#oc: witch

[ghouljams]

missing witch and fae!price hope they r doing good n fuckign nasty and intimate this halloween

Price is going to breed her on purpose. (tw for me calling price "John" lol, sorry everyone)

“John,” you gasp-moan, your fingers working over your clit, “God, yes, John, please.”

Your pretty voice echoes through the room. Echoes in his head. You know exactly what you’re doing. 

You’re doing exactly what he said, you’re staying where he left you.

Your hips are in the air, your back is arched, your face is pressed in the pillow. The only difference is now you’re using the come that drips out of your hole, the come he left, to get off. And you’re making sure he knows it. 

Price settles his chin against his palm, his fingers curling over his lips as he pushes his other hand hard against his erection. Christ the things you do to him. That he’s going to do to you. He could smell the heat on you, the need. It itched at his skin.

That damn tattoo he stuck on you…

Whatever he agreed to for the magic to work it was coming back to bite him in the ass.

“John,” The whine in your voice, drawn out and hiccuped, you’re torturing him, “I need it, please.”

You’re saying his name, knowing it’ll tug at him, knowing he’ll hear your pleas. Knowing he can’t do anything about it. 

The fall fae at the end of the table drones on about preventing a hunt this year. Something about human casualties and keeping a low profile. The big fucker radiates malice across from him, and growls when asked his opinion. A new trait he must have picked up, normally he'd dive straight into eating people.

It’s truly boring to pretend any of them are civilized. That they aren't all yearning for a hunt, feeling the pull of the wild in their veins, the hunger... Price knows as well as anyone that they’ll do the same thing they do every year: pick a battlefield and hunt the soldiers that will never go home to their families. A familiar song and dance, an unnecessary step in their own pointless bureaucracy.

His chest burns, threads tugged hot between your fingers. Rolled against your already heated skin, gods he can feel the sweat that clings to them. Damn witch.

Price closes his eyes to focus on the feeling, on the way the magic slips and slides, pulls and releases. Almost wet. Christ you’re doing something to it, something you shouldn’t. His shoulders twitch, unused muscles beating with your finger’s tugging. He catalogues the feeling, the sound of your panting breath, each whimper growing softer as your voice fades, only to be brought back to the forefront when his name drips off your lips. Wet with your spit, probably drooling against the pillow, naughty thing.

It's a blessing that the so called "King" decides now is the time to lunge across the room at his fellow fall fae. Price jumps to his feet, vaguely registers Ghost's bored shuffle to his feet, and snaps his finger. His smoke is almost as excited as he is, jumping and shivering as it implodes around him and places him right back where he should have been all along. Behind you.

And your devious fingers, pulling tethers to rub the golden threads between your folds. Naughty indeed.

Price hooks his fingers in the threads that slip beside your fingers and pulls, leaning down to lick the slick that drips from them. If magic had a taste it would be this, heady with the soft musk that clings to your sweat.

"I told you," He tries to keep his voice even, "You have to wait."

"And I told you," Cheeky, you're always so cheeky, "to breed me."

Christ it's like he never left. Your slick drips onto the sheets, his come rubbed into your skin such that he can barely find a trace of it, your hips wiggle and your face is pressed into the pillow. The only difference now is the way you turn your head to pout at him. Pretty lips pursed and your eyes watery, God-

He nearly breaks his belt buckle with how hard he tugs at the thing. "Fine," He growls, "You want it so badly, I'll make sure it sticks this time."

Oh it's worth the red tape he'll have to wade through for leaving the meeting early for the absolute pleasure of pushing into your tight wet heat. You cunt wrapping around him like pure ecstasy as you mewl into the pillow. You're so fucking wet, loosened by your own fingers, and taking him to the base in one thrust. Fuck. You're so good for him, taking him without a complaint, letting him stuff your pretty little cunt full.

Your hand reaches back to claw at his hip, grabbing his ass to hold his hips in place as you grind back onto his cock.

"Tha's it," He breathes, "nice and deep sweet'eart."

You whine, your hips twitching when he grinds right back. He can feel the way you clench around him when he hits that aching spot in the back of your cunt, the flicker of muscle that tightens your stomach and pulls him in. Such a pretty thing.

Price slides his hand over your hip and around over your stomach to wedge itself between your legs and rub your clit. Warm, like you'd been rubbing it raw. Well, he can certainly help with that, rolling the tight bud between his finger as he gives a shallow thrust into your tight cunt. Rubbing it makes shivers run up your spine, pinching makes you jolt, Christ you whine so pretty for him when he pulls out, like you really can't bear to lose even a centimeter of his cock.

He thrusts into you hard, lets you clench, trying to suck him back in as he pulls out again, setting a steady rhythm for you. Lovely to feel your hand drop from his hip, to see the way your back arches and you curl your fingers in to the sheets. Your moans pushed from your chest with each punch of his cock, your shoulders drawing up as you try to meet his thrusts.

You'll be so pretty when you're fat with his baby. He'll have to come up with new positions, make sure you're comfortable, that he can still fuck you the way you need.

"Jo-ohn," You squeal, and he releases your clit to grip your hips, pushing them up when you try wiggle out of position. None of that now.

"What sweet'eart?" He patronizes, cooing at you like you're a child, "what can I do for you?" He knows damn well you won't answer him.

His hands knead at your ass, the soft fleshy globes pulled apart by his fingers so he can watch the way your cunt swallows his cock. He spits, lets it land on your ass and drip down, only to be caught in the piston of his cock and mixed with your slick. More of him mixing with you, but not the important part.

That comes when you tighten like a vice around his cock, all your muscles seizing as your breath locks tight in your chest. You shake apart on the next thrust, your voice streaming out of you in a scream of moans and pleas. Price grits his teeth and pulls your hips tight against his, blanketing your body as he leans over you.

There's something desperate, animal, about the way he fucks you then. No steady pace, no rhythm, just the needy in and out of a man that can't hold himself back. Chasing his own orgasm as it pulls in his chest and warms his body. Your little whimpers spur him on, make him sink his teeth into your shoulder, make his ears ring with the soft whispered encouragements you murmur.

"Come on baby," You whisper, your voice like rain against windowpanes, "come for me, give me what I want."

He always will. Especially when you ask so nicely.

And if he settles his hand low on your stomach afterwards, pumps a little piece of magic into the scarred swirls of the tree that had carved his name into your womb, then that's really just an assurance that you get exactly what you asked for.

[crowleycringe]

I cannot stop drawing her Griefer has rotted himself in my brain

[voidsumbrella]

the tv isn't even plugged in?

[live-love-be-unique]

The Witch At The Edge Of The Woods

Inspired by @ghouljams incredible OC: Witch and featuring Price. This is my first attempt at writing a female character x female character and female x female x male characters story in any way so I hope I’ve done that and your OC justice.

You’d come home late one night and found your fiancée in bed with another woman, and now you were seeking revenge. You wanted him to feel your pain. In your heartbreak you sought out the woman they called Witch. You’d heard talk of her but hadn’t felt the need to seek her out like others had.

It felt like you had been walking for hours but you hadn’t even lost sight of the town. The forest grew like a hedge maze your father had taken you to one year when you were younger, you’d gotten so turned around and lost that you sat down and cried until he had found you.

As the familiar tendrils of anxiety wormed their way through your ribs and wrapped themselves around your heart you were sure your eyes were deceiving you the snow-covered trees and paths were changing to blossom-filled branches right before your eyes. The beautiful pink petals falling over the path around you. The sun, which had been hiding behind gray clouds, now shone bright down into the forest.

As you basked in the now shining sun, heavy-soled footsteps followed behind you, turning to find nothing but wisps of black smoke in the shape of a man, dancing in the trees. You paused for a moment before remembering that you were close to the witches cottage and stopping to investigate strange black smoke was possibly not the smartest decision.

You swore the shadow man was following you, staying almost in sight, lingering in the corner of your eyes like an abandoned cigar left sitting in an ashtray as you made your way towards the small cottage surrounded with flowers and plants, some you readily recognise growing alongside a lot you didn’t.

There was a woman kneeling by a planter completely engrossed with her flowers and herbs. As you approached she didn’t acknowledged you as she placed a small green sprig of something into the ground.

The heady, earthy smell of cigar smoke that had followed you intermingled with the perfume of the flowers as you walked closer to the small cottage. ��Don’t mind him” the woman spoke, not looking up from the plants as she covered its roots with soil “he knows not to interfere” glancing back at the shadow man you didn’t notice the witch step closer to you “follow me”

The cottage was small but the moment you stepped through the door you felt a wave of comfort fall over you. You wanted to live here, you thought instantly. The mismatch of furniture and nicknacks were dotted around what you could only assume was the living room and sprigs of dried flowers and herbs decorated the curtain rods and candles covered every available surface. The air smelt of lavender as you were led into a small kitchen and ushered to a table underneath a sunny window, the sill covered with small succulents.

You studied the witch as she moved around the room. There’s a power to her, simmering beneath the warm surface. A power, that if crossed, would be scarier than death. Her exposed skin that you could see was covered in a patchwork of black signs and sigils and you guessed that there would be more under the skirt and blouse she wore.

The small kitchen looked exactly how you expected a witches to look, shelves filled to the brim with jars and containers of various powders and liquids, snake skin and other matters and something that; to you; vaguely resemble eyeballs. She however, was not what you had expected, there was no green skin or pointy hat in sight. The woman in front of you was beautiful, nowhere near the witches you heard about in the stories your grandmother read to you.

“Were you expecting something else?” She asked, pausing to glance at you over her shoulder as she busied herself with something at the stove.

“I..I don’t know what I was expecting”

“Your grandmother’s stories were wrong” she looked at you with a smirk, you felt your cheeks heating as her eyes met yours “but that can be a talk for another time” she says as a cup of steaming tea is placed before you on a matching saucer. She must have noticed you eyeing the cup warily “it’s not going to kill you if that’s what you’re thinking, poisoning my customers would be terrible for repeat business”

“I wasn’t…”

She smiles knowingly “it’s tea. Lemon balm if you want to be specific. Good for a broken heart”

“How did you know?”

“Do you know you’re one of the only ones who hasn’t come to see me before, not for a tarot or palm reading or something more specific. I was intrigued” she leaned forward in her chair opposite you, her chin resting on her hands, she was studying you, you realize. She lights a cigarette as she watches, waiting for your response.

“Did your cards tell you about me?” You ask in awe.

“No” she giggles “the cashier at the supermarket is a terrible gossip” she says with a wave of her hand.

You look down at your hands clasping the steaming mug of tea in front of you “I want to hurt him. I need him to feel what I feel”

The witch tuts, leaning across the table, taking your hands in hers turning them over, gently tracing the lines on your palms “Your hands are pure, clean” she shook her head “I won’t let you dirty them with revenge”

“You’ve done it before, for others” you say as the familiar pinpricks of tears begin. Why would she help them and not you?

She looks up at you “do you want me to take your pain, sweet girl?” still holding your hands in hers, still tracing little symbols across your skin. Looking into her eyes you felt yourself suddenly forgetting the pain and heartache left behind by your ex. Your cheeks heat up again as she studies you “are you sure I need to?” She asks, tilting her head with that ever present knowing smile.

“I don’t…” you start, unsurely.

You watch as she stands from her place opposite you and makes her way around the small table and stops in front of you. One of her delicate hands lifts your chin, forcing you to meet her eyes once more “do you want to stay?”

“Yes” you whisper; after a moment.

Your pretty witch leans forward as her lips meet yours. You let yourself sink into her as her hand moves from your jaw and flattens against the back of your neck. You would stay with her for as long as she wanted.

The heady, earthy smell of cigar smoke fell around the room as a deep voice came from behind you “What a pretty picture I’ve found” the shadow man purred.

“You startled her Price” Witch says to the shadow man as you fall back with a gasp. The shadow man; Price; had materialized before your eyes. He was handsome with a rugged air surrounding him and his piercing blue eyes shone as he observed you.

He takes your hand in his and pulls you to stand “Hello petal” he smiles, plucking a small pink petal from your hair “we’ve been expecting you” he smiles as his lips find their way to yours.

[koilarist]

Trick or treat!

Treat. :) Take a candy, don't be shy.

[idle-identity-ocs]

Oc-tober day 8-9: Past + present

[maelstrom007]

New Face, Who This?

Don't mind me, just playing in the sandbox that is @ghouldjams cod fae au. Mal switches things up, as they are wont to do, and trips up a certain fae in the process. Featuring ghouls oc Witch who I adore.

Mal looked at themselves in the mirror. They turned this way and that, but something just felt. . . off. Pursing their lips they sighed, changing into the fifth outfit that morning. Ugh, still not right. 

“Maybe it’s time for a change,” they murmured. When was the last time they did this? Twenty years ago? Maybe more? Yeah, it was time to switch things up. 

Stripping bare, they stared at the mirror once more. It was always easiest if they could see what they were doing. To start Mal focused on their face, studying the wide jaw and square face they had become accustomed to for the last however many years it’s been. Reaching forward toward their reflection, fingers splayed, they twisted their wrist. Mal’s reflection fractured, tesselating out in patterns and colors like a kaleidoscope, before suddenly snapping back into place. 

The face staring back at them was much softer, rounder around the cheeks with a charming mouth. Some things remained unchanged, like their fiery red hair and their bold eyebrows. For whatever reason they always stuck around. 

Moving on to the rest of their body, they wanted to move on from the sleek and slim rectangular build. In the end, they went for something a little more filled out, hints of muscle and practical strength within a sturdy frame. They’d have to workout to maintain it, they were using magic afterall, not working miracles.

With the excitement of a new canvas, finding an outfit was easy, opting for a long sundress. The lack of sleeves accentuated the new muscles in their arms nicely, while also complementing their new more feminine face. A last little splurge of magic allowed their hair to grow just long enough to place in a messy bun. 

As usual, the day was rather slow, mainly spent at their combination check out and consultation table project planning for recent clients. Creating patterns, planning dye lots, etc. etc. Their project ledger wasn’t completely full yet, so their curtains were pulled wide open, and a sign that said ‘Welcome, during business hours’ hung from the door. 

This meant that a certain handsome fae could slip in with no resistance, immediately waltzing up to the counter with a confidence that should have been annoying, if they weren’t in such a good mood. 

“Well hello, I - oh.” He started his greeting, but stumbled mid way through as Mal looked up from their ledger. 

They raised an eyebrow, “Hello to you too.”

Confusion was visible on his face, “Sorry, I was just expecting someone else.”

“And who would that be?”

“The last time I came in, maybe a little over a week ago, there was someone else here. Kind of small, very cute, with shaggy red hair almost the same color as yours.”

“Hunting for information, are we?”

A boyish glint sparkled in the others eyes as he leaned over the counter, “Now that I think of it you two look quite a bit alike. You two wouldn’t happen to be. . .siblings, would you?” 

Before Mal could even begin to think of a way to respond to that Witch glided in through the door, the wards tingling in delight and recognition of their clever creator. “Oh my gosh you will not believe the tea I have for you today, I heard that -” 

It only took Witch a second to notice the changes, and only a few more to piece together what Mal had done, “Wow!!!! You look great! I love what you’ve done with your hair, and that dress looks gorgeous on you, did you make it yourself?” 

Gossip forgotten, Witch ran up to dote on Mal, feeling the material and gushing over their new look. After a few minutes of this, the fae man coughed gently. 

“Shit! Sorry, I’ll let you finish up with your customer,” Witch said.

“Oh, I’m not a customer,” he said.

“Then what are you?”

“A nuisance,” Mal said, “a nosy one at that.”

Witch snorted, but said nothing. 

If he took offense to Mal’s comment, he didn’t show it, “All I want to know is who that fae is that I talked to a few weeks ago. About yea tall, pretty hands and shaggy red hair kind of like yours? Tell me, is red hair and attractiveness a job requirement? Or am I just incredibly lucky?” His lopsided grin would have been annoying if it didn’t look so good on his face.

Witch opened her mouth, “M-”

At the sound of their name starting in Witch’s mouth, Mal gave her a desperate look in warning. Even though ‘Mal’ wasn’t really their true name, it’s not something that they gave out left and right, let alone to loitering mystery fae. 

With barely a stumble in her speech, she corrected herself, “My friend here runs this shop by themselves. And damn well at that.”

He chuckled, “Well then, aren’t you full of surprises.” This time, Mal didn’t miss the once over he gave them. When their eyes met, his golden eyes looked molten hot. 

A blush rose to their cheeks unbidden, and Mal brought their hands together in a decisive clap, “Well! If you’re not a customer I must ask you to leave immediately as is shop policy,” a delicate line of fine print illuminated itself in recognition on the welcome sign, “Good day to you sir.”

The typically controlled and smooth wards were swift and erratic as they buffeted the mystery fae towards the door, however he resisted them as much as he could, “Tell me your name! What may I call you?” He called out frantically, attempting to brace himself against the wards unseen force. 

Mal raised their hand to aid in one final push to send him out the door, but paused as their eyes met once again. There was a desperation and sincerity in his features. Before Mal knew what they were doing they opened their mouth. 

“You may call me a fox, sir hunter, for that is all I am to you.” 

“And a lovely Fox you shall be,” he said, before he was sucked out of the door and summarily deposited on the street, curtains closing with a solid thwunk. 

The silence was thick in the shop before Witch broke it, voice strained with barely contained laughter “~You may call me a fox for that is all I am to you~”

“Shut upppp”

“Well, he’s a handsome hunter, I'll give him that.” 

Mal put their head in their hands, “He’s a nuisance and nothing more.” 

“Suuuure.”

They giggled desperately, “He is!! He comes waltzing in saying that he doesn’t want anything and then I kick him out cause he’s loitering!”

“God Mal you’re insufferable, he’s flirting with you you idiot.” 

“He is not.” 

“If you say so. But you best believe that I am going to bring this up over dinner because never in the time that I’ve known you have I seen your wards react like that.” 

Mal raised their head, eyebrows furrowed, “Dinner?”

Witch gave them a confused look, before letting out an exasperated sigh, “I forgot to say it out loud huh.”

“Yup.”

“Well, your ass, my house, I’m making dinner cause I haven’t had you over in ages. Be there or be square.” 

“I wonder if I could actually turn myself into a square.”

“Dammit Mal.”

[gaylight-prairie]

This dawg ain't even chilln, his ass is NOT listening

[sordid-dog]

stupid little sopping wet meow meow

go follow @elited-scavenger /nf

[colorfuldonutrunaway]

And here's the best friend of Cat Noob, Witch. I have a backstory prepared for these two that I'll post eventually, but for now, here's the main art and the reference.

I should also mention that both of them have cat tails, but they ain't visible from the angles of either picture.

I can give some info on Witch that I've settled on for their character, being that both they and Cat Noob have no actual gender and Witch has anger issues.

[beidak-art]

Ingrained

This was done in collaboration with @grozat. It's the first time we're actually posting something like that, but definitely not the least 💚 Nothing compares to the experience of creating a single piece together with your beloved person.

[ghouljams]

(Fae!Price x witch!reader, minor blood play, public play, GIF DOES NOT REPRESENT READER)

It's not that Price hates when you look good so much as he hates the way other people look at you. He thinks maybe he should ban you from his bar altogether if you're going to keep coming in looking like that. That's how he keeps ending up in these situations.

Pressing you against walls with his hand between your legs.

He drags his teeth against your neck, scraping lines in the delicate skin, teasing the sharp points against your pulse each time he decides to bite. The tickle of his beard makes your fingers twist in his shirt, somewhere between pushing and pulling as your breath catches in your throat. You tip your head for him so nicely, bear your neck and part your lips around each soft pant. He can't help sucking marks along the length of your pulse. There's something dark and possessive, something he's all too eager to feed, that lodges itself between his ribs when he sees other men look at you. Something that rattles the bone bars of its cage and tells him to swallow you whole before someone else can get a bite.

His teeth dig a little too deep and you whine. Your fists tighten, crinkling his nice shirt between your fingers. The beading blood is thick under his tongue, sparking with magic and the lingering bite of your wards. It warms in his mouth like liquor. If you didn't fall into his arms so prettily he might find a bloodier way to eat you.

Your breath hitches, soft noise falling from your lips as he continues nipping at your neck. Price can feel you swallow when he sucks at your skin, feel the way your legs press together. So warm and yielding around his hand.

Oh you're being so good for him holding still like this, letting him mark up your throat with your skirt hiked up. Lucky he could push you into one of the back rooms, no sense letting the men oogling you get a glimpse of his pussy. Fuck you're wet. Wet just from the simple glide of his fingers, a gentle back and forth through your folds. He'd call it teasing but you're just starving for attention, aren't you?

Take whatever he'll give you.

"Other side sweetheart." He tells you, voice low and graveled. You blink, your lips parted and pouty as you roll your head to the other side. Price takes the opportunity to hold your cheeks, and dip his tongue between your pretty lips as he pushes two fingers into you. He swallows down the moan you let out, and coaxes your tongue to twist against his. He likes the way you breathe heavily through your mouth when he pulls back, likes dragging his tongue over your lips and feeling you chase it. Sweet thing.

He tackles the other side of your neck as he pumps his fingers into you. It's easier to feel the way your stomach jumps, the way your cunt clenches, when he's got his fingers in you. He grinds the heel of his hand against your clit, forcing you to rock your hips against him.

You'd fuck yourself on his fingers if he told you, he's made you do it before. Held his hand in place while you bounced on his thick fingers and begged for more. It's cute, he likes you needy. It makes him feel less greedy, less desperate, to see you beg. Price supposes that's the whole point.

Thats why he digs his teeth into your neck again and again. Why he presses his aching cock against your hip. Why he won't fuck you unless you ask, and you will ask. It should be the lady's choice after all, you're the one letting a man who could tear your throat out kiss your neck.

So he'll get you desperate, get you begging, and then he'll send you back out to the bar with come dripping down your legs and your neck boasting his dental impressions.

[crowleycringe]

Goth gf and her loser bf /j

[voidsumbrella]

betrayal, hide, mask for witchwraithhaven?

iiiiiiiiiii forgot i reblogged this lmao whoops!

oc blocktext time~!

betrayal: Has your OC ever been betrayed by someone they thought they could trust? Has your OC ever betrayed someone who trusted them?

…y'know, i don't think ive done a whole lot with literal betrayal arcs for these three? like ive got some conceptual "perceived betrayal of the past self's ideals" going on, and wraith had an ex girlfriend backstab them in an early draft of the writing project, but that got cut bc it made the timeline clunky, and i haven't played with it much outside that.

hide: What does your OC hide? Why do they hide it?

witch: they got so much shit kicked under the bed, both literally and figuratively. their house is a dragon's horde of accumulated Stuff that no one else can access (besides wraith+haven), they are extremely close-lipped about their personal life, if i listed off all the specifics we'd be here all year. their biggest ~secrets~ are the ones that pose a safety risk to them and their loved ones. the most important physical object they're hiding is the only copy of the blueprints for a device that creates gods by destroying universes, and then kills and eats those gods; handling that is the plot of vast and empty spaces was such an Ordeal that they (and wraith) took the knowledge of it out of their head, so that if they get mind read or truth serum'd or something it'll still stay hidden. the memory's just in their room, so it's not like gone-gone, but all they know without checking is that there is something Extremely Destructive in the lowest level of their basement that they shouldn't talk about. the most important concept they keep under wraps is probably their true name. names have Power, and it's important to them that their persona as a wish granter is the main thing people see; even their "common name" is just a shortening of their title, not something they personally picked out to be called.

wraith: they're sometimes accused of hiding their whole self; they're very hard to read, don't communicate their thoughts, and rarely take action in a way that other people can tie directly to them. none of this is on purpose, per se- they're naturally extremely unexpressive, have trouble speaking/signing/writing coherently, and dislike drawing attention the themself- but they know full well that this shuts them off from people and have zero intention to do anything about it, so it's not wholly a false accusation. witch knows them, haven knows them, everyone else can get fucked.

haven: actually does hide a lot of himself as a person, mostly as an anxiety thing. he goes out of his way to cover any skin besides his hands and face (yeah, yeah, full coverage clothing ≠ hiding inherently, but it is what's going on here in this case), it takes a long time for him to be comfortable wearing anything even slightly attention getting; he's extremely self conscious about his hobbies and interests and avoids discussing them; he's a chronic people pleaser and terrified of confrontation, so any conversation with someone he doesn't already know that requires him to have an Opinion will result in him saying whatever he assumes will cause the least friction, even if it means outright lying. his assumptions are often wrong, which is why he can only make friends on accident. oops. he also keeps the whole "reincarnated from another universe" thing under wraps when that becomes relevant, for obvious reasons.

mask: Does your OC wear a mask, literally or figuratively? What goes on beneath it? Is there anyone in their life who gets to see who they are under the mask?

this has a lot of overlap with the last question, in the sense of them having multiple "selves" for a private and public context, but i will be splitting hairs about using the term "mask", because that has some connotative layers to it.

i don't totally think witch's public persona is a mask so much as it is a curation; they're playing a character so they are seen the way they want to be seen/the way they need to be seen in order to do their job, but they keep that character as close to themself as they can, as it's easier for them to be genuine than not. their "actual face" is kind of a behind-the-scenes type deal; as i said before, they have a lot of secret-secrets, but a lot of what they keep behind the curtain is the mechanics that let them keep the play going, and they just don't need other people to see that.

wraith's mask is more of a cardboard cutout they happen to be standing behind. they're not going to try to move out into the open, but with a bit of effort you can walk around it, and they're not going to stop you. they might make the path a bit harder or easier based on if they like you or not, but in the end if you can't or don't find them, that's on you.

haven is only functional in public due to his customer service face, which is very intentionally constructed to be at least partially separate from who he considers himself to really be for the aforementioned anxiety/judgement evasion reasons. secretary!haven can make phone calls. normal!haven gets anxious checking his email. you get the picture.

mask or no, none of them hide any part of themselves from the other two. loving and being loved is synonymous with knowing and being known.

[bbybluemochi]

[OC] witch x (jealous) monster girlfriend🔮🐙.𖥔 ݁ ˖ (witch OC belongs to @ greenmoonie on tw)

[koilarist]

Something's in the works 👁