#truly such a peculiar character.

[playtheshadw]

Recently finished isat so… I will talk about it a lot from now on.

It’s so ironic that Siffrin, a character who forgets, a character that can’t remember his childhood or home or majority of his life, is the one that gets stuck in a time loop. They want to remember. They want to remember so bad but the one time they do, the one time they actually do is the time no one else does. Whether they forget or remember doesn’t matter - in both outcomes, Siffrin is alone. They can’t confide in anyone. Their home is forever lost and only Siffrin himself remembers the times shared with his family. They spent all of their life forgetting, and now the only thing they can do is remember - Reliving the same experiences over and over and over again.

+ Siffrin alluding their situation as a play is also… It’s been mentioned a couple times that they enjoy plays before, if i’m not wrong, and it’s common for characters in media to refer to the whole “life is a play” thing. I think it’s this very mentality and complete disregard for the individuals that each and every one of Siffrin’s family members is what leads to his doom in act 5. It’s not to say I blame Siffrin, it’s a very real and valid reaction to have. It’s understandable he doesn’t see his family as people anymore, especially if they keep repeating the same things - but the way he sees them as actors is why he wasn’t able to gather their strength or get any closer to them.

[laurrelise]

happy (late) 21st birthday to the lovely aidan gallagher, try not to to drink as much as five does 🔥🔥🔥

[wabblebees]

thought id update to say; i survived opening night!!! and not only that, it went REALLY fucking well, and people seemed to REALLY REALLY like it omfg... god this is so crazy

[centipede-rain]

@youreviltwin said it so well! He even tries to subtly argue. Like... don't you think it's kinda cool that it was a flawless plan... no victims, no one getting hurt, no risk... everyone happy?

Someone literally just confronted him, figured out his perfect little scheme, placing him in danger of being caught for the first time ever. Is he scared? angry? Hurrying to resolve the situation?

No.

He's trying to convince Shawn that his plan wasn't "lame".

Then, getting taken away, he doesn't look too angry. He's going to prison for the first time ever, his perfect life was ruined by one man. A man he let off the hook before. This could have all been prevented by hurting Shawn, as other men would have done. So does he regret his leniency? Does he swear revenge?

No.

He's impressed. Reasonably delighted, despite the amount of personal trouble this brought him.

He looks at Shawn, eyes so very warm with what looks like amusement, pride - and says "You know, i've always fantasized about escaping from prison."

Normally, when the criminal you just caught says this, you panic. It means revenge, it means better sleep with an eye open, because i'm coming for you. Does Shawn panic? Does Gus? Does anyone?

No. Because the way Despereaux has said it, with the way he has acted this entire time, it can only mean one thing.

I see what I considered the perfect crime wasn't "cool" enough for you. Well, I will proof to you that I am capable of all that you thought I was, that your admiration wasn't/isn't misplaced.

THAT'S what he's thinking about at the moment of his arrest, that's the central goal of his schemes. Restroring the way Shawn feels about him.

And then he proceeds to actually do it, no other conceivable motive for his jail break in sight, making very sure Shawn is there to see, and be adequately bedazzled. He dials his "smooth criminal" charm up to 1000, plays into all the tropes and cliches he knows Shawn loves, the times their paths cross afterwards.

Also, Shawn isn't any better. His James Bondesque man crush turned out to mainly commit insurance fraud, threatened to hurt him with a gun, and then announced his plans to prove himself to him. And what does Shawn Spencer do?

He follows the man on twitter.

Okay, there’s quite a few posts about Shawn’s super obvious crush on Pierre Despereaux.

Which is awesome. But how come I never see posts about how much Pierre clearly loves the way Shawn feels about him?

He may not say anything, but his expression says it all. His self satisfied smirk whenever Shawn compliments him, calls him the coolest man alive or whatever other things his infatuated mind can come up with. The way he melts at the way Shawn looks at him, amused and flattered and so so appreciative.

And it’s clearly important to him too, not just a nice bonus. He wants, needs Shawn to adore him, to a point where he risks a lot to escape from prison for one more job. He doesn’t need the money, he’s filthy rich. It really is just to impress Shawn, to prove he really is all Shawn thought him to be. A goal he openly admits to Shawn, to his face. After having spent a lot of. money to have him come to visit him.

Now, yeah, he uses Shawn to escape from prison - but impressing Shawn is also the only reason he does that in the first place.

So - he might like to act detached, but Pierre is absolutely not normal about Shawn either. He is allowing and enabling Shawn’s teenage girl crush completely.

[luv-again]

i said i was gonna go to bed but i'm still fuming over my sister trying to discredit sli au shadow's asexuality. like,, what more do i tell her. i've written enough. not only is it subtext, it's blatant

AND it's also pretty obvious sli shadow can't distinguish platonic and romantic attraction, nor does he care to, but yk wtvr ig she can ignore that too

(this is the second time she's posed the 'shadow clearly liked blaze' statement to me)

[pearlywritings]

Intimacy records

synopsis: what kinds of horny stuff they have in their phones and which is the favorite?

pairing and characters: Aventurine, Blade, Boothill, Dr Ratio, Gallagher, Gepard, Jing Yuan, Loucha, Sampo, Sunday (separately) x fem!reader

tw: SMUT, established relationship (marriage/dating), consensual recording of lovemaking, nudes, oral, lingerie, fingering, masturbation, public sex, breast play, shibari/blindfold, sex machine, creampie

word count: 4.3k+ words

Aventurine

Undoubtedly this man has a whole separate folder for intimate stuff. Of course, he demands you send him something on a daily basis - doesn’t matter if it’s a quick snap of your choice of lingerie in the morning, or recordings of touching yourself - but never enough to cum, it’s his job. Naturally he loves having reminders of you being at his mercy - thus there are also videos of you both (with primarily established consent). All that to say - he has quite the collection, so it’s really hard to pick a favorite, the most desire-arising one.

Maybe it’s a category actually - self-made media created out of bet. Who’ll cum first? Can you keep going without tearing up from pleasure for longer than 10 minutes? Is he patient enough not to touch your sexy self, while you masturbate in front of him? Who is going to be louder this time? These kinds.

”I hope you are ready to lose,” your lover smirks, making himself comfortable between your legs. Camera floats a little, as you chuckle behind it. With a momentary adjustment, the focus is on his face again and he winks, before turning to trail a little path of kisses across your thigh. The image jumps, when he sucks on the skin, and slightly trembles as you let out a sigh. Then it’s firm, as Aventurine wraps his arms around your thighs, his nose teasingly rubbing against your clit. Suddenly there is a lick, then your breath hitches…. And then he buries his mouth into your pussy. It doesn’t take much time for the image to begin shaking wildly, almost matching your debauched noises. There is squelching, there are award-winning male moans, muffled by your heat, soon there is a hand, your hand, reaching down and grabbing his hair. Phone strangely angles, hardly supported by just one hand, until it falls camera down onto the sheets. After that, there are just delicious screams of yours, chanting the name of your lover and begging him to stop, while he doesn’t listen, taking his reward for yet another win.

Yeah, he proved you can’t keep the camera focused while he is eating you out in that one. It’s truly a pity, that more than a half of what was going on, didn’t get recorded in image. Maybe next time you'll do better - oh... That's actually not a bad idea at all… Looks like you are in for another bet.

Blade

His situation is… quite peculiar. First of all, he has so little care for his own phone outside using it to get info for the mission, to the point ANYONE from the Stellaron Hunters can just take it and do whatever with it (Silver Wolf and Kafka practice it a lot). Even your relationship doesn’t change it much, he messages you rarely and quite shortly, preferring to save the conversation for personal interaction. 

However recently, Kafka has been putting a plan into action - the first step of which was banning everyone from getting into his phone (herself excluded). Then she’d start sending her colleague an occasional picture of a set of lingerie she’s oh so sure would look wonderful on you. Blade never answers, but he doesn’t tell her off either, and by the snooping she knows that the pictures get bookmarked, the links for the shops she attaches are visited, and sums of money are being spent.

Oh, and by checking the chat… She knows you get them delivered. Does she text you to shower you with compliments? She does. At first it was a little embarrassing and you asked Blade if he could, maybe, pay better attention to his phone??? But soon, when your lover started showing the telltale signs of jealousy... It became pretty hot (plus praise from THE Kafka? Ego-boosting).

Blade doesn’t voice it, but more than seeing you all pretty for him, he loves seeing you ruined for him, and doesn’t complain when you ask him to take a picture with your phone of whatever part of you, focusing on the marks, or the torn crotch of your panties, or something alike… There are times when he would text you with a simple ‘send me pictures with torn stockings’ or ‘yesterday. open nipples bra. now’ , because he knows you have them, and you deliver, because you know he loves them. 

Has his favorites:

Depicts your thighs, bitten and opened wide, while the black panties are pushed aside to let two thick, scar-covered fingers dive into your pussy.

Your body after one of the sessions - bra roughly pushed down under the mark-covered breasts, panties missing, one stocking still on the leg, but with multiple holes in it, and the other tying your wrists above your head.

A small video you insisted on recording of the man tugging onto your garter belt whenever he wanted your hips to push towards his thrust, threatening for the thin elastic material to snap.

Even though he doesn’t save them, he knows how to get an easy access to them, so for Blade it works quite fine (and Kafka’s plan does too, making Blade look less intimacy-repulsed and spicing up your relationship).

Boothill

A cyborg, whose only human part of the body is the head, and sex life… How can this be possible? 

Oh, trust me, it can. Sure, his bodily reaction differs, but he still is excited to get nudes from you, finally able to express through the text what he really thinks with that foul mouth of his. A voice recording of you dirty talking to him? Awesome. A video? You can bet his engine is overheating and vents are whirring.

But in all honesty, the ones he truly loves and returns to are the recordings of him doing stuff to you. Call him self-conscious, it’s not like he can bite back with a swear, but the reminder that he can bring you pleasure even now is sometimes necessary.

The lights are intimately dimmed, not enough to bring the room into utter darkness. Two bodies are lying almost intertwined with your back turned to the camera. The metal arm of your lover has sneaked under your side and around your waist, fingers digging into the plush glob of your ass, tugging on it, to further the spread which is created by your leg thrown over his hip. Your pussy is perfectly presented to the camera, puffy and slick, with two gray plated fingers massaging it. Digits slide up and down your labia, occasionally staying on the clit, to rub tight circles on it and elicit some sweet moans out of you, only to return to their previous ministrations, dipping the tips juuust a little bit into the quivering hole. Your back arches and body deliciously shivers from the contrast of his cool and your heat, and you softly whine, when he releases your ass cheek to give it a spank and then grab it again, unwilling to let the sight of your cunt escape his phone’s camera. You whimper something, muffled by his chest, but he remembers by heart what you were begging for. ‘Please, put your mouth on me.’ He will, in a minute, but right now he pushes both fingers to the second knuckle in, making you jolt in his hold, but not letting you go anywhere.

It’s captivating, how his inhuman digits disappear and reappear with every thrust he makes; slick-covered they look shiny, as if you polished them, and the cyborg shudders, imagining your tongue running around them. That’s one dangerous video, he may just give in to his want to see you and abandon the mission he was assigned to…

Dr Veritas Ratio

Unsurprisingly, Veritas’ phone doesn’t contain that much stuff in general. Maybe some downloaded articles, notes to put down later, if he doesn’t have a piece of paper at the moment, and very few pictures, mainly of his writings on the chalkboard. Don’t be discouraged though, of course he has pictures of you. Some selfies you took after “borrowing” his phone and ones he doesn’t have a heart to delete (but he will scoff at you, should you decide to tease him), and some very well-thought images he took on his own accord - he needs reference for when he decides to let his mind rest from research and focus on sculpting.

And one might think that such a reserved and cold man will not entertain storing anything explicit on his phone. Well, he indeed does not have any pictures and videos saved - if he wants, he can either find what you sent him via your chat or just demand your assistance. However… There is something that strangely became his way of concentrating when doing his research…

”Oh! Mh- *thrust* Veri- ohmygod! *thrust*”

“Wait- Aaah! I can’t! I’m sore! MmmmMMM!” “No, you can and you will. Now hold still, I can’t eat you out if you keep thrashing around.” “Oh Aeons!”

*Slick sounds of you going down on him, gurgling and choking on his girth, occasionally gasping to catch your breath, only to have his cock buried in your throat again*

“Baaaby… I miss you so much… Can I come to your office? I promise to be good… Just need to cockwarm you - nothing else I swear. Let me keep you company pleeease. Imagine how nicely it'd be to have your cock buried in my pussy, while you are working… Need to help you with stress-relief, it's gonna feel so-so good.”

“Oh fuck, o-oh, love, I'm cumming, I'm cumming, I’mcumMIN-” “Ngh, s-so…tight…” “Aaaaaaah~!”

“Veritas Ratio, if you come home in ten minutes, I will give you a nice massage and then ride you damn cock, till the only thing you can think about is not your work, but me. If you fail to do so though… I wonder if my threat to use some toys instead will work. Just know that your wife is very mad. And horny.”

It doesn't matter if the audio was taken while you were intimate or it was something you sent to him and he saved - he thoroughly enjoys everything your voice has to offer to him. And if instead of concentrated it accidentally makes him horny - he'll just play the next one, while undoing his pants.

Gallagher

Oh, this man is a menace. And a huge ass-lover. His gallery is full of pictures of your booty: clothed, just panty-clad or bare. There are shots with your body clearly being bent, ass up and back covered in his load. Videos of him fucking you from behind, with cock sliding in and out of your pussy? Obviously. Recordings of it jiggling as he spanks you? Would’ve been strange if they weren’t there.

However, in that vast collection of his, there is a video that’s most peculiar - one might say scandalous. It was one of those nights when he took over the bar for Siobhan and you came over at some point, all enticing and so sexy in that little dress of yours… He could not resist taking you right there once the establishment was closed. And it got on security camera...

Moans so loud, that they are reaching the recording device, are still of the delicious kind. Your back is arched over the bar counter, arms lifted and wrists tied by none other but Gallagher’s wine-red tie, and held by his own hand for good measure. The front of your dress is pushed down, revealing your pretty breasts, jiggling with every thrust of the man’s hips, and the hem of it has ridden up, baring your stomach and mark-covered thighs. Your lover is barely unclothed, pants and boxers pushed down just enough to free his cock and the tie, obviously, missing. The hand that is not holding your wrists, is grabbing onto your leg, under the knee, lifting it for a better angle, and showing off a lewd detail - your black lace panties hanging on your shin. You are looking positively debauched, and he is no better, groaning and cursing, with an occasional exceptionally rough trust that makes you scream and whine. There are teeth-gritted ‘slut’s and huskily chuckled ‘bad girl’s with your pleading ‘sir’s and ‘Gal’s, all of that deliciously seasoned with the clapping of the wet skin colliding. But nothing beats the moment of you cumming, depicted by no less than three cameras from all of the hottest angles…

Of course this footage was ‘confiscated’ by him with some dumb excuse for Siobhan (he doubts she believed it, given the knowing look and shit-eating grin she gave him), with all traces destroyed except just one copy thoroughly hidden on his phone. He thinks you two should repeat that - this time, however, he’d love to bend you over the counter with your back facing him…

Gepard Landau

Gepard would die if someone took his phone and got into his gallery. Poor man has to change the password weekly to throw Serval off his case (she was only teasing, but that made her brother paranoid). There is a reason for such behavior - while he is way too sweet and gentlemanly to suggest making sexy pics or, Supreme Guardian forgive, videos, he can't help but to be too whipped for you. 

This man dutifully saves every single photo and video of yours - nudes included.

You don't send them very often - you don't want to kill your darling husband. But sometimes the yearning is unbearable, and there is a suffocating need to show Gepard what he is missing while away on duty (you always leave a warning message though, so he could check it while alone and undisturbed).

No matter how red and embarrassed he gets, the man timidly admits that he enjoys this kind of attention. He is not beyond the earthly pleasures - he too has a favorite theme, that recently became more present in what you send him…

At first you looked so absolutely cute and domestic with his huge sweater on, the one you personally knitted for him - the beginning of the video didn’t look all that different from the photos you sent him just minutes before. But soon it becomes clear why you asked if he was alone, because once you position the phone and climb onto the bed, your full attire gets revealed. White stockings are replacing your usual home pants, and as your fingers grab the hem of the sweater and tug it up, the white panties from a matching set start peaking. The view is both pure and alluring, with the way your legs are spreading wide, and the sweater being pushed further up, baring your braless breasts. The hem gets secured between your teeth and both hands teasingly run down your sides, index fingers drawing circles around the tits, before squeezing them; as one remains right there, the other slowly slides down your stomach, disappearing under the hem of those flimsy panties. Imagination paints wild images - every next is hotter than the previous, and only your muffled moans of his name and rapidly rising chest are indicators of how good you feel with fingers pushing in and out of your pussy. And that damn sweater… You are not taking it off.

The Captain of the Silvermane Guards has one guilty pleasure - you, wearing his clothes. Domesticity, longing, finding comfort in something of his touches his heart and heightens his love and desire for you, almost making him consider taking a regular day off.

Jing Yuan

This man literally worships the ground his wife is walking on, so OF COURSE he wants to have as many pictures and videos of you as possible. It gets so boring and lonely when he is at work, after all. But don’t be fooled by his sweet and innocent smile, there are not only cute shots of you both or just you, he has sexy stuff too.

Man is obsessed with your chest. It’s his favorite pillow (thus so many pictures of him snuggling his face right between your breasts), his best stress-relief (photos and short videos of his big veiny hands cupping and squeezing your girls, with an occasional swipe of the thumbs over the erect nipples), his favorite place to leave marks on (no one can see them under the clothes, but just one tug of his finger on your collar and he is met with a delicious sight. Plus the photos he asks to send occasionally).

Loves, loves, loves, purchasing lingerie for you and when you demonstrate your bra-clad tits. He immediately wants them in his face, but there is the phone screen keeping him away.

But oh does he love recordings of playing with them.

Your body is steadily bouncing on your husband’s lap, creating a beautiful melody of skin slapping against skin. There is an occasional peak of his thick cock, covered in your juices, that immediately disappears again, undoubtedly swallowed by your pussy. One strong arm is wrapped around your waist, supporting you, while the other hand is palming at your left breast. The right one has fallen victim to his eager mouth, lips wrapped around the nipple, sucking on it tenderly, tongue toying with the overstimulated nub. His eyes are half-lidded when he looks up at you, moaning around your breast, when you tug on his luscious locks, trying to push him away, to give you a small rest. He is drawing back indeed, planting a soft kiss to the valley between the jiggling globes, and you sigh in relief, deceived by his affectionate action. Only for you back to arch and mouth hang in a loud moan, when Jing Yuan brings your other breast to his awaiting tongue, dropping both hands to your hips to aid you in speeding up your riding, sensing your nearing orgasm.

Maybe next time you should try recording him making you cum by playing with your chest only… Ah, just the thought makes his cock swell.

Loucha

As much as Loucha enjoys your company and more often than not allows you to accompany him in his journeys, there are times when he can’t take you with him. Which means he leaves for weeks, or sometimes a couple of months, going through the days without a single touch from you. Before getting into a relationship with you, he could survive without intimacy just fine, but now, since he knows the taste of affection and being spoiled by you, it’s getting hard.

That’s when recordings on his phone come in handy, especially when there is no opportunity of a video call to indulge. And there is one he most frequently returns to…

Your chest is rising and falling, pretty breasts with perky nipples brought together by a wrap of a rope. Red and purple marks bloom on your skin akin flowers, some fresh, some from days before. Sweat shines on your hot skin, indicating just for how long the blonde has been torturing you with pleasure and denial. There is a small shake of the video, as your lover is establishing his phone, having just started the recording, and softly making you aware of how good you look - you wouldn’t know with that blindfold covering your eyes. Once the angle is perfect - capturing your arms, tied above the head, the arch of your back and thighs pushed together for stimulation, the man is joining you on the bed. It is cock-hardening, how you lift your head to find his lips, when you sense him leaning down, needily allowing him to indulge in a kiss before the game of orgasm denial continues. His hand meanwhile is creeping down your body, starting with caressing your cheek, fingers sliding down your neck, over the swell of your breast, thumb pushing against the nipple, eliciting a moan out of you right into his mouth, and then palm splaying on your stomach, traveling even lower, before it disappears between your thighs.

Loucha is a man of foreplay. There is nothing more satisfying to him, than indulging into your body before sinking his cock into your warmth. He loves making you squirm, completely at his mercy, drawing you right to the edge, and then denying you the sweet release, just to make you yearn, just to stretch the process out.

Sampo Koski

Sampo is nasty and that is not a secret. I am sure, if you were up for it, he’d suggest filming porn just for the giggles (and extra cash, come on, you both are fucking hot). There are teasing nudes and intimate videos, and it’s not a rare occasion of either of you texting the other with some found porn with a caption ‘let’s try it?’ and you do, frequently recording the process to compare later, and claiming that your performance is better.

However, sometimes it tends to not go according to the script (not like you usually have one). Sampo is chaotic and it’s not hard to lose focus with a lover like him, and these exact moments are Koski’s favorite. Despite being a Masked Fool, during these times he himself looks so sincere, it’s as unnerving, as it is exciting. Rewatching such videos and seeing how you mirror the look in his eyes, giggle with him, even crack a joke, all without ruining the mood - makes him believe he’s found his soulmate (and if you did film porn with him, he’d never share this level of intimacy with your viewers, it solely belongs to you two).

You are giggling, shaking your head with a wide smile, all the while lying on your stomach between his toned mark-covered thighs and leisurely fisting his hard, leaking cock with an angrily red tip. 

‘Sampo, please, be a little serious, we are trying to be sexy here.’

‘We are sexy! What’s not hot in shaping my and your pubic hairs into the lips?? They could kiss, when we fuck!’

‘You are unbelievable,’ you snort, trying to save the last bits of your composure, and leaning forward to mouth at his tight balls. This makes your lover pornographically (how ironic) moan, throwing his head back.

‘Mmm, yes, right there~ Oooh… If am soooo unbelievable, it must mean I am dreamy? How about I bring you to a Penacony, to a Dreamscape? I bet in your dream I’d be as good in bed as I am in reality.’

Your resolve snaps and you burst out laughing, letting go of his sack and pressing your face to his thigh, shaking, dropping the hand from around his cock. Sampo whines.

‘Come ooooon, I was so close!’

‘Shu-ah-ha-t-ah-uh-p,’ you manage through your laughter. The man pouts, but the gaze of mint green is summer-warm as he is looking down at your trembling form. Your voice is pretty, your cackles are pretty, and oh damn he is laughing too.

And these are just the first few minutes of the last video, the thing has a duration of half an hour, so, obviously, you didn’t stop there. That’s what Sampo Koski loves - no matter how cringe you become, it’s never a reason to stop the whole process. If anything it’s something to spark an even longer and intimacy-filled one.

Sunday

Keeping personal stuff on his phone is quite dangerous, given Sunday’s position. That’s why he owns two phones - his work one, and one to mainly contact you, his sister, and a small circle of the most trusted people. He is extremely good at handling the owning of two separate devices, never mistaking one for another, that people are often convinced he has only one.

But it’s his personal cellphone that interests us. Oh, does he have a whole collection of photos and videos of you, one folder in particular hidden just for good measure. Sunday is a collected and regal man, yet it doesn’t mean he has a hard time enjoying your teasing. Quite contrary, sometimes he welcomes it, loving the photos you send him from an outing, shopping for clothes, or better yet, lingerie, sending him multiple shots of different sets and asking him which he loves most, and which he’d like to see on you tonight. 

There are videos too, especially when he’s been extremely busy, and you are oh so needy, sending him short recordings of touching yourself, sighing out his name, begging him to come and help you. However, there is one he particularly likes…

Big silicone cock is being pushed in and out by the machine he purchased for you to quell your need when your husband can’t be there for you. You are on your stomach, with hips slightly raised and pushed backwards, chasing the toy, and he can see the perfect outline of your pussy, outer lips swollen and puffy, covered in a sticky substance, opening and constricting in attempts to accommodate the girth. Your moans are sweet, so-so sweet, hitting a high pitch, when the dildo falls out and a thick glob of cum substitute escapes your pussy. And then another, and another, messing your thighs even more, ruining the towel underneath you. Yet you don’t stop, reaching behind, and pushing the tip back into your tight warmth, making the toy pick its pace again. It’s squelching, it’s so dirty, but it’s so hard to look away. You give yourself creampie, after creampie, sometimes stopping to collect the substance and push it inside with your digits, fingering, moaning and whining for your husband, wishing it’s his cum sploshing between your walls, breeding you.

Yes, it’s his favorite, almost 4-minute video. Ever the neat freak, he can’t deny you look heavenly when ruined, on an equally ruined bed, begging for his attention and semen. You have to forget about the machine for some time, however, because since then Sunday has been truly devoted to breeding you.

[wildestdreamsblog]

The Story of Us: Teaser

Pairing: Mahwa Character!Min Yoongi x Reader

Summary: You wake up in the body of the second female lead in a manhwa, determined to rewrite your fate. No longer willing to be trapped in unrequited love for the elusive main lead, Min Yoongi, you set out to change the ending of the story. But leaving him behind isn’t as simple as you thought. As the lines between fiction and reality blur, the narrative begins to shift in unexpected ways—Yoongi, who was once only devoted to the main female lead, starts to see you in a new light. Can you escape the cycle of heartbreak, or will you find yourself entangled in a love story you never asked for?

or in which Yoongi found out you aren't from that world and refuses to let you leave.

A/N: This is a yandere fic. The whole oneshot will be uploaded in Tumblr. A gift to you as celebration for my 6K followers! Thank you sooooo much for all the interactions and screaming with me about my stories <333

You froze in front of the mirror, your breath caught somewhere between disbelief and panic. The face staring back at you was undeniably familiar but was definitely not yours. It was her—the woman from the manhwa.

Your hand lifted slowly, as if drawn by an invisible force, and touched your cheek, tracing the delicate curve of your jaw. The reflection mimicked your every move, except there was no mistake: it wasn’t you. This version of you was flawless—her skin porcelain smooth, her lips full and painted in a soft, understated pink. You blinked hard, willing the image to change, but it remained the same, impossibly perfect.

And then it hit you, harder than any realization should have: You were in her world. You were in her body. You were the second female lead.

What the fuck was this dream?!

You pinched yourself, willing yourself to wake up from this peculiar dream where you were not you, and instead, you were someone of a fictional character. All that it did was reddened her fair skin. You truly tried not to panic, but no one and nothing could have ever prepared you from waking up in someone else’s body! More so of a fictional one. Similarly, you knew this could not be possible. You must have been dreaming.

You were just dreaming…right?

The knock on the door snapped you out of your stupor, your mind reeling as the panic tightened its grip.

“Miss? Sir Yoongi is here to see you,” the voice outside the door called, timid, hesitant.

You blinked, the words barely registering at first. Yoongi? No. No, no, no. Your heart dropped to your stomach, and the world around you seemed to tilt at an impossible angle. You opened your mouth to respond, but all that came out was a shaky, disbelieving breath.

"Y-yoongi?" Your voice sounded strange, foreign in this body, yet with an edge of authority, the voice of someone accustomed to being looked at, obeyed.

“N-no. Why?”

“T-to visit you, Miss. He went straight here from the airport after his three-month work in New York,” she explained with a terrified tone in her voice as though one wrong word would upset you. It did upset you upon horrifying realization that you were in the first chapter of the manhwa. He was coming to see the second female lead, the one who would only ever be a part of his life for the briefest, most painful moments. The one who would disappear when the main female lead entered the picture, leaving behind nothing but heartache and regret.

This was the moment—the beginning of her unraveling. The beginning of your unraveling.

You stumbled back from the mirror, almost tripping over the hem of the silk nightgown that clung to your skin. It felt wrong. This wasn’t your body. This wasn’t you. You couldn’t be her. You couldn't.

But there you were—she was—standing in front of a mirror, and it was your face that stared back, the same face that would soon be abandoned in favor of the main lead. The face that would die tragically, just as Yoongi chose someone else.

A cold sweat broke out on your skin as you pressed your hand to your chest, feeling your heart race, the pulse throbbing in your throat. The maid outside the door was waiting. She was waiting. Yoongi was waiting.

“Miss? Are you coming?” The maid asked again, sounding more nervous now. “Sir Yoongi is waiting.”

You felt your legs walked to where the door was as though they had a mind of their own, as though they were simply following the plot where you had to face her childhood bestfriend, as though you had no choice in this. The door creaked as it slowly opened, and the maid stepped back with a small, nervous bow. “Miss,” she murmured softly, her eyes flicking between you and the hallway.

There he was. Yoongi. Standing in the hallway, waiting for you.

His broad back was turned to you, his focus was on the huge window overlooking the garden below. His hands were in his pockets. You couldn’t help but notice the bags of designer clothes and jewelries beside him. It was always like this. Yoongi would spoil her with everything, his love a quiet promise wrapped in material things. His affection was given in expensive packages, just because he missed her. It was a thing the main lead, Yoongi, and her had for the longest times. He spoiled her rotten, and in turn, she loved him unconditionally until he realized that it wasn’t her love that he wanted. It was someone else’s.

You felt your chest tighten as you stepped forward, closer to him. And then, slowly, he turned around, his gaze landing on you, his eyes sharp and calculating, as though he was seeing you for the first time. He was just as handsome as you'd imagined, his sharp features bathed in the soft light of the chandelier overhead. His expression, however, was unreadable—his usual aloofness on full display. He had on a simple black jacket, the sleeves rolled up slightly, revealing his forearms.

He was standing there, just as he had been in the manhwa—distant, untouchable, and perfect. The kind of person who seemed to have everything. Everything except the one thing that would make him whole. His lips curved into a faint smirk, the usual aloofness settling over him like a second skin. Yoongi. So damn confident. So certain of himself. Yet there was something flickering beneath that exterior, something you couldn't place.

He took a step toward you, his gaze unwavering, and for a moment, everything felt too heavy, too real. The space between you both seemed like an eternity, but somehow you couldn’t move. You couldn’t breathe.

He raised his brows when you remained motionless – so dissimilar to how the second female lead threw herself in his arms in the first chapter. “What?” he said, his voice a quiet challenge. “Didn’t you miss me?”

His words hit you like a cold wave. Didn’t you miss me?

The phrase was so familiar, but it made you flinch. It was the same thing he had said to her. The second female lead. Her. The woman you had now become. You opened your mouth to respond, but nothing came out. Your breath caught in your throat, the weight of his gaze leaving you paralyzed. How were you supposed to feel? What was the right answer?

Yoongi’s smirk deepened as he took another step closer, his presence commanding the space between you both. He wasn’t giving up.

“Aigoo,” he muttered, as though your silence had amused him. “My princess is mad at me?” He reached out, cupping your cheeks in his hands and squishing them gently, his thumb brushing across your skin in a familiar, playful gesture. “I promise I won’t be away for that long again, okay?”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. My princess. Mad at me? It was just like the manhwa. Just like how the second female lead had fallen for him—how she’d craved his affection, how she had convinced herself that he was the only one who could make her whole.

How could she not fall for him? How could she not love him when he was this—this?

See, who wouldn’t fall for that? You understood the second female lead for falling in love with him, or why she did all those terrible things when he suddenly withdrew all his affections from her. But maybe…you could change the ending. Maybe you could find a happy ending of your own away from him. You could choose differently. You could walk away. You could find your own path, away from him, away from this tragic loop. Maybe—just maybe—there was a way for you to have a happy ending. Not the one written in the manhwa, but one you could choose. One where you didn’t lose yourself in the love of a man who could never return it.

What if you and him could all have your separate happy endings?

Full teaser in KoFi

[mtchacffinz]

what a blunder!

prompt!!! Arlecchino personally deals with your unwanted marriage proposal in her own unique way.

content!!! fem!reader x arlecchino, SFW, impatient arlecchino, violence mentioned, marriage proposal, possessive arlecchino

note!!! "Farlahr" is a made up character for the sake of this ficlet. The Doctor here is NOT Dottore. something about arlecchino tweaking and losing a few screws is so hot to me so here you go girls this one is for my strap on arlecchino riders 🙏 im so normal

"He told me that if I consider him as my betrothed, I would be set for life." You smile up at her, albeit nervous. "Huh? Oh— Where are you going?"

Long empty corridors could carry even the faintest whispers. The moon peeks from the shadows, it's serene light softly caressing the harbingers figure— still, quiet, tensed. Her heels clang echoing all throughout the corridor, her gaze that was pinned straight forward seemed to pierce through the thick air surrounding the atmosphere.

Long empty corridors could carry even the faintest whispers, and Arlecchino failed to notice she started to hear her uneven breathing.

Peculiar. Truly peculiar..

"Right this way, Ma'am." Arlecchino set her gaze towards the head butler, greeted with the sight of a tensed figure in return. The head butler winces, stammering on his words. Was she glaring? She doesn't know. That's not important. She's needs to get through the door. "I- I will inform the Master of your arrival—"

"That will not be necessary." Her sultry voice cut through his words. "We have been long collaborators, a reunion shan't wait too long."

Her monochromatic figure heaves a soft breath, looking blankly towards the excessively pretentious door, it's sheer size looming over Arlecchino's figure— the entrance towards an office.

Eloquent and graceful, although her lips were painted with a polite smile, the person before her couldn't tell if the crimson woman was brewing something from within. The Knave was calculative and perceptive, an expert at keeping herself cold despite the scorching flames imbedded within her. The man kept his gaze at the floor, lacking the courage to even contest her gaze.

Those eyes, terrifying crimson hued crosses that could mess with your head tried to dare his optics to even catch a small gaze. Staring into them was ill advised indeed. The butler knew this for his heart was racing, and what added to the cold sweat undeniably trickling in his jaw was that Arlecchino stood unnervingly still— as if contemplating something under deep thought. Before anything could be done, Arlecchino firmly gripped the mansion door's handles in a few momemts, swinging it open with great force.

There had always been an air of nobility in Arlecchino's presence. As soon as she stepped foot into Farlahr's office, the doctor stood up in shock, startled.

"Please, excuse my abrupt visit, Doctor." Arlecchino deliberately spat out the title, a composed smile tugged at her lips. Farlahr's eyes widen at the sight of her monochromatic elegance painting his mansion floors with her presence.

"You're not too busy, I presume? Do let us catch up, I insist— I truly do." It was way beyond the wee hours of the night, the breeze was cold and unforgiving, and the doctor could feel it crawling up his spine. The Harbingers assertive words leave no room for arguments. As if there was an invisible wind from the room, forcing every bit of his movements to bend at her own will.

"I admit that it's quite off fashion to visit at this hour empty handed, Lord Harbinger." The man chuckled in an attempt to disperse the growing tension in the air. He swings his hands— decorated with glimmering stones to mask his nervousness. The woman quickly responded.

"I won't be empty handed for long."

"Pardon, Lord Harbinger?"

Arlecchino doesn't clarify any further, but directs her unwavering gaze to him. Dark, piercing. It was like a warning, a ticking bomb for the doctor to diffuse except there seemed to be no signs of dismissal any time soon.

His crisp smile quickly dropped.

"...I merely jest." Farlahr quickly followed up, as if it was the most amusing joke in the world. Arlecchino doesn't seem to share the same opinion, as her expression stood the same. Whatever The Knave came here for, he doesn't know just yet. And if he fails to catch on, Farlahr just might lose something. His head fell from the deep crevices of his panicked mind falling into one topic he suddenly could bring up as distraction.

With their history of collaborative partnership of 13 years, Arlecchino didn't have a single problem in regards to the business and it's contributions to the House of Hearth. Arlecchino didn't care for his obsessions with women and adulterous activities, the poised lady simply stood her ground due the information the Doctor withheld about the history of medical fallacies and treatments alike.

Arlecchino's rigid gaze quickly looked relaxed, unbothered. Her voice had voice lowered and her arms and legs sit crossed.

"I came here to offer a deal."

"And that is?"

It was no surprise to Arlecchino that Farlahr was a worldly man. Riches to riches, he has re-married at least three times and he's proud of that. Arlecchino didn't bother to comprehend his thought process. She believes that his brain was processed waste ideally converged with multiple nerves. His body reeked of metals, teeth gleaming brightly with silver. She kind of wishes she could rip it all out of his jaw..

"You will retract your marriage proposal." Arlecchino starts, "And I say this, your wealth, status, and people— all safeguarded as per usual."

Farlahr was taken aback by the sudden demand. He doesn't know if her statement stemmed from concern for his safety or a wake up call to his unethical hobbies. The opportunist in him say the opposite, it says that maybe you are some sort of leverage in this world— so valuable that even the 4th Harbinger of then fatui would personally come and abolish his plans of marrying you.

But the curiosity of his consciousness gnaws it's way out of his lips, asking one particular question.

"You disapprove of my wife and I?"

How disgusting. Utterly repulsive. Its almost an offense to your whole existence to be called a wife to someone as repugnant as him. The monochromatic grace managed to suppress her disgust by responding in a more poignant tone.

"Ah, forgive me." Arlecchino very slowly tilts her head, eyes unblinking. She effortlessly stands up from her seat, her coat elegantly swaying with her refined and poised movements, breath light as a feather— a shadow cast on her face.

"But I don't disapprove of your proposal, pig." In a moment, there was a switch in her tone. Her pointed high heels shoes dragged themselves against the expensive velvet carpet, dreaming to at least peirce through the back of a certain crisp, fragile cranium. With every step closer Arlecchino gets, the more Farlahr's heart pounds in his chest, daring to jump off.

She raises a hand and firmly places them on his shoulder.

"...I forbid it."

Serenity was all that could be described throughout the night. And you, as a person of idle leisure in the evening, appreciated the tranquil breeze that brush past your cheek. A soft sigh escapes your lips, falling into deep thought. What is there to do? With the last 28 hours you were given to decide on an answer, you're left quite bewildered. Tapping your fingernails on the terrace by muscle memory, your train of thought was disturbed when you head familiar foot steps behind you.

You turn around to see a sight of dignified beauty, standing before your sleepless eyes. Arlecchino's presence, despite the abruption, quickly calmed your disgruntled nerves down.

But something was wrong. Before you could ask about the residual crimson stains on her cheek and darkened hands, she speaks in a tone softer than any voice you've heard her.

"If I may ask, my dove, could you marry someone with an absent ring finger?"

Wow. What a random question. Completely uncalled for. Maybe the ungodly hours of the night got to her? Despite the conspiracies flowing through your mind, you try hard to think of an answer.

"Hmm. I should rephrase that. Could you marry a man with no fingers?" Arlecchino ponders out loud, "Despite a marriage contract, you must need a ring to put on his finger, right? Quite a shame, really.."

"No, I don't think so. Wedding rings are to be put on ring fingers, if I recall correctly."

"That's a relief." You raise a brow, completely lost. You gaze at Arlecchino, a subtle triumphant look paints her expression, her fingers play around with her numerous rings that sit comfortably on her fingers. Taking one out, she approaches your figure.

"May I embrace you, my lady?" Suddenly, the Harbingers sultry voice was sullen, sulking. My, what's up with this woman? A moment ago she shows up with (possibly) blood around her person, and now she's asking for sudden physical contact? After just a consonant of the reply 'Yes' was uttered, Arlecchino quickly took you in her arms, embracing you deeply— taking in your presence wholely.

"How I wish I could rid you the scent of that swine." She loosens her grip for a moment, putting a stray hair strand behind your ear. All this feels like a fever dream.. you remember that just mere hours ago, Arlecchino's face looked grim and unpleasant when she received news of your sudden proposal— her reaction left you perplexed. You thought it would be a good idea since Farlahr was a good business partner of hers, why the grim expression?

You pat her back comfortingly. Before you could say anything, Arlecchino quickly lets go of you, standing perfectly straight. Her face once again unreadable— she speaks in a calm and collected manner.

"That fool said that if you'd marry him, you would be set for life." She recounts, almost irritated. Arlecchino's crimson crosses gaze was away from you, but hands traced their way back to your arms, carefully holding them in hers. Her thumbs brush the back of your hands affectionately, with tenderness and care in her voice. Arlecchino's knee made contact with the floor, and her hands delicately handled yours as if they were the most precious thing in the world.

"You must marry me. All he could offer you, I could provide tenfold."

All of the sudden, the wind started to pick up, and the ethereal lady before you never looked so grand. Her monochromatic hair danced with the cool breeze, and her crimson eyes looked from above, transfixed on your figure. Your throat felt like there was too many words you could spit out in one go, and you were terrified that you'd ruin the atmosphere by stammering over your words.

"Marry me so you are mine to gratify. This is a promise I can keep, unlike that farce. Even at your grave, my everlasting flames will be buried with you in the dirt where you lay— in turn that you will never freeze from the cold kiss of death." The Harbinger adds, tenderly placing a peck on your knuckles. Her gaze could contest even the eyes of Archons at this very moment, possessing full confidence that upholds the standards of her capabilities.

Compared to her, what could a limbless man offer you?

my dumbass just woke up and decided to edit it a bit cus I was writing this at like, 3AM LMAOO, hello (⁠ ⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠) its me again, just dipping my toes in the water to see if I could still write 🤔

[choochooboss]

Submas Sketchdump Vol. 4 July 2022 Part 2!!

I knew that particular month beat my all time record for productivity multifold but I had forgotten SO MANY PIECES from the original collection!! I think I finally got them all?? More stuff under the cut!!

BREAKMAS!! WIP of the first piece I posted of them, here's the link to the final version! I tried coloring this first but the black & white had ultimately more impact so I went with that!

TRAINS!! I like this base color version too! Link to the final version!

The top sketch is a direct reference to Cluedo! A spinoff game, "Missingo", starring certain familiar characters trying to figure out what happened to Ingo/trying to prove their innocence in the case! Also WIP sketches for these two Breakmas comic pages!

As you may know I adore butlermas! For the classy and stylish look which appeals to me in general, and coincidentally I had played PLA & got hit by submas train only one week before butler Ingo's banner rolled out! The pure bliss of finally meeting both twins in a game I felt was incomparable!! This moment in the Curious Tea Party event was really entertaining to me! We got to see submas get serious and stand up against this selfish collector thief! Two towering train twinks with commanding voices looming over the unfortunate guy was enough to make him change his mind ahah! They truly are the protectors

1-hour submas challenge prompt "Descend"! This is the actual one hour result before I continued rendering this!

Mmmmm not my first attempt at drawing them hug and definitely not my best OR last. I want to make that moment something very special when I finally go all out on it!!

Comic cover vibing~

The scrapped last page for this silly comic! Sorry the dialogue is all over the place on the first piece, might be hard to read! I wasn't happy with how I presented Elesa, I wasn't familiar enough with her character back then so I thought of her carrying a toy taser to threat her friend even as a joke was too much and I couldn't come up with anything else for it. This held me back from posting the other three pages for another 5 months! In the last panel

I prefer to not mess up the twins too much but my brain is still very curious and conjures some peculiar stuff like this sometimes.. I think I may have broken his arms there looking at the anatomy, ooops! I hope you don't mind the photo quality or the two weird guys in the corner, they escaped containment!

Idea of warden Ingo, being projected to modern era by his Alakazam, walking through crowd on a train platform & Emmet standing inside a passing train. Their eyes meet for just a few seconds...

Pokemas Ingo practise!

Another WIP of a piece I posted! I started this piece like this but then later I decided to flip the whole thing.

YET another WIP of something I already posted! No idea why I went and mixed up his suits but I like this sketch! They rarely end up looking this clean haha

Sketch version of the self-defense practise piece! I love getting creative with action stuff! I barely ever think of how difficult they are to draw, I just get so excited and fixated on visualising the scenes in my mind I just keep at it, pull out refs and pose in front of mirrors until it looks good to me! I want to draw more action scenes but besides being challenging to draw my brain comes up with more silly and cute ideas than cool ones unfortunately ahah

One more WIP, here's the link to the final results!! I really like how genuine their expressions look here even if the faces are a little off. I recall spending a long time figuring out this perspective. I thought it would be fun to you to see how all these pieces started and... looking at the sketch above and the stuff before that, you can compare some range of my style!

RANDOM SUBMAS MISSILES GO

OHHH looks like some nasty passengers got the best of them!! If I recall correctly there was no fight because they managed to paralyse the two before they could act. Fully awake yet completely helpless... how convenient unfortunate. Thank you so much for checking these out!! Not every sketch is that exciting but I'm always happy to hear your thoughts on these!

Previous posts: Sketch dump Vol. 1: April-June 2022 Sketch dump Vol. 2: July 2022 Sketch dump Vol. 3: August 2022

[call-me-strega]

Dc x DP Prompt #8: Best Friend’s Brother

Preface: this prompt can be used with different characters but I’m writing it as Dead on Main bc that’s my favorite. Also the colleges I mention are real colleges from the DCU

~~~

Danny Fenton was 18 when he moved to Gotham for college.

It was the only place with a half decent engineering program that would take a kid with his record; drop in grades, unexplained absences, missing class, a disciplinary record, etc. Plus there was a decent saturation of both magic and ectoplasm in Gotham’s air. After he got accepted he decided to tell his parents he was Phantom. They reacted surprisingly well all things considered. They were horrified to learn they’d been hunting their son but it quickly turned into acceptance to listen to what he had to tell them. Now they turned their obsession from hunting ghosts to learning more about ghost more humanely. He also managed to get his former rouges to agree to call off any major shenanigans in favor of less destructive outlets. (He got Ember a TikTok and a YouTube channel, he set up a drag racing circuit in the realms for Johnny and Kitty, let Technus enter the internet as long as he stayed within Amity’s grid or help Ember manage her stuff, allowed Desiree grant wishes for Make a Wish Foundation kids so long as she didn’t horribly twist them, etc.)

Now with the town not at constant risk of danger and his parents agreeing to really handle any rouge ghosts, Danny could leave Amity with a clear conscience. His friends were also growing up and heading to their own colleges. Tucker was heading to Ivy University in New England, which rivaled MIT in terms technological prestige, and Sam decided on Vandermeer University in Pittsburg, which had a reputation for being a very liberal, anti-authority campus. Although their trio would be spread out, Danny found comfort in the fact that they’d all moved from the Midwest to the Northeast.

With promises to stay in touch a visit. Danny got set up in GCU’s dorms, ready to move into the next chapter of his life.

~

Danny Fenton was 20 when Tim Drake (age 19 but nearing 20) officially became one of his best friends.

They had been introduced to each other by their mutual friend Sebastian Ives for a new Warlocks and Warriors campaign. Their friendship extended beyond WnW when they ended up on the same Applied Physics and Mechanics class. It was cemented when they got pair up for a project in class and had to spend lots of time around each other.

Danny didn’t mind that Tim tended to be a bit flaky and Tim didn’t mind that Danny was possibly not 100% human. They didn’t ask each other too many questions about that stuff. They knew the other had something odd about him and that was fine with them. It was nice to have a causal friend they could be normal with, without being questioned about their more peculiar behaviors.

They officially became best friends when the built a Rube Goldberg machine with a working trebuchet within an hour of the three they had to complete it for their Applied Phys-Mech final. Danny introduced Tim to Sam, Tucker and Jazz. Tim introduced him to Steph, Tam, and Cass. They texted and hung out fairly often. They truly did consider each other one their best friends.

~

Danny Fenton is 22 when he meets Tim’s family.

Tim’s 21st birthday is coming up and he has plans with his family the day of and is going out with his friends, including a couple from out of town, that night. They want to take him out for his first drink and it’s fortunate timing since it’s the weekend so nobody has to worry about classes. Everyone who was going was already informed that Tim would be spending most of the day with his family before Steph and Cass would bring to the club everyone was meeting up at. Which is why it’s purely a coincidence when he runs into them at BatBurger during the lunch rush.

Danny had just picked up the part-time job to earn a little extra cash to pay for his hobbies. Tim new about it but didn’t know the exact location he worked. That’s why they were both presently surprised when they heard each others voices in the drive through. When they pulled up to window Danny saw his friend leaning over a tired looking black-haired man, trying to stick his head out of the drivers window to give Danny a maniacal grin.

He quickly introduced the other passengers of the car as his dad, Bruce, and three of his brothers Dick, Jason, and Duke. He mentioned he had a fourth brother, Damian, who was still at home. Danny couldn’t really see everyone all that well on account of they were inside a car but he happily greeted them as well. They laughed and Danny wished Tim a happy birthday saying he’d see him at his celebration later tonight before handing them their food. He could the rowdy boys ribbing their brother as the car drove away and Danny resumed his work.

That incident seemed to have opened a gate because now Tim felt more comfortable inviting him over when his brothers were still around the house. He occasionally talked about his family more and Danny returned the favor letting snippets of his own family spill a little more. Occasionally, he’d see Tim’s family outside of his interactions with Tim.

He’d run into Damian, and sometimes Bruce or Dick was with him, at the museum or in the park while the younger had been walking his dog and stopped to say hi a couple of times. He chatted with Dick a couple of times when they were both in line to get coffee at a cafe. He saw Duke on a college tour once and waved at him.

The family member he probably saw the most other that Tim (and by extension Cass) was actually Jason. He’d ended up ditching BatBurger to get some more practical experience at an apprenticeship at the auto shop Jason went to to get his motorcycle serviced. The two of them got along pretty well and would often make conversation when Jason was waiting on his bike to be ready or to get his bill.

At first is was small talk about little things like how he and Tim were doing in class or how their days were going but they soon grew to have genuine interests in each other. Jason let Danny talk about space and mechanics and even gave his own thoughts sometimes, once helping Danny realize he was over complicating the circuit board of the device he was building. In return Danny let Jason ramble to him about literature, even taking the initiative to read a book Jason mentioned so he could talk to him about it better. Their conversation tended to be on the briefer side but were always enjoyable to both parties.

Danny actually liked being around Jason a lot but didn’t really bring that fact up a lot around Tim as it didn’t seem necessary. Tim was pretty glad that Danny got along with his family but he preferred to keep them in separate places in his mind. Danny knew and respected that, only really mentioning that he’d seen them recently and that they’d told him to say hi on their behalf (or die in Damian’s case occasionally).

~

Tim Drake was 22 when he came to a horrific realization.

Well, perhaps horrific was a bit of an exaggeration. Tim wasn’t necessarily horrified by the revelation. In all honesty he didn’t know how to feel. He felt an odd mixture of protectiveness, possessiveness, confusion, and optimism(?).

You see, Tim and Danny had been hanging out in the campus center, studying and goofing off when he got a text from Jason saying he was coming to pick him up for family dinner at the manor since he was closest and Dick was busy picking up Duke and Damian from their after school clubs.

“What’s up?” Danny asked him curiously.

Tim set his phone on the table and started putting his stuff away. “My brother is coming to pick me up for family dinner so I gotta head out soon.”

“Ah well I should probably get going too. Tell Dick I said hi.”

“Actually, it’s Jason. Dick is picking up Duke and Damian,” he said shoving his textbook into his bag.

“Oh? That’s nice of him. Hey do you wanna just head out together?” Danny asked, fidgeting with his hoodie strings.

Tim noticed a slight strain in Danny’s voice at the mention of Jason but didn’t comment. He just nodded his head sure and walked outside with Danny. They got out to the street when Tim realized he’d left his phone in the library. He faced palmed and asked Danny if he could hold his stuff so it wouldn’t slow him down as he ran back to the campus center to get his phone. Danny agreed to and hold his stuff and wait for Jason while Tim went back.

After getting his phone Tim started heading back to where he left Danny when he saw that Jason had arrived that Jason had arrived and was talking to Danny. He was about to call out to them when he noticed several things in quick succession. Danny was fidgeting with his hoodie, something he tended to do when nervous. The tips of Danny’s ears were a light shade of pink (it isn’t cold out yet?). Danny looked deeply absorbed in his conversation with Jason in a way that reminded Tim of how he talked about space. And Jason seemed just as absorbed in the conversation as well.

The gears in Tim’s head went into overdrive and he realized ‘Ah- Danny has a crush on Jason’. His eyes widened as his head whipped around to examine Jason again. He saw a look of genuine fondness in his eyes. Thus Tim was confronted with the aforementioned horrific realization and complicated feelings. Tim didn’t know whether to laugh, cry, or both.

‘My dumbass best friend has a crush on my brother. And worse(?), my idiot brother returns those feelings.’

[cloudcountry]

SUMMARY: A handful of TWST characters that I headcanon have not had their first kiss yet and you kissing them for the first time.

WARNINGS: None!!

COMMENTS: riddle and idia and azul are obvious but i feel like i need to explain jade and floyd. they're clearly emotionally detached from most people and probably scared off anyone that might remotely be interest in (even though if they can be scared off, the twins would probably find them boring anyway) so they haven't kissed anyone yet in my silly little head. thats all!!

i was listening to cherry wine by hozier while writing floyd's part so if its softer than usual that's why OOPS

the asexual in me loves writing about hesitant physical intimacy leave me alone :C

Riddle Rosehearts feels his hands shaking as you stare, eyes so calm and hopeful that makes his heart lurch. He doesn’t know how to give you what you want without curling in on himself and becoming flustered. It’s unbecoming of him to cower like this, but he can’t help it. your hand against his cheek, the other one resting on his shoulder, your faces so close together. He feels like he might die if he doesn’t kiss you, but he doesn’t know how and he doesn’t want to mess this up because he’s supposed to just know.

“You don’t have to know,” you whisper, and you sound so certain that his heart flutters like a caged bird, “Every person is different. Everyone has a different feel to their kiss, and I’m glad I get to help you discover yours.”

He can’t breathe.

“Will you allow me?” you murmur, tilting your head the slightest bit and oh, he knows what's coming and he doesn’t want to stop it.

“Please.” he breathes, slamming his eyes shut, “Kiss me.”

Azul’s shaking hands find their way to your hips as if they were always meant to be there, pressed against your pants and brushing against the hem of your shirt. He sucks in a breath as your arms are draped around his neck, like a blanket of love coating him in warmth. His body does feel impossibly hot, and he wonders for a moment if you truly are magical.

His mouth feels dry so he wets his lips, and when your eyes flicker towards them at the movement he almost dies.

“Azul, it’s okay. We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.” you murmur, softly and with so much understanding. It’s frustrating, how Azul wants every part of you and you’re willing to wait for him. You’re too good for him.

“I want to.” he whispers, pleading in a way that only someone as powerful as him can, “I want to kiss you, so please—”

Azul talks too much. You’re painfully aware of this fact and so is he. Maybe that’s why you shut him up and replaced his greedy pleas with the sound of soft kissing, but then again, Azul doesn’t need to know what other reasons you had for kissing him. The only reason he needs is your love.

Jade does not understand why it’s such a shock to you that he has yet to be kissed. You have seen him in his merform, you have fought him in his merform, and yet your brain cannot wrap around the concept that people find him terrifying. Really, you are an amusing one.

“The merpeople my age were scared of me, pearl.” he chuckles politely as you gape at him from across the Mostro Lounge table he seated you at hours before, “I had yet to be in a romantic relationship until you.”

“But you’re so handsome.” you huff, and it looks like you’re pouting, “Your peers have no taste.”

“Ah, or mayhaps your taste is an acquired one, my dear.” he smiles his closed-eyed smile, and revels in the amused snort his response elicits.

“We should kiss then.” you blurt, and Jade’s eyes fly open in surprise. You’re leaning across the table with shimmering eyes and a huge smile like you can’t wait to kiss him.

How peculiar.

“Do you want to be kissed?” he says, feigning surprise.

“By you? More than anything.” you say breathlessly, and Jade finds himself leaning into you to really take your breath away.

Floyd stares intently at your lips, brow furrowed and eyes narrowed. He looks like a predator about to pounce on its prey, and despite how cliche that comparison is for someone like him you can’t help but squirm.

“Floyd.” you say softly, and he snaps out of it when he meets your gaze, “What’s wrong?”

“Shrimpy. Wanna try something new.” he leans closer, his shadow falling over you as if to remind you how scary he can really be, “I want to kiss you.”

Oh.

“Well, that’s doable.” you feel your face grow warm at his insistence as your hands find their way to his lapels.

Floyd’s features soften as he leans into you, his bristling energy soothed by your hands on him, pulling him closer to give him what he wants. Your mouths connect and for a moment you find yourself wincing as his teeth bump against yours, but he pulls back just the slightest bit and presses into your mouth with his mouth, and you lean back and back and back until the only support you have is his arm holding you close.

“Love you Shrimpy.” he grins as he stops kissing you, giggling against your lips. His breath is warm and you feel like a sweet ice cream cone in summer with the way you melt against him.

“Again.” you huff quietly, and Floyd is all too happy to oblige.

Idia was not expecting to be thrown into a super hard boss level right off the bat. Seriously, what is this? Why did you always have to play with such gimmick stats that made no sense and never follow any specific trope?! It wasn’t good for his heart!

It wasn’t that he didn’t want you to kiss him, it was just so hard not to think about everything that could go wrong. Like what if he bit you by accident? What if he yawned or sneezed in your mouth? What was the last thing he ate? Where did he put his hands and how is he supposed to move his lips?!

“Idia, it’s okay. We can wait a little while longer. This isn’t something you can rush.” you rub your thumb over his cheek, always so gentle and tender and sweet and everything he never thought he would find.

“No, I want to. I just...don’t look at me like that!” he squeaks, ducking his head in his hoodie as the tips of his hair flare pink and red.

“Sorry!” you turn away and let him breathe, trying so desperately to calm down.

“Just...can it be a quick one?” he asks shyly, tentatively, and he hears you hum in satisfaction because he’s communicating and he knows you like it when he tells you what he wants.

“It can be anything you want.” you answer softly, and Idia slams his eyes shut and leans into you.

How you manage to make such normie things seem so nice is a mystery to him, but he doesn’t think he can ever get enough of your lips gliding across his like they were never meant to do anything but kiss him.

[writers-potion]

Hi! I would like to ask if you could possibly give any tips on how to properly manage to introduce characters ?

Techniques for Character Introduction

There are many things you can consider for an impactful character introduction:

The Point of View of your novel

Whether your character is a POV character or not

The tone of your novel

What your character is like

In-Medias-Res

Immediately show the character in the middle of action.

Character(s) come into the scene running, fighting, laughing - whatever it is.

Good for leaving an impression

Could be an in-medias-res hook in the very opening of your novel, to introduce the main character.

Choose an action that "defines" the character. Perhaps it's something they do repeatedly (going to the gym at 5am every morning) or that shows a key part of their personality (digging through a large pile of laundry because they cannot keep their room clean)

Dialogue - Voice First

The character makes a voice entrance before we "see" them physically appear.

It helps the readers define the relationship between the character being introduced and the character that we've been following.

From Dan Brown's <Digital Fortress>:

"David?" "It's Strathmore," the voice replied. Susan slumped. "Oh," She was unable to hide her disappointment. "Good afternoon, Commander." "Hoping for a younger man?" The voice chuckled. "No, sir," Susan said.

In these few lines, we already know (1) Strathmore is Susan's boss, (2) quite high-ranking in some military/governmental/secret agency (commander??) (3) is male (4) has a sense of humor (5) seems to be quite friendly with his employees, etc.

By using phone conversations, you can also show how the POV/main character truly feels about the character on the phone - there's no need to make appearances. Perhaps they frown, or attempt to throw their phone on the wall in frustration while the other talks.

Via Another Character

This is where characters in the story talk about the characters even before they are introduced.

Often used with villains/characters with popularity in the story world.

Example: "You've heard of Joe, of course."/ "I'm sorry, who?" /"The president of Book Club? Red hair, freckles?"

Simple Intro with direct characterization

Sometimes, just writing a brief description about the character can be effective, especially if you have some backstory that really, really need to be there before the readers start following the character.

Here's a passage from Leigh Bardugo's <The Familiar>:

"Dona Valentina had been raised by two cold, distracted parents who felt little towards her beyond a vague sense of disappointment in her tepid beauty and the unlikelihood that she would make a good match. She hadn't. Don Marius Ordono possessed a dwindling fortune..."

The key here: provide interesting detail. There's no fun in saying, "Dona Valentina wasn't too pretty, so she had to marry Don Marius Ordono with little wealth." An image of a girl neglected by her parents and bartered for wealth is much more captivating.

Slow & Mysterious Setup

This one is harder to execute than the others on this list, but when done properly, it can produce a beautiful effect where the readers know who you're talking about without you ever having to name them.

An excellent example of this is how Marcus Zusak introduces Death (with capital D, who's the narrator of the story):

"I could introduce myself properly, but it's not really necessary. You will know me well enough and soon enough, depending on a diverse range of variables."

"Your soul will be in my arms." "I will carry you gently away."

Death continues to talk about his "job" like the above until it becomes enough for the reader to catch on.

Drop enough hints for your readers to recognize the character

Works best with an archetypal character - devil, vampire, demon, angels...some figure with distinct features that even when described mysteriously, will be noticeable.

Showing Attitude - For POV characters

Present a peculiar line of thought or show some attitude that makes the character immediately interesting.

This works wonderfully with POV characters - by giving the reader a crucial piece of the POV character's mindset to set the overall tone of the novel.

From Rick Riordan's <Percy Jackson and the Lightening Thief>:

"Look, I didn't want to be a half-blood. If you're reading this because you think you might be one, my advise is: close this book right now."

Percy (the POV character) goes on a bit like this before we get his name, etc. in the subsequent section.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* . ───

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💎Before you ask, check out my masterpost part 1 and part 2 

[erisv7]

— The Female Lead In a Yandere Harem Game

The Imperial Chronicle

Issue 157 | Year of the Tiger, 12th Moon Cycle

SCANDAL IN THE PALACE: THE EMPEROR BRINGS DISGRACE WITH A CONCUBINE

The lady glanced over the scandalous news once more. Her lips curling into a wry smile. Despite the insult of her husband's betrayal, she maintained indifferent. She carried herself with dignity, as if the scandal is unworthy of her concern.

"So, you're the concubine he picked."

The empress's voice was smooth, almost sweet. As she lounged back in her seat. With deliberate ease, she pressed the heel of her jeweled slipper onto the concubine's shoulder. A mockery of affection that carried the weight of her disdain.

[Name] knelt frozen, her mind racing. How had it come to this? She had never sought the Emperor's attention, nor wished to be dragged into the chaos of court life. Yet here she was, the plaything of power, caught in a game she had no hand in starting.

The empress tilted her head, a cruel smile playing on her lips. "I suppose even a pawn can be amusing." She mused, pressing down slightly harder. [Name] remained silent, her shame swallowed by a quiet resignation. It wasn’t defiance. Only the hollow understanding that her fate had never truly been her own.

"Do you know why he took you as a concubine?" The empress drawled, her voice dripping with mockery. She leaned closer, her piercing gaze slicing through [Name]'s composure. "It wasn’t for your charm, your wit, or even your beauty. No, it was for me."

[Name]’s breath caught, her confusion plain. The empress’s lips curled into a cruel smile as she continued.

"He chose you because I instructed him to. A quiet girl from an unremarkable family. I have no taste for men. Their arrogance, their fumbling desires. I find it all... distasteful. Women, though," She said, her fingers lightly brushing [Name]’s cheek. "Women are art. And you, my dear, are here because I wanted you."

[Name]’s mind reeled. She hadn’t chosen this life, hadn’t asked for any of it. Now she realized she wasn’t even the Emperor’s plaything. She was the empress’s pawn.

The empress reached out, tracing a cold finger along [Name]’s jaw. "How does it feel, knowing your purpose was never yours to decide?" She whispered, her tone held cruelty and amusement. [Name] lowered her eyes, swallowing her bitterness. What could she say? This, too, was out of her hands.

"Prove your worth," the empress commanded, her voice low and smooth. Yet laced with a threat. She turned on her heel, not waiting for an answer. "To my bedchamber."

[Name] followed in silence, her footsteps heavy with resignation. The gilded doors closed behind them, sealing her fate yet again.

Later, the empress stepped out into the cool night. The air fragrant with blooming jasmine. She walked slowly through the palace gardens, her demeanor serene. Yet her mind sharp with satisfaction. The night was hers, her control absolute.

Meanwhile, [Name] lay on the silken sheets. Staring blankly at the ornate ceiling. Her thoughts spiraled into absurdity as she tried to make sense of her life.

She was the protagonist of a game. The female lead, ensnared in a world where everyone’s desires revolved around her. Pulling her into their obsessions.

She stared at her reflection in the polished bronze mirror. Searching for the girl she used to be. Instead, she saw the character they had cast her as. An object of obsession in a game she never chose to play.

[Name]’s mind wandered through the faces of those who seemed hopelessly drawn to her. Their obsessions suffocating and relentless. Each one brought with them a peculiar brand of madness that tightened the web around her.

The Emperor

Beneath his regal demeanor was a possessive man who saw [Name] as the perfect jewel in his collection. His love was stifling, expressed through gilded cages and lavish displays. He watched her every move, ordering his spies to report on her daily activities. If she so much as smiled at another man, that person would vanish. His existence erased by the Emperor’s silent wrath.

The Empress

Her obsession was colder, sharper, like the edge of a blade. The empress viewed [Name] as her personal possession. A treasure she refused to share. She would isolate her, ensuring no one else could bask in her light. The empress's punishments were subtle but devastating: restricting [Name]’s movements, destroying her friendships, and whispering poison into her ears to make her doubt herself.

The Knight

The palace knight. Stoic and loyal, was consumed by a feral devotion. He would cut down anyone he perceived as a threat, his blade swift and merciless. His obsession bordered on worship, and he viewed himself as her eternal protector. Yet his protection came at a cost, her freedom. He would lock her away if it meant keeping her safe, even if she begged for release.

The Wizard

The court wizard was a man of intellect. But his love for [Name] turned his brilliance into something terrifying. He would weave enchantments to bind her to him. Spells that made her dreams twist with his image. His obsession was suffocating. His love an experiment. If she resisted, he would create illusions to isolate her from reality, ensuring she saw no one but him.

The Maid

The sweet, doting maid hid a darkness behind her kind smile. She adored [Name] with a devotion that bordered on madness. She sabotaged any attempt [Name] made to grow close to others. Spilling secrets and spreading rumors. Her yandere tendencies were quiet but insidious: poisoned tea for rivals, missing letters, and stolen moments where she would cling to [Name] as if her life depended on it.

Each of them was a piece of a puzzle [Name] had never asked to solve. Their affections weren’t love. They were chains, binding her tighter with every gesture, every whispered promise, and every desperate act. She was the center of their twisted universe, and there was no escape.

~~

INTRODUCTION : WIZARD

[nutterzebutters]

Honestly given the update I'd like to say a few thigns

First things first, white lily cookies separation!

This character is so brief that one might not think about it, however I do have it in mind that this Tower keeper had purposely reminded pure vanilla and white lily of the riddle in order to push Lily to make a decision sooner, rather than later as originally intended. I do believe it was a good decision for her to go off on her own, as we all know that pure vanilla is quite lost on the topic of dark enchantress vs lily- at this very time we are unsure if truthless recluse is a further repressed version or a version that has somewhat accepted it. Furthermore, if truthless recluse is a shard/illusion I do feel it may defeat a lot of storyline purpose, and do hope that it is truly a pure vanilla or part of him that has since transformed.

As for this sprite - I will not lie this is not the Sprite I was expecting to be edited for beast eyes! I totally expected the mental breakdown Sprite. I've seen a few say that this might not be pure vanilla as Shadow milk is tampering with memories- however!!!

Part of the tactic is to put pure vanilla in situations so that he may react himself in order for shadow milk to place the narrative that he will become just as bad as him. He can use these reactions and insecurities against pure vanilla- after all he poked at pure vanilla on the matter of Lily becoming dark enchantress. That she may have been more qualified to wield the power of Truth regardless, using pure vanilla's self perceived failures as the device.

This one's a little peculiar, I have a few ideas here.

Step one, I feel I should clarify if it's not already obvious that the implication of pure vanilla being Shadow milk is not a literal one~but one that works in tandem with the ladder truth of the story. Much like Shadow milk, pure vanilla does lie! Even if Shadow milk used it for his own game, pure vanilla is self-aware enough to recognize that he too has lied so that cookies may find a sweeter world. Even if it's about himself, or about the situation at hand regardless if it was for comfort it is always dug him into a hole and has even gotten him in trouble with friends. He too is somebody that has been shown to be skilled tactically- it is very reasonable to say that beyond the soul jam this was the sub-context shadow milk was bothering pure vanilla about back in episode 2 of beast yeast, "the biggest liar" as a means to place on pv.

Now let's talk about the sheer silent terror that Truthless recluse is bc I can't express enough how unnerving he could be.

Throughout the entire time, fortune teller cookie still kept a rather calm demeanor. Keeping pure vanillas soft spoken attitude and quick thinking when it comes to help- even when faced with his current self. He was silent, he was an observer and he did it without much hassle showing how cold and calculating fortune teller cookie operates. It's a different type of imposing presence than Shadow milk but I would imagine it isn't any less cold.

It does not seem that shadow milk had given him any power boost either, rather that he was holding back the first time gingerbrave and Co fought him. This is a character who is making moves with precision bearing a frigid expression not at all like the warmth that the characters have come to know. The safety that was pure vanilla cookie has been ripped out from under Earth bread at this point, as for a large majority he has somehow remained the catalyst/nexus for a lot of progress events in the main story..

-----------------

I don't have a screenshot of this part, but I do remember golden cheese appearing next to clotted cream in the Republic! I do feel that shadow milk had used the likeness of such figures to instill what may have been a previous anxiety of pure vanillas. Especially towards golden cheese, whom seeks comfort in the fact that he has experienced the same events regarding his kingdom. It shows that for pure vanilla there's always been a confliction and form of denial regarding Lily- losing the trust of everybody he has put every effort into protecting is definitely a huge fear.

I'd also like to point out in case some were confused, the doubt pv has of his power being Shadow Milks is not merely a ownership conflict despite the wording!!!!!! I can already smell the misinterpretations.

It's that everything pure vanilla has worked through was only really lent to him, his skills and anything else that may connect to the soul jam has created a permanent tether to the ladder: making it near impossible to escape. Even from episode 2, Shadow milk has set up the very open paranoia of forever watching pure vanilla- it's a consistency so we cannot say for sure that this part is a lie!! After all, in the developer commentary live stream it stated that shadow milk is more incomprehensible than the other beasts- and just unlike the other beasts his relationship with pure vanilla and the way their soul jam works is entirely different.

Pure vanilla is aware that now that shadow milk has been there the entire time, he needed to be extra careful. Now with this vision he feels that he can't use it at all unless he wants to bring danger to the cookies he cares for- damned if he does and damned if he doesn't! As if the soul jam attached to him is nothing but a tracking device with a chain.

Just like the countless appearances of Shadow milk you can only really go off of consistencies in a world of lies. One of these consistencies is the idea that pure vanilla is more connected to the other-realm/dark side of the moon then your typical cookie. It's hard to say if he inherently came from the realm, like some sort of magic birth such as candy apple but the fact that shadow milk left it so open ended leaves it as a possibility-

NOW. I will not be showing the awakened spoilers, as I am aware they are about and circling. For those who wish not to see it, I will not show it! However I will talk about a few details that I will keep for the sake of selective obscurity as I do believe that the pure vanilla Nation won💀

We all remember the theories?? Hell, even with the connections to moonlight and keys. Y'all he's gorgeous. I cannot WAIT until he gets patched in. It also seems that some of truthless recluse stayed! Hinting to the idea that pure vanilla did not escape unscathed and reinforcing the narrative that being somewhat more intertwined with Shadow milk is not a lie. That pure vanilla will eventually gravitate towards a different balance, Fun things!

[shiny-jr]

from DIASOMNIA

- Warning: Yes, this is still a yandere thing. You have been warned. Gender-neutral reader. 

- Characters: Malleus Draconia, Lilia Vanrouge, Silver, Sebek Zigvolt.

- Summary: (Continuation, after this “we just got a letter, wonder where it’s from”) You have barred them from entering the safety of Ramshackle Dorm, but they are determined to make their words reach you. Which is why the letters begin arriving at your doorstep.

- Note: This is just the first part, only with Diasomnia. I’ll post the rest later once its written. For now, I hope you enjoy this part! Oh, and this was inspired by the mention of letters @qierxing​‘s fic inspired by the whole imposter au idea. So yeah. Hopefully I caught all the mistakes in this post because I am not rereading all that again.

Diasomnia   |   Ignihyde

Among the first letters you pick is carefully sealed in a black envelope. You found it peculiar that Grim, who had offered to use his claws to open the envelopes, hadn’t been able to cause the slightest tear as if it were being protected by some magic. But it opened with ease during your first attempt to rip it open.

You didn’t care much for the wax family crest that had sealed it, or the black envelope itself. Maybe it would feel liberating to just set them all ablaze as soon as you finished skimming over the carefully written words.

To my dearest human,

I understand the pain I have caused you.

Ever since that moment I betrayed you, all I have seen in my vision and in my mind is your expression of terror. It tortures me. Your terror spurred by my actions and my very own hands. I am your most beloved and loyalest of companions in this world, and yet, had my retainers behind those doors not intervened, you would have been gone forever. And it would have been all my doing, all my fault.

I write this letter to apologize, but as I write this, I realize that there is no forgiving what has been done. Ever. No matter how I plead or what comes from my lips. But I will say this: there are no amount of words that can truly convey how sorry I am. This will haunt me for the remainder of my centuries of life.

Agonizing thoughts plague my mind and torment me at all hours of the day and night, at every and each moment. Even now, I reflect on everything I had done to harm you. While, the time I believed in those falsehoods was minuscule compared to the days others knew and acted upon it, the fact still stands that I was too easily deceived by mere rumors alone. I was blinded by my rage when I heard that someone dared to impersonate you and had been the probable cause of your vessel’s malfunction, that I did not even take a brief respite to consider the validity of the information that reached my ears.

Believe me, although I realize you have no reason to hold even a shred of faith in a single word I say and for that I would not blame you, but I will atone for the crimes I have committed. In any way possible. Even if it takes my entire lifetime, I will continue forward until I have achieved this goal and you may smile upon me once again. There is a human saying, which if I recall correctly I believe goes something like, forgive but never forget. Well, I would beg for forgiveness, while knowing full well that my misdeeds will never truly be forgotten. The harm I inflicted will leave scars that will never fully fade.

For every scratch my nails left on your delicate flesh, you may drive vines of the sharpest thorns against my own skin until blood pools all around me. For every bruise from my hand that tainted you, I would hand you an iron sword to use as you wish against me until you believe I’ve had enough. If it pleased you, I would even utilize my magic to transform into a figure with wings, which I would then proceed to sever the wings by my own hand and offer them to you on a silver platter.

Any punishment you can think of, I would readily accept.

Although living with the guilt of my mistakes and knowledge of the weight of my actions against you, is by far the most painful torture I’ve ever known.

If I do not receive word from you soon, I fear I may go insane with my own guilt. Yet I know I bring this upon myself. And if I were to go insane, if I was not insane this entire time already, you are all that would be in my thoughts. You are all that would remain in the part of my mind that is intact. You are currently and have been all that I think of, so perhaps my sanity is already long gone.

I would venture into the deepest crevices of hell and back, just to prove my worth to you. Even if I must be punished for the rest of my life, so be it. But I implore you to allow me to redeem myself, let yourself bear witness to the incredible feats I may accomplish in your name. Redemption... The thought of perhaps one day receiving the blessing of your smile and your grace once more in the near or distant future, is the light at the end of the tunnel in this dark period of my existence. I am yours. Whether you still desire me or not, I will forever be yours, and I will brave through trials of fire to demonstrate my eternal devotion to you.

Just know that I will do everything in my power to please you. Whether it be to fulfill the judgement you cast upon me, to demonstrate my worth and determination to achieve redemption, or simply because you command it so, it shall be done. 

For now, I will wait on your response and deliberate over my next course of action. Should you desire anything, anything at all, wether it be something as simple as traveling to the store for a purchase, you have a moment of recluse and desire company, or if you command me to move the island or clear the very heavens, all you must do is speak my name. Then, consider it done. Once my name is upon your lips, I will be there as the last syllable leaves your tongue. 

I will await the moment I am summoned.

Forever yours,

Malleus Draconia

That was... unnerving. Your hand unconsciously drifted up to the slight puncture wounds on your neck. They had long since dried, but you vividly remember feeling the thin trail of crimson being drawn and dripping down like a steady stream. 

You could remember the way Malleus withdrew as soon as he realized the truth, like he had been burned with his hands on you in that fashion. The blood, your blood, staining his sharpened nails. The red was deeper than any nail polish or ink. 

You were nearly sent spiraling, until you felt a tap and the texture of paper against your arm. When you glance down, you see Grim pressing his paws with another crumpled letter onto you. The ink on this letter is red, but the feline’s wide curious eyes are a glowing blue. 

“You okay? What’s so interesting about that wall you’re lookin’ at? You’re kinda just staring off into nothing there.” 

Offering a grateful nod to Grim who frowned worriedly, you accept the already opened envelope while tossing aside the letter from Malleus. “I’m good. Just... thinking.” 

Lifting a hand, you place your palm against his head and scratch the spot behind his ears. Grim lets out a content purr and holds a bag of junk food, which he probably found among the mountain of gifts, and curls up beside you. You continue the slow and soothing scratches as you use your freehand to unravel the letter Grim brought you from the towering stacks. 

This envelope was already cut open. It was a light brown and more square-shaped as thin rope kept it tied together. It had a mash of colorful strings that formed a messy bow to top it off. At least, you assumed it was meant to be a bow, but it looked more like a messy knot that would be impossible to untangle. Good thing it was already partially cut by Grim’s claws earlier. 

As mentioned, the ink was red, an interesting choice. While the handwriting was not as elegant as Malleus’ letter. Some words were written neatly, before falling off the line and blending with other words. Making it a bit difficult to read, but you managed. 

If you’re reading this, 

This means that I am not irredeemable in your eyes. 

Had I been beyond redemption, you would have not even opened this letter. If this was a lost cause, a merry dance, this paper would’ve been tossed into the trash without a second thought. But, my words have reached you. You’re reading this right now, aren’t you? It’s why I decided to write this. I could predict the actions you’d take. You are different from your vessel, but it’s only natural that you would act similarly to the silly little doll you controlled, the same doll that sparked this whole fiasco. 

I truly am so sorry if I frightened you. While I will admit, it was my intention to strike fear into your heart and use you to serve for another dubious purpose, that was when I hadn’t recognized you. Although, I know this doesn’t mean much to you, I figured I should be entirely honest to you. It’s the least I can do. I’m such a fool for being quick to believe the rumors like some sort of senseless child.

All I can do now, is remain true and offer up my loyalty. It’s nothing compared to the mistakes I made, and I’ve made plenty, but I know an apology will never suffice. So, even if you’re still uncertain about redemption, I’ll remain loyal. Among all the beings and creatures I’ve met in my lifetime, you remain an enigma. You’re human, but at the same time, you’re different. There continues to be so much I do not know of you. I wonder, could you hear me whenever I spoke to your plaything? Do you recall the stories I told, of my time as a reckless youth? Foolhardy, wild, that I was. But I was also fiercely loyal. For the Draconias, I razed down all foes like wheat in a field. 

Now that I consider it, perhaps it's best if you hadn’t heard me recount those tales. While I had been eager to share with you my experiences and act out my thrilling adventures, perhaps my story telling was much too graphic. I wouldn’t want the vivid details of bloodshed to be cause for alarm as our most recent encounter was far from pleasant. You have to forgive me, sometimes I get carried away when narrating my accomplishments and exploits. I’ll share more light-hearted memories with you the next time we meet. 

Our first meeting with your true self really went abysmally, didn’t it? I know that things never really go as planned, so I don’t bother planning such things in advance. But, I had pictured it to be a lovely moment. Silver and Sebek would look at you with shining eyes and proclaim their loyalty as they had practiced vows over and over again for such an occasion, I would get to embrace your true form and unlock your secrets, and of course Malleus would be truly content for once as he finally received the company he deserved. 

But, as expected, things didn’t go accordingly. 

Those three youths are miserable, thinking of the proper words to pen, a way to apologize for the suffering they’ve caused. But now, we are the ones suffering because we hurt you. 

They write and write, but tear their letters over and over again as they believe no words they’ve written so far are adequate. Soon they’ll realize that no words will ever be sufficient for an apology. Even if they were to create new words that are unheard of by any dictionary, it would not come close to being enough. That’s why I’ve decided to stick with this single attempt, because I already know that nothing I ever write will measure up to being acceptable. 

There is something about you that always leaves me bemused. Your grace left me feeling dizzy and giddy, like I was experiencing a little crush again, although this was much more intense than any crush. The truth about your vessel controlled by you, had me perplexed as I had never heard of such a thing. And well, the disastrous chase that followed your arrival... you know that part well and could assume how I feel about that from what I’ve told you. At present, all I can do is remain loyal, for what my loyalty is worth to you. Beyond that, despite having an abundance of experiences, there is no such situation that could have prepared me for this moment. 

Genuinely, I am stumped once again. I cannot even envision what can be done with my own two hands, that can be worthy of your attention once again and earn me redemption. But, you can be certain of one thing, and that is: my loyalty is undying. I still have a few years left in these old bones of mine, and I will use the rest of my life to serve you. 

Whether you want me or not. If you still want me, I will be of use to you. Whatever you are in need of, a soldier, a plaything, a companion, or even someone to take out your anger on. I shall be it. If you don’t want me, I will still be there. I will always be there to smile and lift your spirits like you once did for me through your doll. 

I eagerly wait for word from you. 

Until we meet again soon, 

Lilia Vanrouge

None of these letters were comforting in the slightest. In fact, they only placed you further on edge. For a moment, you considered stopping it here after only two and getting rid of the rest. 

Grim by now had settled in your lap, and looked up at you with those watchful blue eyes. Had he been staring at you the entire time? 

“Let me guess, they’re not taking it well?” 

“No, not at all.” You answer with a grimace. If this was how they were like now, you didn’t even want to know how they acted when they found out your vessel stopped working over a week ago. 

“Huh, sucks for them.” The feline stretched out, his claws poking out for a moment before quickly retracting as he plopped back down on his back with his stomach up. Maybe it was his own attempts to fill the silence, or to let you know you weren’t alone, but he eventually groaned. “Hey, read me one. I wanna know what they say.” 

Unable to say no to your companion, you nodded slowly and smiled weakly, “Alright, alright, let’s see what we have here...” 

You plucked out a random letter with neat packaging. However, just because the exterior was pretty, didn’t mean the interior message would be. You learned that already from the last two letters you had read. 

This envelope looked somewhat similar to the last one, square-shaped and tied closed with string. However, instead of the knot of ribbons on it, it held a simpler gift. The brown rope around it was tied in a neat bow, and between the string were lavender stems with a small branch of wild berries. 

Grim immediately indulged in the berries and the flowers, staining his little fangs and whiskers with the sweet sticky juice and purple petals. All the while exclaiming, “Oh, oh! I remember this letter. Some bird came to drop it and it flew away just before I could catch it...” 

A short laugh escaped your lips as you hear him. “So that’s why you were grumbling this morning.” 

Not wanting to be reminded again, he swat his paw at your nose as the feline hissed, “Shh! Just read already!” 

Dear player, 

I truly am deeply remorseful and I offer my sincerest apologies. 

I was to be a knight, that has been something I have strived for ever since I was a child. A knight not just to serve Malleus but to protect others, and eventually I discovered my purpose was to serve you as well. But... all I did was stand idly by and watch the torment. Shortly after meeting your vessel, I had promised to shield you from all danger. I broke that promise. 

I cannot imagine how frightened you must have been. Had just one person stop and thought things through, they may have realized the horrible mistake that was being made. Had I acted as soon as I felt the tug on my heart when I saw you weakened and on the dirt, I may have saved you from anymore pain. 

Those eyes, your eyes, I see them in my sleep. You were scared, and through your gaze you were pleading for help, were you not? I see it every time I close my eyes. You witnessed it yourself, the very moment when I had failed you. You were right there, so close I could have extended a helping hand. But my grief rendered me sightless, all I could think of in that moment is how my heart ached and how I longed to see you again. Even if it was through your vessel. The rumors didn’t quite make any sense to me, as I wondered how could anyone possibly be so cruel as to tear you away from us? 

Father had said that it would all be over soon. That capturing the imposter and bringing them to their knees, would make everything better. But when I saw you on the ground before we learned of your identity, I couldn’t help but wonder if this was alright. Would the player have wanted this? Would they have scorned upon witnessing the scene? Would this undoubtedly end the throbbing pain I felt in my heart? The pain was becoming unbearable, and I was not the only one to feel it. The news made little sense to me. Sebek insisted that it was true, and Father seemed to believe so as well. However, that is no excuse for how I went along as if it were okay. 

You were innocent and helpless, you, the player, not only witnessed the scene but were the victim. I’m so sorry, I should have done something... If it were the only way to gain your forgiveness, I would spend every moment of my waking hours writing letters of apology. To do so I would keep myself awake for as long as humanely possible. If asked, I would use every moment to pen these letters, each different from the last. Although after several attempts in redoing this single letter, I realize that it would be a pointless endeavor. 

After reflecting, the only way to make up for what I have do is be patient. 

Be patient and await for word from you. I cannot force you, I cannot pressure you, I can only pause and prepare myself to do whatever I must in order to earn back your grace. 

Please, do not keep me waiting too long. I know I have no right to ask you this. I’m willing to wait years if needed, but part of me has this fear that I will never regain a spot near your heart until I’m frail and feeble with age. Rest assured, even in old age, I would be willing to be your knight. Even if my bones ached, I would raise my sword and shield. If I couldn’t use my weakened legs, I would call upon a horse to be my steed. And if I were to become magicless, I would use the remainder of my physical strength to serve you. 

If I may be honest with you? I have no idea what to do. Yes, I said I would wait, but what else can I do? What can I do to eventually secure a place beside you, if it were possible? In times of trouble I normally turn to Lilia and Malleus for advice, however, I am a bit unsettled by their approach to this delicate matter. Truthfully, I am anxious, but while they share the sentiment, they are oddly confident that things will turn out alright in the end. I am unsure how they can muster the self-assurance to quell their fears. Maybe they know something that I do not, and have decided not to share this secret for now... 

Nevertheless, for now I’ll eagerly anticipate the day we can reunite just as I have dreamed. I greatly look forward to the second where not only I can see you smile once again and your eyes might finally look at me with content, but also the moment where all those I know might get the opportunity to be in your peaceful grace. 

I’ve dragged this letter on for too long. If you were to take something away from this letter, let it be this: I will carry out your wishes. No matter what you may think of me, whether it be a positive or negative image in your mind, I will continue forward in your name. Even if you think me unfit for the title of knight, then consider me a humble servant instead. Nothing will shake my commitment, and I will do whatever it is you ask. 

This is a pledge that will not be broken. 

Cordially, 

Silver

This letter felt a bit lighter than the others. Still, it was slightly intense in its own way, but it was nowhere near as extreme as the previous two were. And, maybe you had a better opinion on Silver, not because he was gentle with his words but because he was one of the very few who hadn’t threatened you, directly harmed you, or treated you cruelly. 

But! He didn’t get a free pass just because of that. Yes, he may not have directly caused any harm, but he didn’t exactly help you either. 

Grim had taken the letter from you, and inspected the paper in his paws. He held it above his head, scrunching up his nose a bit as he looked it over. “I dunno... he’s okay.” 

At that, you roll your eyes a bit as a smirk crept up from the corner of your mouth. “You’re not just saying that because his letter came with a snack?” 

“No! You think me easy to bribe? I think not! It would take a whole bucket full of berries just to get me to even discuss it. Then, I’d turn them down and take the berries anyways!” The feline proclaimed his brilliant plan should that situation ever arise. Maybe the gifts you allowed him to take were starting to get to his head. “But... he could be worse. Silver, as dumb as he was like everyone else, he did hear me out after they separated us.” 

Silver did that? If that were true, it’s possible that he wasn’t as bad as the others who had wronged you.

“That’s... good to know.” You murmur as you pluck up another random envelope from the pile. 

The last envelope you pick up before you planned to take a break was surprisingly plain. It was just that. A plain white envelope, sealed by green wax with what looked like a family crest that depicted a creature with fangs and scales. One of the corners was crinkled, as if it was gripped too tightly there. 

As soon as you slid out the folded letter, you were bombarded by the ink. Whoever had wrote this, seemed like they applied too much force. This caused certain parts of some letters to be too round and heavy with ink that made those bits feel damp and stain your fingers the slightest bit. Like whoever wrote this, placed just as much pressure with their hands on the pen gliding across the page, as much pressure as they felt weighing on their mind. 

Great Player, 

As I pen this, I am on my hands and knees.

I have prepared a multitude of letters which I will send daily, so that now and in the future you will continue to hear my apology and know I truly mean it. One admission of regret is not enough. An apology is only an acknowledgment of an offense, it does not absolve one of their wrongdoings. I know this! So, I, Sebek Zigvolt, will atone by any means necessary! 

To you, the player who I wronged and deserves nothing but happiness and perfection, I give my deepest sincerest profuse apology. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m SORRY. Right now when I look at my hands that I use to write, I’m reminded of the vicious way I grabbed you like some... heathen! These hands sullied your flawless self, and for that alone I will never forgive myself!

Had it not been for the wise words of Master Lilia and the bothersome yet logical reasoning from Silver, I would have been at your door everyday, every hour, begging for a second chance. In the midst of brainstorming, I presented my idea of crawling on hands and knees, from Diasomnia to the Ramshackle Dorm, to deliver the letter myself. Then, I would display whatever cuts or bruises formed on my palms and knees which I would receive from the rocky roads or thorns, that way you may see my devotion was true and no lengths are too great when it comes to you! No matter the pain or burden! The idea seems to appeal to Lord Malleus, but I was told that it comes off as too extreme...

But! I beg to differ!! I only consider it so that you may understand what I feel, so that you might comprehend the things I would do for you, and receive me back in your good graces! Additionally, delivering the letter in this manner would cause me as much or more physical pain than I caused you! It is a shame that things have come to this. I had wished so much for our first proper meeting to be one of joy where you might accept me as your knight! In spite of that, I will not falter in shame! If I were to deliver the following letters in that method I had detailed earlier, I would wear the scars proudly! It would be physical proof of my faithfulness towards you! 

I am sorry, and I will continue to say it. Perhaps, this may be presumptuous of me, but if you consider it, Diasomnia did not torment you nearly as long as any other insolent dorm had! And! We retainers accompanied Lord Malleus every day to check on the wellbeing of your vessel, and watch over it while investigating various possible approaches on how to revive Yuu. We diligently did this until the moment we encountered your true self! 

I swear to you, no one shall harm you from this moment forth! 

From now on, I’ll march forward and see to it that you are never hurt ever again! This is something I know that my fellow dormmates will tirelessly work toward as well. 

Have you realized that we have been guarding you and the serenity of your dorm in the past days? Have you not thought it strange that none have come to needlessly pester you? Yes, that is all thanks to the efforts of those in Diasomnia! Even when you do not realize it, we are insuring your welfare and the tranquility you require to recover! Of course, as much as I desperately want to inform you of the details, I will not. It is best you don’t know. 

Now, I must be honest with you. Originally, I had planned this letter to be much longer and have contents that would have been much different than what you are currently reading. I aimed to be honest in my feelings! But before I could sign off on the original draft, I realized that the others may be in the right. It is possible that our devotion, my devotion, may come off as disquieting if I were completely sincere. I’ve had to restrain myself on many occasions, reminding myself to at least appear collected and controlled. That is not as easy as it sounds! 

How could it be, when the one I must suppress my emotions and actions for, is you? That’s as if asking to repress part of my very soul and heart! I absolutely detest hiding it!! But when I remember this is for you and your own comfort, it becomes bearable. I can only hope that soon, very soon, I might be able to unveil my true sentiments towards you! As intense and extreme as they may be! 

It seems that I’m nearing the word limit that they imposed. Once again, I apologize. I’ll have to contemplate new ways to write ‘sorry.’ I wish I could write a million more words for you! But even a million words wouldn’t be anywhere near a satisfactory amount for me to detail how much I revere you! And it would take more than another million words for me to write a full apology, but even then I wouldn’t be satisfied! No single letter is adequate enough, so be prepared to receive the rest I have written! 

I will make sure they are delivered posthaste! 

Faithfully, 

Sebek Zigvolt 

Great... you’re back to being unnerved again. 

There was something about them all being so weirdly obsessed, but in vary different ways. Malleus and Lilia puzzled you, they had you feeling the most uneasy by far. Maybe it had to do with the fact that they were both not human, they were arcane beings with enigmatic personalities and objectives that were incomprehensible to you. 

Out of the four, Silver was the only one that was fully human like yourself, but even he was a bit of a mystery as he was raised by the fae. It was hard to be wary of him, which was probably because your distrust and fear of him wasn’t as intense as it was towards the others due to his good nature and lack of actions he took during the whole disaster. 

As for Sebek, well, he was unnerving in his own right but it was nowhere near on the level that Malleus and Lilia were on. At the very least he wasn’t a complete mystery to you. It was easy to figure out his intentions, because he either said them or wore them on his sleeve. 

Your mind was spinning as you looked over the four letters, filled with lines upon lines and more lines of pages. In that moment your breath quickened as you noticed the cloudy sky outside. For a brief second, you feared you would see that familiar flash of green lightning, taking you back to that dark day when you nearly died. It’s like you could feel Sebek’s hands tightly gripping the back of your skull that forced you against the earth, you saw Silver’s sorrowful gaze that spoke a thousand words you didn’t yet understand, you heard Lilia’s words hinting to a doomed fate of becoming some lifeless doll, and god, you couldn’t forget him even if you wanted to. Malleus. He was the worst of all. You felt his nails and fingers constricting around your neck and squeezing out all the air, you saw his haunting green eyes with those slit pupils as he glowered at you with such anger and hate, and you heard what you had thought would be the last words you ever heard come from his lips––

“Hey!” 

You were torn out of those dark thoughts by the feline in your lap. A concerned frown tugged at Grim’s lips, but once he saw he had your attention, he mustered a slight grin as he held up what looked like an armful of snacks. At least, as much as he could carry in his small paws. From his grin, you could see his little fangs still covered in the remnants of the berries and flower petals.

“Look, I found your favorite! This is getting boring, so let’s just take a break!”

[requiemforthepoets]

between worlds ⟢ CL16

part one of you’re the closest to heaven that i’ll ever be series

𖤓 𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 | 𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒚𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 | 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒕𝒘𝒐 ☽

PAIRINGS: charles leclerc x celestial!reader

SUMMARY: charles was never meant to see you—no human beings can see you except for those souls you have to guide to the afterlife. but somehow, charles did, and ever since he did, he had been very persistent to catch you, and when he finally had you in his line of sight, you decided to disappear on him once again.

REMINDERS: this is purely fiction, the way how the character is portrayed in my story does not reflect the person that is portraying my character in real life. always separate fiction from reality, and do not repost or copy my work in any way.

WARNINGS: bible angel names references, some people may find this fic offensive, concept of divine beings and heaven & life and death, no use of y/n, angels and devils, mentions of papa leclerc (beginning is set in 2017) and jules bianchi, fluff, falling (literally & figuratively) in love, named side characters, angst but with a happy ending, purely written fic, a little but of world building (concepts), mentions of death, bad/evil people, cursing, not proofread, and typos.

WORD COUNT: 6k

AUTHOR’S NOTE: this is the first part of the series! again, i would like to reiterate, this fic may not be some people’s cup of tea, if you don’t like it, don’t read it. there will be a bunch of fast forward, but don’t worry, i’ll include everything as much as possible so that you will still be able to follow through. i wanted to limit the series to five parts, so each chapter will be lengthy. reblogs and comments are highly appreciated, and i hope that you’ll enjoy this first part!

As a Celestial, the warmth of human life and ache of human loss are always at a distance, intangible. Watching over humans and guiding them in unseen ways, you walk through the lives of people that are filled with laughter, sorrow, and strength. Your purpose is very clear, that is to help them transition from their earthly ties to the beyond. It was an endless cycle, yet you often marveled at the peculiarities of humans.

Beside you on many of these journeys is Gabriel, a fellow Celestial who, much like you, watches over humanity from afar. Though you and Gabriel guide people through their last moments, neither of you truly understand them, they are bound to the sensations you and Gabriel could not understand, things that you could never feel—touch, taste, the warmth of sunlight on their skin, and how humans held onto life fiercely. Their happiness and fears are a foreign concept, ideas that stir something within you and Gabriel, but will always remain incomprehensible without the senses the only humans possess.

2017

On an ordinary night by human standards, you had found yourself once again in Monaco, within the quiet sterility of a hospital room, where the soft hum of machines filled the room, a steady rhythm of life intertwined with impending loss. You knew, as you often do, that someone would soon pass—Hervé Leclerc, a man whose life was filled with passion for his family and his love for racing, lay fragile and silent on a hospital bed.

You stood nearby, unseen, feeling the quiet tension of the room, and watched as his family gathered around him. His wife, Pascale, sat at his side, holding his hand, her touch featherlight, as if she feared pressing too hard might shatter what little life remained in him. His three sons, Lorenzo, Charles, and Arthur, surrounded them, their eyes solemn yet determined, trying to be strong for their father and each other. As you waited, you felt Charles approach his father, bending down so only Hervé could hear him, and took a deep breath.

“Papa, I did it. I signed a contract to race in Formula 1 with Ferrari.” Charles softly murmured.

The statement hung heavy in the air, and you could sense the hope in Charles’ words—a gift, an offering of peace for his father in his final moments. Though you knew that it was not entirely the truth, you understood, in your own way, that it was a kindness, and an act of love. Hervé’s eyes remained closed, yet his breathing steadied, a faint smile curling on his lips. You knew that he had heard Charles.

Hervé’s spirit, though still connected to his mortal body, seemed to hover beside you, taking in the scene. He looked on, his gaze was soft and reverent as he watched his family, as if he was imprinting this final memory of them deep within his being. His presence was calm, accepting, and you felt like it was already time.

“Tell me,” you asked gently, stepping closer to him. “What was your favorite thing in life?”

You always ask this question to them, in their final moments, what their favorite thing in life has been. They would always recall something that is deeply personal, yet beyond your comprehension.

“My family,” Hervé answered as he looked at you, his ethereal form somehow both weary and joyful, his essence luminous even in the face of mortality.

“My sons, my wife. Watching them grow, finding their own passions, their own dreams…that was my greatest joy.” His gaze lingered on Charles, and you sensed an overwhelming pride emanating from him.

“I remember how Charles would always run into the house after a day of racing, his eyes filled with excitement. I could feel his dreams even then.” His voice trailed off as he was reliving those memories.

You just stood there beside him listening, absorbing his words, though the feelings themselves eluded you. Humans and their intricate emotions, it was like a puzzle with no answer. Your existence was outside the realm of these emotions, yet there was a beauty in his words, you glanced back at his family, sensing how they held Hervé’s life within their own, like a thread woven through each of them.

It was then that something had shifted. You felt the air grow thick, as if some unseen barrier dissolved, and turning, you saw Charles looking directly at you. His eyes were wide, face pale but intent, as if he was unsure of what he was seeing but could not look away. Humans were not supposed to see Celestials, they could only feel a faint brush of your presence, perhaps. But Charles’ eyes are fixed on you, gazing at you with a mixture of disbelief and wonder. You froze, unaccustomed to this kind of attention, as though he was staring into something beyond the grasp of reality.

“Charles?” Arthur’s voice had interrupted him, a gentle nudge that pulled Charles back, though his eye still lingered on you. “Why are you staring at the wall?” He asked Charles, glancing at your direction as well, but you knew that Arthur saw nothing there.

Charles hesitated, a brief flicker of uncertainty crossing his face. He looked at Arthur, then back at the space where you were standing, his lips parted, as though he was about to ask Arthur, too, could see you, but he held back. He was still clearly torn between questioning what he had just seen and dismissing it as a trick of the mind. With a sigh, he chose silence, giving his little brother a faint shake of his head, brushing it off. He turned his attention again back to where you had been standing, but you were already gone, as silent and unnoticed as the night.

But, at that exact moment, a part of you had wondered, could he have truly seen you? Could he have felt the faintest echo of your presence, of your purpose?

You drifted back to Gabriel with the faint impression of Charles’ gaze lingering in your own consciousness—a reminder that even in your unseen world, sometimes the divide between the humans and Celestials could be momentarily bridged.

2024

Seven years. Seven years had passed since that quiet night in the hospital, but that moment with Charles had lingered in your mind like an echo. Since then, you had found yourself drawn to him, but not in a way that disrupted your purpose as a Celestial, but with a curiosity that seemed to grow with each passing year.

You had watched him move from promise to reality, the white lie he had told his father on his deathbed eventually blossoming into truth. Just a few months after that night, Charles had signed his contract with Ferrari, the fulfillment of a lifelong dream, and in some inexplicable way, you felt as if you had been there to bear witness to it all. Each race, every success and setback, despite going through a lot, you found yourself watching over him, a silent guardian he would never know.

Today, you sat with Gabriel atop one of Monaco’s high-rise buildings, the sparkling Mediterranean stretching out before you, and the entire principality sprawled below like a living diorama. The streets buzzed with celebration as the 2024 Monaco Grand Prix had come to a close, and Charles had finally claimed his victory in his home race. It was a win seven years in the making, a win that is not just for himself, but for the memory of his father, his family, and Monaco itself.

From above, you could see him clearly amidst the sea of red Ferrari colors, arms raised in happiness, face radiant with the kind of happiness only humans are capable of. Right in the middle of the chaos, he ran towards his little brother, Arthur, engulfing him in a hug that spoke of shared dreams and sacrifices, of family and bonds invisible, but deeply felt.

You just watched them in silence, the sight stirring something in you that had been dormant for as long as you had existed. Charles’ embrace was firm, his grip grounding, there was nothing restrained or hesitant about it. You felt a pang of longing, a wish as faint as stardust, and without turning your gaze from what was happening below, you murmured to Gabriel.

“Gabriel,” you began. “Do you ever wonder what it feels like…to feel someone’s touch?” Gabriel just looked at you, his brow furrowing slightly, a rare expression of contemplation on his normally serene face.

“Touch?” He echoed, as if the concept was foreign, a thing only humans grasped. “I’ve thought of it, perhaps, but…it is a human sensation. One we’re not meant to experience.”

“But don’t you ever feel…curious?” You pressed, your gaze drifting from the celebration below to Gabriel’s face. “We guide them, witness their lives, but we never feel what they feel. We only see it.” You let out a soft sigh, though it held no breath, a habit you had picked up from your time observing humans.

“To feel someone’s hand, to know the warmth they carry within themselves. It seems as if it would make understanding them so much easier.” You added.

Gabriel was quiet for a moment, his gaze had softened when he turned to look at Charles and Arthur below, watching as they held each other in a tight embrace that was filled with laughter and unspoken love.

“Perhaps,” he said, in a thoughtful tone. “But our purpose is not to feel as they do. If we were to experience what they do, to carry their joys and burdens…wouldn’t that make our task harder? Wouldn’t we lose sight of our main purpose?”

“Maybe…” you trailed off, there was a note of hesitation coloring your words. “But at times like these, it’s hard not to wonder. To see the way they hold each other, as if through touch they share parts of themselves they can’t express in words, it feels like we’re missing something that is essential.”

Gabriel tilted his head, considering your words. “I do understand,” he said quietly, though there was a trace of doubt in his voice. “But we are Celestials. We exist beyond the limitations of human senses, we are meant to guide, not to partake.”

You turned back to the scene below, watching as Charles lifted his gaze to the sky, as if looking for someone, or something, that could share in his win. You imagined, for just a moment, what it would be like if he could see you there, perched above, watching him as you had all these years. What would he think, if he knew that something beyond human comprehension had been by his side, through each win, each loss.

“It’s strange,” you murmured, almost to yourself. “Even after all these years, after guiding so many, I still don’t understand why they hold onto each other so tightly. Why do they need these moments of closeness?”

Gabriel gave a gentle nod. “Perhaps that is the beauty of humanity. Their mortality gives weight to every touch, embrace, and word. They cling to these moments because they know that their time is finite,” he replied quietly. “For us, existence is boundless. But to them, it’s fleeting. They reach for each other because they know it won’t last.”

“What do you think it would be like, if he could feel our presence?” You asked. “If he knew we were here, watching over him.”

“He sensed you once,” he reminded you, as he gazed softly at you. “That alone was a gift, rare and precious. Perhaps that moment, as brief as it was, is enough. Enough to remind us that we are a part of their lives, even if they never know it.”

For a long while, you and Gabriel sat in silence, watching as Charles continued to celebrate, his family and team surrounding him, arms draped over each other’s shoulders, and their laughter echoing through the streets. Though you could never fully grasp the intricacies of their lives, in the moment, you felt a rare, almost painful longing, a sense that maybe there was something beautiful in being bound to the world as they were. Something in their fragility made them magnificent.

Meanwhile, for Charles, that night in 2017 would always remain etched in his memory, shadowing his every step like a faint, haunting whisper he could never quite shake. It was something he never really fully understood, something he never spoke of, not to Arthur, not to Lorenzo, and certainly not to her mother, Pascale. Charles had kept it buried in the recesses of his mind, an unexplainable experience he half-believed and half-dismissed, but that, no matter how hard he tried, wouldn’t let him go.

The moment he had seen you inside his father’s hospital room, his first instinct had been confusion. In a place so intimately reserved for family, for whispers of love and tearful goodbyes, you were a stranger, someone so unfamiliar standing quietly at the edge of the room. Your form was as clear as anyone else’s, not blurred or shadowed like a moment of illusion. Yet, what unsettled him the most was that no one else seemed to notice you.

At first, Charles told himself that it must have been the weight of the moment, his grief playing tricks on his mind. After all, in that fragile state, it would be easy to imagine things that were not there. He watched you out of the corner of his eye, cautiously, hoping to see you disappear, to prove that it had been just a figment of his imagination. But you stayed, your gaze resting softly on his father, with an almost reverent patience, and as the minutes stretched on, his conviction that he was truly seeing someone, is real.

The memory of your gaze, so steady and detached, left a strange impression on him. Charles found himself glancing at you repeatedly, his heart pounding as he tried to think about who or what you were. He wanted to ask you why you were there, how you had come un unnoticed, but something about your presence was ethereal, inexplicably untouchable. You didn’t seem bound by the rules of this world, as if you were simply just passing through, a visitor from some place beyond.

Then, Arthur’s voice had snapped him out of his trance, asking him why he was staring at the wall. Arthur’s words were practical, a rope that pulled him back to the room. Yet, the second he had turned back to look at you, you were already gone—just as quietly as you had arrived, leaving no trace behind, it was as though you had never been there at all.

Over the years, Charles tried to put that night behind him, brushing off the memory as a momentary lapse in judgment, a strange vision conjured by the heartbreak of losing his father. But even as time passed by, the memory of you still lingered. He felt you in many ways he could not describe, as if you existed in the peripheral spaces of his life, just out of reach, yet somehow undeniably real. Every so often, in the hushed stillness of a race night or in the lonely hours before dawn, he would sense something—an invisible presence, a faint familiarity. It was as though you were watching over him, an unseen guardian who drifted along with him from one country to another, from one track to another.

Sometimes, he thought he caught a glimpse of you, a brief, shadowy figure in the distance, a subtle hint of movement where there should have been none. Once, while preparing for a race in Silverstone, he was warming up in the garage when he thought he saw you standing by the edge of the track. His heart had leapt, his mind suddenly thrown back to that hospital room, but when he looked again, you were gone, leaving only the flicker of your image imprinted on his mind.

Even his teammate, Carlos, noticed too. There were times when Charles would falter mid-sentence, his gaze drifting as if he was seeing something beyond their conversation, beyond the present. Carlos would follow his line of sight, seeing nothing but an empty space, a shadow that Charles seemed inexplicably drawn to. He would often give Charles a curious look.

“Are you alright, mate?” Carlos asked, looking at him weirdly. Charles just shook it off, smiling tightly, and offering a quick nod. “Yeah, yeah. Just tired.”

It became a pattern that he could neither understand nor dismiss. The feeling of your presence was both comforting and unsettling, a reminder that he was somehow never truly alone, even in the depths of solitude. There moment he had questioned his own sanity, wondering if he was simply haunted by the memory of his father’s death clinging to something he could not let go. But no matter how hard he tried, he could not shake the feeling that you were real, that he had seen you.

At times, he would catch himself searching for you in the crowd, hoping for just one more glimpse. Charles wanted answers, an explanation that would either ground him in reality or confirm that he is not going crazy, that his life had crossed paths with something beyond the ordinary. But as the years went by, he learned to finally accept your presence as a quiet, unspoken truth, something woven into the fabric of his existence that he would never fully understand.

SINGAPORE GRAND PRIX

The Singapore Grand Prix has always been one of the most electrifying events of the season, the country is a home for night racing—a race that is held under the city’s dazzling night lights, set against a backdrop of towering skyscrapers, and a sea of spectators from different parts of the world. The vibrancy, palpable energy, it all felt foreign to you, like watching scenes play out on a distant plane of existence you could never fully enter.

This year, the circuit was alive as ever, buzzing with the energy of fans and flashing cameras, the constant pulse of music and chatter weaving into the humid tropical air. Charles was in his element, navigating the crowds and the chaos with the ease of someone who had grown accustomed to the demands of fame. But in the middle of the swirling mass of people, someone unusual had appeared, unnoticed by most but utterly unmistakable to him.

You hadn’t meant to be seen. For years, you had existed on the fringes of Charles’ life, watching from a distance. But something about Singapore piqued your curiosity. It was the sheer energy of it all—the press, fans, and the kaleidoscope of colors. For someone like Charles, who seemed perpetually surrounded by people and yet remained alone in many ways, you wanted to understand just a little more about the life he lived. So you wandered through the paddock, watching from the shadows, taking in the sights and sounds, studying the excitement in the faces of those who adored him.

Then, as if some force had finally decided that it was time. You had found yourself standing right in the open, in the midst of it all, no longer bound to the periphery. There you stood, calm and composed, while people streamed around you, their movements fast and chaotic, yet never once brushing against you.

Charles arrived shortly after, dressed in his Ferrari team uniform, stepping into the crowd as he made his way through. However, his steps began to slow down as he walked, and his focus shifted the moment he saw you, your figure stark against the colorful, shifting background. You stood perfectly still, framed by the buzzing energy around you, as if the world had momentarily paused just for you. You were dressed entirely in black—turtleneck, tailored trousers, sleek shoes, and a long trench coat that seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it—you appeared like a shadow against the vivid scene, an undeniable presence, a figure of quiet, captivating stillness. The Singaporean heat clung to everything and everyone, beads of sweat visible on even the most acclimated locals, but you felt none of it.

For a moment, Charles thought his mind was playing tricks on him again. He blinked numerous times, expecting you to vanish, for your presence to disappear into the crowd as it had so many times before. But this time, you didn’t fade. You just stood there, watching him with a calm, knowing gaze that seemed to pierce through the noise of the crowd. His breath was caught in throat, and he almost faltered in his step. You were no longer a flicker in his peripheral vision, no longer a question lingering at the edge of his mind. You were unmistakably there, standing directly in his line of sight, unyielding and unfazed by the swirl of people passing around you.

Your gaze met his, and in that instant, he felt the weight of something intense, a connection that defied explanation. It felt like it was a bridge that seemed to span years and memories, drawing him back to that hospital room in 2017. Charles remembered your face so vividly, and here you were, the same mysterious figure who had watched over his father in his final moments. He knew instinctively that you were not something ordinary, everything about you, from the calm in your expression to the impossible composure you held, marked you as something beyond human.

Charles could feel his heartbeat pounding in his ears, a strange mixture of awe and disbelief surging through him. He wanted to reach out to you, speak to you, but the weight of the moment made it very impossible. The last thing he wanted was to draw attention, especially from the media and fans who circled around him, unaware of the encounter unfolding before them. He didn’t want to appear crazy, pausing in the middle of the crowd to address a person that, for all he knew, only he could see. So he kept his expression carefully neutral, his gaze lingering on you as he moved forward with deliberate steps, passing just a few feet away from where you stood.

As he brushed by, he felt a soft, cool gust of wind graze his shoulder—a breeze that did not seem to belong in the humid heat of the Singapore air. It was as if your presence had left a subtle mark on him, an unspoken reminder that this moment was real, that you were real. Charles continued walking, the weight of your gaze lingering on his skin, the connection between you evident as he moved away. His mind whirled with so many questions, with the need for answers that he had long since buried but that now surged back with renewed urgency.

Who are you?

What were you?

Why did you seem to appear only at the most pivotal moments of his life, watching him with a calm that suggested knowledge he could barely fathom?

But as he glanced back over his shoulder to look at you one more time, you remained exactly where you were, standing with your hands casually tucked into the pockets of your coat, observing Charles with the same quiet intensity. He didn’t need words to understand that, somehow, you were there for him, that whatever role you played in his life was not a figment of his imagination but something far more profound. It was as if, by some cosmic design, you had been an integral part of his life, even if he could not understand why.

It was both terrifying and strangely comforting for Charles, knowing that you were there, connected to his life in ways he could not even explain. Though he continued to walk away, blending back into the crowd, he could still feel your presence, like a steady anchor amidst the chaos of his world.

The night had already fallen over Singapore, casting a warm, beautiful golden haze over the circuit as the city lights reflected off every glass surface, every curve in the architecture. The air still held the weight of the humid day, though there was a subtle breeze stirring now, drifting through the emptiness of spaces high above the throngs below. This was where you and Gabriel often met, removed from the world you observed, yet close enough to feel its pulse.

You sat together on a ledge that overlooked the bright labyrinth of the track, each car flickering past like the streaks of light, their paths twisting through the city like a thread woven into the heart of human life. Gabriel sat beside you, posture relaxed, gaze steady on the crowds moving below. He had a serene presence about him, as all Celestial did, though his was tempered by a slight curiosity, a kindred spirit in your shared wonder at the lives below, though he carried the wisdom of countless lifetimes.

“Today…” you began, breaking the silence between the two of you. “I saw him again. Charles.”

“And this time…he really saw me. Not just a passing glance, not a flicker. He truly saw me, Gabriel. It was different.” You added.

The words felt very strange in the open air, as though they held a weight that went beyond their sound. Gabriel’s gaze turned towards you, a subtle light of interest in his eyes, nodding as though encouraging you to continue, so you tried to put it into words that felt almost too elusive to capture.

“When I first saw him years ago, in the hospital room, I thought that maybe he only sensed me. It’s not unusual—though I know that some humans have that…intuition. They feel our presence, but they never truly see us,” you paused, searching for the words.

“But this was different. I was standing right in front of him, in the open, and he looked at me as if…as if he recognized me. As if he has always known I was there, even though we’re not supposed to be seen. It’s as if there’s a connection between us—one I can’t fully explain.” You continued.

Gabriel’s expression softened with understanding, a hint of knowing in his gaze. He looked out over the city, his voice a low murmur that held the weight of something ancient.

“Sometimes,” he began. “There are rare occasions when certain humans have a heightened sensitivity. They can feel what others cannot, see what lies just beyond the veil of human sight. They can perceive glimpses of our world, though they never fully understand it.”

You considered his words, recalling the many faces of humans who had felt your presence, brief shivers down their spine, faint chill in the air. “But this doesn’t feel like that,” you said softly. “This isn’t just intuition. It’s more than that…I—I think he truly sees me. As if I'm as real to him as any other person in his life.”

Gabriel met your gaze, his eyes thoughtful. “There are many possibilities,” he said, his voice holding a trace of reverence. “It could be that Charles was born with a rare gift, a unique soul attuned to the spiritual realm. Sometimes, humans like him are able to see beyond what others can, though they seldom realize it. Perhaps, he was always meant to see you, even if he doesn’t understand why.”

“But why him? Of all people, why would I form this…this kind of connection with him?” You leaned forward, elbows resting on your knees, feeling a mix of wonder and bewilderment.

“Maybe it isn’t for us to know,” Gabriel replied gently, his gaze soft with empathy. “But there’s another possibility.” His tone grew contemplative, as though he was drawing from knowledge buried deep within him.

“Sometimes, when a Celestial spends enough time around a particular human, they may develop a tether—it is a bond that links their existence to that person’s life in a profound way.” Gabriel replied.

“A tether?” Gabriel nodded at you.

The word felt heavy with significance. You had heard of it, of course, in ancient stories, tales of Celestials who had unknowingly bound themselves to a single soul, a single life, whether through empathy, admiration, or something far more elusive.

“A tether is rare, but it does happen. It is formed not by choice, but by some force beyond even our understanding. When a Celestial is tethered to a human, it is as if they share a part of their essence with them. It could be because you watched over him so closely after his father’s passing, you saw him through one of the most pivotal moments of his life.” Gabriel explained.

The notioned lingered between you, reverberating like an echo. You had indeed been there, unseen, at some of his most significant moments, his quietest doubts, his rare happiness. You had felt compelled to follow Charles’ journey, though you could never quite explain why.

“But if I’m tethered to him, what does that mean for us?” The question was one you had not thought to ask before. It felt really impossible, like trying to decipher the meaning of a shadow that has been casted by an unseen light. “Is it my responsibility to stay close to him…to protect him?”

“Not necessarily.” Gabriel considered this, his expression calm and wise. “A tether isn’t a duty. It’s simply a bond. It doesn’t force you to act or change your purpose, but it can shape how you experience your existence—how you feel, and perhaps, in rare instances, it allows the human on the other end to see us, as Charles did today.”

You let Gabriel’s words sink in, the idea that your connections with Charles might be something outside either of your control. A rare, inexplicable bond that went beyond the boundaries you had come to know.

“Does he know?” You wondered aloud, the thought both terrifying and exhilarating. “Can he sense it as I do?”

“It’s possible,” Gabriel murmured. “Even if he doesn’t consciously understand, he may feel it. An inexplicable comfort, a quiet sense of your presence. Humans don’t often recognize such things, but in their hearts, they understand more than they realize.”

“I thought I understood my purpose,” you said quietly. “To guide, protect from a distance, never to interfere. But this…it feels like something more. I didn’t think I could feel this way.” You closed your eyes, absorbing the realization that your connection to Charles might be as real to him as it was to you.

Gabriel gave you a look of quiet understanding. “Feelings are not foreign to us, though they are seldom as strong as what humans experience. It is only natural to be curious, to want to understand what draws us to them, and what makes them so fascinating to us.”

He paused, then added softly, “but remember, the tether doesn’t mean you must change your purpose. It only means you’ve shared part of yourself with him, and in return, he has shared a part of his essence with you. It’s a gift, though one we may never fully understand.”

You nodded, a deep sense of acceptance settling over you. Charles might never know the truth of who you were, or why he saw you, but perhaps that was the beauty of it. He would carry the sense of your presence, a constant and silent connection, and in a way, it would be enough.

You just sat in silence with Gabriel, looking out over the glittering cityscape, you felt the comfort of his companionship. The two of you were bound to different souls, different journeys, but you shared the same questions, same yearnings.

As the night wore in, and the world around was now silent in the aftermath of the race, and the Singaporean circuit lay quiet, already emptied of the usual buzz of engines and the thrill of spectators. Only a few distant voices and the gentle hum of machineries being packed away punctuated the stillness.

Charles lingered in the Ferrari motorhome, his mind far from the day’s race. Finishing in P5 and scoring point should have filled him with satisfaction, yet something lingered beneath it all, a presence far more pressing. You. The image of you, standing amid the crowd, hauntingly calm and out of place, had filled his thoughts since he had passed by you that afternoon. He had always known you, even though Charles was certain he had never seen you before. The fact that you were gone the moment he had looked away haunted him, and now, despite the silence around him, his mind raced with the need to see you again.

As Charles stepped out of the motorhome, running a hand through his damp hair, he slowed, his eyes searching the dimly lit surroundings as if hoping to catch a glimpse of you. Then, just beyond the edge of the shadows, there you were. You stood there, calm and still, a silhouette framed by the city lights, a vision of dark elegance against the fading glow of the circuit. You were wearing the same all-black ensemble he had seen you in before, a stark contrast against the remnants of bright lights and flashes that had filled the paddock earlier, and the subtle breeze caught your coat, giving you an almost weightless presence as if you were somehow apart from the world around you.

For a brief moment, neither of you moved. Charles’ gaze lingered on you, studying the way your features seemed almost unreal, too striking to belong to the ordinary world he inhabited. It was as though everything he had ever seen had paled in comparison. He could feel some type of strange warmth radiate from you, a kind of serene beauty that pulled at him and silenced everything else in his mind. If ethereal were to take a human form, it would look like you, he was sure of it. Then you spoke.

“Hello, Charles.” You greeted him.

Your voice was soft, almost like a gentle breeze yet clear in the quiet of the evening. There was a soft smile on your lips, one that carried both mystery and warmth. Charles’ eyes widened, his heart seeming to stop for a second.

“I know that you can see me.” You said gently, the faintest trace of amusement in your voice.

For the first time, Charles felt a strange mixture of exhilaration and vulnerability. He had spent so many years convincing himself that you were just a figment of his imagination, yet here you were, standing mere feet from him, speaking as though you had been waiting for this moment just as he had.

Charles opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out. He was torn between asking if you were real and confessing that he had thought about you since that day at the hospital, wondering if he had imagined you. He felt as though the ground had shifted beneath him, everything he knew upended by this encounter, but before he could gather his words, a voice had brought him back.

“Charles!” A friend called out, waving him over from across the clearing, and instinctively, Charles turned his head to. “We’re already heading out, you coming?”

Charles nodded in acknowledgment. But the moment he glanced back to look at you, you had already disappeared. A rush of frustration flared in him, sharper than anything he had felt in recent memory. The moment he finally had you there, standing before him, speaking to him as though you understood this strange, silent connection, you had vanished again, leaving only the soft night breeze in your wake.

He just stood there, his chest tightening with an unnameable sense of loss, staring at the empty space where you had just been. Charles could still feel the subtle warmth of your presence, a lingering trace of your smile that had somehow left an imprint on his mind. His hands clenched and unclenched as if he could somehow reach for you and pull back, his jaw set in determination.

Though you were gone again, the mystery of you wrapped around him tighter than ever, leaving him certain of one thing—he would see you again. He had to.

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