit of a homely look—from its earthy tones and colors to the faint scent of sugary sweets and coffee wafting through the air. The natural light cast a light-yellow glow throughout the whole thing, and the slightly dim lights made it so that everything looked easy on the eyes.

A Japanese-styled glass wind chime rang at the opening of the glass door, and the sight of a short girl entered the building. Her obsidian hair was a bit messy, dark as the bags under her eyes. She looked extremely tired, and with the look of her slightly crumpled working uniform, she looked as if she had rushed out of her home in a hurry for work.

But well, if you ever got to know her, this isn’t exactly true.

Walking sluggishly towards the counter, she made her way around and behind the counter, nudging the male out of the way lightly. When he moved out of the way, she pulled a high chair from near the marble counter, or where the coffee machines and other things where at, and placed it down in front of her. She sat down, loosely tucking a stray strand of hair to her ear.

The mahogany eyes of the other twinkled, like the brightly shining sun, “Good morning, Darlene!” he placed a thing of very strong black coffee in front of her, “Did you get some sleep?”

Knowing his ‘friend’ well enough, it’s likely that she did, though less than the normal amount of sleep a human being needs. Most likely, she didn’t get any. Although he didn’t like that fact, he couldn’t exactly stop her from doing so.

“Yeah, yeah,” Darlene answered curtly, swiped the coffee from the counter, then immediately brought it up to her lips. She sipped at the coffee for a moment, feeling the warm bitter taste hit her mouth and partially wake her up. When she brought it back down, almost half of it was already gone. It was a huge cup, mind you.

“So,” she started, absentmindedly tapping her fingers on the counter, “How’re you, dear ol’ Takoyaki—er—Takihiko?”

For some reason, he’d always felt giddy whenever she asked how he was—or well, ask anything about him, really. She made his heart soar.

“I’m fine, thank you!” Takihiko exclaimed, happiness tracing his voice. Of course he was happy. She was here, after all, and it always felt wonderful being in her presence. To him, at least, it did. The customers, however, did not.

She nodded, and proceeded to lay her head on her arms on the counter, presumably to get a few more minutes of sleep. She knew Takihiko wouldn’t mind, he always seemed to love doing things for her. Ever since she entered his life again, it was always like this now. She felt like an idiot, but the deed has been done.

Oh, how she wished that she knew how to turn back time, but she couldn’t exactly leave him miserable there… right?

A grin stretched his lips wide, and a shake of his head ruffled his fluffy ebony hair. He adjusted his glasses, and went to work at wiping some stains off the counter behind them.

Just another normal day at the dessert café, it seemed.

[ashblackcallas]

masterlist

the list of my weird writing shizzles

Demon Slayer

Muichirou Tokito

Under the pink sky

Her (yandere drabble)

Kyoujurou Rengoku

coincidence (crack-ish fic)

Other Works

a moment in bed (yandere oc fic)

moonlight (drabble)

a dream (drabble)

sweet as dessert (yandere oc x reader)don’t read these it’s cringe

no going anywhere without me (yandere oc x oc)this is also cringe shoo shoo

[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.

[ashblackcallas]

|| A Dream ||

A drabble inspired by the amazing @brinthie .

Warnings: Some blood and light gore. Yandere and Vampire implications, I guess?

<>●<>●<>●<>●<>

[I had a dream, once, where you loved me and I loved you, and that our love spanned 'til the end of time.]

He licked his lips, licked his teeth and his bloodied canines, and then the roof of his mouth, trying to enjoy the taste of her delectable blood without thinking of what he had done to her cold and lifeless body, but it was in vain. He ran his blood soaked hands through his hair.

Reaching for her torn and lifeless corpse, tears of anguish flowed down from his eyes like a waterfall, and they flowed and flowed like how he made her blood flow out from her body and into his mouth, on his clothes, on his hands, and on the now crimson floor.

How could he? Well, easily.

Clutching her soulless body to his chest, his body was wracked with sobs and cries emanated from his throat. He knew himself, though, that he didn't have the right to cry, that he did this himself, but of course, he didn't mean it, right?

Right?

But she was dead now, a corpse of what he could have loved and taken care of for so much longer, and he can't really do anything about that.

[But now, I guess that dream is gone and thrown into the flames of yesterday.]

<>●<>●<>●<>●<>

brin is amaze. read her. please read brin-sama. lady brin. queen of writing brin.

[brightbluezeniths]

a tomato and a popsicle ;w;

[brightbluezeniths]

Be kind as Heaven and strong as Hell.

—absolutely-rational