#I couldn't decide between the coloured version and the spot coloured version...

[astralshadow]

Fray Myste

[caliginousarchitect]

the KHR cats edition entries inspired by @bonesetblues‘ KHR/BNHA crossover fic “curiosity kills the cat (but satisfaction brings it back)” continue. It's the Arcobaleno this time (finally)! Reborn Black medium hair thing. Adult Reborn's drawn with such ludicrously long gangly limbs that we went with some oriental breedtype legs. In the end we couldn't decide between yellow eyes and near-black (which is technically biologically possible but there's only one recorded instance that I know of and they didn't reach adulthood) so both are here. By far he was the most difficult to work out a pose for, he did NOT want to cooperate. Also, curly ear hairs because his curly sideburns needed to be included somehow. I was thinking at the start, either something very small so it'd seem more whacky when he ended up somewhere he shouldn't be, or something quite large, so I also tried throwing a little hint of maine coon flavour in there, but it's not very evident at the end of it I don't think. The fic author's thought for Reborn was Savannah Cat, but I looked at that and went, nah, for reasons explained later on.

Fon Another black medium hair, with some rusting. He seems the sort to spend plenty enough time outdoors during the day for it. I didn't realise before this that Fon has brown eyes, actually. Oriental cat breedtype.

Colonnello Ough the pose, easy, very cooperative. The colour?? not so much. KHR does have characters with realistic blonde hair, but Colonnello is not one of them He has Anime Blond, aka, Yellow. So, Shorthair Black Golden with high ticking, and low-medium white spotting.

Lal Mirch And yet another solid black. Longhair. Her pose was also a tricky one, we knew the vibe of what we wanted, but the actual doing of it was hard. Trying to do her scar was also hard because there just aren't any very good references for it (especially since the anime basically just. turned it into... a tattoo?). Gave her a bunch of white hairs from little scars and some around the face scar. Darkish orange-copper eyes was about as close as we could get to her anime... pink... ish? reddish? eye colour.

Verde Dark blue classic tabby shorthair with low white spotting and blue-grey eyes (teeeechnically probably not very likely since he's not a Point colouration, but they are Possible and the only way to match Verde's canon grey. Why does he have grey eyes, the one time you get an anime character with anime colour hair and he DOESN'T have matching eyes, honestly). The expression was the hard part here, mostly. Trying to get any balance of smug/pideful and annoyed scientist and intrigued at situation? Hard. How is he meant to do a proper science with paws. He cannot hold a pen to write and keyboards are not designed for paws. He needs to make an invention to facilitate this.

Skull Another difficult one to pose, trying to get the bluster and also the fear. Chocolate shorthair with ghost markings and blue eyes. Open mouths from any angle other than side-on are haaaaaard.

Uni Blue/cream charcoal torbie bengal kitten! And here's the main reason we didn't want to do savannah cat Reborn- Uni is an actual hybrid, although we don't actually know her f-generation (... would you call it that, in humans-and-related-species?) from Sepira, but we can guess she was within 10 or so generations. Very low cream, but it is there. Bonuses: Reborn (yellow eye version), Verde (anime colour version), Skull (anime colour version) (and Viper/Mammon is not here becasue they're with the Varia)

[0l33theog]

Heres all my ocs in the meanwhile (under cut)

Regretevator oc:

He speaks 3 different languages because i couldn't decide which language i wanted him to speak :3

Info / what I wrote incase my handwriting really is that bad:

Name: Pixel

Pronouns: They/Him

He is exactly how I drew (but white) him but pixelated.

The teary eye is a Ghosty ref >:D

Other than his eyes & outline, you can see through him.

He has 3 versions.

Version 1= 80%

Round hands/legs, no mouth & 1 teary eye

Version 2= 11%

Round hands/legs, no mouth & 2 crying eyes.

Version 3= 9%

2 normal eyes, a mouth and 4 claws on each hands.

-He is hostile if you spray him with water for 30 seconds straight.

He enters the elevator on:

Unstable Void

-Can damage player but only if player touches any one of the glowing bright (any colour of the rainbow) zones

Npcs:

-Buffering (Pixel T posing with hands & no face. He floats around and can not enter the elevator.)

-Pixel usually spawns abit behind the elevator. Look for him & he will follow you once he spots you. He appears in the elevator even if you don't go back to the elevator.

Lines:

Sprayed with water:

-Do you do this to everyone?

-Is this REALLY nessesary?

-Stop that!!

Sprayed with petals:

-I appreciate it!

-sneeze.

-I'm sure it must smell good! (I hope it does....)

Gifted an item:

-I'm honoured.

-Does this mean we're friends?

-Gracias.

Gifted infinite ice cream:

-You got this for me?

-You didn't have to.

Gifted Wet cement:

-I...

-Sorry, what do I do with this?

-Where did you get this?

Flashed with a Flash Beacon:

-啊... 搞死你...

-Ooh.. My head...

-MYY EYE!!!!

-你为什么要这么做？？！！！

Hit with a Tomato:

-Wow uh... I definetly felt that...

-are you booing me?!

-What is your problem?!

Hit with a snowball:

-Where were you going with that?

-别这样！你... 怪物！

-What did I do??

Hit with a C4:

-Aquello, sin duda, fue un susto.

-Whose party is this?

-Figured this elevator could use some colour.

-Can I clean this up?

Hit with Tiny Foamer:

-Ya gotta aim better than that.

-That definetly hit me.

-Ow, not the eye!

-Si, tan solo tuviera deods...

-----

Murder Drones Oc:

Worker Drone ver:

Name: C4

Neon green eyes

The glowing triangular parts on the hand/chest glows through her clothes.

Disassembly Drone ver:

Name: Serial Designation Z

I cant draw female disassembly drone legs mb yall.

----

Dandy's World oc:

Name : Candi

Object: Gumball Machine

Gigi's sister!! :D

Cost:

-1500 ichor

-50% research on Twisted Gigi

-Pick up 55 gumballs

Appearance:

She has a round head that contains rainbow gumballs. The lid on top of her head is silver. She wears a white sweater, on her torso is also a silver plate and a coin mesh. Her hands, shorts and boots are red. Her legs also contain gumballs. Her arms and torso also contain gumballs, but you can't see it unless she takes her sweater off.

Personality:

She is hyperactive & very optimistic no matter what.

Stats:

Movement speed:

⭐⭐⭐⭐

Stamina:

⭐⭐⭐⭐

Extraction speed:

⭐⭐⭐

Skillcheck:

⭐⭐⭐

Stealth:

⭐ (The gumballs in her rattle & make noise!)

Active: Sugar Blast

Shoots gumballs at twisted in sight & stuns them for 10 seconds.

Text bubble:

Red with white stripes.

Lines:

Extracting:

-This is fun!

-Heh, i'm doing more than Terra!

-Was that the last one?

Ability:

-Looks like someone has a sweet tooth!

-Back off!

-Stay away from me!

Descending to the next floor:

-I think I dropped a few gumballs..

-My coin is dirty!!

-Woo! Down we go!!

---

The Amazing Digital Circus Oc:

Name: Catalina

(Nicknamed as Lina)

Her personality is sort of between Ragatha and Jax, it often leans to one side depending on the situation.

Appearance:

She is a bright pink cat with a yellow star on her ear and light pink fur on the other. Her sclera is yellow and her (black) pupils are diamond shaped. She has (white) pieces of cloth on her arms and legs as clothing. She wears a simple yellow suit that covers her torso. Her torso has a red heart that is split in two and a red ribbon that connects to (?) . Due to said ribbon, she is usually off the ground because the ribbon is holding her up. The ribbon usually grows longer or shorter depending on where she is. The fur (hot pink) on the end of her tail is spiky.

Oh and ofcourse she has fangs and paws.

[helloalycia]

a new life [three] // layla el-faouly

summary: as you spend time with layla as a friend, you're forced to decide whether or not you can keep her in your life.

warning/s: none i don't think ??

author's note: and here’s the last part! glad the few people who are reading enjoyed it haha, hope you like the conclusion :)

one / two / masterlist / wattpad

Layla: i know you said you prefer the colour silver over gold but you wear both colours when it comes to jewellery, so which do you prefer?

When I got Layla's text, I was cooking dinner for my mum and I and it took me a minute to realise what she was talking about. She was in Egypt at the moment and even though she'd joked about getting me a gift, I didn't think she actually would.

Me: Layla you don't have to get me anything!

Layla: don't be annoying and tell me please thanks

I sighed, rolling my eyes.

Me: i'm serious, don't buy me anything. i don't want a gift

Layla: okay, i'll just take a guess and if you hate it, what a shame

Me: you're infuriating, d'you know that?

All she did was send a wink face emoji, making me roll my eyes yet again before pocketing my phone.

Things with Layla were going well, as well as they could considering I knew I was still in love with her. I tried so hard to keep it purely platonic between us, knowing it was what she wanted and what would be best for me, but I couldn't help how I felt for her. Even getting to know this older, mature version of her and catching up on everything I missed didn't change my feelings for her. It only made me fall harder.

I couldn't tell her, it wasn't fair to. She was here for me in the best way she could be and she didn't have to be. I needed to move on, I knew I did. Everything else in my life was making sense again – I had my retail job and was looking for new jobs, I'd made friends at work, I didn't hate going to my support group anymore and had even made a few friends there, too. It was all good again, but Layla... that was the one thing I was too selfish to not appreciate.

I wanted more because it had always been her and it always would be. Ever since we'd first met back at university, I knew she was the one...

"Okay, you have to leave because my new roommate is probably here now and going to think I need to hold my mum's hand for the first day," I said to mum when we were in the hallway of my new dorm.

My mum chuckled before handing me the final box of my belongings. "Okay, fine. But I'll have you know that I'm cooler than you think and I don't think your new roommate will disagree."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," I said, eyes glancing down the hall and to my door distractedly.

"You'll be fine," my mum said with a reassuring smile when she caught me staring. "Give me a call tonight so I know your day went okay, yeah?"

I released a breath and looked to her, feeling a little better. "Thanks, mum. I promise."

She pulled me in for a hug which I returned with one arm since I was still holding the box. I gave her a kiss on the cheek before waving goodbye to her, then made my way to my new dorm for the year.

I'd moved all of my things in already, save for the box in my hands, and my new roommate hadn't shown up yet, so I wouldn't be surprised if she was there now. It was nerve wracking, I wouldn't lie, since it would be the first chance to make friends before the semester officially started, but I was excited, too.

Letting myself in to my room, I was correct because I spotted my new roommate sat on her phone on her bed, some of her things sprawled on top as if she'd just emptied her whole suitcase there before. When she heard the door open, she looked up and flashed me a smile, putting me at ease instantly.

"You must be my roommate," the girl said, waving a little. "I'm Layla."

I returned her smile, hoping she couldn't sense my nerves, and nodded towards her whilst putting my box on my bed. "Yeah, that's me. Nice to meet you, Layla, I'm Y/N."

She hummed, pulling her legs up comfortably and giving me all her attention. "So, Y/N. What are you majoring in?"

I took a seat on the edge of my bed, leaning back on my hands a little. "English Literature. How about you?"

"Oh, that's cool! I'm doing Archeological Science," she answered.

Trying to break the ice a little, I joked, "So, what are your assignments like? Do you just pull up to the local sandpit in the park and see what you can find?"

Her eyebrows creased a little, smile fading into one of confusion and, I think, offence, and that's when I realised that maybe she didn't have the same sense of humour that I did.

"Shit, I'm sorry," I said quickly, straightening up. "I didn't mean to offend you. It was just, erm, a silly joke."

She tilted her head, brown eyes studying me curiously. "You picked English Lit, you said?"

Embarrassed that I'd already made things bad between us, I nodded in response.

"So, what do you do? Go find Shakespeare's grave and reread him his own work?"

I blinked, it taking a few seconds for me to realise that she was poking fun like I had done to her. A smile appeared on her face and I let out a breath I was holding, beginning to laugh with relief.

"Fair enough," I said, and she laughed, too. It was then that I noticed she had a really pretty laugh. A pretty, smile, too.

"I don't have high hopes for the degree," she admitted once we both stopped laughing, "but I promised my dad I'd do it."

"But why archaeology?" I asked, curious, because it wasn't a common thing to choose to study.

A pride-filled smile appeared on her lips. "My dad is an archaeologist. Dr Abdallah El-Faouly. He taught me everything I know about my history and culture, and the beauty of discovering artefacts with a history in itself. I just want to be like him."

It was impossible not to smile as she spoke about her father and her love for his work. I could see her holding back her passion as she spoke, but it still seeped through and, honestly, it was lovely to witness.

"That sounds amazing," I admitted, and her expression softened. "I hope you get to follow in his footsteps someday, Layla."

All it took was for her to bite her lip to contain her joy, and that's when I knew she had me hooked. Curly brown hair, matching brown eyes, freckled face, stunning smile... yeah, I was hooked.

I should have known my attempt at being just friends with Layla wouldn't last long. It was almost four months after the snap, after my life had been turned upside down, after I had to readjust, that I realised I couldn't take it anymore.

Layla and I had watched a film at the cinema before deciding to get some dessert instead of savoury food. We were sat at a dessert shop nearby, eating ice cream and waffles, and I was enjoying every second because, as always, no effort was required to be a certain person or act a certain way – I could just be myself around her.

"I think the gold was a good choice," Layla said between bites of ice cream, nodding to my neck. "You suit it."

I looked down at the necklace I was wearing, the one she'd bought back as a souvenir from Egypt for me a week ago.

"Thanks," I said with a small smile, glancing up at her. "I love it."

She returned my smile, making my heart do somersaults in my chest. I hated the effect she had on me, but I loved it, too.

"So, tell me more about your new job," she said, motioning to me with her spoon. "When does it start?"

Recently, during my job hunt, I'd been lucky to receive a response and land a job at a publisher's house in the city. It was only an assistant's role, but it was something fun that I could see myself exploring further, so I was quite excited.

"A few weeks yet," I told her. "It'll give me time to finish my job up now and finally be done with retail."

She laughed at my shudder. "God, you really hate it, don't you?"

I raised my eyebrows. "Are you kidding? An old lady yelled at me the other day because I didn't know what size she was in cardigans. How is that fair?"

She chuckled, shaking her head. "Well, I'm happy for you, Y/N. You're moving onto better things. And it can only go up from here, right?"

I exhaled gently. "God, I hope so."

We spoke some more about my new job and what I would be getting up to, along with a few other random topics of conversation, before finishing up our dessert. Layla had driven us, so we took our time walking back to her car, enjoying the fresh air and walking off our desserts.

I took a deep breath, inhaling the cool air, before exhaling. "I love that. D'you not think the nighttime air smells different to the daytime?"

When Layla didn't respond, I glanced over at her, only to see her staring at me with a raised eyebrow and stifled smile.

"Don't look at me like that, you know what I mean," I said with a playful eye roll, feeling my face heat up.

She laughed, nudging me in the side slightly as we walked. "I know what you mean, 'ant ghabi (you idiot)."

A smile ghosted my lips at her insult; I only knew what she'd said because she regularly called me an idiot in Arabic all through university. I hadn't heard it in a while though.

"So, do you have any trips coming up soon?" I asked, changing the subject. "I know you just came back from Egypt, but you don't strike me as the type to sit still for too long."

She ran a hand through her hair, glancing at me. "Well, you'd be surprised to hear that no, I don't. Not at the moment." When I gave her a surprised look, she continued, "I might give it all a break."

Sensing this might be a bigger topic then I realised, I spotted a bench on our walk and nudged her gently, signalling for her to follow me. We both took a seat and I turned my body, giving her all of my attention.

"Okay, you may continue," I said lightheartedly, and she gave me a small smile before sighing quietly.

"I don't know, I just think that I might try something different," she clarified. "I was thinking of focusing on my dad's studies, you know? There's a lot of stuff he didn't get chance to publish before died and I just– I thought it might be nice to decipher it all somehow."

Layla hadn't mentioned her father since she'd told me about his death, and it wasn't something I brought up because I wasn't sure if it was appropriate. Right now though, as she spoke of him, I felt honoured that she trusted me with this. But I also felt guilty because it reminded me of how she had to lose him and I couldn't be there for her.

"That sounds like a good idea," I said softly, offering her a small smile, but it was halfhearted. She leaned back on the bench, and I couldn't help but say, "I'm sorry I wasn't there for you when you lost him."

Lifting her eyebrows, she looked to me. "Y/N, that wasn't your fault. You couldn't help it."

I frowned, shaking my head and looking down momentarily. "Still. I wish I could have been there for you. I don't like the thought of you having to have gone through it alone."

"I had your mum," she assured me, and I looked up to see her nodding. "She was kind to me. Always is, but especially then. I just... I know I should be used to it, to him being gone and to his death, but it makes me more angry than it does sad. He was murdered for doing his job and it isn't fair. I just want to keep his legacy alive somehow."

Acting instinctively, I rested my hand on hers, squeezing it gently and earning her attention.

"It's not fair, you're right," I agreed, "but what you're doing, and what you'll do, is amazing. You'll keep his legacy alive and create your own, too, Layla. I know you will."

A sweet smile fell on her lips as she met my gaze. "Thank you. For believing in me."

If only she knew I always would.

"Anytime, Layla," I settled with, returning her smile.

My favourite thing about her was the way her eyes would sparkle in the light, the brown appearing golden, even in the dark, and that's what they were doing right now. I couldn't help but get distracted again, my gaze drifting down the slope of her nose, the dip of her cupid's bow, the dimple in her cheek, the freckles dusting her skin, the softness of her lips...

She never looked more beautiful than when she was confident in herself, just like right now. And I so badly wanted to lean forward and kiss her. I missed her – her taste, her touch, being with her – even though she'd been with me this whole time. I'd made so much progress in accepting my new life these past few months, but it was as if that all went down the drain as soon as I looked at her. Really looked at her.

It wasn't fair that I had to lose everything and start over. It wasn't fair that I couldn't just lean forward and close the gap between us. It wasn't fair.

Suddenly, I let go of her hand, the absence of warmth as noticeable as the hurt in my expression.

"Hey, you okay?" she asked, dipping her head to find my eyes, but I was afraid of what I'd do next if I looked at her, so I simply stood up and dusted myself off.

"Yeah, I'm good," I assured her. "We should head back though. It's getting late."

She nodded and stood up, too, joining me in walking back to her car. My thoughts were running a million miles a second, my heart following a similar pattern in my chest. I wasn't sure why this was any different to the time I'd spent with her thus far, but it was. My whole body was hurting, physical and undeniable pain, from not being able to be with her in the way that I wanted. I thought being friends could be enough, but it wasn't. I was in love with her. I always had been.

The car ride home was quiet, awkward because I'd made it that way, but I wasn't going to pretend I was okay when I wasn't. Layla asked me several times if I was and I had to lie, telling her I was just tired, when deep down my eyes were burning from trying not to cry at my whole situation. It hurt too much to just be friends, and I was beginning to think that not having her in my life at all would be easier.

When she finally reached my mum's house, she turned the engine off and paused, clearly about to say something. But I wasn't sure I could take sitting in her car anymore, so I mumbled a quick goodnight and got out like the vehicle was on fire.

"Y/N, wait," she said, but I'd already shut the door and began walking to the front door. Surprisingly, she got out the car and called my name again, but I ignored her.

I came to a halt halfway to the door when she ran in front of me, stopping me from going any further. She had a confused yet concerned expression on her face, eyes flickering over me to try and figure out what was wrong.

"What?" I said, staring at her through glassy eyes.

Her lips were pressed together into a frown. "What did I do wrong?"

I swallowed hard, my own frown appearing when I saw the worry in her eyes. I blinked, a tear rolling down my cheek, and shook my head apologetically.

"I can't do this anymore," I told her, knowing what I needed to do.

She didn't look away. "What? Do what?"

I took a small step back, motioning between us. "This. Us. I can't keep pretending that being your friend is enough, Layla, that is doesn't fucking hurt every time I'm with you."

"I don't understand," she said, taking a step forward and reaching out towards me, but I stepped further away. "Y/N, please, just–"

"No! I can't," I said, shaking my head quickly. "It's not fair.

She searched my eyes for an answer. "Y/N."

I met her gaze, the ache in my chest growing stronger. "I'm in love with you, Layla," I admitted, the tears running free. "I never stopped. And I know I may seem like I'm being ungrateful or childish or whining, but I don't care. Nothing changed for me. I can't not be in love with you. And I can't keep pretending that it doesn't break my heart that I can't be with you anymore. It's not fucking fair, okay? I lost five years of my life and I lost you. It's not–" I sucked up a breath, looking away from her. "It's not fair. And I can't pretend it is. So, I don't want it anymore. We shouldn't– we shouldn't see each other anymore."

I could feel her eyes boring into me and it made me feel exposed before her. It was probably a mistake telling her the truth, but it had to be done because my heart was crumbling the longer I pretended.

"I'm sorry," she finally spoke, and I glanced at her for a split second to see her own eyes tearing up, breaking my heart. I never wanted to upset her. "I didn't know this was hurting you, Y/N. That was never my intention."

"It doesn't matter," I said with a hoarse voice. "I know you've got your life. And I know I'm ten steps behind that. You grew up, I didn't. You've changed and I haven't. I understand that. I just can't handle it."

"No, wait," she stopped me. "Y/N, I don't think that."

I clenched my jaw, resisting the urge to roll my eyes. "You don't need to explain, Layla. I just– I'm gonna go."

As I tried to sidestep her and walk away, she grabbed my wrist and tugged me back, making me freeze at the contact.

"Please, just let me speak," she said with a pleading voice, and all I could think about was the burning of my skin where her hand touched my wrist.

"What?" I muttered, reluctantly lifting my eyes to meet hers.

Her dark ones were filled with tears, flickering between mine, saying a million different things and also nothing at all. My heart was caught in my throat as I waited an eternity for her to speak. But then she did something else instead.

She kissed me.

Her hands cupped my neck, tugging me close as she pressed her lips to mine, and I fell into her with no hesitation. I'd missed her so much; the feeling of her lips against mine, the warmth she radiated, the tenderness of her hands on my skin – I'd missed it all way more than I realised. So much, in fact, that when she pulled away slightly, tears were rolling down my cheeks uncontrollably.

"I miss you so much," she mumbled against my lips, eyes still closed. "I should have told you sooner. I just– I thought things would be different. I thought I was different. And you needed a friend. But I was wrong. I–"

I rested my forehead against hers, screwing my eyes shut. "I miss you, too."

She exhaled softly with relief, her breath fanning my face. "I only want you, Y/N."

I lifted my hand to the back of her neck. "You always had me, Layla. Always will."

She smiled sadly, nodding, before closing the gap between us again, capturing my lips in a short, salty kiss.

"Don't go," she murmured once she pulled apart and put her head into my shoulder. "Please. I can't lose you again."

I swallowed the lump in my throat, pulling her close and hugging her tightly. "Not again," I promised her, kissing the side of her head. "Not if I can help it."

She nodded into my neck, and I felt a dampness on my shirt when I realised she was crying, too. I didn't let go of her, simply standing there in the dark, clutching her like she'd get torn away from me at any second.

I was never letting her go again.

[hwauas]

🎭: "it was a s.o.s"

song mingi | 송민기 - 2,262 words

the weather was clear. it was a kind of day you enjoyed a lot. you would feel extremely productive during a bright and sunny day. and today wasn't different. as soon as you woke up and went to the window to have a look outside, you felt like you were motivated to go out.

and after your daily morning routine, consisting in eating, your daily skin care, and checking on your emails, you got ready to go out. since it was sunny, you decided to wear something with bright colours, and something you would be comfortable enough to walk in.

     you decided it was the perfect weather to go and walk alongside the sea. places like this were really revitalising for you. it was a perfect moment to be with yourself, alone, to take a break, and to think a little.

     riding your bike up there, you smiled as you felt the sun warming up your back. it was a sweet sensation you couldn't get tried of.

and the sea quickly showed up in front of you. you could hear the sound of the waves. this sound, added to the sun on your back, was making you even more happy to be here.

     you parked your bike, and locked it up to find it again when you would decided to go back home. and as soon as you were on the beach, you removed your shoes to enjoy the sensation. you put them into a little bag you carried with you, and started to walk along the water. the waves sometimes reached your bare feet. feeling the cold water on your skin, the sand sliding in between your toes till the next wave.

it was a perfect moment you were living, enjoying the view.

     but suddenly, as you were walking, something hit your ankle. and as you looked down, you saw a bottle made of glass. a cork was on the top of it, holding back the water to go inside the bottle. and in it, there were papers.

you looked around, not sure about what to do. but you quickly decided to take it before the wave go back and an another wave bring it anywhere else.

     should you read the papers? should you throw the bottle away when you go back home? should you give it to someone? but who? should you, ultimately, put it back in the water?

you were extremely curious about this bottle. you couldn't just throw it away, ignore it and act like if nothing happened. and what if it was your fate to find it, and to open it?

     you keep walking longer, the bottle in your hand, not sure about what to do. you were curious, but had you the right to open it?

deep down, a little voice was whispering to you to open this bottle.

while walking, you were looking down at the bottle in your hands. you could see few elements in it. there was a picture of someone inside this bottle. a guy. and he looked incredibly charismatic.

was he the one who sent this bottle? was he someone absolutely not related to this bottle? or did the sender mentionned him in the letter and put a picture of him too?

and in the bottle, you also could see a jewelry. because of the green colour of the glass, you couldn't see well, but it looked very refined.

     it was enough to increase your curiosity. you stopped walking and went back from the water to sit in the sand. you waste no more time and opened the bottle. you took the letter first, and rolled it out. you could see a beautiful handwriting.

the letter looked extremely long, but you didn't mind at all.

     « well, i guess i have to start the letter now i stained the paper with the ink...

i'm Song Mingi, and today is April, 11th.

i still don't know why i'm doing this. maybe no one will find it. but when Yunho hyung suggested me to do this, i thought it would be funny.

Yunho is my best friend. Jeong Yunho. and i don't know what would have happened without him. i never told him this but.. he saved me.

the truth is that i'm sick. and it's not something new to me. doctors always told me i was on the waiting list, but the donnation i'm waiting for never came yet. but i honestly don't think i will ever have the transplant.

i wanted to give up when i was diagnosed with this disease. but Yunho never let me doing so. he was here, he always have been here. he took me out, he went over, he called me multiple times a day to know if i was good, he always picked up the phone when i was calling him because i felt physically or mentally bad. this is why i'm saying he saved me.

i could live longer than the doctors thought i would. and i then got the chance to live beautiful moments with him. but i honestly think i don't have much time left. doctors think now i'm having about a month left, and i feel like i'm getting weaker day after day. maybe, this time, they're right? and this time, Yunho can't do anything.

i'm honestly devastated just thinking about him having to live a loss like this. he is so devoted as a friend, he is so caring. he can light up everyone's life just with his smile and his puppy eyes. he is reliable and he is loyal.

someone like him shouldn't live something like this. he shouldn't have to face the loss of a friend. but, i can't do anything about that.

he is the one who suggested me to do this letter. because i didn't have time enough to mark the world with my words, my works and my personality.

i always dreamt of being an idol. idols are inspiring people by their works, their words. i wanted to be this idol who will mark the world with my songs. i know, it's very complicated. and even once an idol got to debut, it's still very hard. but i was ready to this. i had something to say, and for as long as the public would have listened to me, i would have said what i had to say.

but since i couldn't, Yunho told me to try and mark someone's life with this bottle. he wanted me to put positiveness in this, to light up someone's life or day. but i don't know how to do that. how am i supposed to put positiveness in a letter when i'm facing the death? when i'm suffering?

i know, maybe you didn't really want to read something written by someone who rants.

give me an another try.

when this bottle will arrive to you, i don't know where i will be. maybe still alive. maybe watching you, from above, reading this. i don't really know. i don't even know if someone will read this.

is there someone? are you still reading?

if yes, i'm not super dexterous with words but i'll try for you: you're beautiful. your hairstyle is amazing. and you're doing great. whether in your personal and professional life. you're doing so great, i'm proud of you. i hope you're chasing your dreams. and if you already did realise your dream, then make an another dream and chase it. don't stop. even if it's tough, even if you're tired of working to achieve this dream and you're not done yet, just keep it up. you're on the right way. and it's never too late to start. do it for me.

i wish you will cross someone's path, someone that will make you happy. either in love or in friendship. someone like Yunho. devoted, caring, loyal, someone you can always lean on. someone that will light up your life.

i also accept to lend you my Yunho, if you don't find someone like that. but you gotta deserve it! i gave you his full name, now you gotta look after him by yourself. but please... if you do meet him, take care of him. he is also very sensitive. i'm not afraid to say he means the world to me. so if you ever hurt him... i'll be very disappointed in you.

he needs a lot of affection. so please, since he is very out-going, don't be afraid to go out with him. and don't be afraid of being clingy with him. he will love it, and he will give it back to you very well by making you happy, and loved. i'm sure you will go along very well, together.

i wish i was still here to meet you too. and i bet we could have been a very nice little squad of three friends.

i can imagine Yunho, you and i, going around the city, laughing, talking about everything, whether it's serious or it's just us being idiots, in our world. we would have go through everything all together. and we would have supported each other no matter what.

but i'll still be by your side. living in his heart, in his mind, in his gaze. and maybe in your mind too.

don't you both dare forget about me! but don't think too much about me neither. enjoy your life. don't waste too much time over a dead person, ok?

you'll find in this bottle a picture of me. and since i'm kind and in the mood to help you... a picture of Yunho. but i also put a bracelet.

it's up to you to wear it. or sell it. or throw it. or just leave it somewhere in your house to keep in mind this bottle, this message, and maybe me, without wearing it everytime.

this bracelet is my favourite. Yunho gifted it to me. i first wanted to keep it, and bring it with me. you know... in my grave. but the design is so beautiful, so refined, i can't give him back a gift he gave me. so i'm choosing you. i know you will take care of it. i believe in you already. i know you'll take the right decision.

honestly, i'm starting to run out of idea. i don't know what to say anymore. and you're probably not reading anymore. but maybe i'm wrong?

if i'm wrong, i wish you the best. to whoever you are, i'll protect you from above, i promise.

take care of yourself. be the better version of yourself.

and let's be friends in an another life.

sincerely,

your friend,

Song Mingi. »

     as your eyes were reading all his words, you spotted few tear stains here and there. and they weren't made of your tears. even though you cried too, you wiped away each one of your tears with the back of your hand. his letter was very touching, and it looks that even for him, it was touching.

you put the pages back in the bottle after you took out the pictures and the bracelet. you put it around your wrist, promising yourself you won't never remove it. you looked at both pictures. Mingi wrote his name on his, and Yunho's name on his picture. they both were charismatic, and stunning. you couldn't believe they were living such a fatality...

     you looked up to the sea, the pictures in your hands. this letter touched you. and you were ready to fight for your dreams. you had to do it for Mingi. you didn't know him — and you were sad about it — but for him, for his dream he hadn't realised, you had to do it. it was your new goal.

     “i won't disappoint you Mingi. i'll show you you did right when you sent this bottle. and i'll show you you can believe in me. i hope you're not suffering...”

your eyes were fixed on the line between the sea and the sky, far, so far away. and at this moment, a breeze stroked your face softly. was it a sign from Mingi? anyways, you knew deep inside you he heard you.

“i heard you, Mingi. i heard your message. i will take care of Yunho for you. untill we meet each other in an another life. maybe i can't save you... but i can save him. and i will do whatever it takes to make him happy. wait for us, Mingi.”

you looked down to his picture of him, and it felt like your heart broke into million pieces. you slowly stroked the picture, on his cheek.

“you did great, too. i'm proud of you.”

     you put everything back into the bottle, besides the bracelet of course, and put the cork back. you put the bottle in your back, and took out your phone. you had to look after this Yunho now. and as you were walking back to your bike, you were searching for him on internet, and on various social networks.

the question to know what you would say to him didn't even cross your mind when you find his profile, and clicked on the button to start a conversation. it was obvious to you:

« i found Mingi's bottle this morning. i'm Kim y/n. » and with this text, you sent him a picture of your wrist with the bracelet.

his response, which was quick, got your tears falling again:

« he passed away this morning. i guess he waited for you to read the message to know he could go peacefully. »

[hailbabel]

Here's the finished version of the wip I posted a couple of days ago. It jumps back and forth between present day and some flashbacks, so I'm concerned it might be hard to follow. I'll post it on AO3 when I'm sure the kinks have been worked out and I decide for sure on a title, but you know how excited I get to share stuff.

Season 3 spoilers under the cut.

Grief

Isabella stood in the doorway to the foyer where Charlotte had been found. The wine-dark stain on the floor still bore the gentle curve of her skull where it had been pillowed in a pool of blood. How long did she lay there before anyone found her? How long was she conscious in the warm trickle of her lifeblood, alone, before…

Isabella couldn't think of it any more. She needed to get up the stairs and go to her room to attempt sleep. She wouldn't sleep, she already knew, but she must make some cursory go at it. It had been a week. Charlotte was long gone from here, and her blood as well. But the stain remained. After the Justice had seen what there was to be seen, Maryanne had mopped and scrubbed, and mopped again trying to get it out. But the wood was porous, and thirsty. It drank up that colour, turned it a foul, dark brown, and refused to give it up. Poor Maryanne scrubbed her own hands raw, but there was no getting it out.

"I've tried everything, my lady," she had said, kneeling on the floor in her bloodied apron, her hands stained. "But it won't come out. It sat too long." Maryanne was something of a magician. She could mend anything, clean anything, make any room feel like part of a home. And until now never failed to set right any stain or dirt in this house. As fate would have it, this would be the one that bested her. 

Isabella had stood in the doorway, hands braced upon the frame against fresh tides of grief.

"Leave it, then."

"My lady?"

Isabella had breathed deep to steady herself. "Don't trouble yourself further. Leave it."

But Maryanne hadn't been able to leave it. She tried every day. And she had tried again today if the fresh, crisp scent of soap was any indication. The two were starting to become linked in her mind, the unsightly stain and the smell of soap. She was going to have to speak to Maryanne again, make sure she stopped. The only thing for it was to restain the wood. Or perhaps have it all pulled up.

Isabella calculated the cost of these options as her eyes stayed fixed and unseeing on that spot. Again, she stood in the doorway, braced against the frame. During the day she was able to avoid this foyer, but it was the only way to and from her room. Charlotte was the first thing she saw each day, and the last she saw when she went to sleep.

Or, rather, went upstairs. Sleeping was a thing she only feigned lately. It taunted her with a dream she used to long for--to fall asleep next to Charlotte, and wake up next to her in the morning, rather than the dead of night when she would slink off with a kiss. Isabella used to believe that, one day, they would be together not only through the night, but the day as well. That perhaps she would convince Charlotte to retire, or perhaps she’d buy the house so that no one in it need rut for money.

Of course, neither of those was a real solution. Charlotte would never have abided charity, or to be caged like a pretty bird, never truly free again. And now. Now she never left. Her scent was so woven into the sheets of the bed that Isabella refused to sleep there that first night after…

The maid found her in a sitting room, slumped over a chaise, still in her emerald gown. She hadn’t so much as unpinned her wig. She ordered the sheets changed that she might get some rest, but even that did not help. It seemed that every stitch of bedding was still clinging to Charlotte. On the third day, when no amount of washing and changing could get out the memory of her, Isabella ripped the bedding off of the mattress and thrust it all out the window. A maid was sent that day to procure a new set, and Isabella hoped that would be enough.

Blinking blearily against yet another rising sun, her eyes hot and sticky with lack of sleep, Isabella was finally unable to stay awake any longer. Unwilling to be defeated by the ghost of her yet again, she collapsed on the bare mattress and slept until the sky was dark again. Her sleep was neither peaceful nor restful. She lingered in the deep dark with no dreams for company, and yet awoke screaming with tears on her face.

That was the last time she’d slept more than a handful of hours since, and the last time in a week she'd slept in that bed.. When she arose again, the staff seemed to shrink in her presence. More than usual, they evaporated when she entered a room. All save Maryanne, who had begun her obsession with removing the stain in the foyer until Isabella bid her stop. The woman probably would have scrubbed through to the foundation otherwise.

It was easy enough to stay distracted when planning the wake, or assisting in arranging the funeral. There had always been something else to worry about. Flowers, guests, clothing. But now all the guests were gone, save the one she wanted out the most. The one she had wanted to keep closest. Charlotte was in the ground, and yet still somehow here, laughing through the halls, her voice echoing around corners.

Isabella had burned the portrait Harcourt had sent her in hopes that it would be a fitting close to the brief bliss of their affair. She watched it blacken and curl in the fire and said her goodbyes, but anointing her room with the smoke had not been enough.

She picked a path carefully around the place where she knew Charlotte had lain. Here, her delicate wrist, there the crook of her elbow. And then around the place where her legs had splayed at odd angles, the folds of her dress unable to hide the ruin beneath. The memory of it seemed so contrary to the way Margret and Lucy had laid her out for the wake. They gathered up all her broken pieces and put her back together into a beautiful, serene farce of what she had been in life. It felt like a lie to look at her there, scrubbed of any trace of blood and arranged as though her bones had not been shattered.

So instead, she busied herself with the guests. With Lady Leadsom, still in denial about her husband. With the trains of girls who shared a profession with Charlotte, and yet none of her spirit. They were all reverent of the legendary C. W., and yet grateful that they had escaped a similar fate for at least one more day. With ignoring the men who turned up, said nothing, but left flowers anyways. These disappeared the swiftest. They swept in and out like ghosts, and Isabella did her best to ignore the obvious reason why.

Things had gone well until Isabella found herself in conversation with a woman she did not recognize. She had been frowning in a disgruntled way, and Isabella approached to see if she could smooth her ruffled feathers.

"You're taking all this in stride," the woman said with an unpleasant air and downturned mouth.

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean, madam."

"You get to play the hero, but this isn't justice. Only a poor dead girl in a lady's house. You flaunted her like precious jewels, but your eyes are dry now." She was getting inordinately loud, the corners of her eyes tight with something too complex to name. Isabella would have called it grief, but there was more. She couldn't know what a young girl in the trade might be thinking about, worrying about, and she hadn't the fortitude in that moment to prod.

"My emotions are private and not for public display," Isabella said simply, keeping her voice down.

The woman opened her mouth to speak, but Nancy appeared just then. She had been hanging around Charlotte, clenching and unclenching her fists, looking around for any distraction but finding none.

"This is no place for raised voices," she said. "Pay your respects and leave the dead in peace."

The woman clamped her mouth shut, those troubled eyes bulging with all the rest she wanted to say. She turned curtly on her heel without another word and joined the queue of well wishers filing past Charlotte.

Nancy looked after her until she was satisfied that the woman would make no more fuss, but then there was no where else for her to look but at Isabella. Her hard, appraising eyes were on her now. Isabella looked away and began to count the people in the room, a distracting habit she’d formed as a teenager. It was such an old habit, she had fallen out of it for a long time. Old habits, unlike lovers, never died. She was up to twenty three before her insides settled.

“Excuse me,” she said, turning to retreat into a side room, but Nancy pursued her. For once she was without that ubiquitous birch rod, so there was little but the soft tapping of her bootheels to announce her presence.

“You put up a brave face in there," Nancy said. It could have been a compliment if not for a sour note lingering beneath.

“It still does not feel real," Isabella said, hoping to be done with all of this.

“That girl is a haughty slut." The end of her sentence hung open, unfinished.

“But? Say what you mean, Nancy."

“But was there any truth to it? Tell me true, what was my Charlotte to you?”

Isabella felt a chill settle into her heart. She closed her eyes a moment before turning to look at Nancy. She looked hollow and exposed. Her smudged makeup was more haphazard than usual, having been scrubbed at over and over throughout the day. She must have been worrying her hair as well as most of it had escaped it's loose binding.

“To me? She was everything. What, I wonder, was I to her?” That chill feeling was spreading, edging into her voice. “Tell me, Nancy. What was I to her? A friend? A cull? Someone to be duped and manipulated?”

Nancy looked down, balled fists on her hips. “It was complicated,” she offered to the floorboards.

“Complicated. Don’t come to me insinuating that I didn't care for her and then give me 'complicated'. I loved her.” Isabella hadn’t meant to say it, but it had come out anyway. It had been building in her and she couldn’t hold it in any more. “I loved her!” Hot tears stung in the corners of her eyes. “She is everywhere in this house! She’s at my breakfast table in the morning, around every corner, in my bed! I haven’t slept in that bed because no matter what I do--no matter how many times I wash the sheets--they still smell like her, Nancy.”

Nancy pressed her mouth into a hard line and turned away.

“But who was I to her?” Her voice had become strained and hoarse. “Who was I to her? What room do I have to claim her? I wasn’t her mother, or her sister, or her brother, or her father. I didn’t help raise her.” Isabella jabbed a finger at Nancy who quietly shut the door as Isabella began to lose control of her tone.

“And on the day she died I find that I was hardly even her lover, I was only the woman who was paying her for sex!” Isabella looked up at the ceiling as the tears fell freely.

“But I loved her, Nancy. I loved her. And If I had told her? Nancy… If I had told her? Would she still have gone to him? Would she? Or would she still be alive?”

The long silence that followed left Isabella feeling lonelier than ever. 

"Can't say," Nancy shrugged. "All I know is that Charlotte loved same as Mags--big and reckless, and never simple. Wells women are never simple." A rueful smile flickered across her face for a moment before it was snuffed out. Isabella felt an odd, painful kind of kinship with Nancy in that moment, but that too guttered in silence.

"But you can't fault them, neither of them," Nancy said. "Dogs bite, birds sing. Whores whore."

It was crude and hard. And true.

"No," Isabella said softly. "I do not fault her. But neither do I understand."

Between the two of them, neither could say whether Charlotte would still be alive, or how she really felt. In the dearth of answers, Isabella found she only had more questions. In the end, she had excused herself and retreated further into the estate in an attempt to find some peace.

Isabella crossed to the stairs and pulled aside a manservant. “Find Maryanne and tell her to send a note first thing in the morning to the contractor who did the banisters--Mr. Wendell. I want this floor ripped up by end of day tomorrow.”

As Isabella ascended the stairs, she felt a weariness deep in her bones. It was as if she had been holding something heavy, and had only been able to stand for holding it. Now it was gone she felt empty and drained.

Even still, she did not call for a maid to undress her. Instead, she shed her dress like a husk and left her wig propped on the vanity and fell into bed.

The new linen crinkled stiffly beneath her, never having been used before. It smelled strangely sterile. Crisp, and clean. Like soap.

A character is reluctant to climb up some stairs