#Fox’s figments

[death-in-a-handbasket]

hello tumblr dot com would you like some boys

[novuit]

I just remembered this mondrian suit I've designed a couple months back for Feliciano for an AU for a fic. It was a really good suit, I loved it so much. I'm still unhealthily obsessed with the idea of Feliciano wearing mondrian art and just anything him related to any abstact art. He looked absolutely phenomenal in his art. Just... Gorgeous.

[noeggets]

im gonna recreate what happen just not now cause this was funny

[jeannemaybedarc]

Do you remember the moment when Andrew got off the pills, returned to the foxes and realized that Neil was not a figment of his imagination because of the pills?

And I'm late again, but happy birthday, Neil Josten!

[danikamariewrites]

Fake Sleeper

Eris x reader

A/n: just something cute with Eris. Also, I am participating in @erisweek2023 and I’m super excited about what I have planned!

Warnings: none

You had woken up before Eris, a rare occurrence, and instead of falling back to sleep like your body was screaming at you to do, you just stared at your mate. Admiring the morning sun lightning his freckles across his cheeks and the way his bare chest rose and fell in peaceful breaths.

Gods he was perfect, you just wanted to reach out to feel him, to make sure he was real and not a figment of your imagination. You wanted to trace the freckles on his face like when you would chart the stars on clear nights together.

But you didn’t want to disturb him. Sleep for Eris was a rarity these days. His workload had increased in the last few weeks so you were content to just let him be.

As your mind wandered you had come to the question of what Eris does when he wakes up before you. You know he gets dressed, trains, comes back, washes, dresses again, and then leaves.

But does he talk to himself? Does he leave a kiss on your forehead before he leaves your bed? What little noises does he make when he stretches when no one’s listening?

Curious about your mates habits you closed your eyes pretending to sleep. You knew Eris would be up soon so you had to look natural. As you relax back into your pillow you hear Eris begging to stir, pulling himself from sleep.

Eris lets out a groan and stretches his long body. You hear him crack his knuckles and sit up. His movements pause and you feel his eyes on you. You remind yourself not to break, to stay asleep and not crack a smile.

You feel Eris brush your hair back, then he leans down placing a long kiss on your forehead. He murmurs, “Good morning little fox.”

He pulls himself out of bed, his footsteps heading toward the bathroom. You take a risk and crack an eye open to watch him walk away.

As Eris finishes his morning routine and dresses you resume your fake sleep, making sure to move around a bit. He approaches your side of the bed, brushing a knuckle down your cheek placing another kiss on your forehead. This time he whispers, “I’ll be back, little fox. Like I promise every morning.”

You hear the door open and shut, straining your ears to listen to his footsteps get farther and farther away. Opening your eyes and smile to yourself. You felt absolutely giddy at the love Eris gave you even though you were asleep. Deciding you didn’t want to wait for him to come back after he has breakfast you get up.

Once you were dressed you headed down to the dining room, an extra pep in your step and a smile on your face. You take your usual seat that would normally be empty at this time. Eris should be done with training soon and you couldn’t wait to see his surprised face when he saw you.

Minutes later Eris, followed by his brother Cyrus, walks through the open double doors. Eris stops short, a wide smile growing on his face when he sees you. “Y/n! Good morning love, what are you doing up?” He asks joyfully.

You stand as he rushes over to you, pulling you into a crushing hug. “I woke up early and thought I’d have breakfast with you.” You smile up at him. Eris gives you a quick peck on your lips taking the seat next to you.

The conversation flows between the three of you. Joking and gossiping about court members. Eris wasn’t one to gossip but you loved talking about the latest drama with Cyrus. He was easily your favorite brother-in-law besides Lucien.

As you leisurely walk back to your room you hold onto Eris’ arm, resting your head against his bicep. You let out a content sigh, a smile gracing your lips as you think to yourself. “Why are you so smiley this morning little fox?” You blush at your favorite nickname and Eris pulls you closer.

“Just you. You make me happy.” “You make me happy, y/n.” He kisses the top of your head.

“I actually have a little confession to make.” Eris stares down at you curiously. “I was up before you this morning. I was pretending to sleep.” He stops in front of the door to your quarters, a shocked look on his face.

He laughs a little, sliding his hand into yours. “Why didn’t you say good morning?” “I wanted to see what you do every morning. Well, hear, since my eyes were closed.” Eris lets out another laugh, throwing his head back this time. “Was my morning interesting for you?”

You nod, rising up on your toes to kiss his freckled chee. “Yeah. It made me feel extra loved. Knowing that you kiss me and say goodbye. Do you really do that every morning?”

Eris wraps his arms around your waist pulling you into him. You wrap yours around his neck as he leans down to kiss you. It was soft yet passionate. “Every morning.”

tags: @nyotamalfoy @auggiesolovey @bubybubsters @baybay123455 @msiecrane @aroseinvelaris @twsssmlmaa

[shinystar000]

Yayy ☺️🥺 I'd like to make 2 requests, I'd it's oki!

- Naruto x male reader, in which Naruto is attached to reader, but he refuses to admit it until reader needs to leave for a mission, and he's all clingy when reader comes back

- Sasuke x male reader (modern au) in which punk Sasuke has a boyf (reader) and Sasuke likes testing makeups on him?

Thanksss

CLOSED FEELINGS

→ Naruto Uzumaki x m reader

a/n: I love these requests, thank you for the idea! I will update on Sasuke as soon as I can ☕

tw: angst if you squint, stress eating

Naruto and [Y/n] were known as best friends, practically soulmates in their village. In their carefree days as kids, they were inseparable. Pulling pranks, eating ramen, and going on adventures. Naruto appreciated [Y/n]'s loyalty regardless of having a lonely life, especially with the Nine-Tailed Fox sealed inside of him, he never left his side. They were fond of each other, even if Naruto would heavily deny it.

Though still close as friends, time passed. Naruto couldn't shake the fear of losing him now that they were ninjas. Despite his denial of feelings, there was fondness as he kept a watchful gaze on the boy.

Chuckling at the fond memories, he sat up and decided to leave his bed. He couldn't sleep. His eyes felt tired but it turned out his body said no. Putting on his slippers, he went out of his room to the path of [Y/n]'s house was muscle memory. Standing at the familiar door, he knocked to make sure the other boy heard. A sleepy [h/c] opened the door, his gaze hazy with tiredness as he observed the bright blonde in front of him, Naruto ignored the flutter in his stomach.

"Hey, can I come in?"

[Y/n], making sure he was actually here and not just a figment of his imagination, blinked a few times then letting him in, grumbling.

"Can't sleep again?" Seeing Naruto's nod, he didn't say anything else, a silent acknowledgement of his struggle. This wasn't the first time Naruto came knocking at his door due to his insomnia, and each time he was met with the same reassurance that he was "fine". Back to his room, [Y/n] held back from scolding the ninja for not going to the doctor. Plopping himself on his stomach, Naruto watched him drifting off back to sleep. The sight alone was enough to make him feel tired.

Laying beside his best friend and pulling him into a warm hug, tangled legs, he moved closer. His blue eyes closed shut, and for the first time in what felt like forever, he finally found the rest that he needed.

Thankfully, [Y/n] didn't question it the next day, used to the closeness. Cuddling and other affections were just a part of the daily life, such as taking a break or training. However, the day took a turn for the worse when he was suddenly ordered to go on a mission, alone. He could only imagine Naruto's reactions–anger, sadness, fear. He knew him well enough to predict his actions, the hardest part would be leaving.

Sitting in a booth, [Y/n] breathed in the familiar scent of smoke and delicious food lingering in the air. He waited patiently until a steaming bowl of ramen was placed in front of him, offering thanks to the old man who had been serving up for years. Breaking the chopsticks, he dug into his meal, finding comfort in the simple act of eating rather than facing what was bothering him.

By the time he almost finished his noodles, he was interrupted by the appearance of a blonde with cute marks on his face. Noticing Naruto's furrowed brows and pressed lips, [Y/n] watched as he slid into the seat opposite of him.

"What happened?" Naruto asked, his expression firm. Oh...he was serious? He tried to hide his nervousness with a small smile. "What do you mean?" Naruto stayed silent with a look on his face, knowing it was an obvious lie, able to read his best friend like a book. "I can tell something is bothering you," he finally said, his observation was always right. He snorted at Naruto's comment, using the noodles as a distraction. Sometimes, [Y/n] couldn't help but feel frustrated by how well Naruto knew him. After all, they had been friends for a very long time.

"Looks like we both have some problems," [Y/n] mutters to lighten the mood. But seeing him shake his head, it didn't make either one of them happier.

"[Y/n], I'm serious. What's going on?" Leaving the other boy no choice but to open up. He pushed the bowl towards Naruto in case he wanted anymore noodles that was left, he took a deep breath to steady himself. With his gaze down on his lap, he began to explain. "I'm going on a mission, but you can't come with me, I have to do this alone. I don't know when I'm coming back..." The weight of the words hung heavily in the air, a slow realization sinking in.

"No."

[Y/n] paused at his friend's calm tone, unsure what to say. "No? What do you mean no? Naruto, I have to—" he begins, his voice trailing off as he searched for the right words. He got interrupted.

"If you're going, then count me in," [Y/n] leaning forward with a frown, fully aware it had come down to this. He whispered to avoid drawing in attention. "Naruto, please, think about the village. I'm a ninja too, I understand the risks." Hearing the gentleness in his voice, Naruto bit his lip, torn between his feelings for the other male. He didn't want to see him go on a stupid mission, especially not someone he loved.

"How will I know you're okay? How will I know that you will come back safe?" With those questions, [Y/n] didn't want to lie to him or keep a big promise such as this one. "You know I can't make any guarantees..." Naruto smacked his lips, scratching his hair, burying the thought of him leaving was coming true. At least it wasn't for good or so he hoped.

After a minute or two of silence, he reached over and gently took his hand, offering comfort. "I won't leave, I'll just be gone for a bit, I promise when I come back, we'll eat a whole bunch of ramen."

At his reassurance, a smile graced his face. Naruto leaned in, their faces mere inches apart, causing [Y/n] to hold his breath at the sudden closeness to try and not panic nor do anything rash as to kiss him. Holding back, there was a better way to admit his feelings and it wasn't here. Not yet, [Y/n] kept repeating in his head. Not yet, he has to wait. He glance down at his lips for a split second then avoided eye contact to not get too distracted.

"You better come back or I'll go find you myself."

[Y/n] intended to keep the promise. But for now, he had to leave in a few days. Sadly, it passed by quickly and he was already gone. Naruto surely missed him. On the other hand, he was also determined to get stronger. That's what he planned to do: train, eat, go on missions, hang out with his friends, and most of all, write letters to [Y/n]. What was worse, he continued to struggle with sleeping, no better way than to sneak into his best friend's apartment with the spare keys in order to sleep more comfortably.

Months slipped by for the ninja, a feeling turning into a year. Thankfully, a letter arrived from [Y/n], telling about the success of the mission while his return to the village—that day was today. Naruto paced back and forth in front of a restaurant where the two were going to meet for the first time after months of separation. Anxiety coursing through him as he awaited for a certain [h/c].

Thoughts of countless scenarios flooded his mind but he knows for a fact he wasn't going to let him go. Not in a billion years.

He stopped at the sound of footsteps. There he stood, the most breathtaking sight Naruto ever seen. [Y/n]'s hair styled differently, his skin smoother, maybe loosen a few pounds, though details like that barely matters to the blonde. What captivated him the most was the scar running across his lower lip. He grinned and waved at Naruto, radiating joy while his soft lips moved, the other boy was in a daze, gazing lovingly at him. Before the other could react, his friend pounced on him, and the two tumbled to the ground in a tangled hug.

"Hey! Hmh-"

Widening eyes, [Y/n] could feel the male on top of him press a firm kiss. Blinking away his shock, he slowly returned it. The kiss they shared together was gentle, it felt right...It was meant to be. As the two separated, Naruto gave a few more smooches to the boy below him who let out a laugh, being careless of who saw as it didn't matter anymore if two boys kissing was "wrong." It was perfect.

"I've missed you, Naruto."

[helloescapist]

(HELLO HELLO I HOPE YOURE DOING WELL!!💮 I HAVE A REQUEST FOR YOUU FEEL FREE TO IGNORE ME!!) so this is a KNY x kitsune uppermoon y/n!!

So the upper moons three (aka kokushibo, douma, akaza,) hearing about this new uppermoon demon and when kitsune y/n came into the infinity castle and introduced they're self they were really sly and cocky about it! What would there reactions be like??

(Also in this y/n uses a fan like douma but more detailed she is also a nine tailed fox in this!!)

(if you wanna add more stuff to y/n feel free to!! Just make sure you have fun and you are healthy!!)

-🦊

hello, hello 🦊

This is a very fun ask! I did my absolute best with what you gave me, and I hope that it meets your expectations! If you'd ever like to add more details to this reader feel free to stop by my inbox, I was a little pressed for time, and wanted to stick to as much of the details as you provided me. I had so much fun imagining a powerful, bold woman in the upper kizuki.

Beneath the Veil + Headcanons | The Upper Three Moons

Word count: 3237

Setting: Uppermoons x kitsunefemreader! (new addition to the Upper Moons)

Content Warnings: mentions violence/gore

Summary: the newly inducted, fourth moon introduced to the Upper Three Moons.

A/N: So, because the kitsune has a tendency to play back and forth from good to bad in Japanese folk tale, I chose to base the reader off of kumiho, the Korean fox demon as they are more prone to being depicted as maneaters).

The delicate hues of ambered glows that emerged from the darkness. Struct to life with a single cord, a note plucked from the night that gave birth to thousands of flames as though called damning phantoms to their duty. Cast to spent eternity in hell, guarding the depths of the hallway through the infinity castle. Glows that echoed across infinity, danced upon shadows across tatami mats. Traced silhouettes upon silk bound by lacquered panels. Deep walnuts met exquisite shades of wood that elicited the envy of foreign porcelain. Delicate as they were immaculately selected a testament to the lord of hell himself, soaked in the blood of innocents that had built the unattainable fortress; soaked with an ominous glow that threatened to snub the life of those who entered its corridors.

Each strike upon a chord a threat that abducted its victims from their refugee, dragging them to the depths of hell to answer their master’s call. A sharp note that once bore warmth, now a whisper of death’s welcome, the musician’s long lanky fingers danced across the strings. Nails gouged notes that screamed of treachery. Hair reminiscent of ink spilled in vein, dreams that would never attribute to any merit, music drowned by the depths of night to never be heard in the light of day as etched into the instructions upon her skin, and guided her siren calls. A single strum far more than capable of calling forth the undoing of man, devoid of emotion in each calculated placement. The upper ranks each a preference of their own space, save for the few.

              The attendees less than they had been in prior attendance, the caution she bid with each press of her rouged lips in greeting to the newly arrivals. The first Upper Moon savoring his space, and secrecy as he so often craved. A figment of past eras, poised as the markets that etched upon his skin and refined as the well-practiced long fingers that tipped the lavish ginseng tea to his lips. The lush spread of black hair that captured the envy of the night draped upon his shoulder. The compose straight of his back, perpendicular to the floor beneath him, his ankles tucked beneath him as straight as the line that formed at his lips. Content to himself, the notes of melancholy are a mere tune to enjoy in sacred solitude.

              Unlike the bickering of the two upper ranks before the biwa player. The second moon quickly seeks out the company of the third. Sunkissed hair, as pale as bright as the sun’s rays that met against sheltered, porcelain skin. Dewy flesh as soft as imported cotton, as lavish as freshly spun silk that met the highs of his thick ebony eyebrows. Playful iridescent eyes that captivated the light delighted in hues of kaleidoscope twinkled as they toyed with their prey. The number of his ranking etched into his irises. The wave of his hand jovial despite the tense atmosphere, and his voice as harmonious as the false kindness touched upon his features. Subtle childlike expressions that concealed the vile aspects of his personality, mocked sympathies as he whispered concerns to the stress lines that blossomed at Akaza’s brow. The tilt of his head projecting artificial concern, “Ah, I was so sad to hear of Hantengu and Gyokko.” Cooed as the way he attempted to draw near the Third Moon, the equip of betraying his façade. “I was so worried about you Akaza.”

              A mere growl the only evidence of speech dormant within the tense expression bore by the redhead. His doll-like crimson eyelashes furrowed dripping with spit as he averted his eyes from the taunting blight.  The markings at his brow crinkled, and creased at the highs of his cheeks, the shade of midnight etched into his flesh. Wrinkled at the grit of his teeth, the amber of his emblem eyes quivered at the clench of his muscles. Restrained trembles resolved agitation confined to the hierarchy embroiled on his mind from the prior meeting of the upper kizuki. The small growl of at the base of his throat, threatening the vein that drew at his temple.  “Oh dear, Lord Aka, you’ll wrinkle,” the predatory nature in which he considered drawing his nail at the outer marking upon the Third’s cheek, with draw upon the strike of a biwa cord resonating within his bones. The corner of his lips rid of any tease of concern, elicited amusement and joy. His canines revealed as the happiness emulated his features, “My, my, it would seem our new little fourth has arrived, I’ve heard rumors. I’m so excited to meet Lady [YN]. To think, she is so close to acquiring your rank, Lord Aka—” Shattered fist that drew upon the bottom of the Second Moon’s jaw. Snapped bones fragmented and teeth that struck the floor. Splatter of black blood, followed by the press of silence. The delight warm in the demon’s eyes despite the dislocation of his jaw torn from the hinges of his skull.

              “Akaza,” slow and stern. Deep and rich, drawn authority. “You will show respect.”

              The hum of his voice resignation in the quiver of his shoulders. The touch upon his vest offering no concealment, exposed to the calculating gaze of Doma, who merely delighted in the well place fear of his subordinate. The growth of his jaw snapped and grotesque as the grin that met at his teeth. “Ah, Lord Kokushibo, you’re so considerate, but please, we wouldn’t want to scare the little Fourth Moon.” Mocking, and depraved of sincerity the glint upon his gaze, a den of wolves at all angles. The first moon merely detached and appraising the arrival, the Third posed and ready threatened at the new arrival while the second merely delighted at his unease. Satisfied as the clank of the koma-geta intentionally drummed to the slants of the wood. Each step deliberately falling in line with music unheard by the remainder of the Moons.

              “Oh, don’t mind me,” warm and harmonious as the steps that echoed upon the wood flooring. Rouged lips as vibrant as blood matched only by the hue lingered upon your gaze. The compelling marking of your ranking etched into your eyes, drawn to predatory slants. Movements fluid and as the sway of your hips, unbothered by the delicate embellishments, gifts of slayed lovers catching in the lantern glows. Luminescent as the fires within your eyes, the pout of a smile forming, at the reveal of your upper thigh, the fold of your kimono exposing skin to the night air. Shoulders born, the draw of your hair long and luxurious. Intricately weave and revealing the lavish nature of odango, curled upon impossible lengths, questionable so, and hinting upon the figments of magic as the press of the fan, a false pretense of a docile woman. Conveying only one that cultivated your pray, drew attention to the depths of your clavical and the heave of your breast, as well as the canine that revealed in your smile more than enough to elicit the wrinkle of the Third’s nose, and the further grit of his teeth. Demure and coy as the roll of your shoulder in a mock bow, the bend of your knees in greeting to the Upper Tier moons.  The curl of tails falling at your back, toyed upon the steps you drew forward in greeting, poised in charm. The plush of your tails, traced upon by Kokushibo counting as they swayed, unable to conceal the nature of your being. The dangle upon the hair pins, harmonious, and musical each pitch falling upon the screams of torn lovers devoured in the dead of night on a rendezvous turned blood bath. The draw of their appeal tempting Doma to curl his fingers from one specific one. A delicate one, intentionally placed, as fragile as blown glass. Aged and polished, bearing an unspoken significance standing apart from the others as revealing as the smile Doma bore the callous of his finger drawing to allow its jingle.

              The snap of your fan swift, a clatter that drew Lord Kokushibo’s many eyes, observation and traced upon movements nearly missed upon Akaza’s. The threat poised in your stature, revealing the concealed lethality as your fan cupped under the Second’s chin forcing his jaw and his attention to your own. “Careful, I’m not certain you can afford my services.” Delicate and struck upon the biwa cord intended to maintain the façade of seduction slipped between venom.

              “Oh my,” Doma purred despite the obvious tension of disarray upon the Infinity Castle, predators poised, and mistrustful. None among you willing to entrust yourselves with one another, and such clear disrespect while portrayed as playfulness etched into unspoken territories. “They say, little foxes never reveal their true selves.” Delighted and warmed, allowing his chin to press into the fan at the quip of his grin growing dark and sinister as they traced the guarded the embellishment, “but there is always something that gives them away.”

Beneath the Veil Headcanons | Kokushibo, Doma, and Akaza

Initially, your presence has agitated Akaza. He places a significant importance upon his battle prowess, and any new addition to the Upper Moon draws his focus. Most commonly, it’s because he desires a challenge.

Adores the opportunity to combat a new opponent, especially one who is immortal, and able to rise night after night, and free him from his boredom.

However, in your case, the flow of your pride, and the confidence in each of your steps elicits his ire. The draw of your rouged lips, touched upon intentionally placed laughter, callous and artificial as the Second Moon’s, and at first, your resemblance to the upper rank is more than enough grounds for Lord Akaza to hold you in contempt.

The ranking just below his, he thinks, no is confident that he could eliminate you from the rankings if not for his Achilles heel. A woman amongst the Upper Ranks, while not impossible, or something he has not happened upon before, yet the dire situation that the Demon forces have found themselves against the Slayers, the opportunity to evade your existence as he had Nakime, and Daki is unlikely.

Close quarters, and frequent meetings he is stuck with the eyesore (you), and he is bitter. Aware that finding another replacement for the Upper tier will only elicit Muzan’s ire, and so he is left with little choice but to accept the stain of your smile upon his night.

Endure the taunting and teasing, regardless how much his skin recoils at the linger of your touch. Internal war, if only you were a male his stance would be far simpler.

Though of course, as a newly inducted Moon, you are unlikely aware of his aversion to women, and it’s easy to take such slights personally. Just as the way you conduct yourself leaves the impression that it is fully your intention to toy with him, only furthering his contempt.

Yet, as time goes on, and small details of each of your pasts, or positions are revealed whether in little slips of having to frequent each other’s territories, or one slipped from Doma, who just delights stirring the pot, you’ll discover that there is more to your compatibility than initially believed.

The reality is that you are both by nature in desperate need of trust to cement your bond whether romantically, friendship, or just work peers. But it will take so much time, or mere forced together orders from the Master for him to accept your partnership on various missions.

No matter how I look at it, tact-wise, Muzan is likely to keep you within Akaza’s vicinity. Ironically, Akaza believes he is safeguarding you when in reality, you’re his caretaker.

Intended to shield him from the depths of reality, and sweep away any potential female opponents that may stray into his range. It’s going to be difficult, and one full of back and forth cutting remarks. Both of you are prone to being fairly forthcoming with your communication and ires, and as such, communication is likely to flow quite a bit better than it would with the other moons.

Both of you are fairly adaptable, and makes the work relationship easier to navigate in the flow of battle.

As one who utilizes a fan, the only difficulty is that your fighting stances are a little more difficult to navigate, and will take trial and error. Especially as Akaza does not desire your assistance—nor accepts you as a warrior.

You are not prone to being on the wavelength, and butting heads will come rather routinely for the both of you, but I imagine that Akaza will falter in most disputes.

Not because you haven’t entirely pissed him off, but as he remains traditional at his core, and values the more historical entanglement men and women have had for centuries.

Although, admittedly, your inability to shy away from conflict may actually delight him.

I mean, he’ll never admit it, but you discover that he is far more willing to seek out your company, allowing more time to actually remain around you.

Seeks to protect you, though there are little threats aside from the remainder of the UpperMoons tha could pose a threat to your existence, and because of this, it won’t be difficult to catch on to the fact that Akaza actually just enjoys your company.

though he cannot articulate why that may be.

Oh the dynamic duo that draws exhaustion from all parties in your vicinity. He delights in your pluck, and is instantly smitten with you.

Oh, he delights in the banter, in the opportunity to go blow for blow. Unlike Lord Akaza, your gender means very little to him aside from the fact that if the Second were to perhaps take a small nibble… the thought has crossed his mind you will be delectable.

Far more delicious than those of his worshipers, or any courtesan.

Craves the moment in which he may finally infringe upon your bites. Though it will not be any time soon—you are in no rush to challenge him for his placement, and thus taking a nibble out of you will result in Lord First’s clear disapproval, Lord Akaza has more than expressed his disgust at his tastes, and he is certain that the Master would not accept searching for a replacement.

Which may secure his existence, but he’s not confident enough to make that bet, and so for now, Doma will just delight in peeking beneath the veil.

He has a natural talent for sniffing out the details you do not wish to dispose, such as the aged embellishment you safeguarded upon your meeting. It’s so pretty.

What if he were to break it?

Oh the thought gives him amusement, and because of this, he will push and play. Press nerves, but beneath it, the cold and guarded exterior you often display, is not fooling him.

Just as his false pretenses are not luring you to any deceptions any time soon, you are well aware that Lord Second is not as dimwitted as he pretends to be.

No, rather, you are so faithfully aware that the smallest part of you cannot understand how Lord Third does not see the way the cult leader lures him time, and time again.

You are both adapt at processing, and because of this, there leaves little missed opportunities for the both of you. An opening, and similar fighting styles will make for a lethal combination.

While you have the ability to seize tactical movements, Doma has the ability to prey upon emotional weaknesses, only furthering your opportunities.

Sadly, it’s the consistent skipping over small details that could lead to the downfall of the both of you. While Doma is more than willing to get to know you.

Oh he adores the challenge, and welcomes it as it comes, or he forces it. He so desperately seeks out company, perhaps due to his own upbringing and staleness of life, you offer a rare treat amongst the mundane, but if you are wishing for something more there will be a complication of how forthcoming Doma himself avers to be.

The real question is if either of you are willing to reveal your hands, but the teasing is more than delectable.

The oldest of the Upper Moons will show very little interest upon your arrival at first. The reality is that for the swordsman, many such as you have come, and gone just as swiftly as they have arrived.

He is aware you are a mere last minute addition composed of pressure from the Demon Slayer Corps, and as such, he has a tendency to meet your inclusion as little more than formality.

Keeping to the hierarchy, and unspoken protocol of the kizuki. Yet as you continue to linger, and force yourself into his company, little things such as expressing that you will be seeing him soon, and falling through with such sentiments is likely to gain his interest.

Especially if you follow more formal, traditional methods that are reminiscent of the Edo era. Intuitive by nature, the both of you have the ability to make decisions regardless of how complex the situation may be.

Such formalities, and flow of your time together, the way he finds himself allowing to come undone, and touch upon past selves, he’s curious. So to the point he would not admit to such, and yet, you have caught his attention.

For you, it is the fact that Lord Kokushibo, renowned for his reclusive nature has taken up an interest in you. While it’s true that he will not be changing his nature, nor can you expect him to grow more extroverted.

It is not who he is, and never will be, you will delight in the way he entertains your company. Quietly awaiting your arrival to his accommodations, the sudden appearance of a second tea cup upon your arrival, and engaged conversation.

You know you are warming up to him. The blunt approach to the both of your natures is a contribution to the flow of discussions, and as such there’s a warmth that comes naturally between the two of you should you only give it time.

However, that’s the catch. It will require a depth of time but you’re both immortal so… you are not one to dispose of your hand, cloaking yourself rather than readily reveal vulnerabilities, and the same can be expressed by the Upper Moon.

Your bond is one that is unspoken, and is as natural as the flow of the winds and breath within your lungs. A natural understood, able to see each other for who you truly are, and as long as you allow yourself the ability to accept the time it will take—you will find that your connection is one of sparks.

If it is a romantic connection you are seeking, you may find yourself savoring his touch, and the callousness of his hands. The quiet purse of his lips as he listens to your recent encounters, and the small smile that forms at his lips.

If it is not a romantic connection you desire, then you will find friendship will come just as easily, but ultimately, a work relationship will be one in passing.

Not a partnership in which you routinely work together, but rather a co-worker that you have a great repertoire with.

[saphirered]

Hi Saph! I was wondering if I could request a fic about a newly mated Lucien? I looked through your masterlist and I don't think there's one for him yet :) Thank you!

Took a hot second but finally did it! It's a spicy one but what to expect from a silver-tongued fox. Happy reading 😘

He wakes up engulfed in a warmth not even the radiant heat of a bonfire on a cold night could mimic. Lucien returns to the world of the waking, pleasant dreams waning away as they do so fleetingly. He tries to catch onto them, to keep them with him only to find them as reality. These dreams are not figments of imagination. He does not grow cold the moment the realisation hits and instead he is engulfed fully just like when he used to close his eyes. Nothing can fight the smile on his face and he certainly does not want to because when he opens his eyes, his gaze falls on the most wonderful view. 

Curled up next to him lays the most wonderful creature he has ever encountered. Your eyes are still closed. Your features are peaceful. You have not a burden in the world right now. Lucien wants to see you like this in the waking world. If he has to move mountains to do so, his heart burns to do it. All to see you smile, to see you content. You stir lightly, shoulders tensing and relaxing as you let out a puff of air. Then your eyes open. Your beautiful eyes. He could never grow tired of them. If anything they might hold him captive like some trap and leave him falling through the world but all the same are you the grounding force that keeps him tethered.

“Hey.” Your voice still laced with sleep sparks in his chest. 

“Hey.” He doesn’t know what else to say. For a fae of many words he is at a loss; completely and utterly captivated. 

“It’s rude to stare.” You mutter raising yourself onto an elbow and looming at his side as you study his features. You even deign to grace him with your gentle touch, brushing your fingers along his collarbone back and forth. Sparks combust below the surface of his skin. Goosebumps form, awaiting the presence for more. 

“Yet it is perfectly acceptable to admire the captivating.” Lucien retorts. Amusement graces your features as your fingers dance up the column of his neck, tracing the fading marks you’d left there the eve before. Tenderness still present is but an obvious reminder and he does not doubt should he take a glance in the mirror his neck and shoulders would be covered in such bruised markings. Your lips had explored his skin plenty and when he had made such lovely sounds when you paid careful attention, who were you to deny him these pleasures? It’s not like you didn’t have a great time. If anything he’s repaid you manifold. You made it clear you would seek to balance the scales. 

“As quick-witted as always, my dearest Lucien.” You muse as your fingers brush aside some stray strands of copper. The praise and approval spreads warmth throughout his veins, not because of your words but the feelings that traverse that invisible string between you two. You press your lips to his. Your kiss is but a ghost and leaves him all too soon. You laugh at his disappointment even though he can very clearly feel your desire to deepen that kiss, to return to his lips, the rest of his body while at it and have yet another of those blissful moments you lose yourselves in. 

“Your self-restraint is infuriating, my love.” Lucien breathes when your fingers brush through his hair and he sits up enough to finally be face to face with you. Inches apart seems too much still. 

“I fear if I do not show self-restraint we might never leave this room again.” You chuckle when you feel his touch wander along the curve of your waist sending goosebumps across your skin even beneath the thin sheet that barely covers you. 

“You say that as if it is a bad thing.” The fact he can feel your consideration, weighing his words leaves him wanton and such he acts. Lucien takes you by the hips and shifts you onto his lap, your legs on either side of his as your arms come to rest around his shoulders. He makes a point of tracing shapes on your now exposed flesh, dipping just a little closer to where you want him to touch you. Despite your presented attitude he can feel your arousal through body and bond. What a gift the mother bestowed him. 

“While I intend to spend the rest of my life with you, I intend to extend that to outside the confines of this bedroom too. I would love a stroll down the river. A swim even perhaps.” He pretends to entertain the thought in disagreement but understands. While the thought to stay here forever is certainly entertaining, venturing beyond that threshold would not be the end of the world and going places with you, spending more time in your company will please him either way. The wicked look you give him however is mildly concerning. 

“And perhaps…” You lean in, your lips trailing along his neck pressing light kisses to his skin like a fuse lit. “We can take however long we need to explore beyond the bedroom door.” Your teeth graze his neck somewhere between pain and pleasure.

“If it is up to me I will fuck you in every corner in this house before we make it outside.” Lucien moans and the sound only eggs you on to continue your ministrations until you are satisfied with his body’s response to you and let a hand wander down the planes of his chest, down his abdomen, grazing ever so lightly where you need him most. 

“Why stop there? Plenty of places outside too.” With that you finally stroke him releasing a mewling sound from him and that satisfied grin on your face, he wants to wipe it off so badly. Lucien decides he will. In but one swift motion he has flipped the two of you. He takes your hand away from him, clasping it and bringing it to rest besides your head. His lips dart for that spot that he knows has you melt instantly. Just as predicted you do. Your little gasps are all the encouragement he needs. Nevermind the way you rock your hips into his touch when he lets his fingers slide down between your legs. 

Lucien kisses down your chest, sucking and biting and licking, paying careful attention to all the things that make you tick. Your gasps and moans, the gentle cry of his name, the way when he finally lets go of your arm, your fingers lace into his hair and hold on, are encouragement enough for him to keep going. Then his lips trail down, replacing his fingers previously stroking and brushing. Your sounds of pleasure only increase until he has you panting, until you can’t take it anymore and pull his hair. He goes for another few seconds until he pulls away. You’re out of breath and given your gaze, pupils wide, he waits for your next move. You take a few deep breaths. Your gaze turns wicked and your hold on his hair loosens. 

“Keep going.” You needn’t say more for him to dive back between your legs and the amount of time it takes you to cry his name sparks not just some male pride but simple satisfaction and pleasure of his own. He could be lost within you for days, weeks, months, years. This is only the beginning. 

[television-overload]

'sh-boom' (an X-Files fanfic)

Like usual, I caved and instead of leaving my "someone should write this" post be, I wrote it myself. I'll tag some people that expressed interest in this prompt below the fic! Shout out to @baronessblixen who already wrote the perfect Scully-accidentally-kisses-Mulder fic. You can read that here!

Now, for Mulder accidentally kissing Scully cause he dreams about her all the time.... takes place February 1998, mid-Season 5.

Read on Ao3

There’s a trick to fighting insomnia, Mulder had discovered. Not a cure, by any means, but an improvement, nonetheless. All you need is a super off-limits best friend you’ve fallen stupidly in love with, spend practically every waking hour of the day with her, and then spend the rest of your time thinking about her until your exhausted and delusional mind has mercy on you and blesses you with her presence in your unconscious state.

A foolproof plan, really. Scully had even noticed he seemed more well-rested and happier in the last few weeks, so something had to be working.

Although, there were—he had to admit—a few rather notable side effects.

Despite what others might tell you, Fox Mulder was not one to have trouble distinguishing between fiction and reality. Usually. But in his defense, his dreams were very, very vivid, and there had been a time or two that he’d referred to something Scully had said, only to realize at her blank stare that it was the figment of her in his imagination who’d said it.

“Must have been someone else I was talking to,” he’d awkwardly say, thankful that she kept her mouth shut about the fact that there was no one else he’d have such conversations with, and they both knew it.

He’d also been on the receiving end of more than a few raised eyebrows and patented “what is wrong with you?” looks, which were well-deserved for catching him staring even more than typical. Sure, he was sleeping better at night, but his brain was now trained to find restfulness when thinking about Scully, which was pretty much an all-day thing too. Sitting across from her in their isolated little office for extended periods of time made his eyes glaze over and eyelids droop halfway shut. Oh, the horror… he probably looked like a drunk idiot. He hoped he at least looked somewhat normal, not like a drooling dope with a dumb smile on his face who was clearly not having a productive day at work.

What would old doctor Pavlov have to say about this sorry scenario?

His consolation was that Scully already knew he was weird, and stuck around anyway, so he had no qualms against going home night after night and picking up where he’d left off in Scullyland the night before. Let’s see, he was just about to their son’s first little league baseball game, of which Mulder was the coach, of course. “Scully, don’t forget, we signed up to bring snacks for the team after the game.”

Behind closed eyes he saw her raise her arm to show him the already packed bag she was holding, an exasperated but loving look in her eye. “Always one step ahead of me,” he said fondly. With practiced ease, they danced around each other in the kitchen of a fairly unremarkable house, grabbing sunscreen, sunglasses, water bottles, keys… “Alright, sport, get in the car! Bus is leaving!” he called out, smiling as the sounds of little footfalls preceded the sight of his freckle-faced son, clad in shiny new baseball cleats.

“Got your glove?”

“Yep.”

“Your bat?”

“Yep.”

“Spitting tobacco?”

“Daaaad…”

“Mulder!”

“I’m just kidding, get in the car, will you? Coach Fox can’t be late, it’s unprofessional.”

“Wait I forgot my seeds!”

A minivan. Perfectly unremarkable. Admittedly, very comfortable, and spacious.

“Fox…” Scully mused with a shake of her head as she buckled her seatbelt.

“What? All the great baseball legends have weird nicknames. I just happen to have been born with mine.”

“The Great Bambino!” a little voice piped up from the back, glancing out the window as they ventured forth into the miles and miles of farmland.

“That’s my boy. ‘Oil Can’ Boyd. ‘Cool Papa’ James Bell. ‘Shoeless’ Joe Jackson. Did you know Lou Gehrig’s teammates called him ‘Biscuit Pants?’”

A giggle from the back seat.

“Alright you’ve made your point.” He loved it when she used that voice, the one that meant she was tired of his antics, but not really. Of course she loved his senseless rambling. She did it too sometimes, albeit with a few more hyper-specific medical terms thrown in there, leaving him unable to do anything other than smile and nod.

When they arrived, they piled out of the van, the messy brown hair of his son—already sweaty somehow, by the way—disappearing into the dugout with a gaggle of other overexcited little boys. “Good luck,” Scully spoke as she planted a kiss on Mulder’s cheek and made her way to the stands, setting up a cushion and portable fan that were sure to be the envy of all the other parents.

The field smelled like grass and dirt and the leather of brand-new baseball gloves just waiting to be broken in. It was a smell straight out of his childhood, of those summer nights on the Vineyard getting eaten up by bugs under the bright lights of the baseball fields. The crack of a ball against a wooden bat. Coming home covered in sweat and dirt and with a kid sister in tow who insisted on playing with the boys.

It was in this dream state where he found peace. Not in the past, but in some amorphous future. A future where he had a family again, a loving home. Where he wasn’t a coward and had a beautiful wife and partner who somehow made everything work. They fought monsters. They went grocery shopping. They filed paperwork with Skinner. He coached little league. They drove to work together. They picked up their son from school.

Baseballs went flying. Teams celebrated their first win. Little boys were tucked into bed, and he kissed his wife goodnight. That’s just how it was.

It was freedom. A freedom he didn’t think he’d felt since his life changed with a flash of light.

In the morning, he’d wake in a haze. With his brain on autopilot, he’d amble about his apartment, brushing his teeth, making coffee, tying on a tie… Caught somewhere in between these worlds of make-believe and reality. It was a benefit of his eidetic memory, he supposed, to be able to remember his dreams and stay in them even after coming to consciousness. Didn’t work out so great when he had constant nightmares, but hey, now that’s been solved too.

Somewhere along his drive to work was usually when reality really set in. He tried to not let it bring him down too much—it was his own fault, after all, that his life bore little resemblance to that which revealed itself in dreams. But he couldn’t help the slight pangs of disappointment he felt when he thought of the lonely couch he slept on every night and the sad state of his fridge.

“Good morning, Mulder,” Scully called out her usual greeting as she breezed into the office.

Mulder’s head lifted off the desk where it had been laying. “Mm—morning.”

Scully chuckled, setting down her bag in her chair and working to remove her heavy coat which she hung on the coat rack. His dream may have taken place in the heat of summer, but it was unmistakably the dead of winter in Washington, D.C.

“Not get enough sleep?” she asked, her amused tone not entirely disguising the genuine concern she felt for him underneath.

“I slept fine,” Mulder answered, “just… still waking up.”

Scully shook her head and let out another low chuckle, taking her seat across from him. She pulled out a file from her bag and began scanning through it, the lamp next to her providing most of the light, as the cloud-covered sky through the skylight threatened to dump a heap of snow on the city.

The day went on like that. Mulder managed to actually get some work done, finalizing some paperwork he’d been putting off (to Scully’s exaggerated shock and disbelief). She, on the other hand, was working on going over some medical reports a field office had sent over for her expert opinion, something that flattered her and made Mulder bloom with pride.

He didn’t even mind that much that they didn’t have a case to work on at the moment. That was another thing that had changed since he’d started indulging in these dreams: he could sit still for five minutes without vibrating out of his skin.

Of course, he’d never stop yearning for the truth, wondering what was out there waiting for him to discover it. But lately, he also found he enjoyed these quiet days where barely a word was spoken between them. It was comfortable. Everything unspoken didn’t need to be said aloud because it was a given—they both knew without saying everything that could possibly be said.

Lunch?

Yes.

Can you hand me a pen?

Sure.

The winter sun set early, and night was well on its way by the time Mulder looked up from his work to check the clock. Sure enough: quitting time. He stood from his desk just as Scully did, making his way over to the coat rack to grab both his and Scully’s coats. She snapped her bag shut with a click as he handed it to her before slipping his arms into his own coat sleeves.

Scully fluffed her hair out from under the collar of her coat. Mulder flicked off the lamp. She draped her bag over her shoulder. He grabbed his own briefcase and circled around his desk toward the door.

“Night, Scully,” he spoke like he did every evening, dipping down to place a quick kiss goodbye on her lips.

He froze.

Lips still touching, he swore he felt his heart stop and his fingers go numb. Somehow amid all the blaring alarm bells and internal screaming, his brain was able to send the signal back away, you idiot! to the rest of his body, and he obeyed, straightening up to look at her with what he knew she recognized as his ‘panic face.’

The only light now was coming from the streetlamps in the parking lot and the gentle snowfall reflecting it down into the office, the dim yellowish light making it difficult to tell what she was thinking. A wiser man would say something, apologize, explain it away, even leave, dang it! Get out of there! But Mulder was frozen. And apparently mute. Just perfect.

The seconds ticked by. Was that clock always so loud? That was it, he’d really gone and done it now, hadn’t he?

A smile formed across Scully’s lips, barely visible in the darkness. She blinked up at him with an oddly relaxed look in her eyes, sparkling in the faint light.

“Night, Mulder,” she replied before patting him twice on the chest above his heart and turning to leave.

It must have been a combination of her words and her touch that eventually broke him from his stupor, because he finally blinked and managed to stumble back to his office chair only to collapse into it, covering his face with his hands and letting out a muffled scream.

What an idiot. What. An. Idiot.

This was the price he had to pay for his risky little endeavor to sleep through the night. Dreaming of Scully had a cost, he should have known it was only a matter of time. He was messing with the delicate balance of things. Mulder and insomnia, insomnia and Mulder. They went hand-in-hand. Trading it in for the much more pleasant musings he had for his partner was too good to be true.

He sat there in horrified, humiliated silence for what felt like hours before finally heading home to what would inevitably be an appallingly horrible night’s sleep.

-.-.-

Mulder hadn’t slept. At all.

He laid awake most of the night staring at the ceiling and mentally berating himself over and over for blurring the lines so much that he’d briefly forgotten he and Scully weren’t actually together. He had every intent to call out of work the next day, and maybe the day after that, every day until he could come up with something to say to make things less awkward between them the next time they’d see each other, but then Skinner called.

His stomach dropped to the floor when the words “I need to ask you something,” crackled through the phone, the gruff voice of his boss sending a chill down his spine. It turned out all Skinner wanted was for Mulder and Scully to check out some reported aquatic dinosaur sightings in a lake in central Kansas, but Mulder still felt dizzy from the adrenaline the initial words had sent coursing through his system.

Against his wishes, he was dressed and in a taxi to the airport before noon, realizing too late that he hadn’t eaten anything either.

As he entered the bustling terminal, he saw Scully standing near the check-in point, dressed in her sensible heels and no-nonsense suit, her suitcase resting on the ground near her tapping foot. She checked her watch and glanced up to the departures sign before scanning the crowd. He winced as her sight settled on him, and picked up the pace.

“Jeez, Mulder, you look awful,” she said by way of greeting.

“Sorry I’m late,” he spoke, hoping to divert any conversation away from what had happened the night prior.

She wasn’t so easily dissuaded, however. “What happened to you? Are you sick?”

It seemed he would have to say something after all. He settled for, “Haven’t had anything to eat.” There. That would throw her off his scent.

Scully’s eyebrows furrowed and she grabbed the handle of her suitcase, beginning to pull it in the direction of their gate. “Well, you can have the other half of my muffin, it’s in my purse.”

He said nothing after that, choosing to follow after her like a lost puppy. They made their way through the metal detectors and had just enough time to get to their gate before they were boarding.

True to her word, just as soon as they’d reached cruising altitude, Scully extracted half a blueberry muffin from her purse and placed it on the tray table in front of Mulder, who was leaning heavily on the wall of the plane, staring blankly out the window. He mumbled his thanks and ate it in 3 clean bites, feeling only slightly guilty for inhaling his food like that in front of her.

Sensing that he wasn’t in a talkative mood, Scully posed a one-word question. “Insomnia?”

Mulder leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes. “Yeah.”

“I thought it was getting better?”

“It was,” he answered, hoping she wouldn’t read into it.

Mulder sat up again, reaching for a book in his bag, but Scully’s hand on his shoulder stopped him. Gently, she pushed him back until he was resting again, forcing his head to the head rest with the soft touch of her hand over his brow.

“Sleep,” she said, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

-.-.-

After the rocky start to the day and the awkwardness on his end throughout the flight, Mulder came to the conclusion that Scully was acting perfectly normal, so he might as well do the same. Well, she had kissed him on the cheek, but that wasn’t unheard of, was it? They’d done that before. Sure, it was rare, but she was worried about him. Aside from that, it was as if nothing had even happened, and if Mulder had been just a little more crazy, he might have believed it had all been a dream after all. It wasn’t though, and the touch of her lips on his still burned when he thought about it.

Against his better judgement, on the first night in the motel in central Kansas, he decided to employ his, now patently risky, sleep technique. It didn’t help that his subconscious supplied him with dreams of a family road trip and motels just like the one he was staying in. It took everything in his power not to say, “Wake up, buddy, time to hit the road,” to an invisible—and sadly, impossible—son in the morning. Even harder was it to suppress the words “Morning, beautiful,” from escaping his lips when he first ran into Scully in the lobby.

She seemed appeased that he had actually gotten some rest, at least, when she saw him at breakfast. The day went on without issue. Things between them were… normal. Conditions: good. Weather: frigid. Why they were investigating a potentially cold-blooded creature in the middle of February was beyond him.

He suspected this case would turn out to be yet another wild goose chase. Nothing was living in that water except maybe a very cold and very large escaped alligator from a nearby run-down zoo. Unfortunately, his recent contentment with boring, unexciting cases didn’t seem to apply here. Or at least right now.

To his relief, the local law enforcement decided to handle it themselves and even had the presence of mind to sheepishly apologize for having them come all the way out there. Flights were booked for the next day, following an almost four-hour drive back to Kansas City.

When they arrived back at the motel, Mulder fished out his room key from his pocket and inserted it into the door to unlock it. At the next door over, Scully set her briefcase on the ground before crossing the distance to him right as he turned the handle, stalling him briefly in the doorway. She stood there just long enough to reach up for a quick peck on the lips, the kiss as brief as he had done two nights before.

“Wha—” he mouthed silently, interrupted by Scully’s easy, “Goodnight, Mulder,” leaving him gaping at her in the doorway, his hand still on the doorknob, as she went off to bed.

-.-.-

It was getting harder to tell fiction from reality, and that was tough for Mulder to admit. Scully smiled at him in the morning when she climbed in the passenger seat of their rental car, and for a moment Mulder felt the gnawing feeling that they’d forgotten to put their son in the backseat despite knowing he wasn’t real. He shook his head to clear his thoughts, but that could only help so much.

Her humming half the ride home was straight out of his dreams too, a happy sound that he hadn’t heard much in the months since Christmas and Emily. She even held his hand during takeoff on the plane, not that that was uncommon, but still.

When they finally touched down in the snow blanketed capitol city, she offered to drive him home rather than have him wait for a taxi out in the cold. He gratefully accepted, unable to come up with a valid excuse not to. That was when it happened again.

Once was a mistake. Twice was a fluke. Three times on the lips, and Mulder had some questions. Namely, was he going completely crazy, or did he miss something?

As she pulled up to his building, she put the car in park and stretched across the center console to give him yet another kiss, finishing it with a smile and a, “See you tomorrow, Mulder.”

Unable to tear his eyes away from her lest she fade away like his dreams, Mulder fumbled for the door handle and pushed open the car door, stumbling his way to his feet.

“See you tomorrow,” he managed to respond, in a voice that he felt wasn’t his own.

He started his way toward the entrance to his building in a daze, screeching to a halt when he heard her call out, “Mulder!” through the opened passenger window.

He turned back, croaking out a very eloquent, “Huh?” as he searched for her face in the dark car interior.

“You forgot your bags.”

Oh.

Scully chuckled and popped the trunk for him. He rubbed his hand awkwardly over the back of his neck and trudged his way back to the car to retrieve his possessions, slamming the trunk shut when he was finished. Scully gave a wave out the window and took off into the night, and for a second night in a row, all he could do was stand there and blink in the direction she had disappeared.

-.-.-

Calling out of work would be useless, it wouldn’t help the issue at all. He was more confused than ever, but Scully seemed to be perfectly fine, so it must be his own problem. What if he’d somehow manifested his dream life into his waking one, that by some mystical force, certain elements of it were slipping through into reality? He could open an X-File. Test out his powers of manifestation—if he didn’t completely lose his grip on reality in the process.

In his dream last night, they’d celebrated her birthday, and now he couldn’t remember if they’d already done so, or if he ought to get started on planning something in real life. What day is it again? It was driving him crazy. Crazier than usual.

He would just have to talk to her. Ask her what was up with all the kissing, not that he minded. But was that actually happening? Was he imagining things? If he brought it up, would they go back to what it was like before? Would it get worse? What if he kissed her again? This time on purpose?

Every time he went to say something, his mouth opened and no sound came out. He was sure she’d notice at some point. How embarrassing. Hours ticked by, and before he knew it, it was the end of the day. An epic fail, as far as his attempt to talk to her went.

He stood from his desk with a sigh, resigned to another day of confusion tomorrow, and started toward the door with his bag and coat in tow.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” her voice called from behind him, and there she was, standing by his desk, arms crossed expectantly over her chest. That eyebrow. That darn eyebrow was doing its thing too, what does she mean by that?

“Scully?” he asked, brain tired and worn out from a tumultuous week.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” she asked again, uncrossing her arms and shifting in that way that exposed her well-masked nervousness. It was the first sign he’d seen that he wasn’t losing his mind, this really was unusual. And she knew it too.

Eyebrows furrowed, he walked toward her until he was standing right in front of her, desperately trying to read her expression as he looked down at her. Her eyes met his with determination, deliberately holding eye contact when every cell in his body screamed Danger! Run away! There was hope there, too, but Mulder didn’t want to guess what that hope might be for. This was not the moment for guessing.

She was still looking at him expectantly, though, and he couldn’t think of anything else.

Slowly, giving her plenty of time to move away or shoot him if he’d read the situation wrong, he bent toward her, placing one hand over her elbow and the other brushing lightly over the hair covering her ear. Her eyes fluttered shut and her breathing hitched, and there! She was leaning forward too! Not quite standing on tiptoes, but stretching to meet him, nonetheless.

Taking this as a good sign, he closed the rest of the distance between them and pressed his lips to hers, holding them there for one, two, three, four, five seconds before pulling back and letting his arms drop to his sides. His eyes remained tightly shut, afraid to open them and see the disgust or annoyance that would surely greet him.

He swallowed past a lump in his throat, his face pinched in concern, but he dared not move. After a moment, he felt two hands cup his cheeks on either side, the thumbs brushing out the lines of tension around his eyes. Something about the motion coaxed his eyes open, and what he saw wasn’t disgust or annoyance, but a content and relieved smile on the face of his partner.

He was entranced.

“Goodnight, Mulder,” she spoke softly, the same words from the other nights, but with a considerable amount of weight that hadn’t been there before. After a moment more, she began to pull away, and Mulder felt his heart stutter. Without thinking, he stopped her, grabbing her by the upper arms and pulling her to him. His eyes fell shut again as he dove toward her lips, stopping short by a few inches and pressing his forehead to hers instead.

“What is this?” he whispered, desperate to know, needing to put a name to it.

She let out a breathless laugh. “I was hoping you’d tell me.”

“Am I dreaming?”

She laughed again, and man, what he would do to hear that sound every day for the rest of his life.

“I just thought you’d decided to institute a new goodbye ritual, and went with it.”

It was Mulder’s turn to smile in amusement. He hummed.

“No, I’ve dreamt of this,” he murmured, nuzzling her forehead with his. “I thought I was going crazy.”

“If you are, then what does that make me?”

“I don’t know. If not crazy, then what other option is there?”

Reaching to cup the back of his neck, she pulled him ever closer, her next words brushing against his cheek. “I can think of something.”

His eyes opened to see her staring back at him, a flood of emotions he wasn’t sure he could name dancing there, reflecting identical ones in his own. Uncertainty gave way to resolve, and he hoped she would lend him some of hers, because he would surely need it.

He knew it was coming, and still it blew him away.

This time, her kiss was slow… purposeful. He melted into her, pulling her closer with an arm clutching to her waist and the other hand splayed across her shoulder blade.

The fog in his brain prevented him from determining how much time passed, but eventually they had to come up for air, identical smiles gracing their faces.

“I think I know what this is, Mulder, and I think you feel the same way. But if I’m wrong, this is going to be really awkward.” Her words were spoken with laughter, but there was an underlying sense of doubt. Doubt that by no means had any place there.

“No, I think you’re right,” he answered, cupping her cheek with his hand. “I think you’ve got it figured out.”

Her eyebrow went up again and a teasing smile played on her lips. “Can I get that in writing, or…”

He grinned and pulled her to him once more. “Oh, shut up.” And he kissed her.

---

Tagging @agent-troi @welsharcher @hippocampouts @invidiosa @whovianelle @captainsolocide @randomfoggytiger @today-in-fic

[vuulpecula]

✖ @mistrdctr inquired: 55

spotify wrapped | always accepting ↳ 55. night channels - foxing

Her fault. Her fault. Her fault. He was going to die, and it was all her fault. Hands pressed desperately over his middle, trying to staunch the bleeding that flowed endlessly, Fox tried to save the life that was already slipping away between her fingers. Shredded muscle and sinew twisted with the tattered remains of his robes, weaving together around her incapable digits like a grotesque mockery of a cat’s cradle. Maybe with medical equipment, earthly objects from that life left behind, his life would be spared—but there was nothing. Nothing she could reach for or grab, no one to call, there was nothing she could do. The great Doctor Strange was dying and the world would be lesser for it.

“Please, please,” her arms were shaking as she begged for that tiny spark of something to appear. Concentrating, digging as deep as she could for any shred of healing power or magic or whatever it was. The shaking became worse. The edges around him, laying prone beneath her unlit hands, began to fade. Melting into a darkness she fought to keep back. Blood dripped from her nostrils, a splitting headache brought forth a spasm of pain, and still she tried. Frantic for anything and lacking in everything. There was no fighting the dizziness that sent the world around them spinning, meshing every color together until all she could see was black.

A deep red glow filled the space and from it walked a woman. Spine straight, moving unhurried to kneel beside the dying Strange. “We clung to our warp weighted loom,” she began softly. “By the time we were done, we were woven in. Such constriction from a self-made trap.” It was Fox and it wasn’t. She was different. Perhaps a little older, confident, oozing with the darkness of power, and looking down upon him with the softness of seeing an old friend. A hand, fingers sooty with darkness, rested over his wound. Again, a glow began, pulsing a deep orange where it had once been gold. The pieces of him that had fallen apart began to weave back together once more. Cells healing in a way that seemed wholly impossible.

With her other hand, she pushed the hair back from his brow. “And on these antlers, dry-rot cracks through.” As if he was crowned or meant to be. This Fox, she glanced to the other beside him. Unconscious and incapable. “I left myself too open for you,” she reflected before turning her attention back to him. “So, by now I know what decay is.” There was a sadness in the way she said it, as if all three had been connected in some mysterious way that had led her down the darker path. The corrupted path. Wanda Maximoff was not the only witch tempted by that which she could not have.

“I’ll lay on waves until the night channels end,” Fox stated, as if telling him where she would be. Where he could find the beginning to the end that would not come for him. Not now, at least. She leaned close to him, his body nearly healed completely beneath her hand. “Future love,” she whispered against the shell of his ear. “Don’t fall apart.” As quickly as she had come, she was gone. Disappearing into the fading glow like a figment of a twisted imagination.

[death-in-a-handbasket]

hello tumblr dot com, in honor of my first bsd characters post reaching 3k notes, would you like some art?

[whencartoonsruletheworld]

concept worlds for kingdom hearts 4

hocus pocus

owl house, this is where sora and riku kiss

high school musical

sofia the first

american dragon: jake long

robin hood: furry edition

cars. people who know the breeds of cars what car would sora be

diary of a wimpy kid

dinosaur. @patema-introverted​ what dinos would sora donald and goofy become

or the good dinosaur. sora is still human but donald and goofy transform and he thinks it’s very funny how big they are

home on the range would also be really really funny

phineas & ferb

they go to neverland again but this time they get turned into fairies and we do one of the tinkerbell movies/books

then they turn into toys again and they’re like “oh we’re in the toybox??” and then doc mcstuffins walks in

quadratum turns out to literally be the enchanted world

donald takes the gang to duckburg and webby kicks sora in the face cause she doesn’t know what a human is

lilo & stitch and kairi adopts one of the experiments

the haunted mansion come on where is it

mysterious benedict society. somehow

amphibia but during season one, anne starts crying because “finally another fucking human” while goofy and hop pop spiderman point at each other

the rescuers but it’s them having to save sora’s ass

the moon, della is there

they end up in storybrooke with new names and identities and xion “probably immune to amnesia at this point” has to travel down to fucking maine and slap some sense into them

percy fucking jackson

jungle book and sora is like “for some reason mowgli sounds a lil bit like me that’s kinda fucked up”

tangled the series, cassandra summons a keyblade

mira: royal detective

club penguin

kairi ends up in the princess protection program

this one is technically a legit suggestion but like. i NEED them to go into raya and be like “yea we’re looking for a princess of heart” “you mean raya??” “...no?” “she’s the only princess of hea– namaari? do you want her gf??” “what is happening”

song of the south and mickey is literally forcing everyone out of the live-action segments “LET’S GO ON SPLASH MOUNTAIN INSTEAD HUH”

teen beach movie

figment ride

wander over yonder

the black cauldron but the characters look and act more like their book counterparts which confuses legions of adults

disney decides to assert its dominance over 20th century fox by putting anastasia in here, confusing legions of more children

lion king 2

[cheetahsprints]

Prompt #10: Ghost

Inspired by this post

• Sonadow Prompt Fills •

• Ambience Music •

Content Warning: Implied Major Character Death (of a sort)

*

Green Hill is restored, but Shadow feels like the luscious greenery all around and clear blue skies above are mocking him. He skates from one end to the other day to day without aim. He does what he can to watch over the island, the planet, its life. He promised.

He promised Sonic he would take care of them.

Time blends into a shapeless, colorless blur, empty and sullen. The days turn to weeks that lack a certain spirit. They no longer experience intense, fiery rivalry between a remarkable pair of hedgehogs. Sonic’s friends try to go on to the best of their ability. Tails hasn’t given up, not entirely, but Shadow can see that it’s wearing him down. He practically has to bully the young fox into eating and sleeping some days.

Shadow should tell them that he’s still… seeing him.

He shouldn’t burden them.

They would just think he is insane.

Shadow uses Chaos Control each night to secretly enter the locked up obscured structure where the Paradox Prism is contained. He has to be near it. The night that he found out, he told Sonic’s friends… but for some reason it hadn’t worked for them. Though they didn’t express it in so many words, he could tell they believed he was just dreaming.

Maybe he is deluding himself, maybe has cracked.

It doesn’t stop him.

He rolls into a tight ball and clears his mind. The Prism energy seems to prickle through his quills. It took him a while to actually calm himself enough to sleep after the first time, where he had been unusually exhausted and had practically passed out. He exercises extensively, then drinks relaxing tea before evening. He avoids caffeine and sugar, and he meditates whenever he gets the chance.

The void materializes before him, and he rockets toward Sonic’s usual spot. Sonic immediately perks and smiles when he notices Shadow’s arrival.

“Shadow!”

The enthusiastic cry of his name is pleasing for his ears.

If Shadow doesn’t examine him too closely, Sonic looks completely solid. He isn’t a dream, he isn’t a ghost. He’s real, and Shadow can definitely still smell a mix of coconut and sweat on him. He would be able to hear his heartbeat and feel his breath, if he tried.

Shadow lands next to him at a reasonable distance. He can’t risk brushing against him… because he has an aversion, he tells himself, per usual. No other reason. Nevermind that touching Sonic recently became easier… before the disaster found its costly conclusion.

“Sonic.”

“How is everyone?”

“Well enough. I made sure Tails took a break.”

“Good… good.” Sonic taps his foot. “Um… so what have you been up to? Besides keeping an eye on the team.”

“Your team,” Shadow points out. “I… just run around, I guess, or brood, as you’d call it.”

Sonic scoffs and wags a disapproving finger at him. “Mister Diligence. Workaholic. Don’t you have any hobbies? I know you like music. Make sure to jam to your favorite tunes. Wait, I know! You should try gardening. You could grow your own veggies or flowers and bring me some - uh, forget that last part. Hey, you’ve been eating plenty of chili dogs for me, right?”

“When I can tolerate them,” Shadow admits.

“I’ll take it!” After a moment of silence, Sonic says in a low, gentle tone, “Thanks.”

Shadow briefly pushes his black and red quills back. “Yeah. You’re welcome.”

“Not just for… but for visiting me as well.”

Dread sinks into his stomach as Sonic darts forward and tries to hug him. He slips through Shadow, and Shadow shivers. It doesn’t feel like anything, and that’s what makes his fur stand on end. Sonic gives an awkward chuckle.

“Sonic…”

“I - man - I forgot.”

“You’re not real,” Shadow mumbles. “You’re a figment of my mind to make me feel like… I’m honoring your memory. Like I didn’t fucking fail.”

Sonic crosses his arms and frowns. Shadow hates it… he wants him to only smile… Why’d he have to ruin that? Shadow looks away. Whatever fucked up part of his brain keeps this charade going, it doesn’t allow him to manipulate Sonic to his preferences. Sonic’s pose is too reminiscent of his own tendencies.

It makes him feel even more like this specter is simply an extension of his broken mind and aching heart. It’s a twisted reflection created by his guilty subconscious to torture him.

“That’s not true. I am real. Don’t be so hard on yourself, asshole. You didn’t fail, you did your best. It’s not your fault! It was my choice. What happened, happened. You could’ve just… not bothered. Left the island or something. You’re a good friend, Shadow.”

“Friend… I’m no friend.”

“Keep telling yourself that.” Sonic places a hand on his hip. “We’re pals. Buddies. Amigos. Good old regular chums. Confidants, even. Face it. After everything, you can’t deny that.”

Shadow roars, “You’re dead or worse, a ghost trapped in an eternal void, you damn self-sacrificing hedgehog! I didn’t give myself a chance to appreciate what I had, what we could’ve had, until you were gone!!!”

You’re one to talk about sacrifice, a little voice in the back of his mind reminds him.

Sonic’s ears droop, and he flinches back. Shadow balls his hands into fists, wishing he could dig his claws into his palms through the gloves. He wishes he could actually hug Sonic, or at least punch him, whether he’s actually there or not. He wishes, not for the first time, to trade places with someone he loved.

He wants to remove his inhibitors and Chaos Blast this stupid, horrible limbo until he is totally drained.

“Never too late,” Sonic whispers, looking down and scuffing his shoe on the rock. “Plus it’s not so bad here really, since I get to see you, and I have plenty of time to think about how to be a better friend to everyone when I get back.”

“But it is. It is too late. It’s too late for me to love you like I should have,” Shadow insists.

Sonic’s head jerks up and his mouth falls open, his eyes searching Shadow’s hard stare. Shadow closes his eyes as Sonic steps forward, reaching as though to rest a hand on his face.

Shadow wakes up, chilly and alone in the dark cave. The world may not have truly ended, but it feels even more like a ghost in the shadows than it had when the Prism was shattered. Shadow and Sonic were shattered in its place, in different ways, instead.

*

[disneyparksattractionstournament]

Disney Parks Animatronic Tournament Match ups: Round 1

Should start tomorrow!

Bracket A/Tier 1:

Hondo Ohnaka vs Beast

Davy Jones vs Disco Yeti

Lava Monster vs Kylo Ren

Anna (Hong Kong version) vs Mr. Potato Head

Jack Sparrow vs BB8

Stitch vs Hopper

Lumiere vs Sven

Belle and Prince Adam vs Tiana

Stunt Spiderman vs Clawhauser

Wheezy vs Tiki Room Stitch

Rocket Raccoon vs C3PO

Shaman of Songs vs Elsa (Hong Kong version)

Ursula vs Lieutenant Bek

Dragon under castle vs Olaf

Hatbox Ghost vs Lantern Belle

Albert vs Dwarves in Mine Train

Bracket B/Tier 2:

Madame Leota vs Fantasmic dragon/Murphy

Giant from Sinbad's Storybook Voyage vs Swedish Chef

Finale conductor Sebastian vs Big Al

Roger Rabbit vs Br'er Porcupine

Dreamfinder vs Constance Hatchaway

Redd vs Munchkins

Skippy vs DJ R3X

Singing Geese vs 1900 Patricia

Daisy Duck vs Mary Poppins

Trixie vs The Five Bear Rugs

Jack Skellington vs Carnotaurus

Buzz Lightyear vs John

Aladar vs Zazu

RX-24 vs John Wayne

Max, Buff and Melvin vs Teddi Berra

Iago vs Panchito

José vs Uh-oa

Sun Bonnet Trio vs Br'er Raccoon

Figment vs Little Leota

Horned King vs Roz

Malestrom trolls vs Donald Duck

Abraham Lincoln vs Q’aráq

Statler and Waldorf vs Gene Kelly

Marshmallow vs Wicked Witch of the West

Will Rogers Jr/Lasso cowboy vs ExtraTERRORestrial Alien

Farming bunnies vs Frank

Timekeeper vs VR Grandma

Luggage Scanner Droids vs Railway end Mickey

Scuttle vs Bean Bunny

S.I.R.(Tim Curry robot) vs Liver Lips Mcgrowl

Buzzy vs Phantom

Ellen Ripley vs Sonny Eclipse

Bracket C/Tier 3:

Hitchhiking Ghosts vs Blue Fairy

Mr Bluebird vs Hag with apple

Richard the pineapple vs Sea Serpent

The Muppet Penguin Orchestra vs The Lost Safari

Horizons Robot butler vs Girl with goose

POTC Donkey vs Goat with dynamite

Jessica Rabbit vs Tiki room birds

Evil queen in window vs dancing Ariel

Puffins vs Mickey Mouse Review Alice

Little Red vs Unnamed laundry girl

Computer engineer woman/Foxy vs Indiana Jones snake

Hula Girls vs Disappearing butterfly

Splash Mountain finale chickens vs Sauropod

Tiger with umbrella vs Br'er Fox and Bear end scene

Donald's butt vs Drunk hats stealing pirate

Xenomorph vs Sally

Drew Carey vs Figaro

Rover vs Nemo seagulls

Exercise Patricia vs Tiki room Jose

Rosita vs Small World hippo

Darla vs POTC prison dog

Beating heart bride vs Barnstormer chickens

Boothill Boys/Vultures vs Ballroom dancer ghosts

Pansy, Poppy and Petunia (Splash opossums) vs Pig pirate

"Here kitty kitty" pirate vs Evil queen turns into hag

Skeleton ship pirate vs Small World cowboy

Singing birds of paradise vs Primeval World diorama

Jungle cruise elephants vs Barker Bird

Uncle Orville vs Granny ghost

Carlos' wife vs Energy dinos

Rabbit family with carrot vs jungle cruise hippos

Dirty foot pirate vs FSU gopher

[coolcattime]

By Firelight [Mianite Oneshot]

Written for Day 6 (Sleep/Party) of MCYT Yuri Week created by @mcyt-yuri-week

Relationships: Captain Capsize/Sonja Firefoxx

Characters: Sonja Firefoxx, Captain Capsize

In the quiet of firelight, Sonja watches over the newly revived Capsize. Her nighttime vigil quickly turns into a conversation when the pirate awakes and finds herself concerned about the fox’s lack of rest.

AO3 Link

Sonja still couldn't believe that she had actually done it, she'd revived Capsize, she was alive sleeping a couple feet away from her. She'd call it a miracle if it weren't for all the work she put in, the hours and the sickness and the stress. It had all meant something, it hadn't been for nothing. There was a certain level of giddiness that still hadn't worn off about that, a level of excitement both that she had actually proven everyone that had doubted she could revive her wrong and beyond that an unending relief that she'd saved her, that she'd righted the failure of all those years ago. Those feelings were pretty much all that were keeping her awake right now, keeping her watching the campfire as her eyes all too often flickered over to the sleeping pirate as if needing to check she hadn't just disappeared. 

She did feel the need to stay awake, kind of unfortunate as exhaustion was quite quickly setting in, but she needed to keep watch. Capsize was very much in and out of consciousness, completely fine when she was awake, but she was exhausted in a way that Sonja supposed made sense given that was unable to rest as a spirit. And she imagined that coming back from the dead for the second, possibly the third time (though Sonja had no idea if that memory had really been Capsize’s, or just a manifested figment of her own doubt), had its toll physically, though thankfully it seemed like she was going to be able to sleep it off. Sleeping off a decade of death, including a good couple years of constant wakefulness as a spirit, the fact she was recovering as quickly as she was something Sonja could only attribute to the woman's stubbornness. The only downside was it was making the journey a lot slower on the return, since riding with an exhausted woman was slow. Their ride out had taken three days, but currently the return journey had taken eight with herself and Capsize due to finally get back tomorrow. Spark should've already arrived back, the man having volunteered after the first day to ride ahead, to let the others know they were all alive and well, which was a bigger announcement than such words typically would be.

So, Sonja was keeping watch at night. She didn't technically need to, the fire would keep away any monsters and it wasn't going to go out, but she felt more like she should. She'd spent all this time bringing her back, it couldn't help but play on her mind all the things that could go wrong while they still weren't quite home yet. She couldn’t quell the anxiety that something was going to go wrong, that if she went to sleep, Capsize wouldn’t be okay when she woke up. She knew it wasn’t something she should logically fear, but she couldn’t take her mind off the terrible possibilities. So, she sat staring into the flames, trying to ignore the creeping pangs of tiredness.

“You’re still awake, Fox?” Capsize sat up with a quiet groan, glad though a little concerned to see the other woman still awake. She’d grown used to waking up to find Sonja already awake. However, given the fact that morning didn’t seem close to dawning, she knew that the other woman hadn’t simply awoken, but rather that she hadn’t slept yet. She frowned at that thought. In her odd memories of being a spirit, fractured memories atop different memories, she remembered her barely resting. It hadn’t bothered her as a spirit, she liked the interactions they had while alone late at night, but now she was alive again and had a more concrete train of thought, and she couldn’t help but worry that she hadn’t seen her resting at all yet. "I think tomorrow will be even slower if you don't get at least some sleep."

"Hmm, no, I'm fine. Really, I'm just not tired," She tried to reassure, though Capsize certainly wasn't convinced. She knew what tiredness looked like on her friends. Now she was aware that things had changed, she'd been told by Conway, the older Sparklez, that it'd been ten years. Ten years since the rescue of Ianite, ten years since she met an early end. Though she questioned this a little as Fox certainly didn't look a decade older, it had been briefly explained that nearly everyone had experienced a slightly different gap in time in terms of actually lived experience and whether or not they'd aged, an explanation that made little sense to her, but she nodded along to anyway to save time. Yet despite however much time had passed, she could still tell when Fox was waning, wanting to sleep but denying it to herself.

"At least lie down. Might trick your brain into resting," She said, being careful to make it sound like a suggestion not an order. It was an odd little tick in her brain, continuously reminding herself that she wasn't on a mission anymore. Her goal had long since been complete, not by herself but it was completed nonetheless, so there wasn't a mission. It was a lot less relaxing than she thought it would be, but it had technically only been a few days for her, she assumed, or more hoped, that her mind would settle into it. But for now, she decided to instead let her mind worry about something else and it wasn't like she was against worrying about Sonja.

Sonja hesitated. She saw furrowed brows betraying the worry behind her smile. It almost felt funny, the person who had been dead a decade was worried about her, but it also felt... nice? Was that the word she was looking for? It was like the universe confirming that this was all real. But at the same time, she didn't want to relax. Or rather she felt like she shouldn't. Because somehow being relaxed would lead to this all not being real despite how illogical such a thought was. But Capsize smiled, and Sonja felt herself unable to say no to her. Well, just because she was going to lie down didn’t mean she had to sleep, or even put her out of her sight. So, she pulled her own bedroll over, not quite next to Capsize though close to it, especially as there was nothing around but the two of them and the campfire.

They lay face to face, both looking towards each other as the fire crackled in the background. In the quiet of the night, both couldn’t help but take in the differences in the other. Capsize noticed the subtle differences in Sonja’s appearance. It was clear to her that that she was a few years only, certainly not ten, but definitely a couple. Though that came less from her actually looking older and more that she just looked happier, far surer of herself. There were some physical differences, she noticed that the fur on her eyes and tail now had some patches lightly tinted purple, but overall, it was mostly just that she seemed more confident and happier with herself. In comparison, it was impossible for Sonja to not notice the changes in Capsize’s appearance. There was a scar across her neck where Furia had originally killed her, not quite fresh but far from faded. The parts of her body that had been out of focus in her spirit form were now tinted blue like a drowned. But it was undeniably still her. Her bronze skin, her freckles, the smaller faded scars on her face, they were all still there, still as they ever had been. It was really her, here and alive like she should be.

As both stared at the other, they realised just how close they were. Far closer than any two friends maybe should be, but neither woman moved away. There wasn’t a feeling of awkwardness as there might be if the two were truly just friends, but there was something there. Neither had ever really confronted it, and definitely weren’t ready too, but it definitely lingered in the night air as they realised this would be the last night that they spent alone like this.

“I’m really glad you’re the one who revived me, Fox,” Capsize said, her voice low as her tiredness began to come back. She supposed it wasn’t really like she could’ve had a preference, but here and now she could say she was happy it was her here rather than any of the others. She liked Conway, but she was glad he went ahead instead of Fox. In a way, she wondered if her happiness at her being the first person she saw when she came back was a betrayal, that maybe she should have wanted it to be Ianite, but she was genuinely happy that it was Sonja. She was glad that this could be sorted away from Ianite, away from whatever their connection was and now was going to be, and glad that she was still here with someone that she… felt happy with? She wasn’t quite sure of the best to describe it, it just felt right to be here with her.

“I’m glad that it worked, that you’re here,” She was still almost in disbelief. She wanted to say that she never doubted her own abilities, but that just wouldn’t be true. She’d forced herself to not to, to not listen to Martha or any of her own doubtful thoughts, but now it had worked she could admit that there had been so many times where she questioned and doubted. But looking at Capsize, she couldn’t find any doubt, other than the lingering anxiety of it somehow being reversed. That feeling she couldn’t shift, even though she was so close to her, even when it was so clear how alive she was, because now she was here alive, she couldn’t lose her again. “You’re alive again.”

“Yeah… I am…”

There was a beat of silence.

“Things have changed a lot since I died,” She said, her drowsy thoughts thinking through her odd memories of being a ghost alongside what she’d been told by Fox and Conway. There was the obvious, that Ianite had been freed, that there were a host of new people that had come from a completely different world, and the fact that Tom and Jordan were missing. However, it was also like the whole landscape had changed, though it was still recognisable there were new plants and animals, the sky was higher, and the underground deeper. It was exciting, there was so much for her to explore, to figure out, but she also couldn’t hide but worry about where she fit in now. This was a different world than the one she'd left, and maybe that meant something, was some kind of bad omen. Though, some of the new elements had already spread to her as the drowned zombies hadn’t really existed back then. “It’s gonna take a while to get used to it all.”

“I’ll help you with that. We’re all kind of getting used to it,” Sonja said, hoping to quell any nerves she had. And Capsize felt comfort in her words, in her smile. “When you’re ready, we’ll explore anything you want.”

“I’d like that. I… I think I’d like a pet, maybe. You lot always had some, I think it’d be nice,” Her words were getting slower. She genuinely did feel drained. She was recovering slowly from the sheer exhaustion of being in a living body again, but it was a process, especially as she’d never been great at sleeping when she was alive. It led to moments like this, where her body was tired, and her thoughts were becoming more difficult for her to follow making it difficult to say everything she wanted to say. Right now, she was mostly focused on the fact that she liked seeing the smile growing on Sonja’s face.

“Yeah! We could find you a parrot, complete the look,” She laughed. She’d look right with a parrot on her shoulder, just imagining it made Sonja smile. Capsize, pretty much asleep again, shook her head.

“No… I think I…” She looked at the ears on top of her friend’s head. “I’d like a fox… They’re cute…”

Her last few words were barely heard by the other woman as she dropped into sleep. Still, Sonja flushed bright red, though she chastised herself for doing so. She wasn’t thinking about her, she was clearly talking about the animals. Obviously it was just about the animals, as a ghost she'd seemed fascinated by them. It was just an animal she liked. Of course, Spark hadn’t had any explanation for why she was so interested in foxes, and they hadn’t been around before her death, but Sonja wrote that off. They were probably something in a story she liked, or something important in Ianitee culture. She’d ask her sometime, when she was more settled. She’d help her find a fox too, because seeing her smile made her heart flutter. But that didn’t mean anything either.

Neither was ready to say their feelings out loud. Neither was really sure what she felt for the other at this point in time. However, as Sonja finally managed to relax into sleep, the two women were close. When Capsize awoke the following morning, they were even closer, the two having cuddled together in their sleep. She didn’t move for quite a while, and when she did it was careful to not disturb the other woman, a smile on her face. Maybe neither was quite ready to say anything but, there was something between them. It didn’t need to be said out loud though, not yet anyway.

[multiplicity-positivity]

Hi! Could you help me understand how fictives are different from their sources? I know they’re different, but I have a lot of intrusive thoughts about it and it would be nice to see the reasons listed abdbsndndn…

Hi! We’ve got Ralsei up here, who is a fictive and can help answer this!

So fictives and sources are indeed quite different! Even if a fictive looks, acts, and feels just like their source, they are still different! And here’s why:

A fictive’s source (aka a character) is not a real person. Characters are beings created by artists and writers without agency - their lives are entirely controlled by those who made them. For example, the creator of Deltarune, Toby Fox, created Ralsei and made Ralsei’s decisions for him. He designed this character, and Ralsei started out as a concept - an idea - a figment of Toby’s imagination. Ralsei from Deltarune doesn’t actually make decisions for himself - everything he says in the video game was preplanned and written by someone else.

Fictives don’t work this way! We exist in the real world, and we get to make our own choices and decisions about our lives! Fictives do have agency, they’re not being controlled by a writer or artist, and are capable of living their lives on their own terms! Even if a fictive chooses to live their life as the character they’re sourced from… they have the agency in their lives to make that decision! Characters and sources don’t have that opportunity.

Characters are closer to works of art than to living, breathing beings! And fictives are absolutely living, breathing beings, even if they simultaneously consider themselves to be characters! Fictives exist in the real world, while characters exist in works of art and imaginations!

Of course, it probably is a bit more nuanced than this. And a character can become a fictive! It’s actually quite common for writers to develop headmates of the characters in their works, and for those fictives to help make decisions about how they’re portrayed in their source! But once a character becomes a fictive, they’re no longer just a piece of art. They’re a being with agency and autonomy, just like you and me!!

We hope this helps answer your question! Sorry if our response seems rambly or doesn’t make much sense!

🌸 Margo and 💚 Ralsei