#nighttime thoughts with reaper

[xiefuyu]

overworked.

-- bonten x reader

🖤 — Tokyo Revengers

📝 — non-con drugging (its bonten, what did you expect) (its for your own safety tho...?), cursing, it's bonten timeline that's a spoiler itself, platonic relationship, not proofread

:a/n — I ain't indulging non-con behaviors everyone t___t

Being Bonten’s intern was hell.

But hey, they pay much more than your ordinary 8-5 job so it works and you’re not going to complain loudly. It’s just one of those days where you’re full of work. Like full full kind of full. You wish it was your stomach that was full of food instead.

The light coming from your computer is starting to make your eyes sting and your lower back is being a bitch from how long you’ve been in the same position for hours.

When you first started this intern thing, the work wasn’t this heavy but as the time went by, you noticed how the top executives became comfortable with you to the point that they dumped their report-making to you.

(Let’s be honest, they’re just straight up bullying you.)

(Let’s be honest, you want to kill them.)

But you’re a broke person who’s living in a penthouse given by your boss, Sano Manjiro, and living off of the pay given by Kokonoi so yes, you’re going to fucking endure this like how Takeomi is still enduring life despite being the lung cancer’s incarnate.

You sigh and decide to take a break. You start questioning the existence of time when you saw that the sun had already risen. What the actual fuck? You swear it was just nighttime! Were you taking Sanzu’s drugs without knowing it? Did Bonten decide to prank you and cover your office windows with big TVs?

You groan and curse.

“Fucking great, not a single wink of sleep again.” you tell yourself and slap your thigh for being stupid for letting yourself disassociate with reality.

You stand up, determined to put some kind of food in your stomach because goddamn, you swear you just saw a grim reaper standing beside your desk, raising an eyebrow at you because of your condition.

You flip off your hallucinated grim reaper and start walking. It’s morning, you remind yourself. It’s morning and those goddamn lazy ass executives (Ran and Sanzu) will come in any time now. The thought of dealing with their asses makes you roll your eyes, immediately regretting it because it caused a goddamn pounding in your head.

You just hope you don’t run into one of them while you’re on your journey to get food.

Who are you even kidding? Your office is literally beside Sanzu’s so it wasn’t a surprise when you bumped into him on your way to the general kitchen.

“Good morning, Sanzu-san.” you greet because you’re not an asshole and he’s literally your boss. “Aren’t you an early bird?” he teases, eyebrows wiggling. You roll your eyes in your mind, just giving him a smile and walking past him towards the kitchen.

Sanzu doesn’t miss your darkened eyebags and the fact that you’re still wearing what you were wearing yesterday.

“Oh, right, the fridge doesn’t have anything, kid.” he says and grins as he watches you close your eyes in an attempt to calm down. “Come on, I’ll treat you to the canteen below.” he beckons and you shake your head.

“It’s fine, Sanzu-san. I can pay for my own food. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” Sanzu just hums, following you like a lost kid. “Kid, did you finish my report?” 

Kid.

Old ass man.

Calling you kid as if you’re not younger by 4 years only.

“Yes. I’ll bring it to you later, Sanzu-san. Will you be at your office?” He gives you a lazy smile and shrugs. “Who knows?” if he’s not your boss and the fact that he could kill you without hesitation, you would have cursed him in his face already. But you’re kind so you remain silent and patiently wait for the elevator doors to open.

The both of you walk in silence towards the canteen. The atmosphere suddenly drops when the lower members of Bonten see Sanzu behind you. It was a common occurrence but it doesn’t fail to remind you that the man walking behind you was a criminal. A big, experienced, and an unhinged one at that.

The smell and sight of food makes your stomach growl silently and you walk faster, hoping Sanzu didn’t hear it because this bitch will surely tease you for it. Fortunately, he remains silent behind you, just watching you get your food, not even getting some for him. He follows you to a table, sitting across you, still silent.

“Do you have anything to say, Sanzu-san?” you asked when he remained looking at you. It wasn’t uncomfortable for you but you sure as hell found it annoying, wanting nothing but poke his eyes with the fork you’re holding.

“You stink,” he says.

You close your eyes, breathing in and out deeply, calming yourself down. No, you don’t stink, thank you very much. Despite being holed in your office for almost 24 hours, you still smell like your perfume, vanilla extract and pastell herbs.

You don’t say anything, opting to continue eating because you’re fucking hungry and you’re sane enough to priorities yourself before this spawn of Satan himself.

The two of you sit in silence.

You don’t know why but Sanzu got you an ice cream, shrugging when you threw him a confused look. “I did say I’ll treat you,” he says.

You thank him and let yourself smile when you see that it’s your favourite flavour. Without further ado, you start eating your ice cream, unaware of Sanzu’s wicked grin.

A few minutes later, your eyelids feel heavy, making you frown. Is it a food coma? You used to feel sleepy after eating sometimes but you know that it’s not the case this time. You look up at Sanzu and curse when you see him grinning at you.

“Sanzu-san…what…”

“Not drugs.”

With that confirmation, you let yourself succumb to darkness, cursing Sanzu silently and hoping he didn’t hear you.

“Sanzu-san…you fucker…” Sanzu laughs loudly when he hears you cursing him. It’s your fault for trusting him and eating the ice cream that he gave you, honestly. (Not true, Sanzu is just an idiot).

He stands up to pick your limp body up and makes his way to his office. “The fuck? What happened?” he hears Kokonoi asking, looking at you in worry. “Nothing. Just made her fall asleep.” he says.

Kokonoi sighs loudly, “Sanzu, did you fucking put a sleeping pill in her food?” he asks, upset. “Bingo!” Sanzu exclaims, not so loudly, before grinning at Kokonoi’s tired facade at him.

“I told you not to do- whatever.” Kokonoi cuts himself off, already knowing that he won’t get across Sanzu’s thick skull and when he sees you still wearing your yesterday’s outfit. “Bring her to the private lounge, not your office.” he warns. Sanzu rolls his eyes but nods, his plan to let you nap in his office gone.

He’s more than aware that you’ll curse him in your mind when you wake up.

But hey, seeing you snuggling closer to the blanket he put over you and deeper into the pillow was enough to dull the regret he’s feeling for overworking you.

(Don’t be deceived, he’ll overwork you again by dumping his report-making to you.)

By the time you regain consciousness, it was already dark outside, making you sit up abruptly, ignoring the sudden dizziness caused by your action.

“Get some more sleep.” you jump at the voice, head whipping around the source and you curse in your head when you see that it’s just Mikey.

“Boss.” you called out. “I’m okay now, boss.” you throw the blanket aside but stops when you see that Mikey’s hand is playing with a familiar sleeping pill. “What did I tell you about overworking?” His tone was that of command, making your heart beat faster. 

You curse Sanzu for forcing you to rest. If he didn’t, you could have showered in your office so as to not cause suspicions that you stayed in for the night.

Your bosses, the top executives, are absolute menaces (except Kakucho, Mochi, and Kokonoi) but you’re aware that they care about you and your health. Including Mikey, the top boss.

Ironic how they literally hired you to do work that involves playing with Death himself.

“I apologise, sir. I lost track of time.” you answer, bowing slightly, hoping Mikey will just let this slide. 

And he will. He always does for some reason.

You hear him sigh and you look up, victory bubbling in your chest. “Just go to sleep. It’s already late.” he warns as if he won’t let some of his boys drive you home where the security is tight as hell.

“I need to shower, boss…” you say, feeling icky now that you’re hyper aware of the fact that you still haven’t cleaned your body. “Use the shower here, then. I am sure you have clothes in your office.”

You ignore how he emphasised the word office as if he can’t believe you have spare clothes, home clothes, rather, in your office.

In his defense, you’re not supposed to have those kinds of clothes in your office because they belong to your house. Because he already warned you about not overworking yourself to the point that you sleep in your office. 

“Then, please excuse me.” you sheepishly said, bowing at him again. He says and does nothing, just watching you walk away.

When you get back to the private lounge (because you’re not allowed to go home as it was already late) you see Mikey still there.

He points at the sofa bed,

“Sleep,” he commands. Maybe it’s because your exhaustion is catching up to you but you found yourself already slipping away from reality. 

Nevertheless, you were still a little bit awake when Mikey stood up and made his way towards you. You were still lucid when you feel his cold hand patting your head along with an almost familiar soft-

“Have sweet dreams.”

Letting your eyes close completely, you smile a little and mumbles a you, too, Mikey-san, before falling asleep for the second time that day.

A/N; might be a mini series again woah haahah

@bontensbabygirl

[razorblade180]

9 Days of Lancaster Day8: One Bed!

[The Kindom of Vale, nighttime]

Expect the unexpected; quite a simple rule taught in many professions but yet hard to grasp all the same. Jaune consider himself a thinker, and more importantly, a problem solver for those in need. He was currently putting that into practice by sitting on the couch of his humble apartment. He’d normally be asleep by now, however that wasn’t an option until…

knock knock knock

Bingo! Jaune stood up to open the door. On the other side was his very close friend and ex girlfriend, Ruby. The Reaper held a duffel bag and had her clothes hastily put on, leaving a few belts unbuckled. She walked inside so he could close the door. Ruby dropped her back near the couch and immediately turned around with her hands together.

Ruby:Thank you thank you thank you thank you!

Jaune:Hehe, it’s no problem. You’d do the same.

Ruby:Maybe if I was awake at this hour! I still can’t believe the pipes bursts throughout my building at a time like this.

Jaune:Expect the unexpected, as Ozpin always says. Did your room flood badly?

Ruby:When I left it wasn’t the worst but I’m not surprised if I come back to a few things ruined. Manage to grab a few important things though. A few clothes, hygiene supplies, Crescent Rose.

Jaune:I’m a little surprised you didn’t call Yang before me.

Ruby:She has Blake over….

Jaune:I’m sure she would’ve made room for you.

Ruby:Oh she would, but not only is she further away, but her and Blake aren’t exactly…quiet.

Jaune:Ah…well I don’t think they would’ve with you aro-

Ruby:I’ve been with them before. They thought I was asleep.

Jaune:I’m so sorry. Too bad Weiss is out of town.

Ruby:Even if she wasn’t I have a sneaking suspicion she’d be in bed hours ago. I know she’d let me in but waking Weiss is a dangerous experience. So yeah, thanks again. *bows slightly* I’ll be out of your hair in two days.

Jaune:Y’know you’re allowed over whenever? It really isn’t a big deal. I…I’ve never changed the locks.

Ruby:Oh..I assumed you did. Guess I destroyed that key for nothing.

Jaune:You could’ve given it back.

Ruby:Mmmm nah. *smiles*

Jaune playfully rolls his eyes and begins walking over to the couch and goes to lay down.

Ruby:Ummm, what are you doing?

Jaune:Going to sleep?

Ruby:Jaune I brought a pillow and cover. I’m not robbing you of your bed.

Jaune:It’s fine. The couch is comfy.

Ruby:Then let me have it! You already took me in. That’s enough.

Jaune:*stands* Ruby, I already changed the sheets. The bed is all yours.

Ruby:*raises brow*…..

Jaune:….*red* Out of etiquette! That’s what you’re supposed to do.

Ruby:Hey, I don’t know everything you do in your spare time. Could’ve found some random girl to pass the time.

Jaune:Rubes…

Ruby:Joking, I tease. Seriously though, I’m not letting you sleep on the couch in your own home.

Jaune:Well I’m not leaving you on the couch.

Ruby:Then I guess we’re sharing a bed! *hands on hips*

Jaune:I guess we are- excuse me?

Ruby:You heard me! *flustered* I’m not backing down so compromising is all that’s left.

No amount of expecting could prepare Jaune for that answer. Ruby and him had only dated for nearly two months before they broke it off. They had a few…experiences together; but nothing as bold or as intimate as one might expect. Certainly nothing that required them sleeping together in a shared bed. There were missions out in the wild but that wasn’t the same at all! There were no grimm around to keep an eye on.

Jaune:You’re serious, aren’t you?

Ruby:When have I ever joked about my treatment towards you? I refuse to take from you! But uhhh *rubs head* I might need proper sleep wear. I don’t think I packed that. Hehe, whoops.

Jaune: *inhales* Unpack and take your bath if you need it. I get you something cozy.

Ruby:Sounds like a plan!

xxxxx

How did this happen!? How did a night become so stressful, and yet Jaune wasn’t upset by the turn of events. It was surprising more than anything.

Ruby walked into the bedroom wearing his black basketball shorts and her own tank top she surprisingly grabbed from a pile of clothes. The shorts were a tad big on her but she mind. It would’ve matched the blue tank top he had on currently. He also wore a pair of orange shorts. Her eyes directed themselves at the bed. It was barely bigger than a twin.

Ruby:Never thought I’d love being petite until now.

Jaune:Couch is still an option for m-

The girl ran past him and flopped onto the bed. Despite her stubbornness, Ruby could tell her face was little red. Between the sheets and clothes, Jaune’s scent was very noticeable. He turned off the lights but she could still see his eyes on her as he walked towards the bed.

Jaune:You’re not gonna let me sleep on top of the covers while you’re underneath, are?

Ruby:Okay now that’s actually cruel no matter how you look at it. No one should be struggling to pull up a cover in their sleep.

He couldn’t argue with that. He pulled the cover and got into bed with her. Normally he’d sleep facing the wall, but as he was greeted with silver eyes inches away, Jaune’s face grew hot immediately. Time to face the door!

Jaune:Night~

No more words were spoken, at least for awhile. Moonlight barely pierced the blinds but it was enough for Ruby to see the outline of Jaune’s body. Had he been working out? Though they kept in touch, they hadn’t hung out nearly as much after their breakup two months ago. Now they found themselves sharing the same bed; something completely foreign yet familiar to her. They had only been together as long as they’ve been apart. Now he felt closer than ever yet so far. Actually, that was part of the problem last time, but Ruby felt like this situation wasn’t at all the same.

Ruby:….You still awake?

Jaune:…..

Ruby:Jaune, you’re moving an inch. You’ve either died or currently holding your breath.

Jaune:*exhales* I was trying to ease tension.

Ruby:By passing out?

Jaune:Not my best idea. Buckled under pressure.

Ruby:Hehe, thanks again. I’ll be sure to pay you back.

Jaune:Ruby, I could’ve said no. You don’t owe me anything.

Ruby:I know but…it feels like I’m a squatter or bum otherwise.

Jaune:Pfft, what am I? A landlord?

Ruby:Hehe, I think you’re too kind for that job. You’d knock gently and say please.

Jaune: “I know times are tough but please pay by the first.”

Ruby: “But funds are so tight. I don’t have the money.”

Jaune: “You’re gonna get kicked out if you at least can’t put some money down.”

Ruby:… “There’s no other way I can pay, sir?”

She put her arm around him, making him jolt a little as she clung to him. She could feel his heart beating as her hand found Jaune’s chest.

Ruby:I’ll do anything

Jaune:*blushing*…. Anything?

Ruby:Name it.

Jaune removed her arm from his body. He turned around slowly, rolling overtop of Ruby and staring down at the blush stricken girl. The was painfully silent as they didn’t move an inch.

Ruby:W..Well? Name it.

Jaune:….You’re not the type of person to just throw yourself at a someone.

Ruby:When have you ever just been someone? And who knows, I’m not exactly the same person. Are you?

Jaune:You mean, “emotionally distant?”

Ruby:I…did say that, didn’t I? If it makes you feel better, I was a bit “reckless and pushy at times.” Guess that last part still rings true, given where we’re at.

Jaune:Don’t put it all on you. I…wasn’t trying too hard to avoid this. So, “anything?”

Ruby:*nods slowly*

Jaune:In that case, Ruby, do you wanna try us again?

Ruby:…That is…not what I thought you were going to say. *red*

Jaune:Changed or not, you aren’t the kind of person to do something like this on a whim or casual fun. Just like you know I’d never find some random stranger to pass the time. You put effort into what you want, and so do I.

Ruby:Sounds like our mutual breakup is more like we took a break. That…actually makes me feel a lot better. So there’s been no one else?

Jaune:Nope. Ruby, I did not change my locks. We still talked regularly.

Ruby:Cut me some slack. I’m no pro at all this, and I’m sorry if I made it feel like if you should’ve been-

Jaune lowered himself and silenced her apology. Ruby felt her heart leap, kissing him back instinctively and wrapping her arms around his shoulders. Two months without this was for too long. Their kiss ended but she refused to let him go.

Ruby:Just so we’re honest with each other, I may not actually know if Blake is at Yang’s. Sorry for lying.

Jaune:Heh, such a sneaky girlfriend I have.

Ruby:I can’t help that I missed my boyfriend. Now stay close. There’s not a lot of room in this bed~

Jaune:There’s enough for what I want to do. *leans in*

Ruby:Hehe, see? You really did change your sheets for nothing.

Jaune:Hush. *kisses her*

[mindsmade]

⁶⁾ a hospital waiting room with only one other person in it ( for Shawson perhaps 👀 )

meme

A lone salarian sits at the far end of the row of chairs lining the clinic's wall. Something about that sight almost stirs Aiden to pity — almost. It's not a feeling that's easily cultivated in him, with his war-torn heart hardened and its capability for empathy flattened because of it.

Still, with nothing but another lengthy wait ahead of them and an anxiety-infused silence between himself and Miranda for now, his mind begins to wander — and wonder, at that.

Another victim of the war, herself? Or is she awaiting news from one, locked away in a room a few doors down the hall?

The answer eludes him, and so he drops the matter. There's a whole world turned to ash out there, beyond the panoramic window spanning the width of the wall his bed – with him in it – was placed beside.

He'd get up and pace around if he could, but that's the entire point of the awkward position he finds himself in: will he be able to walk again at all? More at five, he supposes — literally. Ten more minutes of waiting for the radiologist to call them in.

It's not for a lack of trying, at least — on both ends. She'd poured all of that unique expertise of hers into his recovery ( again ), most of all when he was out cold for weeks on end ( ... again ).

His part in that recovery only followed after waking. He did the damned exercises he's been given; he did drag himself behind a walker and let a VI jammed into a mechanical body do the hardest work for him when told to, both at immense cost to his pride.

'Promising,' they'd said. All he heard ( or felt, at least ) was 'disappointing'.

And Miri'd tried to get him to see the good in his progress, or to recognize that there'd been any at all. This is just meant to be the beginning — but it's all too slow for him.

These things take time.

Too much of it, to his mind. He's told her that, too.

She hadn't said anything after that, just like she isn't saying anything now. The silence beckons his attention towards her and away from himself. That, somehow, opens his eyes to something that seems all too obvious now that it's revealed itself to him: she's there with him — not only physically, here, in this almost-empty hallway; she's with him in this uncertainty, too.

He'd kick himself if only he could.

Will this keep him from trying to isolate his pain discomfort in the future? Doubtful. But maybe he'll come to his senses before the silences – caused by his pigheadedness – stretch on for too long.

❛  Hey,  ❜ Shepard ushers after another moment, reaching out a rough hand. Its palm faces up, resting on the railing. ❛  It'll be all right.  ❜

A white lie? Not necessarily. Even if the worst should come to pass, they would be fine, somehow. The fact that they lived to see this very day is more than he'd even dared hope for before the Reapers kicked the bucket.

He just needs to start finding the good in a life without legs, and fast, if he is to beat his inevitable disappointment to the punch. His, and Miri's.

That might be the worst of it all, should they receive bad news: she'll be stuck with him like ... this.

Aiden clears his throat, hell-bent on ridding himself of the thought altogether. It'll find its way back to him when nighttime rolls around again.

Just as he's about ready to admit defeat in that respect at least, he catches another glimpse of the salarian down the hall. This time, she's hunched over, face held in her hands.

To this day, he still doesn't know if salarians cry; if they can cry, or even feel the urge to.

He doesn't linger on that thought for too long. The grounding weight of Miri's hand in his won't allow him. It instead draws his gaze right back to her, where he finds those ocean-blues staring right back at him. An uncomfortable cocktail of sympathy and obliviousness stirs inside of him.

❛  At least we've still got each other, huh?  ❜

[alphabitchnkari]

@skxrbrand

Skarbrand pulled his maw from the arch-tempter’s neck, his plush tongue tenderly licking up the blood still flowing from the wound. They were both breathing heavily, arousal thick in the air. But alas, N’kari sacrifices his own desire and pulls away, for he respects the choices of his beloved reaper, as stupid as they are. 

He goes to freshen up, reapply his blush and eye powders, and give both of them some time to breathe. When he returns to Skarbrand’s abode, he sees a large mass under the duvet. Strange, the bloodthirster prefers to sleep on top. Yet when he pulls the thick furs away, he cries in despair, for the sight that greeted him was the flushed body of Skarbrand entangled in the embrace of a beastman doe. Her heavily pregnant belly already bulging with a half demon child. 

The heaven split open, and Kharneth reaches down to pluck the pair from the mortal world, forever chaining them across from each other. N’kari screams with horror, if anyone, it should be him eternally tormented next to Skarbrand, not some mortal hussy he barely knows!

The arch-tempter snaps awake with a gasp, his hearts franticly pounding. There is blood in his mouth where he bit his tongue from the nightmare. 

From experience, N’kari knows that the nighttime wanderings of the mind is an indicator of subconscious fears and hopes. He...fears that the Exile would be overwhelmed with desire and lay with another? Ludicrous, this is Skarbrand he’s thinking about. The demon is chaster than the Asur Maiden-goddess of Chastity.

He checks through the shelfs of potions he had collected over the years. There is an anaphrodisiac in these rows and rows of elixirs. Though rare, some Slaaneshi brews these, either for torture or for the games of keepers with a more...peculiar taste in sensations. The arch-tempter reminds himself to start labeling his bottles. 

Aha! N’kari triumphantly pulls out a crystal bottle. He winces at the the shape, for in early years he had thought it hilarious to contain it in a bottle blown to resemble a penis. There is no universe where Skarbrand would drink out of a dick bottle.

...

N’kari holds out the penis shaped potion to Skarbrand. “It’s a anaphrodisiac. Guaranteed to make you soft within minutes of drinking it.” He bites his lip and adds, “just in case there’s...future mishaps.” 

[deathfavor]

@kisumshi said: [ jacket ] dorahan cos hanma is a chilly bitch

prompts for ordinary things that feel intimate [ jacket ] sender takes their jacket off and hangs it on receiver's shoulders

Hanma has no love for the winter and he makes no effort to conceal his distaste for it. Sometimes its a muttered why is it so fucking cold?, other times its just a grumpy look whenever he has to go outside and away from the warmth that he has available. And as lovely as Draken's company is, it's not exactly keeping away the nighttime chill.

Maybe it's because Hanma had spent too much time at the mercy of winter and its bitter winds when he was younger. Maybe it's because the reaper doesn't like to feel as cold physically as he does in his chest. He already knows how hollow he is. He doesn't need an unpleasant reminder of it in this way too. Or maybe Hanma just hates it the same way people hate certain colors and smells. Just because. Just because it goes against some internal code.

He's pretty sure there's a joke that could be made somehow. Of course a zombie would like heat more. Which is actually untrue considering both excessive heat and cold were both bad for a decomposing corpse - which is all a zombie really was. But they do like fresh things more he supposes, so the joke more or less still fits. He's too busy sulking over the growing chill to find it though. He'll leave that to Draken, or leave it unsaid of neither of them comment on it.

Hanma's too busy in his own thoughts to really notice when Draken starts to move beside him. There's a far away look in his eyes, bottom lip caught and worked between his teeth in a mindless gesture as he allows a slow river of thoughts to drag him around. It's not a side of Hanma that many people see. His loud, mocking, irritating side is well known. Even his apathetic or bored side is somewhat common. But this ghost like visage is rarer ; like Hanma will disappear with the morning light when the sun dawns in seven hours.

He feels the weight of the jacket on his shoulders, and it yanks him back into now. He looks down, bewildered to find a jacket draped over his shoulders. He lifts his head, his earring softly clanking with the gesture as he looks to see Draken as the generous benefactor. Hanma doesn't hesitate much longer before he's pulling the jacket on properly, an unconscious sigh of relief and comfort filling the space. It's warm - both because it's a proper jacket for this weather, and from Draken's body heat. It's oddly soothing beyond just what a jacket should be able to do. He snuggles into it, amber eyes gleaming with satisfaction like a hungry animal that's just gotten a filet mignon rather than mere scraps.

" Your generosity is truly appreciated, Draken. Want a thank you kiss ~ ? " He grins, voice shifting to its usual melodic, playful tone. Hanma leans against him - first lightly, and then slowly allowing more of his body weight to be supported by him. But then he simply tucks his head against Draken's shoulder. " You really are too nice. " His voice drops the act, sinking to a deeper and more somber sound, But there's still a faint smile on his lips.

[a-moth-to-the-light]

Fall Playlist Drop!!

these aren't all songs that were released during the fall, but they're songs that just sound the most right between september and december, i think :)

for when the tides of nostalgia start to rise:

no cambies tu andar -- Alba Reche

los cuerpos -- Alba Reche

Materia Viva -- Andrea Santiago (best experienced when it is 6pm and the sun has already set)

I Wanna Get Better -- Bleachers

No Face -- Hayley Heyndrickx

Love Is -- Itzy

Replay (PM 01:27) -- NCT 127 (an absolute classic by this point.)

pporappippam -- Sunmi

Wonderland -- Taylor Swift

Say It -- Tkay Maidza ("dog days over / man i cried for weeks")

for crunchy leaves and chilly breezes:

Gimme! Gimme! Gimme! -- ABBA (thanks to embrose for--indirectly--introducing me to this song! i'm obsessed!!)

Thirsty -- Aespa (I GET IT NOW !!!)

Hate That You Know Me -- Bleachers

You're Still A Mystery -- Bleachers

Dracula -- f(x)

Sunlight -- Hozier

BBIBBI -- IU

What You Waiting For -- Jeon Somi

I Wish you Roses -- Kali Uchis

Air Force One -- Odd Eye Circle

Esfera de amor -- Simona (so cronch.)

Big Things -- Tkay Maidza

Growing Up -- Tkay Maidza (this whole album is just prime autumn music, okay??)

for a 9am cup of coffee and the click of heels:

Telepathy -- BTS

Intro: Persona -- BTS

When I'm Alone -- f(x)

Cause I’m God Girl -- HyunA, Il Hoon Jung

Hypnosis -- IVE

XOXO -- Jeon Somi (i really thought this one would have gotten old by now, but somi's songs always surprise me with their shelf lives! i still love that chorus just as much as i did two years ago)

RUN2U -- StayC

Blame It On Me -- Twice

I Can't Stop Me -- Twice (main character song !!)

for the back-to-school sitcom, some theme songs:

Something -- Dayglow (yes i do sing along to both the lyrics and the instrumental of this song i like dayglow a very normal amount)

Monday Morning -- Fleetwood Mac

None of My Business -- Itzy

Lemon Black Tea -- Jo Yuri

Falling For Boys -- Julia Michaels (i've GOTTA do this at karaoke one day)

Fucked Up, Kinda -- Julia Michaels, ROLE MODEL

Handle With Care -- The Traveling Wilburys

for nighttime walks where you can't look away from the moon:

Do I Wanna Know? -- Arctic Monkeys (THANKS FOR THE ARG MONGEES @sincerelywebsy)

One For The Road -- Arctic Monkeys

You're So Dark -- Arctic Monkeys

(Don’t Fear) The Reaper — Blue Öyster Cult

Atlantic City - Live at the Point Theatre, Dublin -- Bruce Springsteen (the superior "atlantic city")

Youngstown -- Bruce Springsteen

Butterfly -- f(x) (oh my GOD its so good)

Liar -- G-IDLE (can't believe i missed this one last year ??)

Ciudad -- Nina Suárez

Into You -- Yuri

[illusion-shinigami]

Fangs @byakushisakura-rp

Nighttime was a time of the day Kizato found peaceful. Nobody was around, and he could do his work quietly and in peace usually. A deep breath was let loose from his mouth while he walked through the calm streets of this new town, which were lit up by the street lights. This wasn't normally an area he was assigned to; or any soul reaper for that matter. He opened his phone and looked at the orders he received.

-Investigate the cause of the destruction of hollows in the area.-

Along with additional information like the location, such as events leading up to the hollows destruction, which didn't offer much help as it said was 'drainage of spiritual pressure' and 'little to no remains'. Closing his phone, he took a look around. Everything seemed normal in this quiet town. With a sigh, he shoved his hands in his pockets. He would have to wait things out until a hollow showed up. That's when he noticed an individual standing under one of the street lights with pale skin and white hair looking right at him. He knew there was nobody around them this late at night, so this person was definitely looking right at him. Not only that...this person seemed different. Like there was something not human about him.

'I wonder if they know whats going on...'

The soul reaper thought to himself. He didn't want to scare them off though, so he held up a hand as if to wave, but he paused right as the all too familiar cry of a hollow echoed throughout the surrounding area. He noticed the person who was looking at him had noticed it too, as their attention turned towards the sound. He could find and question this person later though, after introducing himself hopefully. He never wanted to come off as too fearful to humans who could see him.

With this thought in mind, he took off in the direction of the hollow, using his flash step to get there quick. It was then that he felt something weird... It was as if the hollow was disappearing, the cries got shorter, the spirit energy he sensed grew weaker...as if it was draining away slowly. He arrived at the scene by landing on top of a building in front of the area. It was a large back alleyway, and his eyes widened at the sight. He saw what appeared to be just the mask of a hollow, laying on the concrete. Before he could get close to investigate it, it crumbled away into nothing.

"Just what's going on..."

He muttered to himself. It was then that he also noticed two individuals, also with pale almost white skin, leaving the area through an alleyway. He was going to follow them, but his sighed. He needed to report this to the soul society and receive further orders-or he should investigate further and give more information when he had more. Right now, he knew about as much as the research and development team who assigned him this task.

"I'll find out who they are-"

Kizato said to himself as he watched the humans walk around the corner of the alley out of his sight. He was about to give chase when his attention was drawn to the white haired individual from earlier, who had also just arrived. They ran down into the open back alleyway, possibly looking for something. The street lights shining against his skin reminded him that he shared the same pale skin look as the others did. This person may know whats going on, but he had to play it cool. He then flash stepped down a little bit behind the person and started up a conversation in what he hoped was a pretty casual enough way to not scare the other off.

"Oh, hey. Did you hear that weird sound too?"

[zoocoup]

2023 Favorites with Notes

2023 Favorite LPs & EPs https://www.zoocoup.org/2023/music/lps.html

2023 Favorite Singles https://www.zoocoup.org/2023/music/singles.html

A few notes:

The A Giant Dog record was simply the one record I not only listened to a lot but also the one that would constantly earworm itself into my brain randomly, so I didn't see how I couldn't place it at the top of the list. I've loved the past few A Giant Dog records, but I still don't know how I like something that has so much theater kid energy.

Esther Rose, Yazmin Lacey, Glyders, This is the Kit, The Tubs, Andrew Gabbard, Stress Positions, Lael Neal, Miss Grit, CHERISE, Chief Adjuah, Bruxa Maria, Cel Ray, Cerbère, Dead Sea Apes, Dream Version, Gueersh, Hairband, La Culpa and Uni Boys were entirely new to me

I've liked several Mitski songs in the past, but this was the first full record I felt compelled to buy

The last three songs of the Bully record are undefeated

PACKS was a band I found on accident a few years ago — their first record was included in a shipping mixup — and I continue to be impressed with them

In my head I argue The Armed is basically Steely Dan for the 21st century

Girl Ray's first record was one of my favorite records of 2017, but I skipped the follow up. Pleasantly surprised to see how much I enjoyed this latest release

I played the three EPs I called out more than some records this year

I wish julie would release a proper record

Happy to see Bosque Brown and Las Nubes return with something new after a few years away

2023 Numbers:

Albums & EPs purchased: 194

Singles purchased: 96

Releases that came close to making one of the lists:

Bees Made Honey in the Vein Tree / Aion

“Bicho Solto“ / Lê Almeida

Blonde Redhead / Sit Down for Dinner

“Bullet” / split system

Cat Power / Cat Power Sings Dylan: The 1966 Royal Albert Hall Concert

Catalogue / MODERN DELUSION

Class Traitor / Broken Energy Highway

“Defect“ / Snooper

El Michels Affair & Black Thought / Glorius Game

“Evil Eye” Shana Cleveland

Gaadge / Somewhere Down Below

“glow worms” / Jonah Yano

Goo / Squid Ink Sky

PJ Harvey / I Inside the Old Year Dying

Kyle Kinane / Shocks and Struts

La Sécurité / Stay Safe!

Leggy / Dramatica

Jenny Lewis / Joy'All

Liela Moss / Internal Working Model

“My Lovely Cat! / Deerhoof

“Nothing in the Middle” / Things That Fly

“Read the Room” / Pearl & The Oysters

“Ruth's Mouth“ / RITUAL / HABIT / CEREMONY

Sky Furrows / Reflect and Oppose

Skyzoo / The Mind of a Saint

Trevor Sloan / Dusk Among the Plum Trees

“So U Kno“ / Overmono

“Springtime” / Vintage Crop

Swans / The Beggar

Sweeping Promises / Good Living Is Coming For You

Tanukichan / GIZMO

Tele Novella / Poet's Tooth

Mo Troper / Troper Sings Brion

WALLOWING / EARTH REAPER

“The Way“ / Nighttime

[isladora]

If Magic School is nothing like she thought, then Wyvern is even more surprising.

It took her a full week to realize that this tall dragon boy with a wingspan twice her height is not mean or scary at all, despite his long, prowling stares and moody silences.

He's just painfully awkward.

It happened in their room in those late hours where the morning mingled with night and every nighttime echo seemed to shout in the silence. Pepa sat curled on her bed, a mug of tea on her side table and a book in her lap.

Wyvern was perched in front of his easel, his tail curled lightly around his body. He was staring at the easel, sketching with a pencil in hand, muttering under his breathe and measuring every few strokes.

The silence in the room was thick, lurking like a crocodile in a lake. Pepa had never truly fit the archetype of a nerd, despite her efforts. She loved books and needed learning like her owl Holmes needed perch judgmentally at the foot of her bed (little twit), but she'd never succeeded in being properly awkward or shy.

Despite her childhood efforts of bookish isolation, she had loads of friends growing up and still caught up them from time to time on her social media accounts or on weekends. A few had even visited her at the boarding house.

And so when the silence prowled, Pepa was simply not bookishly quaint enough to meekly ignore it. She confronted the silence head on.

"What are you painting?" Pepa asked the dragon boy, hoping he hadn't heard the quake in her voice. His face flushed a truly shocking shade of red.

When he spoke, his voice quaked worse than Pepa. She found herself feeling unexpectedly proud of that fact. After all, it wasn't like he was talking to a black-eyed white dragon.

"It's-erm-nothing," he mumbled, his long hair falling in curtains around his face. Usually he kept it back with a rubber band, but sometimes he let it fully loose in the privacy of their room.

"You've been working hard on it for hours," She said, arching an eyebrow at him. God, it irritated her when people said 'nothing'. Just say you don't want her to know. It can't be nothing. It must have shown on her face because he flushed even harder, this time to the white roots of his hair. Soon he'd be as pink as Plumdrop.

"No, but-it's-I can't," he stuttered, scratching at his scalp. And finally, in the most defeated voice she could have imagined, "You weren't supposed to ask." "What?" She asked dryly, her primly arched eyebrow arching higher. Because, honestly, what? Was he raised in a cave?

Did Mommy and Daddy dragon not speak simlish? It was so absurd that she completely forgot to be afraid. She laid her book aside and leaned forward, more than curious about whatever the hell that was supposed to mean.

"It's a gift," he said, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "For you."

Eyebrow down. Mouth open. What. This dragon boy hadn't spoken a word to Pepa, or anyone, all week. And suddenly, he's painting something for her specifically? Once again it must have shown on her face, because the blush crept down his arms and to his hands.

"Well, I've been-" And he mumbled the next part so quietly that she had to unfold her limbs from her comfy bed and cross half the room to hear him. "I've been wanting to talk to you. Just didn't know how. So I thought maybe we could talk about this painting. When it's done."

"Oh," said Pepa, unexpectedly flushed. She tugged her sweatpants higher on her hips just to do something with her hands. "Right. Of course. When it's done."

"When it's done," he repeated, a hint of desperation in his impossibly deep voice. He spoke in a growl like the grim reaper. It was terrifying.

"Okay, when its done you can-you can try talking to me about the painting," I said, tucking myself back into my bed, grabbing the discarded book from my bedside table.

He nodded into the curtain of his hair and turned back to the Easel. That's when she thought back to his long stares and avoidant behavior and sighed. Well, she had to adopt him now.

[blahandwhatever]

The air is unclean, and the sun has too often been an unblinding orange disk. Still, there is no orange sky or fire. Still, a walk outside after a housebound day fills me with life.

This week, I’m basking in contrasts. The pleasure of a lazy day at home after a busy day out and about. The pleasures of the outdoors and moving and exploring after a lazy day at home.

Today's walk through well-trodden ground was unusually invigorating, shaking me out of my latest too-much-internet slump. Afterward, I went to check out Woodman’s Food Market for the first time, driving through parts of Buffalo Grove I’d never ventured into, so reminiscent of Naperville. My singular aim was obtaining Herr’s Carolina Reaper cheese curls - they disappeared from Jewel just as they’d become an essential in my spicy snack rotation, and I hadn’t been able to find them anywhere in forever. With the help of Instacart, I learned they might be available at this store.

The store was massive and packed with a wealth of stuff. I got a whole ’nother walk out of winding through its many aisles, getting the lay of the land. My brain teemed with a sense of discovery I hadn’t felt in a while. I found my beloved cheese curls. Know what else I found? My favorite chocolate and organic teas I’d been ordering in bulk since they disappeared from other stores. It was like a return to the past - and so were some of the prices. Favorite frozen meals at prices I hadn’t seen since before COVID. SeaPak tempura shrimp for $6.99, regular price - I’m lucky if I can find it on sale for that little elsewhere. Some cheap organic produce too. The only letdown was a bag of apples I thought cost $3.99 but learned at checkout was $3.99/lb, or $8.99 total. That one was more expensive than the equivalent at other stores (although I’m a little suspicious because looking online suggests it’s $3.99 for 3 lbs - and this was a case where I had trouble scanning the barcode and an employee helped me. I’ll check more carefully next time). Also couldn’t find any organic cashew butter - would be nice to find a good replacement for the horribly price-gouged one I’ve been buying at Whole Foods, or the same one for a lower price, but oh well (last new cashew butter I tried was Once Again from Fresh Thyme, which is so awful I can’t believe it’s on the market and voluntarily eaten by people).

All in all, it may be a bit farther from home, but it’s definitely a place worth visiting once or twice a month to stock up on some stuff. With the prices they have, some things aren’t even worth buying elsewhere anymore. The drive is also more pleasant than most of my shopping routes here.

I got back home after 9, another first in a while, and still had an excess of energy for bouncing around to music. I ate my chips, had lots of vegetables, eventually wound down and wrote most of this post, read some Annie Dillard, and made the mistake I’ve so often made lately of taking a nighttime nap that would end up going on for hours. Last night, I resisted doing this and was better off for it. Stupid habits form all too fast - then I have to fight to shake them off.

Now there’s construction going on in the parking lot, probably adding more uncleanness to the air. But I’m safe enough inside with my purifiers, and far enough from the noise to sleep soundly again.

[lalamines]

[ Fireflies ] - Also known as lightning bugs. Get it? … Maybe you wish to catch the show, or maybe you want to catch the bugs - just remember that they’re not so small anymore. [ Wish ] - Off to the side there is a lonely well. Perhaps if you toss in a coin and keep it company for a moment, it will grant you a wish? 

A curl of russet-garbed fingertips reaches as if for lime starlight, bended elbow withholding childish humor, as if to touch and prompt sparkling electricity from so grandiose a nighttime creature, aflutter and light-casting ( for there was within a curious notion, infantile and wholly unlike Prince Macedon . )

It is delicate bootfalls that tugs his hand from lime sparks, withdrawing, crossed at the sternum, fortified against that childish curiosity for what if he was seen?

Pride was a miserable advisor. Wholly-consuming of a king, wholly-despairing of a man seeking mirth.

He turns atop booted heel, glimpsing a phantom-esque visage of soft locks and a mien wrought of soft benignity ( a phantom of his loss ―― that dream so distant of the reaper ? )

"Have you heard?" He spoke, brows furrowing. "They . . . grant wishes, these creatures. Make one now. It is late." Lips press together, fraternity awakening ( a chivalrous knight ―― fraternal affection ). He would not permit Maria to wander astray, into dark nighttime endeavors, and haply it is such that prompts,

"Upon finishing, I'll escort your return to the ballroom."

An offered hand.

It's a beautiful sight, one that Mercedes was content to quietly enjoy in a moment of peace and quiet. Thoughtful and reverent, she loses track of time until another presence joins her.

A stranger, but in some way achingly familiar. The stony furrow of his brow and forlorn expression bring a name to her lips. Emile.

She is not foolish enough to say it out loud. To burden this stranger with her brother's memory. The similaritiesextend mostly to stature and something else, less tangible but all the more profound. It seems this man, chiseled in marble and steel carries enough of his own hardships. All Mercedes has to offer is quiet companionship, a gossamer light smile intended to reassure that one day, one day things would be well again.

Mercedes does not know which of them she is trying to convince.

"I hadn't heard that. Thank you for sharing, have you made a wish of your own?" There is little she wants for, at least nothing so important to for such an opportunity. An extra helping of dessert or a breeze to help the laundry dry more quickly seem like trivial little things. Those she can easily do without, making the most of the situation whatever may come tomorrow. This solemn moment begs for something weightier and more meaningful. So Mercedes does the one things she knows best. "Hmm, my wish is for yours to come true! Now they simply have to grant it."

She takes his offered hand, feeling another flower blossom against her neck as she accepts his offer to escort her. The company would be nice, even if she can certainly handle herself at night.

"Thank you for walking with me. You have a very kind heart. May I ask your name?"

[kofetalesnbpdchaos-leoreaper]

Me: is writings a short story about a young woman who’s going to have to be dealings with ghosts & shit!!

Also Me: around 01:04 AM, hears noises while in the middle of writing the scene where a ghostly figure’s soft voice is calling out to the MC in the middle of the fucking night—

Me: AHHH!! D: WHY TF AM I WRITING THIS IN THE MIDDLE OF THE GOD DAMN NIGHT?! *drops notebook & pen* 🤧

Honestly??? Ahahaha 😂😭💔 It’s like 03:31 AM now , & I honestly wanna continue this shit but like same time Imma scary my own ass off!! *SMH* 🤦🏻‍♀️🤦🏻‍♀️ I’m too eager to get this over with!! x3

BTW: DO WRITERS WHO WRITE HORROR SHIT STOP WRITING IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT OR ARE YOUS LOT LIKE….???? 🤣🤣 NOT scaredy kitties ?? ;’3

P.S: this bitch is watching resident evil 2 play through with the man talking n shit which I thought I’d be scared of but like I’m doing shit on the side sooo cX hehehehe!! xD

— Lena Eclipse Reaper aka Leo Reaper.

The Art of Being A Pussy @ Nighttime As A Writer 👻

[the-letter-horror-lover]

The Theory of Uncertainty

Lyrid

Summary:

Undertaker has grown weary of his endless existence spent indifferently collecting the souls of the dead. There doesn't seem to be anything interesting left in the world, until he meets a young fortune teller on his list who simply...doesn't die. AU, set in modern-day London. Deals with themes of suicide, depression, and grief.

Notes:

So I've had this little story kicking around in my brain for some time, and finally decided to give it a start. If you want to share your thoughts or give me a nudge to keep going, please leave a review! I hope you enjoy!

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Chapter 1: Vanish

Chapter Text

Every grave opens wide like a lover's arms, beckoning you to fall into its secure embrace. It looks so peaceful down there, right? So fall. That was what the silver-haired figure thought as he observed the achingly familiar scene before him. He had never stood on this particular train trestle before, but he could tell it was long abandoned by the thick weeds crowding in between the rusted tracks. A relic of earlier times, when people thought the world could be tied together by rails like a parcel bound up in string. Now that dream was finished, as dead as the young woman in front of him was about to be. He checked his pocketwatch out of habit; he had been standing on this ruin for exactly twenty-three minutes, awaiting the arrival of the latest soul on his collection list. She had shown up at the ten-minute mark, wrapped in a thin black overcoat with a hood that buried a mass of bushy hair. It was nighttime; she must have walked here from her home, or perhaps her workplace, and she had spent the last thirteen minutes leaning over the rickety railing, staring down into darkness. The marsh far below them was hidden in shadow and mist, a gaping maw into which she would soon let herself drop.

Tapping long nails against his pocketwatch, he checked the time again. Three minutes until her time of death. He was relieved that this one wouldn't take long. Sometimes the jumpers took forever to actually do it, cringing before the empty abyss, sobbing, dialing phone numbers that never picked up. It could drag on for hours. But this girl had walked all the way out here in this kind of weather, so she must be fairly determined. He paced closer to her, staring down at her shrouded figure. She couldn't sense him, of course, but she shivered as another gust of wind rattled through her thin coat. He wondered if she'd been here before in happier days. Why had she chosen this broken trestle to be the place where she took her final leap?

The reaper stepped back as the girl edged toward the nearest column, mentally chiding himself for being drawn in. He had long ago lost interest in charting out these mortals' fleeting lives. It didn't matter why she'd come here or who she was. He didn't even recall her name, having glanced over his collection list a few minutes before her arrival to make sure nothing had changed. Nothing ever changed. She was going to die in a minute and then nothing that she was or did or thought would ever matter again. He already knew what he was going to write on his collection list after her head cracked open like an egg on the faraway ground; Died of cranial trauma due to a fall. Additional remarks: None.

He watched passively as she braced against the mouldering column and pulled herself onto the edge of the railing. From there it was a straight drop down, and she extended a leg gracefully over the abyss, like a tightrope walker about to make her debut. Powerful winds rushed around her, nearly knocking her off the ledge without her volition involved. It occurred to him that she hadn't made a single sound over the entire time she'd been here. No prayers, no tears, and even now, no cry of existential terror. So, then, she was just going to vanish from this world without a sound. He watched her hands tremble on the drenched iron ridges and waited for the moment they would let go.

He waited. And waited. It seemed like it was taking longer than a minute, but he knew that time behaved differently around death. It wasn't a static force like the humans thought. Over the course of his long existence he'd felt it bend and stretch, compress and contort, much like the tall evergreens being tossed around on the other side of the marsh. It didn't always move the way one thought it would, but it always kept its scheduled end. That, and only that, was what kept the world turning in order.

The silver-haired reaper was startled from his reverie as the girl's body finally dropped from the railing. But something was wrong, he realized in the seconds following. She had stepped off the railing, yes, but she hadn't stepped forward. She'd stepped backward and now she was sprawling gracelessly at his feet on the floor of the trestle, wild-eyed and still very much alive.

He stared down at her in utter confusion, noticing for the first time her pale, narrow face and the tufts of reddish-brown hair poking out of her displaced hood. This….was not right. Not correct. He fumbled for his pocketwatch and clicked it open to see the time was 12:57 pm. She ought to have perished exactly one minute ago.

Then at last, as he stared into the glass pane of his timepiece, he finally heard a sound break from her lips. It was a long, low-pitched keening, somewhere between a wail and a hysterical laugh. His eyes were drawn from the watch to her face as she sat up, moving her hands over the scraped edges of her elbows and continuing to make that low, guttural noise. She scrubbed at her eyes even though she wasn't crying, and finally curled up into a ball inside her coat as the keening gave way to rapid, heaving breaths. The storm quieted just enough for him to hear them.

He wasn't sure how long he stood over this huddled impossibility of a human, trying to fish something out of the well of his newly blank mind. This had never happened before. No, this could not have happened at all. There was no protocol for what to do in this situation. It wasn't in the manual. All he could think about was the rather banal concern of what am I going to write on the list?

A moment later, he snapped to attention and dove into the deepest pocket of his robes, sifting through old inkwells and quills to find his collections list. It was a heavy tome, but he was so accustomed to the weight that he hardly felt it. He skimmed furiously through the pages, a month or so of souls, each one marked with a terse red stamp labeling them 'complete.' His fingernail bit into the page he had dog-eared today, scanning down a row of collected souls to the place her profile had been just half an hour ago. There was nothing there now. No picture, no name, no information. Most importantly, no date of birth or death. Just an empty spot amidst a sea of dead and those to die.

The wind picked up again and howled around him in a torrent of battered raindrops. He didn't know what to do. He supposed he ought to report this, but to whom? There was no agency that handled matters involving humans who continued to live past their death date. There was no form to fill out for this type of incident. Occasionally a careless young reaper would fail to correctly sever a deceased soul from its corpse, which could cause problems, and there were cases of paperwork being incorrectly filed that led to mix-ups regarding which humans had died where….but something like this….

The tall reaper glanced downward and actually gasped in surprise for the first time in a century. The space at his feet where the girl had fallen was empty. At first he thought she too had simply vanished – and wouldn't that be the icing on the cake of this abnormal night? – but then he spotted her at the end of the trestle's juncture, loping slowly back the way she'd come. She was going home, as though nothing extraordinary had happened on her midnight walk. He fought back the sudden urge to call out to her, demand she come back here and die properly so he could finalize the collection of her soul. It wasn't as though she could hear him. Still, just before she disappeared up the road that led into town, she turned around and gazed back at the marsh that should have been her grave. Her hood was down this time, rain soaking bronze bushels of hair and dripping from her nose. He could barely see her eyes through the mist, but the light reflected off them gave him a feeling he couldn't name. Like a rabbit in the brush senses the eyes of the hawk, feels the air shiver as it dives. The feeling of being seen.

Chapter 2: Trace

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

His last few collections were completed with nothing unusual occurring, and he couldn't tell if he should feel relieved or even more discomfited. Standing over the body of his final collection for this shift, an old woman living alone in a worn little flat, Undertaker watched the spiraling loops of her cinematic record with disinterest. His mind was still back on that rain-soaked trestle, and he kept checking the empty space on his list which the girl should have occupied. It didn't make sense. The list came directly from the higher-ups in the grim reaper organization. It was not a document that could be altered or tampered with. The list was fate itself, infallible and exact. Like clockwork, it foretold the precise time, place, and circumstance of each human's demise, and those deaths always followed exactly as specified. The list could not be wrong.

Undertaker was pulled from his thoughts as the last few frames of the old woman's unremarkable life flashed before his eyes. The cinematic reels faded into the book he held open, and he carefully snipped off the final reel as it wound to an end. He waited until the greenish glow subsided before he scribbled in the margins: Died of lung deterioration related to emphysema. Additional remarks: None. He stamped her record as complete and slid the heavy tome into his pocket. He didn't waste a moment in leaving the cramped, stale-smelling flat. Outside, he stood on the rusted balcony and stared up at the sky where the constellation Orion would be, if it wasn't currently covered in clouds. Then he closed his eyes and sighed, relaxing his body into the curvature of space around him. When he blinked them open again, he was standing on a narrow road under a steel-grey sky, facing toward a huge spire rising in the distance.

He began walking past the muted glass panes of buildings, not minding which road he took. In the Shinigami realm, all roads led to the all-important soul library. Around him moved a great swell of black-clad bodies, hurrying here and there with bespectacled eyes glued to their paperwork. They barely seemed to notice each other, and the streets were silent but for the clatter of heels on pavement. No rain poured from the grey sky – the Shinigami realm did not have 'weather' so much as one constant, overcast day. There was no sun, and no night. For as long as he had "lived" here, the sky above and the streets below had been the same lifeless color of grey. He had thought it would drive him mad, at first. That was about the only thing he remembered from his early days. Perhaps he was mad, and he just couldn't tell because everyone else was mad too.

He passed by the forensics division and smirked at the sight of all of those laboratory geeks milling about with noses stuck in textbooks. There were a few amusing fellows who worked in that building, pointdexter types who were always good for a laugh. He liked spending time with them just to see what sort of precocious things they would say. Right now, however, he was on a mission that was leading him right to the heart of this little world – the Grim Reaper Dispatch Headquarters and Soul Collection Library.

The female attendant behind the desk bowed as he entered, and the few other library patrons looked up and stared. He graced them with a passing half-smile as he made his way to a large row of polished wooden filing cabinets in the center of the room. This was the repository for all the recently deceased souls in the world. Here they were stored and reviewed by clerics to make sure their information matched that in their completed profiles on the collection list. If there had been any mistakes during collection, this was where more practiced eyes would catch them. He, of course, never made mistakes. He did, however, wish that he had paid a bit of mind to the young human's name when it had been on his list. He supposed it couldn't be helped – there had been nothing about her profile that had seemed in any way noteworthy. He couldn't remember the last time he'd actually bothered to learn the name of someone on his collection list. Perhaps the last time he'd reaped the soul of someone famous, Queen Victoria or Winston Churchill….but those names wouldn't help him now. Since he couldn't look her up by name, he started with the general area of London where she ought to have died. Sliding open file drawers with practiced ease, he thumbed through all the records that had been collected around that place within the past day. There were a fair few, mostly old people, but he made sure he studied each face carefully, searching for bushy bronze hair and that slender, barely-freckled nose. None of the photos looked even remotely close to the face he'd seen on the trestle. He checked again to make sure, then, undeterred, began rummaging through the drawers to find all the deaths that had taken place tonight in England between the hours of 12:30 to 1:30 am. Once again, his search came up empty.

Undertaker decided to abandon the file drawers and venture further into the library to search the records of still-living humans. Once again, he was stymied by the fact that he didn't know his query's name. In the soul library, names were more than tags used to identify people. Names had power. They were inextricably tied to the records of their owners, and could be invoked to call up any document at a moment's notice. No matter how many other humans may have the same name, one could always find the correct records by simply speaking the name aloud under the soaring glass dome which covered the reception desk. It was usually that easy. However, Undertaker had to admit that he liked the idea of a challenge, something he needed to work for if he wanted the answer. It had been far too long since anything interesting had presented itself to him.

He started with the records of humans living in the northern area of London, and cross-referenced that with the approximate age the girl appeared to be, give or take about twenty years because with some humans you really couldn't tell. He supposed time passed as he bustled about the shelves inspecting each tome which met his criteria, but the sky remained grey and the library noiseless. He forgot to check his pocketwatch. At one point the young reference librarian came by and inquired in a tremulous voice if he needed any help. He dismissed her with a vague wave of his hand. Finally, when all the relevant records had been thoroughly perused, he sat down on a reclining sofa and leaned his head back to watch the concrete sky roll past. There were far too many variables still floating around in his mind. Suppose the girl didn't live in the area, but was merely visiting. Suppose she was much older or much younger than she physically appeared. Suppose she wasn't even a girl – he could have misjudged her gender from the brief glimpse he'd gotten of her face, although he thought it unlikely. But pursuing all these possibilities could take months of searching, and even he didn't have that much free time. The quickest way would be to return to the human world, find her again, and shadow her until he learned her name….

Undertaker stood with a frown and decided to walk the length of the library to clear his head. This much investment in a single human was definitely outside the responsibilities of his job as a dispatch reaper. The matter ought to be reported to the head of his department, whoever that was. (Humans weren't the only creatures whose names he didn't trouble himself to learn.) That person would then convey it to the higher-ups and they could resolve it as they saw fit. There was no way he could be considered at fault for something as unprecedented as this. But then….then the girl would be out of his hands, and someone else would decide what happened to her. And as strange as it seemed, he wasn't sure he wanted that.

The silver-haired reaper paused as a stone parapet intruded into his path. Glancing upward, he beheld a grandiose figure of stone wielding a long scythe, bespectacled eyes staring coldly down at him. The statue wore his face, but Undertaker had never quite been able to associate himself with its height. It loomed over him, evidence that he had achieved something rare and valuable in this dreary world – he had distinguished himself within the infinite ranks of grim reapers. Centuries of service, a prolific work ethic, meticulous collections, and a reputation for being cold-blooded enough to shear children's souls from their bodies without hesitation – all of that had made him a legend, a status which definitely had its benefits. He knew he could hand off the girl's case to the higher-ups with no trouble or risk of reprimand. He had done exactly as instructed when he went to collect her. And yet….

His hand slid into his pocket and gripped the binding of that heavy tome. Of all the reapers in this dull realm, the one who was supposed to harvest her soul was him. She was his charge, not theirs. And if she refused to die as scheduled, it should be up to him to investigate how this impossible thing had happened. He lifted the list from his robes and flipped through to the page where her profile should have been. There was the same blank space, enticing him to find something to fill it. With a brusque nod, Undertaker replaced the list and strode toward the giant double doors. Yes, for now, this girl's existence was no one's concern but his. As he walked, a tiny smirk lifted the corners of his lips. This could be an interesting diversion. It might even turn out to amuse him.

Notes:

Since we don't know much about the Shinigami realm, I'm just doing my own artistic take on it for story purposes.

Chapter 3: Seen

Chapter Text

It had been several days since the incident, and Undertaker had been using any spare time he had off his shifts to trawl the more densely populated areas of London, scanning crowds for the face that was burned into his mind. Normally, a reaper could easily find the location of a living human by calling up their file from the library. But to look up a file he needed the name, which left him right back where he'd started. So he was going about this the old-fashioned way, meandering along the edges of rooftops and staring down into flocks of human figures as they milled about their daily lives. Just like a private eye in those old noir films. All he needed was a trench coat and a fedora. Undertaker smirked slightly, tapping his nails against his pocket watch. He was about to start his next shift, so he would have to suspend his detective work for now. Even so, if that girl was anywhere within this massive city, he would find her. He had time and patience on his side.

A few hours later, he stood at street level before the winding cinematic reels of a middle-aged man who had been struck by a lorry while jaywalking. It was not a pretty sight, and the responding police had already covered the body and begun to erect barriers and redirect traffic. Officers hurried around with strings of caution tape, their eyes gliding right past him as if he were part of the pavement. He wondered how much energy he would absorb from this man's life, and what he should use it for. At that moment, a bearded officer stepped directly through him and shivered as he began to direct pedestrian traffic around the barrier. A harassed-looking lady pushing a stroller planted herself directly in front of him. "How long will these emergency vehicles be here? My son's birthday party is in half an hour and the guests won't have anywhere to park."

The officer grunted as he waved her past. "Look lady, there's no rushing the EMTs and investigators. They need to examine the scene until they're satisfied, so please move along."

The lady huffed indignantly and strode away as a softer voice replaced hers. "Pardon me, sir, but will we be able to cross the street further up? We're trying to reach the fairgrounds….says Wordsworth."

"I'm sorry, says who?"

"Wordsworth."

"What in blazes-"

Undertaker finished his review of the man's abruptly-ended life and severed the final reel after the last scene. He scribbled down the cause of death and stamped 'complete' over his profile before glancing up at the ensuing conversation. He nearly dropped his collections list. Standing in front of the officer was a young man with strangely pale, luminescent skin and milk-colored hair. He was wearing an old-fashioned vest and carrying a bag of groceries, but it was the figure behind him which drew the reaper's notice. Bushy, windblown hair. That barely-freckled nose. Baggy sweatpants and a loosely-fitting shawl. And eyes which looked like shutters blown wide open, gazing transfixed at the scene before her. Eyes that glinted a familiar shade of iridescent green. Eyes that were looking right at him.

Undertaker stopped listening to everything around him as he stared back into those eyes that were the same color as his. He felt that strange, tingling sensation creeping up his spine again. It was a feeling he was used to in the Shinigami realm, but it struck him as entirely unfamiliar in the human one. The feeling of being watched.

"Here now, son, I think you'll want to move along. Your lady friend doesn't look so well. It can be traumatizing to see something like this when you aren't prepared for it."

It was only when the young man nodded and grasped at the sleeve of his female companion that she finally broke eye contact with the stunned reaper. He offered his arm and she gripped it tightly as they hurried away. Undertaker stood there, bemused, before coming to his senses and striding after them. He was much taller than most humans, so it was easy to keep them in sight as they navigated the crowd of re-routed pedestrians. After two blocks, they crossed the street and began angling toward the public area of London's main fairway. The crowds thinned and he was able to hear their voices, low and fluted against the background traffic.

"-really am okay, I think I'm just in shock after seeing something like that. He didn't even look before he stepped in front of the lorry."

"I know. It made my stomach turn….says Bronte. I don't think we're going to eat much after all, says Emily."

"At least Doll wasn't with us. She'd have nightmares for weeks."

"She wanted to come. She was worried about you. You were gone for a long time….says Goethe." The young man glanced carefully over at his bushy-haired companion, one hand fiddling with the buttons on his vest. Now that he was closer, Undertaker could see that his skin was smooth and faintly scaled, appearing almost reptilian. He thought there was a medical condition which caused that, but he couldn't remember its name.

The girl bit her lip, swiping a stray bit of hair behind her ear. "Yes, well, my mother….was particularly difficult to be with this time."

"Then maybe you shouldn't." The scale-skinned boy suggested lowly, guiding them down a path through a wooded area which led to a series of raised tents. "Not if it makes you this unhappy…..says Bronte."

"Will you do something for me?" the girl interjected suddenly, her shoulders tensing.

"Of course….says Wordsworth."

"Look behind us and tell me if there's anyone there."

The boy glanced backward, wide eyes scanning the bushes and clearings. Only a few feet away, Undertaker found himself pausing warily, staring at the girl's turned back.

"There no one," the boy reported quietly. "Why, did you see something?...says Emily."

"I'm not sure." The girl tugged her shawl more tightly around her shoulders, hefting the bag of groceries in her other hand. "I just felt….like someone was there." They continued walking, the girl keeping her eyes fixed pointedly ahead of her. Undertaker didn't know what to do but to keep following, unnaturally aware of his every footstep on the ground.

Chapter 4: Home

Notes:

Happy holidays, everyone! Here's another chapter for you! If you're feeling generous, leave me a review and I will put it under my muse's tree! :)

Chapter Text

As the pair of humans stepped off the path and into a large clearing, a panoply of brightly-colored tents emerged from the woods, their tops raised almost as high as the trees surrounding them. Between the tents Undertaker could see numerous people milling about, talking or resting in the open. No one seemed to be in any real hurry, so he was able to leisurely follow the girl and her companion as they carried their grocery bags toward the center of the small tent city. They had almost reached a large, broad-sided tent when a high-pitched voice rang out behind them. "Hey, they're back! Snake! Char!"

The humans turned around as another form hurtled past Undertaker and collided with the girl, nearly causing her to drop her grocery bag. She staggered backward, huffing in surprise as the smaller figure attached to her waist beamed up at her. "'Bout time, too! You were gone so long I was startin' to think you'd been bopped in the head and forgot your way home!" Now Undertaker could see that the figure was that of a young teenager with russet-colored hair that draped low over one eye. She wore faded, baggy clothes as well, and a big smile graced her freckled face. "Ooooh, you went shopping? What'd you get? Did they have my favorite cereal?"

While the teenager practically dove into the shopping bag, there was a rustling behind the fabric of the nearest tent. The older girl turned as the curtain expelled a tall man with vivid orange hair and flamboyantly mismatched clothes. He grinned jovially as he strode right through Undertaker and clapped the boy on the shoulder. "Came back with all we sent ye for, eh? Good lad. And ye –" he pointed a brightly painted finger at the bronze-haired girl, "Ye ought to tell us when yer thinkin' to be gone for more'n two days. Gettin' a bit worried, we was!"

The girl averted her eyes and dropped her hand into her pocket. It emerged clutching a perfectly round orange, which she held out to the taller man. "Sorry, Joker."

The man attempted to look cross, but the effect was mostly comedic as he took the orange and spun it on his finger. "Aw, well, 'long as yer back now I s'pose there's no harm done. Still got a few days to the next show. Char, you an' Doll put the groceries away, then go rest in yer tent before dinner. Snake, you come with me, we just got a new shipment of mice for yer friends…."

The two males trotted off while the girls picked up the grocery bags and hustled into the broad-sided tent. Undertaker followed them in, and it turned out to be a kind of mess hall, with foldable tables in the back and a while kitchen setup in the front, complete with ovens, sinks, a refrigerator, and plenty of cupboards. He supposed these people must live here for a significant portion of the year. Was this a circus troupe, then? That explained the tents and gaudy costumes, and the red-haired man had mentioned something about a show…. He wondered what role the girl played in the performance. It had been a long time since he had seen a circus. He recalled he used to go quite often when the Ringling Brothers toured around England at the start of the 20th century. Lions and tigers and all that. Many reapers didn't bother with what they considered "mortal frivolities," but it wasn't like the Shinigami realm had anything better to offer. As an amusement, humans had potential. In the past, Undertaker had often entertained himself by slinking unseen through their world and observing what spectacles they made of their lives. He wondered when he had begun to lose interest in even these brief diversions.

Lost in thought, he didn't notice when the girls finished placing the groceries inside an array of cupboards and left the tent. Only when he heard the canvas flap shut did he glance up and meander out after them. They were headed toward a double row of smaller tents, beyond which he could see the glimmer of a thousand city lights as afternoon began to sink into evening. They strode past open flaps of canvas inside which he could see people relaxing in bunk beds or hammocks, reading on chairs, talking around tables, painting at easels. This seemed to be the living area for the troupe members. The smaller girl bobbed her head happily as she waved to everyone they passed. "I hear we're havin' fish and chips tonight! Good thing you came back when you did. I'd have saved you some, anyway." She glanced up at her silent companion, who had her arms folded tightly and her head down. "Char, is somethin' wrong? You been quieter than usual so far." She frowned, her face clouding over with sudden unease. "Anythin' happen when you went to visit your mum?"

The bronze-haired girl stopped in front of a crimson tent speckled with purple and gold stars. She brushed her fingers through her wild hair and fixed her eyes on the dark interior of the tent. "Doll, do me a favor? Look behind us and tell me if you see anyone….unusual."

The smaller girl turned and glanced around with a gaze that passed through him like the wind. "Well….there's lots of people behind us, and we're all circus folk, so…."

"Yes, I know we're all a bit unusual here," the girl called Char interrupted. The ghost of an affectionate smile briefly swept her face before she turned serious again. "What I mean is, do you see anyone you've never seen before?"

Doll turned around again and pushed her bangs aside to cast a careful gaze over the background. The part of her face that had been covered by her hair was marred by a thick burn scar, gnarling her skin into an angry red weal. But neither of her eyes settled on him as they peered about. "We know everyone I can see, Char. What - " The girl cut short and seized her companion's arm excitedly. "Oooooh, is it a ghost you're spottin'? Where is it? How come you don't wanna look?"

The older girl sighed and stepped into her tent, flipping a switch that ignited a string of fairy lights wound around the poles. "It's fine, Doll. I just thought I saw someone I didn't recognize."

"Okaaaayyy…." Clearly not convinced, the other girl released her arm and gaze her a quizzical stare. "Joker said to rest till dinner, but I can stay with you if you like?"

"It's alright, I'll be fine. Just gonna lie down for a bit. Here, go and give Beast these clasps I got to replace the ones on her costume that broke." The girl handed her friend a little case from her pocket. "I'll see you at dinner."

"Don't be late, y'know it's always a madhouse when cook rings the bell!" Doll backed out of the tent and waved cheerfully before skipping off down the row. Undertaker was left staring at the fluttering shawl around the girl – Char's – shoulders. For a long moment, she did not move at all. Then she edged toward the dresser with tiny steps and unwound the shawl from her body. The reaper moved to follow, sure that she must have some documents with her full name on them around here. The second he stepped through the doorway, she froze again, like a winter hare trying to camouflage in the snow. Her reaction made him freeze as well, uncomfortably aware of the space he occupied. It was impossible – wasn't it? – but the idea that she knew he was there made something strange rise up from the depths of his consciousness. He wanted to touch her. He wanted to see if he could feel her, solid underneath his hand. As if in a trance, he reached for her bare shoulder. He felt his fingers settle over warm flesh, felt the hardness of bone underneath. This is real.

At first she didn't react, and he wondered if she couldn't feel him. Then, almost against her will, her head turned like a jerky marionette and her eyes were dragged downward to stare at their point of contact. Her breath came out in barely-there whispers and he realized her hands were shaking. The shawl fluttered from her fingers. As it hit the floor she whirled around, finally looking up at him with those vivid green eyes. He knew in that moment, and it felt like a jolt of electricity tearing through his body. He knew that she could see him.

A low, shaky sound spilled from her throat as she arched her neck to take in his full height. He could see himself reflected in her pupils, a massive specter towering far above, an eclipse across the light of her sun. They stared at each other and he felt his mind spinning on the spot, failing to come up with a logical course of action. He could not get past this moment. The girl breathed in and out and faintly found her voice. "….Wow. Oh, wow."

What on earth did that mean? Undertaker blinked, confounded by her intense gaze. She swept her eyes over his form again and uttered softly, "You….you are death….right?"

"You can see me." The words escaped his lips before his mind could catch them.

She nodded, leaning backward on the corner of her dresser.

"You can hear me."

Another nod. The silence stretched on, spiraling around them. Then she whispered, "Is it time now?"

"What?" He searched her eyes for some kind of mortal terror and found none.

She spread her arms out in a quiet gesture of acceptance. "You've come for me, right….? Mister Death?"

And for the first time in his entire existence, he didn't know how to answer.

Chapter 5: Encounter

Chapter Text

"You've come for me, right….? Mister Death?"

For the first time in his entire existence, he didn't know how to answer. Undertaker stared down at the slender girl, who gazed back at him with unreadable green eyes. The silence stretched out between them until she broke it once again. "How….how does it work? Should I close my eyes?"

"Hm," he managed to utter unintelligibly, still trying to grasp the reality of the situation. He had roamed the earth for ages, yet speaking with a human being was something he had never anticipated. There was no script in his mind for this conversation. Clearing his throat, he gestured to a nearby set of chairs. "No need, although you may want to sit down. You look….rather peaked."

The girl touched her colorless cheek and edged toward the chairs, collapsing on the nearest one with a heavy thump. She never took those wide, bright eyes off him.

"Now then," Undertaker adjusted the collar of his robes, trying to adopt an air of authority. "I need you to answer me as honestly as is possible. Do you have any idea why you are currently alive?"

"What?" The girl's lips turned down in a confused frown. "Um, I, I thought that's why you came here. Aren't you going to….?" She made a slashing motion with her hand. "Isn't that why you've been following me?"

Undertaker shook his head. "It isn't quite that simple. I am here about your death, but you're not meant to die today. You were supposed to perish four days ago."

"I was?" If possible, those limpid eyes got bigger. "Was it….that night on the railroad trestle?"

"Yes. Cranial trauma, approximately 12:56 am. I was there to collect your soul."

"I knew it," she breathed ardently. "I saw you. When I looked back, you were standing right where I had been."

"Yes, well, the fact that you can see me is…. Let's just say it's not supposed to happen." Undertaker tapped a finger against his chin thoughtfully. "Then again, neither is a human living past their death date. Yet here we are."

"So, what you're saying is, you're….not going to kill me right now?"

Undertaker started to correct her, then decided it could wait. "No, I'm not. You're not on my collections list anymore, though I have no idea why. That's what I came here to find out."

"Oh. Well, all right, then." The girl took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, seemingly trying to regain her composure. She closed her eyes and sat silent for a moment, just breathing. Then she opened them again and gestured to the chair across from her. "Um, are you able to sit down? It hurts my neck to look so far up at you."

"I….can," the reaper replied uneasily, sliding down into the chair. It didn't take much spectral energy to make himself corporeal enough to interact with simple objects. "So, then – that night on the railroad trestle. You were supposed to jump off and die. Why didn't you jump?"

The girl pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. "I….I had planned to jump. I really thought I was going to, right until the last moment. But then….I thought of Doll."

"Doll?" Undertaker recalled the russet-haired teen who had been so excited to see her friend return.

"She looks up to me, y'know? Thinks I've got the world figured out because of what I see. And it's not that I care so much about upholding that image – I mean, she's gonna grow up too and then she'll realize that adults don't know what they're doing any more than kids do. It's just….I would never want her to end up in the place I ended up that night. And if I throw myself into that nothingness, what kind of example does that set for her?" It wasn't until the girl's voice quavered at the end that he noticed a tear sliding down her cheek.

"So you decided not to die," Undertaker leaned forward intently, thinking that this must somehow be at the crux of all these strange events. "That's why you stepped backward off the ledge."

"I mean, yeah." The girl gazed at her feet intently. "I thought that I might….try again. And then you showed up today and I figured it must be fate. Everybody knows you can't escape death when your time has come."

"That's the way it's always been." Undertaker sighed, staring at her downcast face. "The problem is, your death was on the list and since you failed to die, all your information seems to….no longer exist. And yet you are still here."

"Can't you just update the list and say there's been some changes?"

Undertaker almost laughed at the innocent tone in which she suggested this. "No, no, the list cannot be altered. It tells the fate of every single human in this world, including the day and time they are to leave it. The list is the infallible text by which all grim reapers abide."

"But it can't be infallible because-" she stopped in the middle of her argument, sitting up straighter. "Wait a minute, you said all grim reapers abide…. So there's more than one of you?"

"Good Lord, of course there are more!" Undertaker couldn't help but crack a smile at the astonished expression on her face. "Can you imagine if it was just me running around, trying to reap every single human who drops dead? Do you know how many of you there are nowadays? There'd be a queue from here to the moon!"

The girl raised her eyebrow and frowned. "Okay, yeah, but you're like a spirit, right….? I thought you were supposed to have special powers that make you omnipresent, or at least able to move around really fast. Like how Santa Claus delivers presents to all the houses in the world in just one night."

This time Undertaker couldn't help it – he really did laugh, surprising himself at how good that sound felt rolling inside his chest. He closed his eyes for a moment to enjoy it, then opened them again, snickering. "Hate to break it to you, sweetie, but there's not much overlap between Santa Claus and grim reapers. We don't really operate on the same wavelength."

"I know that," the young woman huffed, her face gaining a pinkish tinge. "I just, I mean, I thought it was the same general idea. Omnipresence, you know?"

"Not even reapers are omnipresent," Undertaker admitted, still chuckling. "That's why we have shifts and – oh god dammit."

The girl shrank back in her chair as he leapt to his feet and seized his pocketwatch. His next collection was across town at 6:23 pm. It was 6:20 right now. He could make it, but it would have been disastrous if he'd been distracted for even a few minutes longer. He'd been so intent on finding this human that he'd forgotten he was even working. "I need to go," he announced, pulling the list out of his pocket and rifling through to the correct page. "I have to collect another mortal's records."

The girl stood, turning pale again. "Really? Right now? You're going to-"

"Where can I find you again?" he interrupted, stepping toward the canvas doorway. "This matter is far from finished."

"Um – here. We're always here."

"All right, then. Don't tell anyone." Undertaker smirked and gave a noncommittal shrug. "Or tell everyone, I don't care. Humans can never bring themselves to conceive of us." Then with a sweeping bow, he backed out of the tent and promptly vanished into the dusky evening air.

Chapter 6: Gladness

Chapter Text

Today I was visited by a grim reaper with silver hair who told me I ought to have died four days ago. Char was still processing this information as she scraped her last piece of fish along the edges of her plate in the crowded mess hall. It sounded like the opening line to a bizarre writing prompt, the kind they gave to schoolchildren to test their expressive abilities. Write what happens next, the instructions would have said. Usually she was good at this kind of thing, but this one was currently leaving her at a loss.

His hand on her shoulder had felt so real. His voice in her ear had sounded like a man's voice, clear and present in the air between them. And he had seemed just as surprised by this as she was.

It could be all in her mind, her more rational side argued. She had been through hell on her most recent visit home and the stress could be causing her to crack. Perhaps this was her mind's way of dealing with the fact that she had almost thrown herself off a ledge the other day, by manifesting a grim reaper to force her to confront her suicidal ideation. But nothing like this had ever happened before during all the years she had struggled with this part of herself. She was not in the habit of spontaneously inventing characters to embody her issues, and she didn't see why she should start now. Perhaps she ought to –

"Ey, Char! Are you listenin'?"

Caught off-guard, she turned her surprised face toward Doll, who was seated on the other side of the table and had long since finished her food. "Sorry, what?"

"Practice tomorrow morning, that's what. Eight-thirty sharp, don't be late! We've only got the arena for one hour before Peter an' Wendy take over."

"Ah, right. I'll be there." Char smiled at her friend before glancing down as a strange slithering sensation prickled her skin. A corn snake with orange-patterned scales and pink eyes was winding itself up her arm, flicking its tongue rapidly. "Oh, hello, Goethe."

"Goethe says you have a funny scent about you," supplied a quiet voice from the chair beside her. Snake leaned toward his pet and gently stroked its scales. Another of his snakes, Oscar, was hanging loosely from his neck like a bright green scarf.

"Funny how?" she questioned, patting Goethe on the head familiarly.

Snake tapped his finger softly against the table. "Like the scent of a stranger, says Goethe."

Char stared at the corn snake. "I can't think of why that would –"

"Oooooh, maybe it's the ghost!" Doll chirped enthusiastically, waving her fork around in random circles.

"Ghost?" chimed in an alarmed voice. Char looked to her other side to see Dagger paused in the middle of balancing his dinner knife on its sharp edge. The painted rims around his eyes made them look even wider. "Blimey, don't tell me we've got another ghost hangin' 'round! Took us months to get shot of the last one-"

"Dagger, they're just joking," another voice rang out as Beast leaned into the conversation, her curly black tresses falling on either side of her downturned lips. "Right? Doll, Char?"

"Search me, I dunno." Doll shrugged, flopping back in her seat. "I didn't see nothin', but Char was actin' mighty strange when she came back from the store today –"

"Not anyone we knew, is it?" Dagger demanded, rounding on Char, who was stuck for ideas on how to derail this conversation.

"That could mean anything –"

"I noticed it as well –"

"But it doesn't have to be a –"

"Guys, chill!" Char interrupted forcefully, shoving her hands in her pockets to conceal her nervously curled fingers. "It's not a ghost."

"See, I told you –"

"Then what is it?"

"Am I not allowed to be strange just for the sake of being strange?" Char demanded, refusing to look anyone in the eye. "That's part of my selling point, right?"

Beast blew out her breath from between two perfectly rounded lips. "Sure it is, but you don't have to be strange around us. We all know each other's peculiarities."

Char allowed half her mouth to curve upward. "Maybe I was just practicing for the crowds."

"Chaaaaaaarrrrrr," Doll groaned dramatically, swooning in fake exasperation.

"So you're sure it's not a ghost?" Dagger prodded, still looking concerned as he cast his eyes about the common area. Doll slowly leaned toward him and blew a puff of breath into his ear. Dagger yelped and jumped so hard the whole table rattled.

"All right, you barmy lot o' miscreants, settle down!" called a loud voice at the center of the tent. All of the tables quieted as the colorful figure of Joker hoisted himself up onto a small platform built around the central pole. He stood there for a moment, surveying the crowded mess hall with a cheerful grin. "I 'ope you're all well fed an' watered, so let's give a rousin' thanks to cook fer a proper English meal!"

A roar of appreciation pierced the canvas roof, punctuated by the banging of plates and stomping of boots. Joker took his time waiting for the noise to die down before silencing the crowd with a single wave of his hand. "Now that we're 'alfway through the week, I wanted to give you lot an update on 'ow we're doin', big-picture style. Publicity is up, thanks to that lovely article run in the papers last month. Ticket sales are rollin' along smooth-like, so expect to perform fer a full 'ouse this Saturday." Joker paused as another round of lively cheering commenced. "In other news, the weather's lookin' cold but clear, I found my favorite bow tie in the laundry, an' that peacock that keeps tryin' to kill us all 'as finally settled down in the menagerie. Things are lookin' up, lads an' lasses! Keep up the 'ard work an' we'll all 'ave another successful show!"

Joker twirled playfully around the pole and leapt down from the platform amid a wave of laughter. Char watched him admiringly as he sat down at the nearest table and struck up a conversation with its occupants. Joker was charisma personified, all style and dazzle and genuine good cheer. He was the perfect ringmaster for their ragtag group of society's cast-offs. He always spoke of their troupe as if it were the only place any sane person would want to be. Noah's Ark Circus, 'ome of the best an' brightest! You belong with us, my girl, an' we'll be glad to 'ave you. As the tent began to empty out, Char stood and collected her dishes amid the warm chatter of her friends. She was glad, she realized as she joined the queue spilling out onto the starlit fairgrounds. No matter how much pain she had to go through to get here, she was glad she hadn't missed this.

Notes:

I realize it might seem like Undertaker is OOC in this story, and the reason for that is in this AU he is still a member of the grim reaper dispatch division and is going about his "life" and doing his job with efficiency and indifference. That's how it starts out, anyway. Crazy Undertaker is fun, but I thought it would be even more interesting to give some in-story development to this character.

[ice-reaper-writing-room]

just a small thing I thought of-- as my dumba** lays in bed, trying to sleep-- but...

I love how most of the Subway Surfers fandom (my dumb self included), after seeing Frank in his first full appearance in episode 11-- where he’s being mysterious and spooky and literally putting a rebellious teenager on a hit-list of some kind for the crime of ruining his super cool future-ish thing with graffiti art-- collectively think (or at least headcanon) him as secretly being a soft, hopeless romantic, lonely-ass nerd who just wants cuddles......

God I love how weird fandoms can be at times lol ((again, I’m guilty of this too, I’m not throwing shade, I swear!))

[simpingandprocrastinating]

𝘾𝘼𝙍𝘽𝙊𝙉 𝘾𝙊𝙋𝙔 - 𝘎𝘙𝘐𝘔𝘔𝘑𝘖𝘞 𝘑𝘈𝘌𝘎𝘌𝘙𝘑𝘈𝘘𝘜𝘌𝘡

Warnings: foul language, fluffy Grimmdad, SFW

Word count: 2389

Author's note: Well, I have baby-fever so I decided to write a little something about Grimmjow becoming a dad.

Grimmjow slid his eyes over the bone piece of the small being before him. It wasn't quite like his, he noted. Unlike his jaw piece, it was tiny, not even sharp. Piercing blue eyes stared back into his as he squinted his own. Oh yes, this was definitely his kid. It was as if he was staring at an exact carbon copy of himself.

How he was able to conceive was a mystery to him; but he in fact did. All this time he never once thought of having his own kin. He didn't even think it was possible, considering he was still most part hollow.

After the soul-reaper war ended, you had chosen to settle in the world of the living. Not only for yourself but also considering you had developed feelings for a certain Arrancar.

At first, Grimmjow had been exceptionally confused, considering he didn't quite understand what it was to have feelings for someone. Receiving and returning affection was something the blue-haired man wasn't familiar with. Nevertheless, he found out he shared your fondness and showed he cared for you in his own way.

Grimmjow being Grimmjow, this meant he had a growing need to impress you. Beyond that, he could be extremely possessive and was easily ticked off if another man would even come remotely close to you.

He wasn't allowed to stay in the soul society. The man had been useful as an ally, but he was still a being created out of a hollow; far from being a Soul Reaper or Visored. That being said, you were fine with the way things went in the world of the living if it meant you could be with him. Urahara Kisuke had even provided you with your own Gigai.

Grimmjow however, wasn't one to stay for very long. He would visit the world of the living when he felt like it - often leaving you on your own - but you understood he dreaded the place, as Hueco Mundo was his home.

However, things were different now.

He couldn't quite comprehend the news when you told him you were carrying his child. At first, he had been wary, being fully convinced it wasn't his. Mad even, for believing another man had touched you in ways only he was allowed to. Be that as it may, the kid was his. He could clearly see for himself now.

When Grimmjow had entered the house, it was already nighttime. Believing you were already asleep, he decided to join you in your shared bedroom. The electric-blue had shrugged off his jacket and shirt - throwing them on the couch - and wasted no time to climb the stairs. As he raked his hand through his messy hair, a sigh had passed his lips. 'Fuck' he was just plain bad at this relationship stuff.

He hadn't been home for quite some time, because he had to cool off and kill hollows to diminish his rage. That was weeks ago... maybe even a month or two... Time was a weird thing within Hueco Mundo, but the male felt obliged to return to you at some point, given you were pregnant and he didn't actually want to leave you all by yourself. After all, you were still his woman.

Yet, before Grimmjow could reach you, the sound of crying kept him from doing so. Curious and slightly exasperated, he had entered the nursery you finished before he'd left. This was the first time he'd actually laid eyes on his newborn son.

The kid in front of him was crying, yearning for someone to hold him, unbeknownst to the still bewildered male. Grimmjow's stare was almost intimidating; probably not the best way to calm down a crying child.

"Hey, kid. What do you want? You need your mom?" His gruff voice sounded, trying to calm down the tiny infant. What he didn't expect was for the boy to stop crying after hearing his voice. Grimmjow frowned as he leaned over the crib to outstretch his hand. Tiny hands reached for his finger, making him pull back slightly in hesitation. He had never hesitated with anything before, but for some reason, the gentle action short-circuited his brain.

Before he knew it, his hand acted on its own. Reaching out to the tiny infant, the boy made sure to lock Grimmjow's pointer finger in an iron grip.

"What the hell..." he breathed out.

Normally, he would've loathed kids. Fuck, even Nelliel got on his nerves, but right now he couldn't help but feel the strong urge to protect the tiny being with his life. This was really his son, right?

"So, do you believe me now?" Your tired voice sounded from behind him. Grimmjow whipped his head around to find your sleepy form standing in the door-opening; watching the two of them in silence.

"You're awake." "Of course I am Grimm, I heard 'our' son crying." You huffed. The man rolled with his blue orbs. He wasn't one to admit to his mistakes so easily, but he could at least try to, right?

"I'm not going back." "What?" You didn't know if it was the sleep deprivation taking over or just Grimmjow being vague, but the male didn't fail to miss the confusion in your voice.

"I won't leave you for Hueco Mundo anymore." He mumbled, looking anywhere but in your eyes. You now suspected this was Grimmjow's way of apologizing for leaving you. However, you had already found peace with his antics; accepting Grimmjow wasn't like any other man you've met. You knew what you were getting into when you chose to settle in the world of the living.

"You don't have to. Look Grimm, I-" "Fuck woman, I mean it. Shouldn't have doubted you in the first place..." You weren't going to push it by asking him if this really was an apology, because you knew he was speaking the truth. "Alright." You whispered, seeing your son had calmed down through Grimmjow's presence.

His big blue eyes were now following the male's every move, not letting go of his finger just yet.

"What does he want..." The male grunted. "It can be he's either hungry, needs your attention, or is in need of a clean diaper. But if I have to guess, I'd say it's a mix between hungry and your attention, since he stopped crying and he won't let go of you now." You tiredly let out while analyzing the scene before you.

"What's the brat's name?" "S/n..." You crossed your arms.

"S/n..." Grimmjow tested the name on his tongue and ridiculed it by muttering: "That's a weak fucking name." before pulling back his hand. As soon as he did this, the small boy began to whine in protest. Although he just insulted the boy's name, you knew he didn't actually mean it. It was enough to see him interacting with the small infant; who he finally seemed to accept as his own son. You also didn't want to push Grimmjow into taking care of your son right this instant.

"How do I hold him?" The electric-blue mumbled, his usual intimidating expression never changing.

"You want to hold him?" It came out more like a statement than an actual question, but Grimmjow chose to ignore it as he focused his attention on his son. "The brat’s hungry. How the hell am I supposed to feed him?" He scoffed.

"C'mere..." You softly spoke, pulling the man aside so he could see you demonstrate the proper way to pick up the baby.

"You've gotta support his head and neck with splayed fingers, while your other hand supports his bottom." Grimmjow followed your every move as you hung your body over the crib. The small boy stopped whining as soon as he felt your warm touch.

"Hi, baby..." You whispered softly as you shifted S/n in your arms and brushed your pointer finger over his chubby cheek. "Gonna get you something to drink, alright, sunshine?" You cooed.

"Want me to hand him over to you, or do you want to try and pick him up yourself?" "I've got it," Grimmjow grunted, taking over the small infant. "Just tell me what to do next..."

"You have to cradle him. Just lift his head in the crook of your arm - like I did before - and rest your arm around his body. Use your other arm as extra support for now. In the meantime, I'll go and prepare a bottle."

The electric blue hummed at your words, not really focused on your form anymore. He was now back to staring down at his son, both of their blue eyes locked onto each other.

You figured it would be fine to leave the two of them alone, so you went to prepare S/n's bottle in the kitchen.

"Your ma's soft, but I'm gonna make you fight the Kurosaki kid. Make you strong..." Grimmjow began to shift around the room, waiting for you to return.

Suddenly, he wondered if the kid shared his same Arrancar-like features. The bone structure on his chubby little cheek spoke for itself, but Grimmjow wasn't able to make out a hollow hole. For fucks sake, you dressed the kid like a little marshmallow man.

"Can't believe this woman. What's this thing?" The electric blue raked his eyes over the sleeping bag-like suit - which kept him from inspecting his son any further - and scrunched his brows in annoyance.

"Not all of us can afford to walk around without a shirt. He'd get cold and sick." You sighed stepping back into the room, but this time with a warm bottle of milk.

"Does he have it? A hollow hole." You pursed your lips at his question and shook your head. "He does not."

It was the first thing you noticed when S/n was born. There was a mask, but not a hollow hole. Urahara Kisuke could only explain this by taking into account Grimmjow was only half hollow. The other part was still considered to be soul reaper, although it was an alteration triggered by Aizen's doing. You, however, were fully soul reaper. This meant the baby would only be one-fourth hollow.

"Here, take this and go sit down. I'll be easier than standing." Grimmjow took the bottle from you and sat himself down in the rocking chair you bought a few weeks ago.

"He's still in the right position, just lift his head a bit and don't hold the bottle too high." You hunched over to adjust his head a little, just enough for S/n to grab onto your shirt and pull at it with his tiny hand.

"Sorry baby, not this time. Daddy's gonna feed you." You smiled at his attempt to get a hold of your breast through your shirt.

Just as your son latched his mouth onto the bottle instead, Grimmjow couldn't help but make a lewd remark.

"You prefer your mom's tit, don't you kid? Same could be said for me. Kinda missed them too."

"Grimm! Watch your mouth..." "What, kitten? If the kid loves it, I believe it would taste fucking great." He smirked in response. "Damn bottle's not the same huh?" A soft sigh rolled over your lips, followed by a yawn, making the blue-haired male look into your tired eyes.

"Go sleep, I can handle it." "But, you have to burp him when he's done, or he'll get gassy and spit up."

"Kitten." "Just hold him against your chest, with his chin on your shoulder, and support his back. Then gently pet his back. Really gentle, okay Grimm..."

"I got it. Now sleep, before I make you myself." With a small nod in response, you stepped forward to kiss S/n's forehead. However, this action was followed by an unsatisfied groan from the man holding your son.

"Not without my damn kiss, woman." He growled. Grimmjow could be needy on rare occasions like this and it wasn't exactly unwelcome. So, when the man asked you, of course, you wouldn't complain and immediately press your lips to his. "Missed you, kitten..." He admitted against your mouth. "Missed you too..." You smiled.

The electric-blue watched your form as you left the room for a second time this evening. Even though you'd left the two alone earlier, you couldn't help but feel a little nervous. Aside from Nelliel, Grimmjow didn't have any experience with kids, let alone a baby. The man could be pretty rough, given his nature, so your mother instinct wouldn't let you sleep at all. But while you tossed and turned in your shared bed, Grimmjow was really focused on doing what you'd told him to do.

S/n finished his milk bottle in record time and was now making little gurgling sounds at his dad.

"Your ma said you should burp now." He muttered, shifting the baby a bit on his arm, so he could put away the bottle. "The hell did she say again?" This time he was speaking more to himself than his son. He carefully moved his hand under S/n's head and moved him from his arm to lay his tiny body on his broad chest.

"Could fucking break you if I don't pay attention..." Grimmjow swallowed while carefully patting the boy's back. "C'mon kid..." As if on cue, the little boy let out a soft burp, making the man smirk. "That's my boy." He purred.

The infant put down his head again, having used up all of his energy. The electric blue could only stay still, enjoying the warm feeling of the tiny being on his chest as he slowly rocked back and forth on the rocking chair. Although he meant to rock the baby to sleep, Grimmjow started to feel drowsy himself.

Before he could fall asleep, his senses picked up your spiritual pressure in the hallway. Opening his eyes that he didn't remember closing, he saw you lean against the doorpost.

"Sorry... I-" You whispered. "Couldn't sleep..." " 'S alright..." He hummed back, watching you with half-lidded eyes as you strutted over to carefully pick up S/n and lay him back in his crib.

"C'mon daddy, it's time for you to sleep as well." The tall male sported a tired grin. "You should call me that more often, kitten."

"You deserve the title." You snickered. "Of course I do. I'm the goddamn best." Grimmjow scoffed, letting his competitive nature come through.

"Help me sleep too?" The blue-haired male cast a last glance at his son, before pulling you out of the room to your shared bedroom. "With pleasure."

[nancyqueerler]

This is part two to the prompt I was sent! Part one is here.

--

Max felt that her world, although drastically changed, was beginning to capture light where the shadows were longest. Things were brighter and thicker with Nancy's perfume and Robin's syrup mornings. Like they alone were tearing down the blackout curtains of Max's life and replacing them with sheer ones.

She had never thought she would feel this way. Even with Lucas, Eleven, and everyone else, she had felt like there would always be a gaping hole in her life, and that was a home. A place to rest that wasn't cold, without drunken anger clinging to wallpaper. Somewhere she could breathe, let her lungs expand, and not wish for the ground to cave in and swallow her whole.

And, somehow, she had found it. Or it had found her. A place that had not anger, but love logged up in the walls. And she could breathe, and she would wake up without a weight in her heart.

The daylight often left her lightheaded with glee. All day long, with Nancy and Robin's banter (far too flirtatious to not sprout mischievous suspicions within Max) and the sweet caress of adoration that leaked for each other.

Nighttime was different, though. It was too dark, filled with white noise that buzzed so near Max's ears. It took weeks of Robin and Nancy sleeping in the same room, on air mattresses, before Max could bear that skin-biting, ear-scraping silence.

Nightmares were always there. Even in the day, but were often blocked out by the outside. Vecna, and what he had shown and put her through. At night, her mind was like stone dipped in tar.

Tar.

She was drowning in tar in this one. Hands shooting out from the black, clinging to nothing. Her throat was clogged, and her lungs were filling up. Vecna had a claw digging into her ankle, dragging her further down the pit.

She kicked and tried to scream, failing. Everything was dark and all-consuming, pressing against her body like a Grim Reaper's embrace. Max drew her hands to her stomach and held tight, and she knew then that her heart had reached its last beat.

It is time you joined me, Maxine.

Her body lurched up, a pair of arms slipping off her chest. A sound came from her throat, and her weak limbs reached for air. Each thrash sent a pulsing, muscle-tearing ache up her nerves.

I'm dead, aren't I?

"Max!" Eleven's voice brought her back, then a pair of arms. She wrapped her arms around Max's chest, hoping to ease the girl's breathing patterns. Max's hands bit into Eleven's forearms, still jerking her shoulders to escape her embrace.

The pop of a door, followed by the scurrying of slippers.

Only Nancy wears slippers.

"Am I really alive?" Max whimpered out, holding on tighter to Eleven. Two different hands fell on her shoulders.

"Yes, you are, Max." Two kisses to her scalp, then one to her shoulder.

Robin, Nancy, and Eleven. They're here. They're real.

"He's won't ever get you again, you hear me?" said Robin, her firm hand holding onto the back of Max's neck. A thumb rubbed circles just below her earlobe.

"We're here. We'll always be here," said Nancy, firm and love-drenched.

"I'll kill him again if I have to," said Eleven, and Max found her heart still beating, still patched up with gold.

--

Bit on the shorter side, but here it is! Very much love the idea of Max living with Nancy and Robin after getting out of the hospital.