#I love these types of characters‚ they're so fun to write and draw

[yumeyuyumeyume]

💖 REVERSE SELFSHIP AU IMAGINES 💖

imagine your f/o...

🌟 giggling, fanning, squealing or just making happy noises whenever you show up

🌟 saving TONS of images, videos, edits, fanfics and new official content of you (you're the reason why their storage space is running out lol)

🌟 creating a s/i, persona, oc or just draws themselves to ship them with you

🌟 listening to music and songs that remind them of you or their selfship, maybe even making music playlists of them!

🌟 starting to like so many things, even their least favorite thing became their favorite just because you like it

🌟 making moodboards, collages, stimboards and just pinterest boards of you

🌟 making headcanons about you and looking for more made by others

🌟 buying figures, plushies, keychains and just merches of you

🌟 getting jealous and yearning for merches of you (if they can't afford them)

🌟 drawing you a lot, writing fanfics about you or commissioning artists and fic writers to do them

🌟 making bracelets, paper plushies and crafts inspired by you

🌟 crying over your angstiest moments, or just uncomfortably smiling if they repress their feelings

🌟 getting all giddy when they see anything related to you, even the smallest things such as colors and words/names

🌟 finding comfort and happiness in you (you're the light to their darkness as people say)

🌟 listening to asmr of you, but if fan asmr videos make them cringe, then they listen to their favorite asmrtists and imagine you in their place (if they like asmr)

🌟 having a shrine and an itabag of you

🌟 filling their phone with widgets of you, decorating their phone case and anything with stickers of you and whatever reminds them of you

🌟 having your name or face tattooed (if they're the type to tattoo)

🌟 gushing about you in paragraphs and paragraphs...

🌟 buying a box of chocolate that reminds them of you on valentine's day and either imagining themselves giving them to you or eating them imagining that you gave them to them 🌹🍫

🌟 having a selfship blog/account dedicated to you

🌟 (if they're non-sharing) getting very jealous and blocking anyone else who selfships with you, they can't stand doubles 💢

🌟 editing screencaps of you by giving you accessories, face stickers, new clothes/hairstyles and just having fun making photo edits of you

🌟 having all your lines and even your voice memorized in their head, even that one specific sound of your breathing...

🌟 daydreaming/fantasizing about you every day and every night 💭💖

🌟 wearing a piece of clothing or accessories just to match yours. you like wearing this one specific top? they'll wear it too and imagine that you gave it to them

🌟 joining a forum or server of your source for content of you

🌟 stealing some of your mannerisms or aesthetics

🌟 going through so many websites to find more content and fan works of you

🌟 infodumping about you and how much they love you, whether it be verbally or not

🌟 watching character analysis videos about you or reading them

🌟 lucid dreaming about you or really wishing to if they aren't able to, the same with soulbounding

🌟 defending you with all their might and immediately blocking anyone who hates on you (if they have no self restraint, they might not hold back against those haters and a fight may or may not break out... 👀)

🌟 enjoying life more the moment they fell for you

🌟 editing themselves, their oc, their persona or their s/i as this Rentarou's speech panel from 100kanojo and writing about how much they love you in the speech bubbles (okay this one's highly specific)

🌟 JUST LOVING EVERY SINGLE THING ABOUT YOU!!! 💖💖💖

feel free to add more if you want! ( ゝω･)/°.✨️

[hyukascampfire]

THE TERRIBLE HALF-TRUTHS OF THE UNDEAD ҜING

⠀(🍂 ) 𝓡EVENANT in folklore, a revenant is a spirit or animated corpse that is believed to have been revived from death to haunt the living ... ( 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑦𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 )

1︎5.5k revenant!yeonjun · ƒ ! r ft. soobin ⸺ ✴︎ 𝖿𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖺𝗌𝗒 ... smut, violence, angst, death, animal death & vivid descriptions of animal death, major character death, unprotected sex, cumming inside, dry humping (because bring it back), biting, dom yeonjun sub reader, mentions of death in childbirth, reincarnation, teasing, breast worship, yj calls reader ‘my love’, def some typos

🪶 ⦂ how fun is this collab? :,) this fic was so fun to write. i personally believe that tsfawc enjoyers will love this one,, but you'll have to read it to confirm that, right? hehe. and of course, go read everybody else's if you love this one! they're all set in the same world, and everybody worked so hard on these fics. send some love their way!

rꫀׁׅܻblogs & asks arꫀׁׅܻ always apprꫀׁׅܻciatꫀׁׅܻd!

𝒪𝑁𝐶𝐸 𝒰𝑃𝑂𝑁 𝒶 𝒯𝐼𝑀𝐸, in a land far, far away, where the treetops touched the soft clouds of the sky and the water sparkled under the glowing sun, where mountains rose high, and long, deep caves ran through them, where the sea met shore in collisions of swirling, foamy punches, where the undead walked among the living, where the winged flew above the finned, there was a land where things beyond reason and rhyme existed perfectly true. Among those strange beings and within the veils of Aethera, there was a girl loved by death. 

He sits on your shoulder, a dark, boding shadow and glared at those around you with promise in his eyes.

That’s how it seems, anyway. That’s how everybody looks at you. They dodge you, whisper about you, evade your gaze as if he might reach his claws for them next if they linger for too long.

Crows with dead eyes arrive at your doorstep like some lover’s cheeky gift, other poor creatures like fat grey mice are left to rot in the wheatfields, and yarrow stocks wilt outside the wall of your room. If Death thinks that you are flattered, he misunderstands you. You are terrified of nothing more than dying. The first time, it was a sly joke. Then it happened again, and you watched their eyes change. And it happened again and again, and your people are a suspicious type. Something can only be a coincidence so many times.

When you began to sneak into a little shack with a village boy, you thought that maybe, somehow, this would all pass. He died too. There’s really no coming back from that, is there? You don’t blame them. You’re not the freak that they all believe you to be—none of them get close enough anymore to know that, though.

The wickerbasket’s handle creaks under your fist. You usually only forage along the shallow line of the forest; you pluck from bramble bushes topped with plump berries that crawl between trees during the summer, and when the crab apple tree’s branches hang heavy with the fruit, you snatch those up too. You’re more useful to your family out here, in the woods that they deem just as cursed as you. Where you won’t be their burden.

Crisp autumn leaves crunch under your boots. You scan between them—more grey and rotted this late in the season than fresh and orangey—for the edible mushrooms and roots that you usually forage at this time of year. The basket’s already pretty heavy with a variety, black morels and sorrel and burdock, as you bend down to pull a truffle from the dirt against a tree.

You drop it down with the rest of your finds. The basket smells like earth, no doubt your hands do too. You dust your palms off on your skirts and go to rise back from your squat.

A deep, billowing horn pierces the forest’s silence. It’s both far away, wiggling between the whispers of rustling leaves, and much too close. It draws out. Long. Bone-chilling. You freeze, scanning between each tree trunk and praying that you won’t find what you fear you might.

You are much deeper into the woods than you usually are. Than you ought to be. And you know what that horn means—you know that it means something far worse than what you’d been afraid of, coming into these woods. Much more primordial than the hide-behinds you were scared you might find this deep, much less avoidable than the faerie rings you stepped around.

Why would The Wild Hunt be here? A shudder runs down your spine, and you curl your fingers into your skirts and lift them as if to prepare to run, but you don’t. Your feet find root in the forest floor and all you can do is stand terribly still in catatonia. Their horn sounds again, and a procession of wicked whoops and howls follow. Wild hoofbeat rumbles under it all—the hunt and their rides. You hope that they’re just passing through, and you won’t so much as see one of those wild riders. There were plenty of folktales that the matrons of your village would bolster to terrify you as children, but you knew even then that their stories of the riders, with their flesh falling away from them and their pale or beady eyes and their gnarled maws and frightening figures as they rode on the backs of equally terrible steeds, were not fabricated. They are not a bogeyman or a wailing banshee; they are death made in the flesh, and they are here. In your forest. 

Your legs won’t work. You curl your clammy fingers tighter around your basket and lean into the tree beside you. How deep had you wandered into the forest? Hopefully not too far; when you gain the courage to run, you hope that they do not send their hounds to snap their foul breath on your heels. Maybe just standing here and blending into the trees is best. The Hunt would love a chase, and you don’t want to become their next.

The next call comes and you throw that all to the wind. Your heart pounds against your ribcage as you let your basket clatter to the leaves and you take off. You fly over roots and shrubbery and between the trees, your blood roaring in your ears faster. You’d oblige if you could.

Above the loudness of your frantic mind, the harrowing whinnies and The Hunt’s ruckus dulls until it’s faraway again, and then it’s gone. Well, you don’t stop to check if they’ve really passed through the forest. You just run.

“There you are, love.”

His voice cuts through your frantic escape and stops you dead in your path. You almost go crashing down over the ground with the force that you dig your heels into it. Though the voice is non-threatening, you don’t turn to face the source.

He speaks again. You already know who it is. He, old as the earth you stand on itself, leads that band of wild riders. Is the king of the undead, collects souls for reaping.

And he’s the one who’s plagued you with his attention. Death.

“Why do you keep your back turned to me?” he says. “I frighten you. That hurts.” His voice lilts with amusement and sharpness. “I wish that you would face me.”

You’re not fond of the way that he speaks to you with a familiarity. But then again, you’re not fond of dying, either. Your legs are boneless beneath you. Turning, you slowly indulge him, though it takes a great amount of willpower to not run again like your jittering jaw and trembling hands ask you to.

The King of Death stands tall and utterly preternatural, leaned against a crooked tree in the woods behind you. His smile cracks across his face in a jagged way that suggests he finds you amusing, but none of that meets his eyes. They’re the color of the greyish, rotted leaves beneath you. The dark shadows beneath his eyes are the only thing belying the weight that his infinite life might have on him. That, and the hollowness that rings from him.

And though he sounded entirely playful, you are shaken by the sorrow that you find in him now that you’ve turned. Even more so, you’re not sure why you feel it echoed somewhere in the hollows of your bones. “I’m sorry,” you say. It trembles terribly. You want to say that you’re sorry you caught his attention, but it seems you’ve always had his attention. It’s more that you are petrified down to your marrow that the time’s come that you face this… strange infatuation. Here he stands: the one who leaves hollowed out husks of creatures at your doorstep. Should you run or thank him? Is Death as prideful a creature as the other kinds that inhabit Aethera? “I don’t mean to…”

He pushes off his tree, fixing his cape that cascades over only one of his shoulders. It’s tattered and falling apart like the rest of his clothing, though you think that the bronze stitching and swirling oakleaf patterns in the black say that they might have been immaculate at some point. Or maybe they weren’t, and they had started that way. He is Death, anyway. “You’re sorry?” he says. “Why are you apologizing to me? You’ve hardly done a thing to warrant it.”

Faltering, you wet your chapped lips. You’re not really sure. Holding back another apology for fear that you’ve offended him and he’ll now strike you down for it, you say, “I thought that, maybe the hunt was…” Wow, you sound stupid. You can see in the sly smile his lips form that it amuses him. That’s almost worse than angering him: intriguing him. What you really should be doing is boring him so that he’ll find you a waste of his time. Then, maybe, he’d give up haunting you.

“After you?” he finishes. Shaking his head, he says, “My hunters only answer to me.”

“Oh,” you say plainly. Part of you wants to ask why that should comfort you, especially when you’re the one that he sends little bits of death to, but rationality keeps those words in the back of your throat. You don’t really want to know. “Why are you passing by here?”

Something akin to old longing passes through those witty eyes, and then he eats up the distance between you with languid steps of his long legs until he’s nothing more than one last step in front of you. The closeness consumes the air in your lungs, leaving nothing for you but short and shallow drags. The forest has gone dead silent aside from the sound of it. His voice is even more magnetic now that he’s so close.

You recoil when he brings a hand up to brush the pad of his thumb over your cheek and then cup your jaw, as if afraid that he might snuff you out here and now. His fingers are softer than you thought they might be, and the lines of his face sharpen into what you think is hurt. Hurt that you flinched?

“We go here and there,” he says, “but it’s been a very long time since we came here.” There’s a certain thickness to his words; a certain tension coiled over them from something that you’re not privy to. And yet, there’s a farawayness, too. You bet he’s full of a lifetime of secrets. Lifetimes of secrets. “But I think I’ve found myself a reason to finally return.”

Breathy and still struggling to flatten out your breathing, you ask him, “Why?”

The Undead King’s smile turns wicked once more, and he doesn’t answer you. It’s awfully eerie.

“Do you have… business here?” you try again. It’s a roundabout way of asking, do you have someone to take away?

“I have business wherever the living go,” he says, letting your face go but not giving you any more room. You narrow your eyes. He’s quite good at non-answers. “Nothing is more certain than that I will greet every living thing eventually. I’ll come to take you, too, when the time comes.”

Your mouth dries up. The entirety of your home, all the people you’ve ever known, fear you for all the death you bring. Not one of them fears it more than you do. You’ve seen it enough to fear its frightening finality.

The drop of your face must’ve told him how much that scared you. “Dying is not such an awful thing, love. Living pales in comparison.” Searching your eyes, he adds, “But I’ve not come to take you.”

That’s easy for him to say: that death isn’t something to fear. His words don’t calm your thundering heart, but you offer him a, “Thank you…” It trails off toward the end when you realize that you don’t have his name. If he has one, anyway.

“Yeonjun.” He tilts his head, strands of sparrow hair brushing over his watching eyes. “Most don’t know it, but you’re not most people, are you?”

Your breathing had just begun evening out. It’s a shame, the way that it kicks back up at the way he looks at you. “What do you mean?” you say, but of course you know. Nobody else is given dead things like you. It’s not like you yourself are very strange; you like pretty dresses and sharing gossip with friends just as much as any other girl your age.

Giving you another one of those knowing smiles that he uses just like words, he steps back. “I’m sorry that I scare you how I do.”

You don’t answer him. What could you say to that? That he doesn’t? That would be a lie, and he would know it.

Yeonjun’s eyes flit over your face, over your cheeks made pink by the autumn cold, lingering on your lips for a few unexplainable beats, and then landing on your eyes where he searches and finds something that sends his throat bobbing with a thick swallow. “I don’t mean to be your monster. It’s only that…” He steps back again. “You remind me a terrible amount of someone I once knew.”

“Who?” Though your shoulders relax a bit with some distance between the two of you, you do your best to not let your guard down. All the stories that you recall being told, all those cautionary tales passed down through word of mouth around a fire, end with some stupid girl thinking that the monster could be changed or tricked. You’re willing to bet that the man in front of you, no matter how human he looks or how enchanting his words are, could be neither.

That doesn’t explain the ache in your chest when he holds your eyes for too long. But you shove that feeling way, way down. It’s nonsensical.

His voice takes on a parting tilt when he says, “It doesn’t matter anymore. Death takes us all.” Yeonjun dips his head at you. His smile wavers. You’d think that crooked smile on his mouth was indelible had you not seen it twitch down at the corners only for a moment. If you’d have blinked, you’d have missed it. “You think I’ll hurt you,” he says, “well, don’t let me stop you. Go ahead, run. I apologize for your basket.”

Death takes us all. You’re not sure what that’s supposed to mean, coming from him, but it sends a cold wind up your spine and goosebumps crawling over your skin.

He watches you go. You don’t look back when you do, but his gaze sits on your back until you’re sure you’re out of his sight. When you return to your home, your mother asks where the basket full of ingredients for supper went.

You imagine what her face might look like if you told her the truth. But that was impossible, so instead you tell her some stupid story about a wolf that startled you so bad that you ran home paying no mind to where your basket was. It’s close enough to the truth.

༺ ꘏ ༻

It doesn’t matter what you do; you can’t get his face out of your head. While you cut butter into flour and then roll out dough, simmer fruits over flame and you slice cheese off blocks, you replay that meeting in the forest. The memory spins and turns over no matter how hard you try to put it away from your thoughts.

It’s not every day that somebody meets the likes of him. You can’t blame yourself; he had such captivating eyes. Dark, playful, and endless. There they are again. You sigh and dust your hands off. Maybe you are just as strange as they all think that you are. Morbid curiosity is like that, though. Taking the most normal of us and making you wonder what you absolutely should not wonder about.

And you absolutely should not wonder about him.

The sun has begun to hang high in the sky, but the breeze that crawls through the window you pulled open before you got to work is a crisp one. Autumn’s really come, now. Outside the window, a huddle of children play around in the leaves that you’d raked up. You’ll have to rake those back up, but you hardly have the heart to tell them to take their playing elsewhere. Their giggles and small voices waft in with the breeze, and a traitorous part of you yearns for a family that you know you’ll never have. No man would risk that fate, not after what happened to the last man who paid you any attention. You grit your teeth at the memory.

Having a face for the thing that’s made your life the way it is is strange. Seeing him in the flesh, with handsome eyes and a taunting mouth, looking something near human, you think you’ve come to resent him for it. How dare he ruin your life? He, more than anybody, should know how fleeting life is. What is in it for him to deface what little time you have? You keep going back to that thought: why did he ever even appear to you in that forest? There is not one story in which you remember Yeonjun showing his face to those he hasn’t come to claim. Death makes his visits swift and purposeful.

Moreover, why on earth would he even look your way? You wish there was a plain way to ask him why, or even to plead with him to stop. Whatever it is he’d ask of you, you think you might give him. To get back to living, you would.

A deep, familiar voice from behind you gives you pause. “Want some help with that?” Soobin says. He stands  in the doorway, his head nearly brushing the top of the frame. It’s made too small for him. Most things in your tiny village were made too small for Soobin. There had been a time where you’d been taller than him, that had hardly lasted long enough.

“As if,” you dismiss and gesture at his dirty hands. He’d no doubt been out working his family’s field, his tunic sleeves rolled up to his elbows.  “Cow shit isn’t an ingredient.”

Anybody else might’ve scoffed or taken offense, but he just laughs and invites himself in anyway. It never fazes Soobin. He doesn’t let you push him away.

It’d be better if he did. How long before he ends up dead, too? Alive one moment, and then a husk without a soul next. You don’t think you could handle seeing cold, dead eyes where the annoying, warm shine should be. Of course it would be better if he stayed away, if he had half the mind to. Even most of the children have heard enough from their mothers to stay a healthy distance. He’s not too much better than a child, though.

“Isn’t it?” he says. His cheek is smudged with whatever sort of dirt he’s got on his hands and under his nails. “I’m done with work for the day. Want to go out to the field?”

You two have always ran off and avoided your life in between willowy, flaxen wheat stocks. They were just tall enough at this time of year to hide you away. But, for some reason, your stomach does a quick flip at the thought of being outside. It’s silly; couldn’t he find you here, too? “I’m busy,” you say. You’d already kneaded this roll of dough plenty, but you dig your fingers into it and begin again.

“Busy?” he scoffs, “Since when are you too busy to get away from work?”

Gritting your teeth, you let the sounds of your kneading answer. Now, more than ever, he should keep his distance. You know one thing that you’re sure nobody else does: Death’s come to visit. 

His brows shoot up in your peripherals. “I don’t get answers today?”

“I’m sorry,” you say, giving up working the over-kneaded dough only because your arms ache. “Why don’t you go talk off the ear of some other poor village girl? I’ve heard as much as I can handle today. And then when that one’s tired, you can bother the next, I’m sure.”  You soften the words with a quick smile his way. No matter how many times you say something sour in hopes that it’ll send him away, as soon as you glance up at his face, you reel it in.

His company is all you’ve ever had. The least you can do for him is make sure he doesn’t end up like carrion, even if he chooses to take that risk himself. You don’t know why he does.

Voice playful, he says, “I’m glad to hear that you believe I’ve got ladies falling at my feet, but I’d rather not annoy a pretty girl, so you’re my only option.” He pokes at the sleeve of your simple cotton dress. “Should I drag you out of here? Don’t your arms hurt doing all that?”

“Oh, you are a refined man, aren’t you?” you say, shuffling out of his reach. Damn him, he makes it difficult. “Well, I am a pretty girl, so you should take yourself elsewhere.”

Soobin smiles easy. “I’m bored out of my mind. You’re just going to let me suffer?”

“That’s not my issue.”

“I’d argue that it is,” he says. “Come on. Why are you giving me a cold shoulder?” Leaning, he tries to get a look at your face. “Did I upset you? I wasn’t aware that you cared much about what I thought.” When you spare him a sharp glance, he says, “I think you are very, very beautiful. Would you stop ignoring me, now?”

You wish you could fall into the easy banter that comes with being around Soobin, but you can’t. You can’t let him be around you. “Soobin, stop it,” you say, draining your voice. You don’t look at him while you say it.

Going quiet, he seems to notice that today’s different. His gaze is heavy as he stares at you for a few long moments. Crossing his arms over his chest, he asks, “What happened?”

You swallow. “Nothing. I’m just doing something.”

“Oh, alright,” he says, tone inflicting in a way that says he doesn’t believe you one bit. He pushes off the counter. “I’ve put up with you pushing me away for years. You think I don’t know what you’re doing?”

“Soobin,” you warn. If you look at him, you fear you’ll be forced to watch the only one who never cared much what a risk it was being around you leaving. So you don’t.

Your friend raises his hands in the air defensively. “Okay, then.” He makes for the doorway with languid, lingering steps. As if he doesn’t want to leave. “Tomorrow..”

That’s both a threat and a promise, knowing him. Sighing and watching the rowan tree out your window sway, you bid him a curt goodbye.

If only that jerk took offense to things. It would make things an awful lot easier for you.

༺ ꘏ ༻

Being out in the wheat fields brings you peace when you’re alone, but you find it to be terribly lonely. The earthy, sweet scent of it wraps around you, and the stalks whisper against each other in a soothing way.

When you look beside you, the patch of wheat imprinted with the shape of your bodies is empty on his side. You are quite weak; it makes you want to go knocking at his door for his company. But that would be the selfish thing to do, so you card your fingers between the golden straw instead.

A chill trickles down your spine. You feel his presence before you even see him; it’s a feeling that you used to get fleetingly, as if something far away was tugging at you. But then he became real, a living thing in front of you that can touch, and that is much different.

“Why is it that I always find you out in the wilderness?” Yeonjun says. His voice comes from behind you.

Has he been watching you? You stand and dust your bottom off, heart kicking to life. “It’s nice out here,” you say. In truth, you haven’t come outside since that day. You’ve dodged Soobin and made a million excuses as to why you won’t go anywhere past the fences of your home. “I like to… watch people go about their days. It’s interesting.” It’s true—you always watch from afar how the village folk interact. How groups of girls your age link arms and whisper to each other, how neighbors come together to fix up a shoddy fence. You watch them be a community that you are not a part of. Watching it tastes bitter sometimes, but mostly you take pleasure in imagining yourself there with them. You’re not sure why you try making small talk with him, but what else? Should you go running again? If you were to listen to your pattering heart, maybe that’s what you’d do. He’s hardly shown you any bad will, though, and he’s the one that’s come to you. Maybe it’s silly to wait until something bad happens to be cautious.

A thousand pounds in stones sit at the center of your chest, though, and his voice makes them feel lighter. Why on earth that is, you’re not sure. It’s a nice relief regardless.

He smiles. It's different from the ones he showed you before. It’s knowing; more sweet than cracking over his face like the smile you would expect from the likes of him. What use might he have in being sweet? “Could I join you?”

Blinking dumbly at him for a second, you nod. “Oh, uh… Yeah.” Settling back down into your spot, you spare him a few curious sideways glances.

The breeze billows over the gold stems, moving them like gentle waves over the ocean and blowing your hair in it too. The flattened bits rustle under his weight. He doesn’t even turn his face toward the village; instantly, his gravitational eyes are on you.

“Do you come here often?”

“I do,” you answer. Mostly when you and Soobin have too much to do and not enough will to do it. “It’s nice. The village doesn’t like me much, so it’s easier out here.” You don’t mention that mostly you don’t come here alone.

Yeonjun’s face becomes far away. It looks strikingly like somebody forced into an old, unpleasant memory. “Don’t like you?” he asks, “What reason would they have for that?”

“They fear me. Things go wrong around me, that’s all.” You pluck at the hay absentmindedly. “Things die. They’re smart to stay away.”

The hay whispers much louder for the long moment he remains quiet, digesting what you’ve said. Maybe deciding what to say, considering that it’s his fault.

“Die?” he asks, voice inflected with surprise.

Turning to him, your brow creases. Shouldn’t he know? He’s the one that’s done it to you. “Everything that gets too close ends up dead. Everything,” you say, resting your temple on your knee. “So, I guess, I just keep it all at arm’s length.” You look back at your tiny village, a collection of familiar, un-familiar thatch-roof homes. 

Continuing to blink at you, his eyes narrowed in a strange grimace, Yeonjun says, “Death follows me, too.”

What? A laugh of disbelief bubbles up in your chest. Of course, death follows him. You cover your mouth with a hand to obscure your laugh, but you just giggle at him harder.

A laugh twitches at the corners of his mouth, too. “I mean it,” he says. The lines of his face become distant again, eyes both trained on your face and melancholic as if the sight reminds him of something.

It ignites a question in your mind about something he said in the forest. “You said that I reminded you of somebody,” you say, testing the waters. “Who?”

A muscle feathers in his jaw. He looks away, as if he can’t look at you while he says it. “I loved a girl from this village once. When I was human, no less than you.”

You falter, mouth falling open to ask all the questions that flurry through your thoughts. You settle on one. “You were human?”

“I was,” he says ruefully. “And I had everything. I had the love of my life. I think that even the most bitter of creatures on this island had envy for our love. She would braid dandelions into my hair, and then I’d braid them into hers.” He swallows thickly and pauses, as if the wound was still festering and fresh. “And then she died. She died starting our family. She died because of me, in my arms.”

You don’t know what to say, so you just look into his shining eyes as if that’ll help. You’re not very useful with people, much less comforting them.

“I couldn’t accept that. I wouldn’t. So I went where I shouldn’t have gone, and angered something much bigger than myself. They thought it would be a fitting punishment for me to live an eternity, the King of Death who could not bring back his dead lover.” The harrowed look that he gives you, only briefly, has your chest heavy all over again. “They have a sense of humor, the forces.”

You imagine what it would’ve been like for him to lose his lover in that way. How far he’d gone to try and have her back, but death does not give back. Where had he gone to have been turned into this? An immortal thing, forced to roam the world and scoop up the souls of the living for an eternity? To be bound in ancient bones and made to remember forever how you had lost your lover?

The grandness of what you want to say is too big, but all those words feel pitying and patronizing in a way that you don’t think will actually bring him any comfort. Rather, you doubt anything you say will be able to patch up a wound older than you could imagine. Simply, you offer him a raw, “I’m so sorry.”

Yeonjun lets a crooked smile replace the trembling at his lips. “As long as I live, so too will she,” he says, placing his palm over his heart. “Death doesn’t so much happen when we leave behind our bodies, but when we’ve left the minds of the living.” Narrowing his eyes at you, he brushes hair behind your ear with his knuckles. “I know she lives on, somewhere out there. Somewhere. I’ll find her.”

That intrigues you. “Is there some way that you could bring her back?”

The grim light in his eyes tells you his answer. “My curse is to take life,” he says, “not to give it. But the one who made me this, he is cruel in a twisted way. If I were to find her, as a human or an animal or a blade of grass in the forest, only then could I rest.”

It is cruel. “You’ve been searching, then,” you conclude. “When you find her, you’ll both be able to rest.” But how could he find her, if as he says, she could be any living thing? Where would he even begin?

Slowly, he shakes his head, throat bobbing. “Death needs a farrier.”

She would become what he is. You swallow thickly. Was it not him who caused the deaths that follow you? Or, at least, it was not on purpose?

Opening your mouth, you go to tell him that you’ll help him look. You’re sure you’ll be of no help. He’s spent an immortal lifetime searching, and he still hasn’t found his dead lover. Nobody would know better than him where to look.

The ground shakes beneath your palms with impact, and something cuts through the wheat. The noise of its bleating becomes nearer until the both of you scramble up to find out what’s in such distress.

A deer stumbles around wildly. It looks lame, but you don’t see anything wrong with its legs. Your throat tightens at the awful sound, piercing and sad. Frozen, you watch it try to stay upright before it finally collapses down, legs still kicking as though it still wants to run but its body has begun weakening on it. “Oh my god,” you say, stumbling back. The sounds; its sounds are awful, echoing in your bones and constricting your thoughts until they’re a pinched panic.

There’s an arrow lodged into its ribcage, deep and at a terrible angle. You already know that it’s pierced some vital organs, if not its heart. It continues to writhe on the ground, not ready to give up. You’re not sure if you should approach it—you don’t want to scare it, and you can tell by the look in its wet eyes that it already wants to be away from you.

Or, maybe it had come to you. How else had it found the two of you in the middle of this field?

Yeonjun’s already on it. He puts his knees into the dirt and dried wheat to kneel by it, running his hand over the beast's pelt in long strokes. The small buck flinches at first but relaxes once he learns that his touches are gentle, not the gnashing of hungry teeth ready to make him a meal.

Blood runs like lead through your veins. You say, “Can we help it?”

He shakes his head. “He’ll die.”

Whip-lashed, you swallow thickly. He says it so unphased, and you’re sure he is. You can hardly make yourself mirror that serenity that he exudes as he runs his hand over its flank, but you get on the ground beside him anyway.

The buck’s breaths slow to desperate drags for breath. For a few long minutes, the two of you sit in silence and stay with him until he no longer fights, until his breaths are ragged. You feel his side, still warm and alive, but you see the life going from his eyes. You sit here, talking to each other about nothing just so it hears gentle voices as it goes, for a while.

Eventually, he’s gone. Quiet and at peace, no longer hurting. This time, when you look over to Yeonjun who still smooths over the deer’s skin even as he goes, guiding him delicately into whatever greets us when we go, you see death as a gentle thing.

༺ ꘏ ༻

Though you never seek him out, Yeonjun always finds you. In hidden places, away from prying eyes, he appears behind you and makes himself known. Well, you have a feeling that he watches you for a while before saying anything. It’s hard not to feel the strange tingling of his gaze over your form. It’s akin to the sixth sense that’s supposed to keep you safe out in the dark hearts of forests, an innate feeling that tells you some beast with a rotten, pale maw watches you between the trees.

Yeonjun doesn’t feel rotten, though, preternatural and eerie as he is. As you shirk your duties and talk with him for hours, you stare into ancient eyes and watch his crooked mouth move around his words and you feel an odd comfort. As if he’s the only one who’s ever understood you, or maybe that your strangeness pales beside him and for once you’re nothing but who you are. So many nights, the sun fell on your talking until the night insects buzzed from the grasses and your eyes were heavy.

Sometimes, as you dozed off with your back to a hay bale or a hardwood wall of the abandoned home beside yours with its sagging thatched roof, you caught such festering longing in his his eyes that you’d let your lashes fall and pretend to sleep so that you could imagine what it was that he longed for. No doubt his lost lover. When you imagine him, bound in bones and coming back to haunt the living for an eternity as he mourns her infinitely, searching for her in impossible places, your chest aches with a gnawing intensity.

It’s a terrible, cursed existence. Even the nothingness of death becomes a paradise beside it.

“Is it scary?” you ask into the air, sat criss-crossed on the thick duvet of the bed. He sits across from you, looking perfectly lazy. Moonlight pools in like sterling mist through the shutters.

“What?” He watches you, sitting in your plain dress, as though you’re the only thing in the world.

You’ve begun to wonder. Wonder about those looks he gives you.

Shifting, you fix the shoulder of your soft chemise where it’s slipped down when you catch his eyes lingering on it. His throat bobs. “Dying,” you elaborate. “Is it really nothing? After we go, all of it was for nothing?”

A slow smile tugs his full lips, made a bit red in the middle where he likes to worry it. It’s such a human habit to see on something so far from human. “Hardly,” he says. “It’s like going home, right where your soul is supposed to be. Who do you think rides with me?”

Furrowing your brows, you tilt your head toward one shoulder and let your hair pool there. “The riders are dead?” You had thought they were undead in some way like Yeonjun, other sorts of revenants come back to life with their own purposes. Then, are their creepy horses dead, too? A chill goes down your arms. Sometimes, sitting here with him when his face is made soft by the orange glow of the fire he puts on, you forget what he is.

“They are.” He nods, leaned back onto his elbows, his eyes alight with a hunger that makes your insides feel funny. “It doesn’t stop once we’ve died. You don’t need to be scared, my love. So many things end, but then so many things begin. The earth no longer holds you down, the weight of being is gone. You don’t know anything like it; you don’t know leaving behind the pleasures of earth to know the ones that only the afterlife can show you.”

His eyes laced with something entirely else, he adds, “And it’s not the end. Not for everything. For some it’s only the beginning, and for others, those who have not yet fulfilled their purpose, they come back to the flesh. They return.”

You can’t tell if he means himself, or something else. The weight in his eyes, dark, endlessly swirling pools, makes you wonder again why it is that he’s lingering here: the place that he had not visited once since the death of his lover, for the fact that it still hurts too much. Why his shadow of death, his fault or not, was tangled in your soul enough to brush its fingers over the things around you.

“It’s scary,” you say, breathy. The thought of eternity.

Soft hairs brush over his eyes as he tilts his head at you. “Do I scare you?”

“No.”

“No?” he echos, pushing himself up so that he leans back onto his palms. “Isn’t that strange? Pretty little thing says she’s not afraid of death, but her heart races when I’m near. Her sweet heart jumps at just the brush of my leg. Are you sure you’re telling me the truth, love?”

Your blood roars in your veins, inflaming your cheeks and making your head dizzy. Nobody’s ever looked at you like that before. Hair prickles on your skin. “Yes,” you breathe.

Feral delight sparks in his eyes, black as pitch. His smile turns up all feline at the crooked corners. “Crawl to me, then.”

Like how fire licks up oxygen in any room it is in, his words steal the breath right from your lungs. What does he think you are? You blink at him wide-eyed and dumb for a moment.

How can he say that as though it were nothing? Moreover, how does the ravenous flare in his eyes, his head tilted back as he watches you down his nose expectantly, do that to your belly?

Your mind glazes over with something thick and heady, and you damn the nerves in your belly and begin to crawl from your end of the bed to his. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, making sure you feel every inch of the taunt in his eyes as he trains them on you. When you’ve gotten to him through the thickness in the air, you settle into his lap and bracket his waist with your thighs.

Yeonjun takes the soft fat of your hips in his fingers. “Fuck,” he says. It sounds like he’s barely holding the gates on something endlessly consuming. Something that might break loose on the two of you, and leave you changed forever with its hungry, gnashing teeth. His head hits your collarbone. “Tell me to stop. Please, tell me to go. Because I don’t know how.”

“Don’t,” you say. “Don’t stop. I want it, Yeonjun. I want this.”

He straightens, pupils blown and eyes as tense as his set jaw. “No, you don’t understand what you’re asking for. All I’ve ever done is ruin. All I’ll ever do is ruin. I won’t ruin you; not again.”

That rings bells somewhere outside the heavy fog that’s infiltrated your mind, but they don’t sound too alarming when he looks as though he wants to drag his teeth over your heart to taste its beating. It doesn’t touch the ground, when you want him to, so badly. So badly that you taste it on your tongue and it tinges your words as you tell him, “I do know what I’m asking for. I want you. Yeonjun. Don’t you want me too?” Voice and confidence wavering, you pull back. Maybe you’ve read this all wrong. A tickling shame crawls over your skull. “Do you not want me?”

“You think I don’t want you?” he says, straightening up and meeting your gaze. His breath is hot on your mouth. “I want you so fucking bad. You are in the marrow of my bones. Fuck, I have done nothing but want you, but I am foul. I will only hurt you.”

He takes your hand and places it over his chest, where a heart should be. Beneath your palm, you do not feel the thumping of an alive thing. Yeonjun has no heart. You knit your brows and examine the strain of his features. Does he think that you’ll be disgusted? Maybe the girl you were in that forest might’ve been, but being near Yeonjun has changed you in ways you couldn’t start to put your finger on. “I’m asking you to,” you say. “Show me what you want to do to me. What you’ve wanted to do to me.”

Searing silence burns between you as he drinks that in, and then he shoves you onto your back. Supporting himself with an arm beside your head, he curls his fingers into your hip and nudges your thighs wider. He doesn’t lift the hem of your chemise like you expect him to. No—Yeonjun begins to grind himself into your cunt through all the layers of your clothes. Though your dress is bunched up and his pants lay between any real contact, Yeonjun’s hard and that friction tastes fleetingly sweet.

“I want you to beg me for it,” he says, grinning down at you with cruel intention. “Beg me, and make it so pretty.”

You let little sounds linger in that back of your throat and become hungrier each time he grinds against you. It’s so much, mind swimming and sparks spraying up your spine, and yet each time it is not near enough. Damn that foxish smile on his face; you beg for him anyway. “Yeonjun,” you breathe, curling your fingers around the wrist of that hand with which he pins your hip. “P…lease, will you help me? It feels so good; I want more, please.”

He raises his eyebrows at you and an eager grind comes right over your throbbing clit. 

You know he wants more than that, but mortification already is making your voice unsteady and your cheeks burn. “Yeonjun,” you huff, hips wiggling.

The king of the undead delights fully in your shame and rewards you with more of those pointed, dry grinds. Your legs tremble; he’s giving you so little, and yet your need takes it and magnifies it into something grand.

Though he pretends he’s on some high ground, you hear his shuddering breaths each time his fucks his hips against you. He feels that roiling, liquid need in his belly just as vehemently as you do. The room fills with your breathy pants and grinding bodies. You catch your lip in your teeth and begin to meet him half-way. Your moans are low and sweet, and each one sends his jaw tighter. 

You twist and grind against each other like fumbling teens until you’re coiled up so tight that he has to pull himself away. Your throbbing cunt protests, but you know he doesn’t want you cumming like this.

“You want me to show you what I’ve wanted to do to you?” he says, working at his pants. His eyes are so drunk on you, and his cheeks betray his state. “Open your legs, my love. Let me show you a little death.”

Throat gone dry, you slowly let your thighs fall open. The dull throbbing between your thighs roars to life. He slides your skirt up your leg, stopping when he frees your knee to pepper a few hot kisses into it. Once he’s got it bunched up at your ribcage, he runs his tongue over his dry lips to wet them. “Fuck. Such a pretty pussy. I want to fucking eat you up.”

“Yeonjun,” you whine. His name is all you can muster out, anticipation sharpened to a knife point.

Flashing his teeth, he purrs, “You like that, you filthy thing. I bet you’d like for me to fuck you till your brain’s gone and all that’s left is my name. Isn’t that right? Is that what you want?”

Your thoughts stall and you nod, making your mouth into a filthy pout. God, how you want that. Maybe he’s right about you being filthy. Coming from him, it sounds like a delicious thing to be.

The pretty, leaking tip of his cock brushes your clit as he slides it up and down your slit to collect the mess there. Your thighs jump to close before your mind gets the better of it. He does this a few times—up and down, letting you feel and get used to the size and length of him all the way till his cockhead kisses your clit and you squeak.

“Are you comfortable, love?” he asks, shifting your hips with strong hands. “Do you need anything from me?”

It’s so at odds with his other, nastier words. Your head spins, the moonlight blurring. “I’m okay,” you tell him. “I… just want you. Want you to put it in, want to feel you.”

His cock catches on your hole, and he begins to push forward with promising pressure. But then he pulls back, smiling downturned. You whine; why can’t he save his capriciousness for later? You’d almost had it…

“I could give it to you, or I could not…” He hums. “Wouldn’t that be so cruel of me? To leave you wanting?”

You flutter around nothing. Every inch of your body buzzes. Alive. You are more alive now, at the promise of Death’s touch, than ever before. The irony might be something to wonder about if you weren’t dribbling down onto the bed sheets with crude need. “Stop it,” you say. Your voice is whiny. You’re glad you can hardly hear yourself past the pounding in your bloodstream.

That delights the King of Death. He wrinkles his nose at you, burning you alive with his eyes as he presses his palm to your belly and guides himself into you with his free hand. You wrap around each inch of him slowly. The air between you bows under the weight of your gazes; he holds your eyes the whole way, inch by inch until he’s seated fully into you with his groin flush to your body. He stretches you to fit, and yet it’s just right. You could ask for no more or no less; you might even think your body was made for him, were you not too busy circling your hips to feel him.

“Good?” he says, squeezing your hip. “Do you need a moment?”

Pursing your lips, you test out the shape of him with another wiggle. “Maybe… Maybe a second.” Truth be told, you need a moment to grapple with the sparks sprinkling over your mind more than you need a moment to adjust to his stretch. You let out a shuddering breath.

He traces circles into your belly, just beneath your navel. The pad of his thumb goes round and round, warm on your flesh. “As long as you need,” he says, but it’s more like a triumphant, playful coo. There’s that lopsided smirk. One day, you’d like to kiss it off him. Taking that hypnotizing finger, Yeonjun trails it up your stomach, over your ribcage. He hooks it beneath your dress and drags it higher, revealing the soft swells of your breasts to the air. You shudder, body so, so hot that your nipples peak and tighten against the cool air.

“Such pretty tits,” he says, brushing his knuckle up the underside of one. “Everything about you. Such a pretty, pretty body. God, I don’t know if I want to worship it or ruin it.” His breaths fan over your skin as he bends down and pops an eager nipple into his mouth, lavishing it before releasing it with a lewd pop and letting his mouth fall all over your breast. Lick here, nip there, until you’re squirming adequately and squeezing him like a virgin. Then he blows cool air over it and watches with eyes like a cat toying with its prey as you shudder harder, your chest jumping. “Fucking look at you,” he sneers.

“Junnie,” you say, lost for breath. You think you’ve walked yourself into the lion’s den.

His breathy laughs fall over your breast. Taking his teeth, he drags them over your skin, right over where your heart thunders a rhythm fully for him, and then he bites. Nothing more than a shallow mark, the shape of his teeth in your soft tit. He lingers there, admiring the sight before he straightens himself up again.

“Fine.” He pulls out of you slowly, but you know what comes after that, so you savor every second of it. “I suppose you’ve wanted after it long enough. Let me hear your sweet voice again, my love.”

Yeonjun fucks you just right. His cock nudges right up on your sweet spot as if he’s done this before. Like he knows where to find it. You gasp and whine—you’re just happy he’s finally giving you something. 

“Oh, fuck,” you mewl. His shoulders wear the red crescent marks of your nails. “That’s—so good right there.”

Ever egotistical and cocky, he croons, “Yeah?” Rolling himself back, he makes it his mission to hit it ruthlessly.

A sharp, pitchy sound comes tumbling past your lips. You bring your hand up over your mouth, letting your eyelids dust your burning cheeks so that you can brave the flipping in your spine and deep in your belly. It’s nearly insufferable—the way pleasure licks up your spine, how it spreads out into your veins and takes control of you.

“No,” Yeonjun growls. “Don’t you dare close your eyes. Let me see that look in your eyes when you cum.”

Your eyes are heavier than they’ve ever been, but you open them. The sight that greets you is worth the effort. Yeonjun’s lip twitches and then he throws his head back, the column of his neck on display as his Adam's apple jumps around a thick swallow.

If that sight wasn’t enough to send you teetering down into whatever depths of lust and ecstasy that he crawled out from, then the angle he hits as he pushes one of your thighs to your chest is. The world frays, deep tremors starting at one small point in your cunt and then exploding up through your stomach and down the back of your thighs. Your chest arches off the bed and you mewl helplessly, fighting and embracing your orgasm in an intoxicating death.

“Oh, fuck,” Yeonjun growls, strained with something whinier as he watches you shake beneath him. “Fuck. I’m gonna—fuck, I’m gonna cum…” His voice chokes as his hips become stuttered more than pointed, the slick sounds of your own release tangling up with his grunts and pants until he shudders and stills, cumming into your puffy, fluttering cunt.

You both catch your breaths as if there’s no air in the room left for a while. His hair’s damp on his forehead, as is yours on your neck, and his eyes droop lazily. More lazy and content than you’ve ever seen him.

Collecting you to his chest, where only your heart thumps away frantically, he presses his mouth to your ear and says, “Do you think death is so scary now?”

With your limbs nothing more than boneless and liquid pleasure floating slowly through your thoughts, you smile.

A little death can be more visceral than living, you think.

༺ ꘏ ༻

The tree stump beneath you makes your tailbone ache. You sit criss-crossed, watching Soobin work away at the soil and tend to that section of the fence that’s begun to rot and sag. Your mouth moves endlessly, filling the space that would otherwise just be made up of his grunts of hard work.

“You know, you ought to help me if you’re just going to sit and watch,” he says, straightening to swipe at his forehead, sweaty despite the cold in the air.

“Totally improper,” you say, smiling at him cheekily. “Are you saying that you can’t handle yourself, strong man?”

He glares at you with the venom only somebody made to put up with hours of chatter could muster. “What’s got you so talkative?” he says.

You know he means why you’re suddenly not glaring him away. You can’t tell him that you’ve spoken with Death himself, so instead you say, “Nothing.” Letting your legs dangle down, you smile at him.

Yeonjun hadn’t done any of it. It’s a comfort, to some degrees, to know that. It’s not your fault that they died. Being around them, being around Soobin, won’t make them turn up dead. The rest of them still don’t know that—and they wouldn’t believe it, anyway—but the black shadow hanging over your shoulders dissipates.

For the first time in so, so long, you do not feel marked by death.

“Sure.” His smile tilts. “A week ago, you wouldn’t even look at me.”

Rolling your eyes, you decide to give him a hard time. “Not true. You just have a way of getting on my nerves.”

“I take pride in that.”

“Take pride in what? Being insufferable?”

Crinkling his nose, he says, “Knowing how to bother you best.”

“Get back to work, stupid.” Your heart soars. It’s good to have friends. To let yourself have friends is an ever better thing. Is this how it is? To be with others and not feel like their burden, or like they’re crossing their fingers behind their back to ward off whatever bad things you might bring onto them? He’s made it his mission to hover around you no matter what, but this feels different.

Maybe, for so long, part of it has been your own gloom that’s obscured it all. Maybe if you didn’t bare your teeth to anybody who got too close, it could’ve been like this always. You hate to think that your own isolation could be some part your own fault. But how were you not to show your teeth when someone tried to reach their hand out to you?

It doesn’t matter now. You shove that all down and let yourself feel the slight warmth of the sun’s glow on your skin where it peeks through the clouds. It’s a nice day, you shouldn’t ruin it with those thoughts.

The sun’s begun making its descent when Soobin’s done. He takes a long drink of water, hissing with relief and crumpling down to the ground with his back to your stump.

“Are you making any way with that girl you were talking to me about?” you prompt.

Giving you a long look over his shoulder, he says, “Don’t.”

“What?” You laugh a little, raising your brows down at him. “I’m not doing anything.”

“You know what you’re doing,” he says, voice flat as he picks stickers out of his fingers.

Soobin’s had a thousand different crushes. There was that daughter of the shepherd, and then the wealthy merchant’s daughter and her long pretty hair, and then the neighbor… Well, you could go on. None of them ever really came to fruition for the poor guy. He thinks that it’s because he’s a poor farmer’s son, but you always tell him that it’s because he’s got an insistent mouth, and that he should be more grateful that you deal with him. Your lips turn up at the corners a little thinking about it—he’ll find the one eventually, but you like the indignant look on his face when you say it.

“I mean it!” you say, nudging him with your leg. “Tell me. I want to know.”

“You won’t even tell me what’s happening with you. Until one of us quits keeping secrets,” he says, placing accusation heavy over the words, “I’ll keep my dealings to myself. What’s it to you, anyway?”

Feeling the weight of his head as he lets it loll lazily against your thigh, you decide that it couldn’t hurt to tell him. The itch to tell somebody crawls under your skin. Especially to tell him. “You know the other day? When I was… being awful?”

His body shakes with a vindicated laugh. “If you’re nothing else, at least you’re self-aware.”

You skirt around that with your own, more awkward, laugh. It’s nice that he thinks so, but you don’t feel it. “Stop,” you huff and nudge him again. “I was foraging out where I usually go. But I guess I wandered out farther than I thought I did. You remember when they used to tell us stories, right? Like the bogeyman. That he’d come snatch us up if we didn’t listen.” Your mom especially had loved that one, back when she cared what became of you. Would she care again, if you told her that everything was fine? “Well, I don’t know if you remember the one about The Wild Hunt, but… Anyway, I was picking some stuff, and…”

Sitting up from his exhausted slouch, Soobin looks like he’s suddenly come back to life. “What?” he interrupts. His voice is strangely serious.

“What?” you say, brow creasing. “They travel here and there… but they were here. In the woods. Like, I heard them.”

Tersely, he asks, “What were you doing that deep in the woods?”

“I mean, I just kept on finding nice stuff until I just… was deeper.” You survey him. You hadn’t thought that he’d react like this. “So I ran, and then there was this guy,” you say, watching realization fall over his face. He knew those stories as much as you do—knew where you were going with this. He is as starkly superstitious as the rest of your people, you forgot. Pushing past the grimace on his face, you say, “And I knew that he was the king. The one from the stories. It was so weird; it’s like you can feel it. And I spoke to him, and then…”

Stood up now, he cuts you off once more. “Are you kidding?”

“Why are you being like that?” you say, messing with your skirts to quell the defensive bite in your tone. “I didn’t do anything.”

“You didn’t do anything? Are you trying to get killed?” He throws up his hard-working hands. “We have rules for a reason. Don’t go out into the forest, don’t make deals with faeries, don’t follow a banshee scream. And then you go and talk to the king of death? How am I not supposed to be upset about that? You know that…” Soobin blinks a few times as if second-guessing what he’s about to say, but he says it anyway. “You know that he’s the reason that they treat you how they do. You know that he’s the one who ruined your life. Why would you ever mess with that?”

You push yourself up from the ground, eyes burning. That stings like a cut. “He didn’t do it. None of it is his fault,” you say, furrowing your brows. “What are you trying to say, Soobin? Just say what you want to say. Come on.”

“He didn’t do anything?” He scoffs, letting a heavy silence hang suspended in the air for a moment before saying, “Is that what he told you? And you just believed it? Listen to yourself, does that make any sense? He’s played with your life like it’s some fucking toy, and now he’s come to rub it in your face. Think about it: do animals just fly into anybody else’s windows and die? Do the trees that they pick from just end up dead? It’s his fault that they all treat you the way you do.”

Mouth opening and closing, you don’t know what to say. 

He sees the hurt in your burning eyes and tries to reel it back in. “What I’m trying to say is—”

“I know what you’re saying,” you say, grabbing up the lunch you’ve been nibbling on. “I know exactly what you’re saying. I just never thought you’d say it out loud.”

“Say what?” Soobin says, his voice raising behind you as you storm off.

That you think it’s my fault, you want to say. That they all die because I am a plague, and you are a charity worker for being my friend. Instead, you just leave and try to choke down the tightness in your throat.

༺ ꘏ ༻

You curl your arms around yourself, the night biting cold. Yeonjun had dragged you from bed, and who knows what hour of the night it is? If the heaviness beneath your eyes is to judge it by, it’s far too deep in the dead of night to be outside with your boots half-laced and nothing but your sleep chemise on.

You might’ve just stayed wrapped up in your blankets if you weren’t so lonely as you’ve been. Soobin’s been scarce. The most you see of him is in the fields from morning to afternoons. You hope that he’ll stop by your doorstep and knock so that you can groan about it but swing the door open anyway each time, but he doesn’t. He thinks that you won’t want to see him, and so he allows you your space.

That couldn’t be further from the truth. It’s hard to be the one to come back after a conversation like that, though. You watch him from the windows and hope he understands at some point instead. It’s an awful lot easier.

Other than preparing meals and window watching, you’ve been up to nothing much at all. You hadn’t realized how much you had, but you feel him in his absence. 

“It’s cold…” you say. The fog of breath that punctuates it makes your point. Whatever he’s brought you out here for, you have no doubt it’ll be something strange. The grin on his face tells you as much.

Leading the way, he heads for the Darkwood. “Only you would come rushing out without a cloak for your shoulders.”

“Well, only you would drag me from my nice, warm bed at this time of night. For what?”

“Can’t anything be a surprise with you?” he says, shooting you a cheeky glance over his shoulder. “Surprises are fun.”

“Surprises!” you say, working your legs to catch him. “Not surprises that involve you bringing me out into the woods. You know, it’s awfully suspicious. Somebody who sees this might think that I am the type to… sneak out with men.”

“Aren’t you now?”

Your lips tug down. “You know what I mean.”

He laughs in his airy way, a twig snapping under his foot. You’re well in the woods, now. Probably somewhere near where you’d first met him.

Lifting a brow, you look at him expectantly. Maybe a will-o’-the-wisp will come floating through with its light bouncing off the trees. That would be a nice surprise, you admit.

Yeonjun circles you. His presence behind you tingles in the way it always does, but true chills erupt when his breath puffs against your ear. “Close your eyes. I have something I want to show you.”

Your mind wanders back to what Soobin had gotten so twisted up about. It might be naive and reckless and against everything you ever learned, but you let your eyes fall shut to blackness. If he was going to hurt you, you imagine he’d have had that opportunity a mind-numbing amount of times before.

“Are they shut?” he asks, waiting for your nod. His voice comes from in front of you now. “I want you to keep them shut. You can’t open your eyes, or it will all go away. Okay?”

“Okay,” you breathe, mind full of a bounty of questions. You don’t even know where to begin to assume what he’s got going on, so you stand there shifting your antsy feet.

There’s a strange, rustling sound that catches you off guard with your eyes closed. It drags on for a long moment. Curiosity pries at your eyes; you want nothing more than to just crack an eye open to spy the source of the ruckus. 

It’ll be gone if you do, anyway.

You let out a surprised squeak as something rises up beneath you, as if risen from nothing more than the dirt and roots of the forest floor, bringing you up from the earth. You wobble and send your hands out to find a perch.

A horse. It’s a horse, its mane so tangled and windswept, but matted and clumped with leaves that crunch under your palm when you find them. It reeks of mud—everything around you begins to smell of earth and decomposition.

You know that if you open your eyes, you’ll find yourself sat upon the pale white steed of the Undead King, its eyes white and its knobby knees almost as famous as the leader of The Hunt himself. It chuffs beneath you.

“Are you ready?” Yeonjun says over your shoulder. You can hear the feral grin in his voice. It’s the leader of The Hunt, a creature of folklore, that sits behind you now. He curls an arm around your waist and tugs you closer to him, securing you against the wall of his chest. “Hold on tight, my love.”

The call of the wild, that horn, bellows again like it had the first time you heard it. Rather than coming from nearby as you thought it would, it dances between trees far off just like it had that time, too. Your heart jumps up into your throat.

Taking off with a howl, the Wild Hunt follows it.

You dig your fingers into Yeonjun’s at your waist. Weight melts away, and you know you’re in the air. Your belly swoops in tandem with the howls and hoots of the riders, heart palpitating to the hoofbeats. How there’s hoofbeats as you ride through the air, you’re not sure. The ghostly fleet manifests around you in vivid imagery, though you squeeze your eyes shut. They are wild enough to imagine just what they might look like: with their clothes and flesh in tatters, with their eyes beady or pale, with their hounds piercing the air with their calls and running alongside them, they are a perfect personification of freedom.

Whip-lash sends you reeling, body going rigid. You grit your teeth and squeeze your eyes harder, wishing that you’ll touch ground soon and that everything would become real again.

Yeonjun feels you go stiff. Bringing his head back to your shoulder from his own delight, he says, “It’s okay. You’re okay. Let it into your bones. Do you think I would let it hurt you?”

He is their leader. If it got too much, you know Yeonjun would be there to catch you. Curling your fingers into his, you release that tension and allow their drumbeat to echo through you.

And when it does, your blood begins to sing along. The wind whips your cheeks and your hair, and you begin to laugh with them. The Hunt twists and turns and dances through the air, an apparition in the night, but nothing more than that.

It comes to a slow, eventually, until the noise and even your steed crumbles back down into the dirt it appeared from. Your eyes pop open hoping to catch at least a glimpse of them, but only the dark forest and pale moonlight answer. Your legs threaten to give out on you, veins still thrumming, but, oh, do you feel alive.

You feel more alive than you ever have, more than you ever could have hoped to have known. Mind spinning, you stumble. Yeonjun catches and steadies you before you can go scraping your knees on a rock.

“Oh my fucking god,” you say.

The laugh that Yeonjun breaks into has you sending him a glare, but you break too. Everything about him is ironic; and how ironic indeed that Death himself should show you how to be alive, rather than to just live?

༺ ꘏ ༻

The air is so fresh in your lungs when you step outside that it nearly burns. You clutch your basket of warm fig tarts. Songbirds trill and fly between tree tops that slowly become more bare the deeper you fall into the season, singing their sweet songs that sound like new beginnings.

Raising your hem from the ground churned up into mud from the afternoon’s trickle, you prance into town with a lively pep in your step. You spent all last night making these—Yeonjun had kept you company, watching you how he always does as you pored over making them just right. His cruel snicker when the jam had simmered over flame for too long and became too thick bounces off your bones in a sweet melody. You’ve come to adore his wicked delight, the way his smile cracks over his face and the facetious raise of his brows, more than you fear it.

Sending small smiles to the people that you pass, you stop by a huddle of kids digging sticks into the mud. They look up at you with curious eyes, stopping to gawk.

“Hey, guys,” you say, pulling back the cloth laid over the sweets. “I’ve made some fig tarts. Do you like fig? I bet you’ll like them; they’re sweet.”

The kids stand up, eyes big as they share a look. They don’t let out so much as a peep before they scurry off home.

You blink. Well, you’re used to weird reactions, but that was… different. Picking up your deflated shoulders and hesitant limbs, you make a shoddy attempt at not letting it dampen your good morning. You were expecting wary looks, anyway.

You head down a little further toward the far side of your home village, the side that breaks off after a fenceline into a great, grassy field. There’s a bustle, mothers washing their clothes in pails and hanging them up to dry and a few others whispering at each other lowly as they go about their days.

An old woman so old her back curves and her fingers have gone knobby makes her way to wherever the day’s duty demands her to be. Your neighbor—an eccentric old lady bound in her times. You decide on her: the elderly are forgotten by the young. She might enjoy knowing that her neighbors still know she exists.

“Hello,” you say, showing her your basket with a hopeful, excited heart. “I have some treats that I was wanting to give out. I know they might not be much, but would you like one? I’m not the best baker, but I do it often enough.” A face like that, dragged down by her years on this earth and not long to death, has no doubt spent many years making meals for her family. You imagine your goods would be nothing beside hers, but it’s the gesture, no?

“Oh, girl,” she says, voice crackling as she clutches her shawl tighter around her shoulders. “I’m afraid it’s best if you found yourself missing from this place. Hurry yourself up and spare the drama.”

The incessant cawing of a crow from a clawed tree fades into the background as you furrow your brows and lower your basket to ask, “...Huh?” Your belly goes up in knots; terrible knots done up tight and fast. You haven’t got a clue what she’s talking about. Elders always did speak a bit strange, though. It could be nothing much; she’s a stern old lady.

But her eyes are not angry and glaring in the way that a harrowed old hag might turn her nose up at the youth. They drag down with a cold pity.

“Listen to me, girl.” She points at you with one of those worn, sun-spotted hands. “You had best leave. The boy’s gone, and they are already not fond of you. Who will they point their fingers to?” the woman says. “I hardly know you, but I would hate to see it.”

The rest of her words fade into the roaring in your ears, the feral drumbeat of your heart like a wardrum in the cage of your ribs as it beats against them as if to escape from you. You don’t feel the basket in your hands, don’t feel the solidity of the earth beneath your feet, and don’t feel a single one of your thoughts like tangible things. They flit as if liquidated into a rotten, sick mush.

Nothing. You can think of nothing. Nothing real; nothing holding you to the earth.

“What?” Your voice hardly reaches your ears, but what does is weak and broken and like a plea for her to tell you that it’s not really what you think it is.

And if you could see or hear anything beyond your fraying little rift in reality, you would’ve heard the man coming up to you. You would’ve heard the words coming from his angry, sneering mouth, and would’ve done something when he picked up a pail of water, and you would’ve been shaken by the nasty ice water that runs down your frozen body and plasters your hair and clothes down as he pours it over you. But none of it cuts through your stupor.

He yells some awful, stabbing things at you, and a few others join him. They tell you that you are nothing but a plague, tell you to leave and to not come back here.

But this is your home. Where else would you go?

With your sopping wet dress clutched in your shaking fists as though that might keep you grounded, you choke down the tightening of your throat and sift through their faces, searching for his face. Those brown eyes, brown and always shining with nagging playfulness, do not come up anywhere. Jaw trembling, you search harder. Out on the field where he should be at this time of day, at your doorstep demanding that you go spend the day doing nothing with him, in someone’s yard helping them fix up a broken fence, no matter where you look, neither his broad silhouette nor his cheeky, dimpled face is there. You continue to stand stricken dumb, looking for him even though you know by the churning in your belly that it’s true, and you’re just hurting yourself trying to find him right where he should be.

Fine. Alive. Untouched by your disgusting, destructive presence.

When you can no longer fight the strangling tightness in your lungs and your dress is as heavy as your heart, you take off. The hem of your dress drags in mud and sticker bushes and catches on stray twigs, and you don’t know where you’re going, but you just run. You’ll give them what they want. 

You stumble, probably like some lost, undead thing, until you find yourself at the edge of the forest. Only then do you let the wall of whittle-edged tears roll down your face. And you assume you sound like a choking, dying animal with how you choke and heave on them, but he was the one you might’ve dropped your head and cried to, so what’s the use of making it pretty? No; you let it all fall as it is.

Soobin’s dead. Soobin’s dead, and it’s nobody else’s but your own fault. You clutch your chest to staunch that old ache that’s grown teeth and tears at your heart; you have and will always be the end of everything that comes near. You are just as much the plague that you began to pretend, to believe, you weren’t. It was your stupid hope that maybe you could have something and not watch it become carrion that drove that pick. It was by your hope that he’s gone.

The hair on your arms begins to raise. You pick your head up and find Yeonjun standing in front of you.

There’s a few beats of long, dreadful quiet as he takes in the state of you. He drags his eyes down and they become liquid flame—something different from the impious delight that he is made of. He becomes the King of Death.

“What happened?” he says. The chills on your arms prickle furiously at the words, furling out distant and yet furious like the center of the fire.

You shake your head, wiping your soaked cheek.

“What the fuck happened?” he growls again, taking your face into his hand. “Who did this? Who did this to you, my love? I need you to tell me who the fuck did this to you.”

Letting the venom in your mouth out, you shove his chest and say, “Get away from me. Don’t fucking touch me.”

Yeonjun’s face twists up, looking scalded. Not surprised, though. “Don’t do this,” he says. “Let me hold you while it hurts. Don’t push me away. I can’t… I won’t lose you again.”

All the pieces that you had been putting into the corners of your mind snap together at that. As many suspicions as you had, though, it feels sour hearing it confirmed from his mouth. That you are his dead past lover, reincarnated or whatever you are. That it was his presence—because even though he stayed away for centuries, a part of him still lingered with you—that now has torn down everything you ever thought you could love. He, standing there in front of you like a kicked puppy, is the ruination of your life in the flesh. The flipping of your stomach is nauseating.

“I hate you,” you spit. “I hate you so much.” You repeat it a few more times, and you sob it into his chest as he takes you into his arms. “Is this what you wanted? You’ve been waiting for this forever, haven’t you? To find me again, so that you can die and fucking leave me here. So that you can make me exactly what you are, while you get your peace. You are a liar and a thief. All you’ve ever done is steal and take. How could you do it? Huh? Tell me…” Your voice trembles and staggers off. “Tell me how you made love to me, how you made me believe that you loved me, and all you ever wanted was to save yourself? You betrayed me.”

Pulling back, Yeonjun says, “No.”

“Yes,” you say, stumbling back away from him with a shaking, accusatory finger pointed at him. “Yes you did.”

Fingers itching to reach out to you, he holds them back by curling them into fists. “No. That’s not fair. I have spent an eternity loving you. I spent the entirety of my immortal, monstrous life searching for you, just so that I might find you in any form. I would have been glad to find you as a leaf in a tree, as long as I found you. But, then, I find you alive. Alive and back, as if… it never happened.” He steps toward you, aching to be near you. His voice wavers. “Please, don’t do this to me, love. Please, just let me have you again. I’ve waited… I’ve waited and I’ve waited, and I finally have you, and now you’re looking at me like I… Like I’d ever hurt you. Finding death—finally getting to die would be worth nothing if you weren’t there with me. It was never about that.”

“I could never love you,” you say, matching his steps forward with steps away from him. “I could never love a monster that does… Does nothing but kill. Take.”  You know your words are cruel, but you need them to be. You need him to hurt, you need him to go so far away from you that never again will you cause another living thing’s death. 

“You did.” Yeonjun’s mouth cracks into a pained smile, sharp at the corners. “You loved me just as much as I love you, once.”

“Just leave me. Leave me, and I wish to never see you again. If you love me, then you’ll give me that.” 

He looks at you, clever eyes intense and glassy, for a long time. And then he says, “Would that make you happy? Would it make it so that you could live a happy life, and find yourself something to live for?”

What’s left for you? A small village that won’t ever embrace you? No, it wouldn’t fix your life. But you open your mouth and tell him, “Yes.”

“Okay,” he says, brushing his knuckles over your cheeks reverently. He swallows in your features, running over them for what he knows is the last time he’ll be seeing you—the very last time he’ll see the face of his undying love. When he finally opens his mouth again, his voice is gentle. “I’ll leave you. If my being here hurts you, then I won’t be selfish. I love you, darling.”

Don’t go, you want to tell him. Please don’t leave. Please, hold me. But your mouth is dry, and you let the radiant hurt in your chest stop you. You let him go.

༺ ꘏ ༻

There’s only one place you can think of going to. It’s the only place your vagrant feet take you.

His spot still is held sacred by the flattened, gold wheat stalks. Your best friend, still living here on Earth in at least one way even if he’s not here to listen to your stupid rambling. And he would maybe complain, but he’d always listen.

The last thing you’d done was fight with him. What an awful thing—what an awful way to repay him for being the only one who ever dared to get close.

You sit in your spot, beside his, and rest your chin on your knees. If only the ground beneath you would open up and swallow you whole. You’d deserve it.

What’s left for you? Is there a place in the world that would keep you happily once they see what you do? No. There is not. You wish you knew what to do; you wish you had somebody to ask.

Releasing a long, tight breath, you just sit and wait for something to give you answers. A gentle breeze makes your hair dance, but it does not whisper anything to your ears. Something’s circling over head, but it doesn’t caw in the cadence of his laughter.

The day moves along without you. You’re not sure how long you sit, but it stretches somewhere between a few minutes and eternity. No matter how long you wait, there are no answers. No matter how long you mull over it.

Conceding, you begin to push yourself up from the ground. A rustle in between the foliage stops you before you stand.

A tawny hare leaps out in front of you. It sniffs around you, nose twitching. Then it stands back on its haunches. It stares straight at you, an intelligent light in its eyes that knits your brows. The wild thing stands there with a purpose that is uncharacteristic of a forest animal.

But entirely familiar in the face of your best friend. That shine in its eyes as it stands there, nose still twitching, makes your chest tighten up.

“Hey,” you say, as if it might answer you. Your eyes well up with hot tears again. Of course, it doesn’t. 

Maybe you’ve gone mad, but you know that it’s him. That idiot, coming to show you that he’s okay in the afterlife—to visit one last time and to let you know that you shouldn’t worry for him or cry for him. Look at me, full of life once again, he seems to say. The hare blinks its beady eyes. It lingers there for a long time, the ease of peace found in his gaze that Soobin hadn’t had in this life, saying that there is still something waiting out there for us once we go. You reach out a hand. He does not flinch as you scratch behind his ear.

“Okay,” you whisper. “I’m glad to know you’re alright. I know what I need to do, now.”

He blinks.

You laugh a hoarse, breathy laugh, familiar in only the way that Soobin could achieve. “You look stupid.”

Indignantly, the hare stomps a bratty foot in a way reminiscent of one of Soobin’s huffs before it settles back down onto its forelegs and scurries off. He goes to live out this new form of life, because it’s true: life does not end in death. He’s shown you that.

Maybe, like this, he’ll find that pretty lady that loves him the way he deserves. That loser.

༺ ꘏ ༻

You spend only one night in your home and you know that what you’ve chosen is right. After spending your day out in the field, you sneak under night’s cover into your husk of a room and let yourself sleep there under the covers one last time. When morning breaks through the window, you gather your weary bones up and leave. 

You run into your mother on the way out. She doesn’t yell at you to leave, but her eyes have gone cold. Colder than you’re used to. You’ve killed again, in every way that counts. So you don’t bother with bidding her or any of them any grand goodbyes. You couldn’t handle the relief you might find falling over them, should you.

Plopping down to the floor, you take a few bites of the cheese and bread lathered in sweet jam that you’d swiped from the kitchen. The grass is long and willows in the wind, bending and dancing prettily. It’s so soft; you enjoy the feeling of it beneath your fingers in your quiet serenity. The scent of it, fresh over the baseness of dirt, you breathe into your lungs.

It would be the loveliest place to spend the rest of eternity.

For the first time, Yeonjun appears in front of you rather than behind you. He materializes from nothing, his elbow on his knee as casual as if he’d been sat there the whole time. The darkness beneath his eyes seems heavier, but then again you know that exact heaviness. It sits right in the very center of you.

You both are quiet for a bit. You let the tall grass whisper, instead.

“Bread?” you say and slant your lips into a smile. Bringing it up, you offer it to him.

His smile wrinkles his nose and curls at the edges. Entirely him. Yeonjun accepts the bread, ripping a bite out before throwing it away into the sea of green. Once he’s chewed, he leans in and captures your lips in a kiss that’s utterly at odds with his sharp mouth. Your lips move over each other gently, save for an indulgent nip or bite here and there.

He pushes you back into a bed of sweetgrass, never letting your lips go. Not to breathe, not to say something that’ll pale in comparison to the sweetness of your mouths on one another. He kisses you until he’s had enough to fulfill a lifetime without it, and then some more.

“My love,” he whispers into your skin, his breath hot on your collarbone. “Mine,” he says, pressing a kiss into the column of your neck, and then he says it again with a hot kiss to the place where your dress suggests your breasts. He says it a handful more times as he pushes your skirts up your thighs. “My love forever. I waited for you so long, and I would do it again.” Lowering his voice to a honeyed whisper, he adds, “I would find you no matter what.”

Laughing softly, you run your fingers through his raven hair to better see his eyes. You know he would.

Gently giving you one more of his lingering kisses that make your skin tingle, right into your bare shoulder, he presses into you. You loose a soft breath, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. The beating in your chest slows to a content purr as he begins languid thrusts in and out of you, rolling pointedly and unhurried.

Yeonjun makes love to you in a thousand dusted kisses and sweet words, your hands holding each other’s soft edges. Yeonjun traces the lines of you, taking the pads of his thumb down your cheeks and your lips and then his hand over the swell of your breasts and down your belly and over your thighs. Clamping down on him as your belly grows tight in the way it had the first time you had done this, your thighs begin to shake.

 Breathlessly, as you hurdle over the edge, all that you can say is, “I love you, ‘Junnie.” 

Yeonjun smiles at you and then presses his face into your neck. He doesn’t even brace himself against the grass to chase his own peak. Neither of you want this to end; you want to hold on to this moment and let it span forever. Slowly, Yeonjun rolls up into you until his hips finally stutter and he cums into you, his cheeks pink. The weight of him above you as he shakes with your shared ecstasy, and even as you both have come down and are nothing but lazy, is the only thing in this world. He is the only thing in this world.

Once you’ve both evened your breathing out, you roll apart and face each other, still just two forms bending the grass into your shapes. Blinking slowly and digesting his features one at a time—the angle of his eyes, softened but never tamed, the line of his nose, the line of his mouth always so proud and playful, and that pretty dot below his left eye—you let them solidify fully in your mind.

“Yeonjun,” you say, finally meeting his eyes across from you. “I want to go. I’m ready.”

The gentle, knowing look that he gives you soothes over the way your heart begins to race in your chest in rebellion. “I know,” he says.

Of course he had known. Yeonjun had been called here to ferry you into the afterlife. He had known the moment he appeared in front of you that his last soul to reap would be you; an ironic circle of karma that should be cruel, but you two make it something sweet. Chewing on your lip, you will your hands to not shake as you curl toward him. You’re no longer scared of going. You know that if you’ll be with him, it will be okay. It won’t be so scary. A hot tear rolls down your temple and then drops into your hair. “Will you be with me? I won’t be there alone?”

He tucks some hair behind your ear reverently and then leaves his hand there. “I don’t know,” he answers. “But I won’t leave you. I’ll stay right here with you.”

You lay there for a long time. Chatting and giggling and just looking into each other's eyes, until your heart becomes slow and all you feel is the wind singing in your blood. Yeonjun presses one final kiss to your forehead.

Maybe, in some years, somebody might dig up your bones and find you immortalized like this in your love. Your bones bowing toward each other, as if even death were not enough to stop you from reaching for each other. Or maybe they’ll just find yours, and Yeonjun still curling into them how you know he will for an eternity more.

Either way, the going is still slow and gentle, as death always is.

🪶 ⦂ tears. omfg i cried writing this which could totally be me being a bitch baby but it DAMN. omfg.

rꫀׁׅܻblogs & asks arꫀׁׅܻ always apprꫀׁׅܻciatꫀׁׅܻd!

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[andhumanslovedstories]

I've been running this writing experiment lately to cut out phrases like "I felt" in my fiction writing. Like I was looking at a sentence in a draft that said, "he felt as if character's eyes were pinning him in place." And then I was like, "well, does he think that or is it true? As a result of this person watching him, he's froze. It's not like a thing, it is that thing."

Oh and "almost"! I'm always going, "He felt almost relieved that it hadn't happened." Well, did he feel better that it didn't happen or didn't he? Or "somewhat", I'm always going, "she felt somewhat perturbed."

And like none of that is wrong, to be clear. I don't know if it'd improve your writing, I don't even know if it'll improve my writing, but I use this sentence structure all the time so every viewpoint is from a voice that thinks about what it thinks, hedges its statements, and offers the same ability for wry little jokes formatted in the exact same way. And I have a lot of writing like that and I think (!) that they're good, but read as a whole, I'm like, "god, they all sound the same." Like there's one melody that I write songs to, so even with different lyrics, it's almost (!) the same song. Something I've been struggling with in regards to my writing and why I've felt so blocked is how boring I found writing my usual way. I'd read something and enjoy the individual parts of it, but then I'd step back and I didn't like the whole. And I got good at this enough at seeing that I didn't like it to do it in real time as I was writing, which as you can imagine didn't improve the process of writing because now I was bored AND dejected about being bored.

There's this sentence-level structure fact that I use unconsciously. A pattern I find easy is short sentence, short sentence, short sentence, long sentence. So I write that. "He [verbed]. He [verbed]. Then he [verbed]. As he [verbed] to his [consequence], he [verbed] that [noun] was [statement of condition]." Which could work, it often does make for a nice rhythm, but it's something I reach for often because it's easier for me.

Just last sentence, I originally typed, "I find it easier for me." But if what I mean is "using this pattern is less effort than another pattern," then it's easier for me. One voice is hedging its bets and the other asserting. Either is fine! But they're different! And, again, GOD you would not believe how many words I've cut out of this paragraph as I write it. I'm so chatty. I love using twelve words when six will do. And that gives my writing a specific tone to my ear.

So if I am bored of that tone, why not try using just the six words? Why be understated? Why be afraid of stronger opinions? So right now with my fiction, I'm experimenting with cutting out as many self-reflective words as I can. Sometime you do need to draw attention to the face that this is the character's interpretation, but like you definitely don't need to do it as much as I naturally want to do it. You don't need to always go out of your way to allow the possibility that the narrative voice is wrong. During editing, I trim the weaker ones (I originally typed, "what I consider the weaker ones" Is that more accurate?). But I think them being there in the first place shifts my language which shifts my character's which shifts my plot. It's sentence structure all the way down!!

(this barely applies to my writing on here, btw. i try to do good but yknow this is a tumblr blog. i'm not trying to get a lit mag to accept it.)

Anyway blah blah (chatty!) the point is I've been trying to write in a way opposite of my interests. Something that doesn't take itself too seriously, that emphasizes EMOTION and ACTION instead of minimizing it, and that clips through scenes at a good pace. Doing this been amazingly fun. I've been having such a good time doing it. I am writing so much because I really enjoy doing it. The process of writing is so fun again.

This post is about two things. One is my new mood stabilizer and therapy day camp. The other is about the benefit of pretending to be MXTX.

[impactrueno]

🪲Beetlejuice as Mephistopheles😈

so you guys might've seen that my masquerade comic has BJ wearing this funny little get up after people were expecting me to draw him wearing the Phantom's Red Death costume.

just who is Mephistopheles?

our devilishly charismatic fiend friend Mephisto is the reason we use the term "Faustian bargain" to refer to a deal with the devil. in the legend, Faust was an alchemist who ended up selling his soul to Mephistopheles in order to gain knowledge, power and pleasure. he is, quite literally, a trickster demon full of wit and a taste for irony looking to get something out of you. sound familiar?

of course, deals with the devil didn't originate with Faust, and neither did the trope of the devil being a charming and witty character. Faust just popularized it and greatly influenced later characters following this trope. Hades from Hercules is a pretty solid example, since he takes after Satan more than he does the actual Hades from greek mythology (which is on purpose, since the movie plays with christian elements for comedic effect, like the muses singing gospel and Hercules being like a combination of Jesus Christ Superstar and Superman.)

every now and then i see people complain that Lydia referring to Beetlejuice as a "trickster demon" in BJBJ messes with the lore, because "he's supposed to be a ghost," but he has always been more demon than ghost if you ask me. "trickster demon" is a perfect descriptor for him: he has a specific summoning ritual, powers beyond what normal ghosts can do, and is always always trying to tempt people into chaos and tricking them into making a deal. i'll give you knowledge, but your soul is mine. i'll save your loved ones, but you'll have to marry me.

despite this Beetlejuice and Mephistopheles are both funny characters, hardly menacing. doing fun little magic tricks and mocking wordplay, even though they can (and will) ruin your life. yet at the same time, they're not quite as evil as they might appear at first. it's always funny noting how Beetlejuice in the movies technically stuck to his word the entire time. surprisingly high level of integrity for someone like him, but that's part of why he's so great imo.

the scene in the original movie where Beetlejuice shows up as a circus attraction to get rid of the yuppies that came to Winter River to gentrify the town into a tourist trap is just the kind of thing Mephistopheles would do. same with how he gets rid of Rory in BJBJ, playing the role of the therapist to someone who used psychobabble to manipulate Lydia. ironic twists mocking human sins, that's what Beetlejuice is all about when he's punishing somebody, and it can all be traced back to Mephistopheles.

Mephistopheles is a proto-Beetlejuice, basically. or Beetlejuice is a modern Mephistopheles, however you want to look at it.

ok but why am i talking about this? well first of all, adhd. also this is one of my favorite character archetypes. i've always wanted to put my oc Rocky in a story where he's a Mephisto-type of figure. i used to think that the closest i got to that was when i crossovered him with Beetlejuice (you had to be there) but writing this post i...just remembered something. (feel free to skip the next paragraph, it has nothing to do with Beetlejuice lol)

i have this unfinished short story i started to write a while back, in mid 2018. i was miserable, going through a really bad depressive episode, and i was looking for something that could inspire me to create again and get back on my feet. just to practice and for shits and giggles i started writing a simple freeform story where a character named [redacted], who was a stand-in for myself, is suffering from writers block despite not being a writer, and basically wants to be good at writing. while muttering something about how he'd even "make a deal with the devil to become a good writer," he accidentally ends up summoning "the devil" (it's just Rocky) who's all silly and charismatic and offering him a deal. what i wrote ends there, i never finished it. but very soon after that, i rediscovered The Simpsons and started writing Those Springfield Kids. fast forward to a few years later, my SpringKids versions of the characters end up becoming part of an official couch gag animated by The Simpsons team. so. i guess...the deal worked? spooky lol (my Faustian downsides are 1. i can never finish anything i start and 2. i'm stuck here in Venezuela.)

anyway! i originally wrote this as a thread on twitter so i could introduce people to Mephistopheles since i was going to make a reference in the masquerade comic with BJ's costume. i just added a little bit more stuff (and the personal anecdote above) in this post. i would've posted this much earlier but on the day i was going to do it, my blog got nuked. now that i got it back, i can post this!

bonus: the shin megami tensei version of mephistopheles, plus david who is a reference to camille saint-saëns Danse Macabre, which i've ALSO referenced in my beetlejuice stuff a couple of times

ty for reading

next time i yap like this it'll be about the gravediggers from hamlet and how they're another core beetlejuice archetype. ESPECIALLY musical beetlejuice.

[icearts]

Nobody is talking about how Angeal and Sephiroth are exact opposites in EC and it's making me unwell so I'm gonna dump it.

Have some pictures of their 2D renders for fun

Prepare yourself, this rant is a little long (but don't worry there's visual aids)

There's more obvious tells out there, like their body language and overall postures, Angeal is generally more open and Sephiroth is generally more guarded.

However, notably, this carries into how they hold their weapons throughout all of their appearances, even in Crisis Core

Fair warning, my source is multiple Google articles so prepare for some inaccuracy and uncertainty. Feel free to correct me.

Sephiroth carries his sword in an ox guard, which has the purpose of intimidating your opponent while also having the sword protect your vital organs.

Angeal's sword is held in a plow guard, which operates a bit like a fool's guard (I actually thought it was one at first), making yourself look more open to attacks to Provoke an enemy into coming in. Unlike the fools guard, the plow guard gives you a quicker maneuverability to strike first once the opponent comes in.

This is really important for their fighting styles, as Sephiroth is quick and deadly, meanwhile Angeal (i think the game refers to his character type as a Provoke Tank) always stands somewhat in front of Seohiroth and tries to draw in hits, acting as a shield. They have the sword and shield dynamic

BUT ITS ALSO RELEVANT TO THEIR PERSONALITIES you see Sephiroth acts cold and bitter, trying to keep people at arm's length, especially raw after EC Part 1 where he and his past friends had a Not Great Time (I won't give the recap sorry it'll take too long and I'm laser focused rn). Anyways, Sephiroth, much like his stance, tries to intimidate people into staying back. He will not let himself look vulnerable to attacks.

Meanwhile, Angeal is more open and friendly, taking Sephiroth's briskness and impoliteness in stride. He's open and welcoming even when Sephiroth's defense is his offense.

They're also both well trained with swords, so they can probably infer a lot about each other's personalities through how they hold their blade. Angeal seeing Sephiroth as someone who is guarded and closed off, avoiding getting hurt by being the first to lash out. Sephiroth views Angeal as being too open and vulnerable, and may even have a presumption that, like his fool's guard, Angeal is baiting Sephiroth into getting close enough that he can attack him the second he's open. It's good shit.

Next up: the weird purple-vignetted dreams they get in EC

So there's some spooky shenanigans going on in this story. I have my own predictions as to what's going on, but for future's sake, at the time of writing this is am only 2 chapters in. I'll try to be more direct to context and then provide my future game predictions at the end. Cool? Cool.

So we know based on canon that Sephiroth's dream isn't a memory, or an event or anything like that. So by process of elimination, Angeal's is the same way. Plus

Little confirmation here that Angeal always felt unable to care for his parents, which hurts me so bad btw. Anyways, analysis time.

Sephiroth fantasizes about being cared for and reassured. He wants to know what it's like for someone to love him unconditionally, he cannot even imagine the possibility. This dream shows him exactly that, his mother making him food and telling him she's always been there for him and they've always has this. In the dream, he believes it although is confused by conflicting memories. She's momentarily able to convince him that he is cared for and loved by her. In reality, he's never met his mother (her name isn't Jenova either, but that's a story for another day).

Angeal fantasizes about being to care for others. He wants to help his village, create a strong community, care for his parents and make it so they do not have to work so hard. He wants everyone to feel safe, secure, and rested and he is willing to carry all of the work on his shoulders to the best of his ability. His dream shows him doing exactly that, which based on the falsehood of Sephiroth's dream, means it's a false memory and he never was able to care for his parents for whatever reason. Really hopeful the game will tell us soon. Maybe he did try but it wasn't enough. Maybe he was weak because they didn't have enough food. Who knows.

Also, for context, Tetsuya Nomura (FF7 director) did confirm that Angeal's father has a chronic illness and died shortly after Angeal joined SOLDIER, after having worked himself to death. So Angeal dreaming of these memories of helping his dad to support his grateful but guilty mother is likely very much influenced by a sense of grief or guilt.

Then in the next chapter, these dreams happen again.

The Banorans obviously either did not make this promise or did not act on it, seeing the state Angeal's family is in in Crisis Core, his dad having worked himself to death when he was a young recruit and his mother being in a very grief-stricken and detached state.

So this plays into how they view the world. Sephiroth longs for someone to protect him from the world he's observed to be cruel and cold. He mentions this in dialogue talking about how they world views anything different as a monster. Even SOLDIERs to which Angeal promises himself that he'll help Sephiroth see that people are not all like that.

Sephiroth is jaded and distant to protect himself, as he thinks the world will turn on him in a moment's notice. Angeal, however, holds an optimistic worldview. He believes people want to help each other and everyone wants to help each other to the best of their ability.

So they're very much opposites, but they're also exactly what each other needs. Angeal needs to feel needed and helpful, protecting people who trust and depend on him. He is friends with every SOLDIER, able to recognize them at a first glance (ironically he does not do this for Alissa but I may wait to share my theories about her). Sephiroth is guarded but secretly longs to be cared for. See where I'm going with this?

So based on how these dreams are going, they're definitely being influenced by some kind of force or another. Personally I think it's Jenova itself, as Jenova has the power to do this and to transform things into projections of loved ones in order to garner their trust (much like Kadaj does in The Kids are Alright). My prediction for where the climax of this story is gonna go is that Angeal is going to have to protect Sephiroth from these visions, and Sephiroth learns that unconditional love can come from friendship and camaraderie, not just maternity. It's gonna be great. I have entire scenes mapped out in my head about this.

They're a sword and shield, Sephiroth being quick to strike and Angeal always being there to defend. It's one of my favorite dynamics ever. Their appearances also contrast, most notably in their hair color.

They both have a resigned acceptance about the implausibility of their fantasies. Sephiroth does not have a mother to care for him, and Angeal cannot save everyone. The foil of their dynamic is so magnetic it hurts. I will scream if I see Angeal make pumpkin soup for Sephiroth in the future.

My rants getting distracted so I'll cut it off here. Merry Crisis

[raguiras]

Join "Ramshackle Isn't on Fire (Yet)"!

Hosted by @raguiras.

SHARING IS APPRECIATED! ♡

OUR BLOG: @riofy-ramshackle

In this timeline, there isn't one Yuu — no, there are MANY, and as a result, things never get boring at Ramshackle...

Applications open!

All about my Twisted Wonderland fan project under the cut!

First off, who am I?

I'm Mionn, a TWST-obsessed artist who recently started posting art here and is planning to make a ton of Twisted Wonderland content in the future.

Said content is going to include a fair share of comics and OC content, which is why I came up with this project.

I also have a meme blog, @twistedmionn, and a blog devoted to my Deuce x Allen ship, @spade-of-storms.

I love hosting projects, and I hope this will be enjoyable for everyone who decides to join!

What is the purpose of the project?

connecting with others in the fandom & making friends

sharing your own OCs and discovering the ones of other members

fun shenanigans with canons & OCs

developing OC relationships

I'm planning to make short comics based on this project, so your OC will occasionally appear in them!

there's going to be a Tumblr blog where I reblog content involving the OCs participating in the project (= serves as a "library" for the OCs)

What exactly is going to be done?

I'm going to make occasional short comics involving the OCs from the project, and they might also make cameos in my usual art.

Outside of that, this project is meant for making friends with fellow OC havers or strengthening already existing friendships! You can also build relationships between your OCs and the ones made by other members.

Additionally, we're going to have a Discord server that allows members to freely ramble about TWST and our OCs. If you don't have Discord, that's totally fine as well!

How do I join? What do I have to do?

It's easy! Send me a DM asking me to join the project and submit all the OCs you want to be a part of it. We will work on further important details then!

Who can join?

Anyone who isn't a proshipper/racist/anti-LGBTQ+.

If I join, do I have to draw/write/do anything for this project?

Unless you want to, not at all! It's meant to be a fun project, not a duty.

Does this project involve roleplay?

No! However, we will have an optional roleplay channel in the Discord server.

Do I need Discord to join the project?

It's preferred, but not necessary in the slightest!

Is there anything monetary about this project?

Nope! It's entirely for shits and giggles.

Can I submit Yuu/Ramshackle OCs only?

While the project is going to focus on the Yuus/Ramshackle students, all types of OCs (except for fandorm ones) are welcome!

How many of my OCs can be included?

As many as you want to.

Is there anything else of note? What's the plot?

Since there are going to be multiple Yuus, Ramshackle doesn't have an official prefect in this project.

None of the Yuus presently know why they're in TWST or what their purpose is.

Are there going to be ships canon to this project?

Yes, and they're actually fairly relevant!

Unless the owners of two OCs decide on making a poly ship, only one OC x canon ship is allowed per canon character.

For the sake of fairness, please submit one OC x canon ship only (maybe your Yumeship/the one that matters the most to you).

OC x OC ships are allowed!

OC x faculty ships are allowed as long as the OC is of age!

OC x side character ships are allowed, too.

Official OC x canon list

Riddle x Grace (@/cyn-write)

Ace x Ashi (@/ashipiko)

Deuce x Allen (@/raguiras / me)

Trey x Haru (@/vanrouge13)

Cater x Vizzie (@/symphonicmetal101)

Leona x Yuuta (@/bunnwich)

Ruggie x Ivy (@/cherrytreegrove)

Jack x Kiyuu (@/skriblee-ksk)

Azul x Taru (@/taruruchi)

Floyd x Yuhua (@/distant-velleity)

Jade x Celes (@/celestelunia)

Kalim x Spider (@/driedupeyeballs)

Jamil x Yulla (@/grimmxelor)

Vil x Bram (@/valy-gc)

Rook x Soleil (@/nyx-of-night)

Epel x Yuuma (@/ollieeyy)

Idia x Yume (@/comingyourlugubriousness)

Malleus x Reina (@/inkblot-mirror)

Silver x Yuukuro (@/beneathsakurashade)

Sebek x Thea (@/althea-and-alcestris)

Lilia x Via (@/galacticstationsblog)

Crowley x Tammy (@/miss-atena)

Crewel x Ezra (@/boopshoops)

Trein x

Sam x

Vargas x

Neige x Beiyuu (@/silksatinbonnet)

Rollo x Beto

Che'nya x Rem

Fellow x Polaris (@/nerdazzler)

Is there a deadline for submitting OCs? Can I join even weeks after the project starts?

You can join anytime or, if you're already a member, add new OCs! There is no deadline.

Can I leave the project?

I'd be sad to see you leave, but it's entirely your choice!

♤♡◇♧♤♡◇♧♤♡◇♧♤♡◇♧♤♡◇♧♤♡◇♧

OCs in the project

We currently have 100+ OCs made by more than 70 creators in the project. They include Yuus, NRC students, faculty, and even some friends from RSA! Join in on the fun and include your own OCs in the project. (✿◕‿◕)

[sinning-23]

please please please do different arcane/opla character's kinks???? (preferably some Jayce but yk-)

OMG I was just returning to arcane roots. Mind you I haven't seen the recent season (Im waiting for my mom and sister since we all watched dit together) UHH take these smutty lil kinky lil headcanona!

P.s For as much smut as i write I have the hardest time remembering the differences between kinks and fetishes BUT I think I got it down lol. Bare with me yall.

P.P.S. I'll make a part two with some more of these guys lol I started to draw a blank on a few and get burnt out but I want to provide QUALITY writing to y'all

Enjoy-

Silco

Yknow every time I come on this god forsaken app I find myself thirsting over dead midleages if not older men....

Ahem

Smoking and Begging I feel like would be two kinks of his. And like he already is a smoker so just translating that over to the bedroom....oof.

I feel like he's the type to smoke after or before, but like in a way that relaxes him even further? YK what I'm saying? Perhaps he'll even offer you some with a firm grip on your face while he blows smoke into your mouth, just before he kisses you.

I also think the begging gets him hot under the collar. Just the idea of his partner asking so desperately for release knowing he's in control of whether they're allowed to or not really does it for him. He's ruthless but sweet in the most deliciously contradicting way. Saying things like, " Begging is so unbecoming of you my dear," or "You can beg better than that, I thought you wanted to cum?"

Sevika

Sevika my belovedddddd <3 come home baby the kids miss you lmao. Sevika seems like the type to be down for a lot but also has her limits? One thing that really gets her going though is overstim/multiple orgasms. Please let her pull as many as she can from you its literally her favorite thing watching her partner come undone. She likes to see how messy you get and how your thighs tremble and shake, damn near tensing up from the strain.

She starts slow. Maybe two...then three more.....how bout we shoot for 4 to 5? SIx you say?! Alright, let's just say fuck it and go for 7.

"C'mon, you can give me one more. Thatssss it, let go."

Vander

This is a harworking, loving, family man okay. He doesn't have time for a lot...However, he definitely has time to just have you squeeze down on him with those hot, wet walls, simply existing. Ahhh yes the art of cockwarming in cwich he is an expert in. Hes a sneaky fucker too, taking time to just position you in front of him so he can slip his cock into you, just enjoying your warmth. No movement, just there, your back to his chest, pretending like nothing is happening behind the counter.

He especially enjoys the late nights, your bodies melted into one as you just sinkkkkk down on him, just adjusting to his length, fighting the urge to move as does he. Just that's part of the fun. Expect lots of soft gentled caresses as yout walls memorize him

Vi

Babygirls got a thing for hot chicks in uniform. Be in business attire, military, or otherwise, she loves it.

I mean, honestly, I was not hot about clean white button-downs tucked into fancy dress pants adorned by emblems of silver or gold. A nice neat hairstyle, no flyaways, very much office siren.

And please god don't let you have a snappy domineering attitude, telling her what to do, sexily taunting. Babygirl will be weak in the knees.

Jinx

I don’t think she’d have any kinks if I’m being honest. I see Jinx as a very experimental and fun but soft and vanilla lover. She enjoys being treated softly and gentle, especially in a moment of vulnerability like being intimate with a partner.

Viktor

I hate to be the one to say it but stalkings/knee highs and glasses… Yall HEAR ME OUTTT HEAR ME OUT! I know that sounds really bad but if you see the vision. I feel like Viktor is a lover of pretty things, patterns and decoration. The feeling of lace or tights under his fingertips, the thrill of being the one who gets to remove your glasses before you go down on him.

All is truly a treat in his pretty yellow eyes. Especially when it's his beloved and devoted partner. He takes his time with you treating you delicately as he pulls the fabric off your kneesocks away to reveal pretty legs he gets to you all the way up to the main prize. He likes taking his time unwrapping his gifts. His favorite part is discarding it all from your body. Or at the very least, making you do it.

"Strip." He hums, leaning forward as you shed layers of clothes with a smile.

Ekko

At first I was thinking that mmm Ekko doesn't have any really kinks. Maybe he’s more vanilla but then I got thinking…

Nah nah this guy..

He likes being bitten.

Oddly enough he wasn’t sure why when you had first done it on impulse, the two of you in one of your more intimate moments. You hand grazed his shoulder, only applying slight pressure before stopping yourself from going too hard but the sound it pulled form him. Gorgeous.

“D-Do it again. Please?” He asks, lifting a bit above your too see your glossed fucked our eyes.

“Bite you?” You reiterate, trying to read him and it’s nothing but pure lust and adoration.

“Baby, please.” He huffs, lulling his neck to the side, giving you access.

Please mark him up he really likes it.

[snowthedemonfox]

So what is the Alien AU exactly??? (AKA: The masterpost)

Long story short, in this AU a group of people are sent off on an AI controlled ship by 'the company' to research a newly discovered planet. Nobody in this research team gets along, which only gets worse after they accidentally capture 2 of the aliens that live there. Now they have to deal with not only their problems, but the problems this new planet is already dealing with.

Alien AU tag can be found here

Below are all the finished designs for the characters in this AU! I haven't finished all of these yet, but you're free to ask anything about the missing characters if you want to :3

Questions & Boundries:

Can I ship any of the characters? - Yes! I don't mind shipping at all. I'm a multishipper myself, and while some ships are implied in this AU (Bunnydoll, Abstragedy & Showtime), all are okay with me! - The only exception to this would be ships involving Gummi and Candi. While yes, they're both sentient, capable of understanding speech, and able to communicate to some degree, I do not feel comfortable shipping them with anyone.

Can I write/draw/make something for the AU? - Of course!!! I love seeing what other people do with this AU, it really makes my day. Feel free to tag me in anything you do! I only ask that nothing NSFW is done with this AU. Please respect this choice!

Can I put my OC in your AU? - Yep!! I even made blank versions of the info cards if anyone wanted to do this ^w^ The first one is for alien characters, and the second is for team members!

Are you going to add [character]? - Depends! The entire main cast will be added, along with some side characters and NPCs, but it all comes down to if I have an idea for them in the AU. I am a slow artist sometimes, so I probably won't be rushing to get all the info cards done ASAP. Feel free to ask about any specific characters if you're curious!

How does Abstraction work? - There's two types of 'abstraction' in this AU. If we're talking about a team member, they simply get re-assigned to a different team. This is what happened to Queenie and Kaufmo. They're alive and well, just somewhere else. The company can and will re-assign whoever they want, whenever they want. - When it comes to the aliens on the planet, there is an infection spreading around that has similar effects to abstraction in the show. It's not 100% the same, but causes those infected to become extremely hostile and attack anything around them until the host eventually dies. In this AU, Loolilalu (named Candi) is infected, and is seen as a minor threat by the rest of the team. Right now, there is no known cure.

Does the AU take place in a digital world? - No, everything is real. There's no mysterious VR headsets that are making people disappear in this AU!

Why isn't anyone on the research team human? - Because I suck at drawing humans and wanted to stay close to their canon designs. There's not really a lore-related reason for this.

I'll be putting all the links for the masterpost under the cut!

Outdated/older art: ★Original Jax & Gangle designs [X, X] ★Various sketches of Gangle's original design [X, X, X, X, X] ★When your alien roommates break into the kitchen at 2:34am ★Gummi's first appearance

The more recent art: ★Bnnuy alien Jax [X, X] ★Jax sketches [X, X, X, X] ★Coloured Jax sketches [X, X, X, X, X, X] ★Gangle sketches [X] ★Little guys (baby Jax & Gangle) [X, X, X, X] ★That one time I drew Jax in the maid outfit ★ Abstragedy [X] ★A smoothie ★The consequences of our actions ★Alien AU plushies [X, X] ★Tynie [X] ★Jax's evil little sister (Jaiden) ★More Jaiden + AU Ghostly & Loolilalu ★Jaiden learns bad words ★Christmas aliens ★Casual Pomni ★[NOT CANON] Velvet ★AU crossover episode i guess

More asks about the lore: ★AU recap ★What does Jax have to gain from this? ★Where do Jax & Gangle live? ★Do the aliens have abilities? ★What language do they speak? ★How does Jaiden act around the others? ★Some various fun facts

[psshaw]

OKAY SO I have a lot of swirling thoughts and factors on this, and also a head cold, but here's my best shot.

If you make someone you’re attracted to, you get to look at them all the time. We all deserve such a gift.

Several layers of distance! I can explore weird, rough, and vulnerable subjects without people assuming they’re meant to represent me. They're a safe buffer for when I don't want to talk about myself or what I want. Plus, I much prefer thinking about their problems. They’re like a little hotel room I get to trash and leave someone else with the bill!

When I see a girl I think is cool, I want to be like her. When I make cool girls I have to be careful because I might make her a cooler girl than me. She might bite my style! Or worse, I'd have to bite hers. Boys are for writing, girls are for dressup games, haha.

I like to keep fiction and reality separate. The project of myself is separate from the project of forcing everyone to look at my little pet-baby-dolls, and I see no reason to mix the two types of expression.

In that vein, I really don't like playing as myself! I made "me" in BG3 once, and while I loved making my character and looking at her makes me all gender-euphoric, I hated asking myself "what would I do". That's not a fun fantasy! (Also most video game girl clothes suck, as we know.)

Internalized misogyny of some kind— for a long time, women in art or ads would register to me more as mannequins, tokens, or even voids. The bland, surface-level femininity being sold was like white noise, nothing to do with me. (A stark contrast to the real women in my life, some of whom I’ve always admired and wanted to be like. All of my distaste for girlhood came from the marketing and being assigned products!) I think I got the idea that if she was designed by somebody, then she wasn’t going to reflect what I wanted. Granted, I feel this way about a lot of stuff. But when people talk about misogyny in fandom, I feel like I know exactly what they mean.

Being a dude sucks in an interesting way, haha. They slot much easier into the “I genuinely thought this would go well for me” or fall-from-grace narrative. I also like subverting expectations, so it's fun to give them unexpected sensitivity or emotional cleverness. And frankly, it's just less loaded to do violence to them.

When I’m fascinated by someone, I try to get really, really in their head. I’m talking “getting a weird rush from imagining them filling out forms” levels of granularity. With dudes, there’s a lot more to explore because their experiences are stereotypically different from mine— I like to joke that it’s like teratophilia. (Nevermind the uh, sharp teeth and etc they all seem to get.)

At this point I’m just spoiled. Every time I draw a dude, it’s halfway to drawing two dudes making out.

[m4lexxx67]

I did it, I'm done!!! I finished what is probably one the coolest projects I have ever done and it turned out SO COOL, I'm so excited!!! Everyone come look at it cause I made a fucking killjoys shirt collection!!!

Everyone of the Fab Four got their own type of shirt that I think fits them and they're all the same concept (logo on the back, name in the front, most of the design in their color plus some smaller detail in another color that's kind of in their pallet (taken from their ray guns), words associated with the character) but the font and placement of the writing changes and all that and I really love that they obviously belong together but still look so different!

Also fun fact it took fucking FOREVER to paint Ghoul cause it's sooo many lines and painting lines takes so much time cause you can't just carefully draw a sharp edge and then quickly fill in the rest (like for example Jet's logo) because basically everything is edge! And the design for Kobra's name? Such a pain in the ass, there's so many sketches that were all scrapped. Like in total it took me maybe one and a half to two hours to come up with all of the designs, except for Kobra's stupid fucking name, I kept going back to it for literal weeks!! But honestly so worth it, it turned out exactly as I wanted and just all in all feels very Kobra to me

(As for the different shades of blue/green on Jet's and Ghoul's shirts... The shirts have been done for a while and were lying around my room without being folded or anything, so that's just folds and light reflections, the colors are actually very even)

[tsuutarr]

I am actually so in love with all ur yandere ocs!!! putting their designs in the back of my mind for future reference :] who knows, maybe I'll draw them someday tehee :333 I am especially a sucker for yandere angels so ur doing gods work here fr (no pun intended) Anyways I am kinda curious as to how the guys would feel abt a non-binary MC considering so far you've only described them using "she/her" pronouns ^^'' no need to answer if ur not up to it. I won't think of u or the characters any less<3 I'm also curious how they would react to mc having a very close childhood friend. I mean.. Those type of friendships are very likely to lead to more after all uwu~

Tysm for liking my yandere OCs!! I'm very very pleased to hear that you enjoy them <3 I'd be flattered if you drew them!

Yandere angels are so fun b/c they're supposed to be the pinnacle of purity, but what if they get corrupted by their desires? Then they have to grapple with their morals and desires, though their desires eventually win over because they love love love you so much!

Also, I am totally okay with a gender-neutral reader! I try to write mostly gn!reader, actually, but my readers may read more feminine occasionally due my background.

As for the guys, they'd all be okay with a non-binary MC~ though, I think Jiu's story would probably work best with a female leaning MC since his whole thing is that he dresses up as a woman to chase guys away from MC. Otherwise, I can visualize any gender for any of my yanderes!

Now, what if MC had a childhood friend? Well, here's how my yanderes would react:

Jiu IS your childhood friend, so he's already chased anyone else away from being too close with you since you were both kids. He's super smart in that he lets you interact with people (and even have "friends"), but he manipulates the situation so that you're mostly spending time with him. When someone gets too close to you, though, he'll chase them away, either through anonymous blackmail, some "accident," or something else.

Finley would be so so so sad if you had a childhood friend that was super close to you. He's not really allowed to harm any human but... it's not his fault that your friend is so so so clumsy and fell into a manhole!

Tynan would just kill the guy, honestly. Nothing's stopping him from killing your childhood friend, after all. BUT, he's not stupid enough to make it obvious he did it. After all, how else will he console you over your stupid childhood friend's death?

The abandoned water god just kidnaps you so he could care less, frankly speaking. It's not like you can leave him, so why should he worry about some powerless human? Though, talk about your childhood friend too much and your friend may meet an untimely death related to water.

As for the farmer... oh, he'd hate your childhood friend. You're his sugarcube, you know? You're just so cute and defenseless, he has to protect you! So, well, whenever you try to call your childhood friend, the signals all wonky. When you want to drive to visit your friend, your tires are all punctured. And when your friend wants to visit? Oh! Well, your friend can't visit because the area's suddenly super dangerous and there's like fifty bears that might maul your friend!

So, long story short, your childhood friend isn't safe and probably never will be (except Jiu, who is your childhood friend)!

[eldritchenochian]

spoilers for Stardust Rhapsody season 2 (eps 15 & 16) below

stardust rhapsody is (was? idk.) my favorite Legends of Avantris campaign. I've watched the first season upwards of 5 times now, and almost all of the fics and fanart I've made have been related to it. it got me through some pretty rough times.

I am disappointed with season 2, so far.

the whole idea of "all of that was just a story, and very little of it actually happened" just feels very. not great.

all those characters we love and connected to, including Pyke who told the story, are not at all what we know now. some characters weren't even real to begin with.

what was the point? both of caring about the characters, and retconning it all? it feels bad to have a set of characters that I spent so much time dedicated to- drawing, writing, analyzing, relating to- just to be told "none of that matters cause it didn't actually happen, also there's a copium leak in here".

we do not know these characters anymore. Pyke has proven to be an unreliable narrator- the past what, 2 years? of character development and recordings and story building mean nothing, because it's been made out to be an embellished story riddled with lies and barely truths. we don't know if the Pyke and Rett from the first season are the real Pyke and Rett or just a lie told by Pyke- same with everyone else. their backstories too- Pyke isn't even actually a racer. Leo doesn't exist, Rex is just some random guy- who knows what else about the crew was made up. Kavir and Dandy's backstories too, probably. which, ouch.

maybe it's stupid, because these are fictional characters. maybe I'm just not smart enough to enjoy the "story within a story" trope here. idk.

I get that they threw the campaign together relatively quickly, and thought the characters didn't mesh super well together (that second one is bs, they were peak found family, and the crew even said they qere the most stable party after the icebound crew). I get that they planned to do this for a very long time. but there were better ways they could've gotten rid of Leboosh and Chuckles. which I'm also upset about, but. not important in the face of throwing away 14 episodes of canon.

I guess I just feel like I've been made to feel stupid for getting attached to a handful of characters and expecting that their story would go in a direction that I enjoyed.

also I don't like Glup. I know he and Quibly are supposed to be comic relief, but he doesn't really feel like a character. he can't even talk directly, Derek has to do interpretation as Quibly. sure it's funny, but he can't meaningfully contribute to conversations, or planning, or interacting with non party members unless they speak his language. I know they're going for the Han Solo and Chewbacca type relationship, but idk. it doesn't appeal to me in this format. Chuckles was a fully fledged character, Glup is mainly a bit that's been turned into a character.

now I may be completely wrong about this, but it feels like they're trying to change the direction of stardust from something a little more lore based with bits of humor at points, to something more humor based with a sprinkle of lore at times. like another campaign that the algorithm and shorts really really love. nothing wrong with being more marketable, but doing it at the expense of good characters and great stories just feels bad.

for those who were there with me in Discord last night while we watched it live, don't get me wrong, I had fun. it was fun to theorize about what was actually going on, maybe this was real, maybe this was all a coma dream- until the cast addressed it and debunked it themselves. I'll be honest towards the end of episode 15 and all of 16 I saw (I bailed early, which is insane), I was not having fun. all I could think about is the fact that some of these characters don't matter as much to them as they do us, and that they are willing to get rid of them because they don't like them anymore. which campaign could be next? what if when Witchlight comes back, they pull this again, and one or even two characters leave in a heartbreaking, unsatisfying way? what then?

I desperately hope this is something I cam get used to, like they said on stream it may take some folks a while to come around to the change. I really hope so. please don't ruin stardust for me Avantris I BEG

[liminarystars]

Hey again !! Ik I just requested 😭- but could you pls write a drabble for Larry and Sal (separately) w/ their midsized!fem!reader gf celebrating her birthday? It's almost my birthday lol and I'd absolutely love it if you could write something :'D !! No pressure ofc !!

I'd like to imagine getting high with Larry and Sal on readers bday ! Larry painting for reader, Sally playing his guitar for her, the three playing video games, and the whole gang (Larry, Sal, Ash, Todd, Neil, Maple, Chug, Travis, etc.) just celebrating readers birthday and having fun ^_^ ! Larry and Sal go out of their way to make readers birthday extra special bc they're just absolute sweethearts like that :') !!

a/n: happy birthday! (lowkey hope this is before your birthday but idk) also, jarred one of my left fingers, so typing was hard. :|

characters: sal fisher, larry johnson

ft: todd morrison, ashley campbell, travis phelps, maple cohen, chug cohen, neil and lisa johnson

⋆˙⟡♡❀ sal fisher

✮⋆˙ like i have said before, he would try his hardest to draw you something. sal's shitty drawings >

✮⋆˙ boy would write a whole song for your birthday, like a little ballad on his guitar

✮⋆˙ it depends if your having a party or not

✮⋆˙ if not, he'd just spend time with you. a nice home date for your birthday. he wouldn't wear his mask or bother with his clothes and do what you wanna do. wether it be a movie or just cuddling. he'll do it.

✮⋆˙ if you have a party, he'd be clinging to your side. i don't think he'd like parties. too loud for him.

✮⋆˙ he would attempt to make you cupcakes.

⋆˙⟡♡❀ larry johnson

✮⋆˙ birthdays with him would be a expirence

✮⋆˙ 100% would be getting high with him.

✮⋆˙ he would gift you a beautiful painting. either one of you or like a landscape.

✮⋆˙ if you don't have a party and choose to just chill with him, he'd be fine with that.

✮⋆˙ listening to sanity's fall >

✮⋆˙ at a party, he'd just have to be careful of lisa if he's dishing out weed.

✮⋆˙ he and his mum would bake you a cake.

© 2024 liminarystars - all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate or plagerise my content.

[urautismdiagnosis-wistie]

what do you think the Octonauts like to do in their spare time?

thanks for the ask!

Sorry this took forever to answer i haven't been well recently but I'm doing better

I've talked about this on some different octonauts octo headcanons posts but ill make a nice neat list! These are a mix of Canon and headcanon <3

Barnacles:

he enjoys attempting to play the accordian, traditional inuit soap stone carving (not something he does often, most of his room carvings are from his childhood), using charcoal and oil pastels to paint scenery as a way to wind himself down(sometimes he'll do people but they don't look very good), sport competitions and exercising, and writing small short screenplays about the characters hes made for his carvings <3 the screenplays are usually very soft and light hearted or deeply sad.

Kwazii:

ok our undiagnosed adhd boy let's go: anything competitive or exciting! I'm talking chess (with inkling), ping pong, any type of sports competition, board games, card games-

He also has a hyperfixation on historic miniature model ships- and some modern too. Bro also LOVES to cook with the vegimals! (Even if his cooking skills are... debatable) hell often teach them (the kid friendly) version of the shanties he grew up with. Funnily enough he doesn't really share his shanties with the rest of the crew,not really...

He does enjoy girls night, esp with jewelry and claw care 💕 dashis been showing him movies and teaching him stuff about pop culture and land culture in general

Also he loves comics <3 and book kwazii enjoys long baths so I gave him a whole long self care routine.

Peso:

making stickers 🥰 playing his xylophone <3 reading all the gossip in his family group chat and trading it with dashi <3 watching inaccurate medical drama shows and making fun of them with dashi <3 knitting !!!💕 he likes to make little stuffed animals and scarves <3 also hats sometimes

He likes reading chiikawa (kwazii recommended the comic to him) and talking to his mom about their favorite romance dramas together

This last one isn't really a hobby but he does enjoy listening to pinto yap about whatever video game he's hyperfixated on lol

Dashi:

Ok speed run, yoga, photography, making tiny dumb video games with tweak (they once made one where its just the gup b and it was basically like flappy bird lol), ROOM DECOR AND PINTEREST BOARDS OH MY GOODNESS (my friend is like that lol I love it when she sends me her stuff), SURFING, BASKETBALL SHES SO COMPETITIVE IN EVERY SPORT, listening to horror podcasts and cursed pov asmr at night <3, talking with shellington about tiny random creature species!!! Also stimming <3

Tweak

: LEGOS(miniatures of the gups) 🗣 CLASSIC VIDEO GAMES( stuff like the og metroid and space invaders) 🗣 NOT SLEEPING (gurl ur room is a depression cave PLEASE get a bed frame PLEASE (dashi probably)) 🗣 GUPS GUPS GUPS she lives and breathes em baby if she's not working on a gup she's developing an idea- 🗣 she really likes cute baby animal videos 🗣 reading alternative fashion magazines 🗣 MONSTER TRUCK LEGO 🗣 dying hair with dashi occasionally (this entire post is so dashi filled loll) 🗣 LISTENING TO MUSIC 🗣🗣🗣

Shellington:

He breathes his hyperfixation about creature species. He and tweak and literally EVERYONE is SO autistic and/or nuerodivergent in some way. Anyways so I'm talking drawing sea creatures (hes a pretty good artist ngl, barnacles could take notes), researching them, comparing them, studying their biological abilities and the chemical components and possibilities of it- literally his entire job is just him having an autistic blast like good for him

But most of his free time is very much spent with the vegimals XD whether its playing with them, trying to teach them things, or just talking with them.

He also loves drawing hyper realistic animal drawings saying very very stupid silly puns. The vegimals internally react to them like dad jokes but they pretend they're very funny cuz hes SO. PROUD.

Inkling:

He enjoys doing very deep dives into topics, deep cleaning, chatting with min on video call, conducting psychological social and behavioral experiments on the octonauts, competing with kwazii and the other octonauts to challenge them (he slays),

Journaling, and even his actual job of organizing their discoveries and getting them ready for scientific peer review as well as handling all paper work sides of thibgs

He really enjoys spending time with thr other octonauts, they are ALL his children(in a "my fascinating lil creatures!! I must teach them and challenge them so that they can grow!) to him and he adores them all immensely. He likes to make photo albums with dashi.

He also enjoys not having bones because apparently when mammals and avians get old their bones hurt all the time??? So he's pretty happy about that ngl

the vegimals all have different interests: whether its having certain genres of media they gravitate too, different aspects of gardening they enjoy,or joining different octonauts in their own tasks! But they'll always love making their own songs and working together <3 also experimenting in recipes lol. A few will often join the other octonauts doing their own hobbies or try to do the hobbies they see the others doing. They are kids after all lol

This could mean tominnow joining peso and dashi while they watch their dramas, barrot being very excitable while playing video games with tweak, tunip learning how to play chess with the professor, grouber being a little princess and enjoying self care, coddish trying to learn how to sword fight with kwazii pretending to be a silly monster, or halibeet curled sleepilu next to inkling as he reads and explains what he's learning- and so on and on and on.

:3

[midnightlizard]

Andy h x reader

I loveeeee the fics that are like the 5 times so and so ALMOST kissed And the time they did plzzzz something like that but if not. If you refuseeeeee I would loveee for a fic with like the station trying to set them up during Christmas with like mistletoe and stuff orrr just setting them up period with no Christmas teehee kinda a bit of a rant…

😘

-🖇

Took us long enough

Andy Herrera x gn! reader

Summary: four times you and Andy almost kiss, and the one time you actually do

A/N: hello and tysm for the request!! I love these types of fics too (I'm actually writing one with another character) so this was super fun to make. I also tried to mix the two ideas together, hope you like it!

Warnings: alcohol intake, mutual pining, sex innuendos

Word count: 6326

-

-

1

"oh captain my captain" your boots echoed into the kitchen as you made your presence known, leaning with your hands on the counter.

"I'm not your captain (Y/L/N), you know that" Andy replied, not raising her head from the toast she was preparing.

"but you're my favorite captain" you shrugged your shoulders, then quickly turned to look at the door "don't tell Sullivan I said that"

Her focus was still on your previous words, so she could only mindlessly laugh at that.

Andy was used to your flattery, this was definitely nothing new, but it never failed to make her blush.

"why are you here all alone by the way?" you asked, stealing her food.

"Hughes, Bishop and Miller are on a call, the others are doing chores. And that-" she slammed her hand on the counter "-is my breakfast"

You reached for the bowl in the middle of the marble top, grabbing an apple and handing it to the brunette

"here's your breakfast, no need to thank me"

Andy raised her eyebrows at your smirk, shifting her gaze from your eyes to the fruit next to your face.

"how's your butt? Birdie told me you fell down the stairs on the last call"

The last call you were on had a big case of termites, and no one living there ever bothered to do anything about it.

So, when you were called because they heard the floor squeaking and you tried to get the old lady out, the wooden stairs failed on you.

Thankfully no one got hurt, except your butt.

"oh my butt's just fine. I don't know if I can say the same about yours"

She tilted her head to the side, silently questioning you. Her lips curled into an amused smile.

"birdie told me," and you both knew you were referring to the same birdie

"you got lucky last night, some 'handsome hair guy' gave you his number" you took another bite of her, your, food.

"well, not that it's any of your business" Andy started and crossed her arms, drawing a step closer to you.

You two were nothing, you two have never been anything but friends. Close friends even, yea sure, but not even between best friends there's usually this...tension.

A touch of a hand or a brush of a shoulder, or the look of encouragement shared before going inside of burning building; all of this was definitely not just friendly, and you could both feel it.

But none of you ever acted on it, for whatever reason.

So, even though it was none of your business, Andy wanted to made sure you knew the truth.

"his number was all I got, I didn't call him"

"ohw, are you scared to go on a date Herrera?" you challenged, lowering your head so your faces were even closer. "is it been that long since your last kiss?"

In a way, you weren't wrong. In the last few months, whenever Andy tried to get with someone, let it be a one night stand or a coffee date, it never felt right.

And she never wanted to admit to herself why it felt wrong, so she just put the dating scene aside, avoiding casual hook ups and flirting with strangers.

But you weren't a stranger.

And to say the tension was a secret would be a great lie. Everyone with working eyeballs could see it, and they all had things to say about it too.

But they don't always notice when they're interrupting a moment,

like Travis right now, barging into the room with his loud voice.

"what's for breakfast? I'm so hun- oh"

he stopped in his tracks, after seeing the position you two were in, making you take a step back from each other.

"did I interrupt something, cause I can go back and we can pretend I was never here"

"no nothing happ-, don't worry about it Travis" you waved your toast in the air, dismissing his entertained expression.

Andy brought her hands on her hips, still trying to wrap her head about what could have happened.

"and there's nothing for breakfast, it was Miller's turn but he's on a call"

The woman then turned to you, and leaned over you to grab the apple you offered her moments ago.

"you're lucky if you can make yourself a toast"

It was meant for Travis, but she never took her eyes off you, watching you take the last bite of her food, smirk on your lips.

2

Vic's posture was slouched and her lips were slightly moving as she counted the money in her hands.

You entered the break room and took a seat on the sofa across from her.

"are you handing out free cash?"

She didn't take her eyes off the bills, afraid she might lose count.

"I'm handling a bet actually, don't distract me"

At that, you let out a sound of surprise, clearly exited

"who are we betting on? I want in"

"I don't you can, since we're betting on you" Vic counted the money again, then put it in her back pocket.

"when are you going to man up and ask Andy out?"

You groaned at her words, throwing your head back onto the backrest of the couch.

"why are you even betting on that? I'm not going to, we're just friends"

It took Vic all her strength not to burst out laughing at you. And you don't think you would have blamed her either.

"alright. Who says I will?"

"oh everyone actually" she shrugged her shoulders, plainly amused by your reaction, "we're just betting on when it's going to happen"

"you're impossible" you replied, knowing damn well you would have loved this bet if it were about anyone else.

"and you're in love with Andy" she accused, slapping your shoulder.

And while you were having this conversation, Andy's day was not going very differently.

"I'm not in love with (Y/N), Maya"

Andy and Maya were assigned with cleaning the lockers room and the blonde tried to make it not so boring with some light conversation, except it wasn't all that fun to the other woman.

"oh come on everyone can see that"

"then everyone is blind" she stopped removing dust from one of the helmets to look at her best friend.

"why are you so persistent on denying it Andy?" the task at hand was long gone by now, and the two were just talking

"You used to tell me everything about Gibson or Tanner or anyone, why won't you tell me about them?"

"because-" the brunette raised her arms in the air, one of her hands still holding the rag she was using to clean the gear

"there's nothing to talk about, we're just friends"

Maya wanted to scoff, or laugh at her face, but much like Vic did, she kept to herself, returning her attention to her assignment.

"besides, why are you so sure they're into me?" she asked after a second of silence, keeping her eyes on the dirty lockers.

If you were into her, she wanted to know. Just out of curiosity, nothing more.

The other firefighter raised an eyebrow, then proceeded to shrug, before answering.

"the way they look at you, the way they talk to you, the way they look at your-" she was stopped just in time by the shirt Andy threw at her face.

"that's just...flirting" Andy tried to justify your behavior, but for some reason she didn't believe it, didn't want to

"they're flirty, I'm flirty, it's just a way to keep things interesting around here. Sorry you're too uptight to understand that"

"oh I'm too uptight?" Maya pointed a finger at herself, laughing in disbelief.

"okay so you're telling me," she put the false accusation aside

"that if you let your hair down, undid a couple of buttons, and swayed your hips, they wouldn't try to sleep with you? not even try to kiss you?" she challenged, pointing with her fingers at every part of her body she was talking about.

Maya enjoyed the hesitation on Andy's face.

"no, they wouldn't." she settled on.

"okay. Let's test it out"

"what?"

"let's test it out" the blonde repeated "and if they really don't try anything, I'll stop insisting"

Andy bit the inside of her cheeks, pondering her answer. She really wanted to get Maya off her back, but she didn't know if she was ready to face the truth.

"(Y/L/N), lieutenant Herrera wants to see you, in the lockers room" Maya's head appeared into the break room, making Vic raise her eyebrows and voice her thoughts in a teasing tone.

"wonder what the lieutenant wants in the room where everyone goes to get naked"

"you're insufferable" you glared at the woman, getting up from the couch. You would have said something else, but by Maya's choise of words it was probably something important, so you let her go.

"thanks Bishop" you nodded your head, exiting the room.

Unbeknownst to you, as soon as they were left alone, the two women instantly started gossiping about their recent conversations.

"lieutenant, Bishop said you wanted to see me?" you asked as you appeared into the room.

"lieutenant? so I'm not your captain anymore, (Y/L/N)?"

You were left with your mouth agape for a couple of seconds, you only called her that way when the situation wasn't serious.

"you..needed my help, as my lieutenant?"

"I needed your advice actually, on something not really work related" she explained, and you relaxed a bit.

"sure, ask away" you shrugged, leaning your back on one of the lockers.

"you think this is appropriate, for a date?" she opened her arms to better show her outfit, which was just her uniform. The only thing that really changed was her wavy hair, now free from the ponytail she always had at work.

You blinked a few times, before nodding

"uh I guess? perfect for an after shift day"

"do I know them?" she saw you fiddle with one of the hanging coats, but she didn't mention it, "another firefighter? someone you met at the bar, or-"

you turned to look at her, "mister 'handsome hair guy', you finally called him?"

"are you jealous, (Y/L/N)?" Andy squinted her eyes, and made a show of crossing her arms, making you follow the movement.

That was a big mistake, because now you were hyper aware of the few buttons missing from her shirt.

She took a step closer.

"why would I?" you licked your lips, and mimicked her action. Neither of you noticed, but those two steps were enough to get the two of you face to face.

"do you want me, to be jealous?" you lowered your voice, two of your fingers slipping into the loop of her pants, pulling her towards you.

"I-" her breath seemed to get stuck in her throat and her arms threatened to fall to her sides.

"(Y/N).." she whispered, and you could feel the word on your lips.

"Aid car 19. Medical response requested" the loud voice echoed into the silent locker room, but it didn't interrupt your staring contest.

"I'm on aid car today" you explained, and you knew you could get an earful from captain Sullivan if you didn't run to the truck right that instant, but you couldn't get your legs to move.

And Andy wasn't helping at all.

"I know"

"Aid car 19. Medical response requested"

"(Y/L/N), you ready?" you heard another voice yell from the other room.

This time, you took a step back.

"coming Warren" you yelled back, making sure he heard you.

"I have to go" you said, with more urgency then before, and all you got back was a distant nod.

"you'd look great in anything, by the way" you added once you had one foot out of the door, then shut it quickly behind you, missing the blush that covered Andy's cheeks at your comment.

3

The sound of the big door opening and the motor of the engine shutting off made your ears perk up, and you turned to see half the team getting out of the truck.

The captain instantly went to his office, but that's where he always was when he wasn't on a call, so that didn't surprise you.

What surprised you was that a certain brunette didn't even spare you a glance, going up the stairs.

You furrowed your eyebrows at her behavior, but you couldn't catch her attention as the man on the phone was still talking your ear off, and you were trying really hard not to be rude.

"and I'm sorry that happened, sir, but you can't call the fire department for something like this" you pinched the bridge of your nose, hoping to end this as soon as possible.

When he repeated the same problem for the third time you restrained a groan, leaning back on the chair, making someone laugh behind you.

You craned your neck to look at her, then motioned for her to come closer with your hand.

"there's nothing we can do sir, if someone stole your car you need to call the police, not us"

Maya laughed again at your words, leaning on the counter beside the phone.

"yes, yes, hope you can get it back, yes, goodbye" your tone grew more impatient with every word, until you finally ended the call, slamming the phone back on the table.

"desk duty is so fun right?" she mocked you, and she was less then effected by your glare.

"yea sure, that's what I dreamed about when I applied to be a firefighter" sarcasm laced your answer.

"hey uhm" you stalled for a second, Maya was acting normally, but it was very weird for Andy to ignore you, unless she wasn't in the mood to interact with anyone

"did anything happen on the last call?"

You saw her shake her head, almost confused by the question.

"I don't know, Andy seemed weird. But, she probably didn't see me" you tried to reason, but Maya nodding her head made you rethink what you said.

"nothing happened, but you should go talk to her"

Even though her words did nothing but fuel your confusion, you briefly thanked her, then went up the stairs.

You mindlessly played with your fingers as you paced back and forth in the hallway; despite Maya's words, you still didn't know if bothering Andy would be a great idea.

Maybe she wanted her space, that's why she ran straight to her room, or maybe she didn't have the courage to ask for the help she needed.

While your head was busy thinking about different scenarios, your feet made the decision for you, stopping you in your tracks, and your knuckles tapped two times on the wooden door.

Andy heard you calling out her name, and much like you did moments ago, debated whether or not to let you in.

A whole minute has passed with her biting her lip in thought, and keeping her eyes everywhere but on the door itself.

And when she finally made her decision, she was afraid it was now too late.

"come in"

To her surprise, you had been standing there the whole time, turning the handle at her words, and stepping slowly into the room.

She moved to one side of the bed, to make room for you. And you mimicked her position, leaning your back on the wall.

Since you didn't know what she needed just yet, you meant to stay silent, but she was the first one to break the silence.

"she would have died"

She kept her gaze ahead, even when your head turned to look at her.

"if the team followed my lead, she would have died."

"what are you saying Andy?" you whispered, noticing how she took her time to form words; and when she did, her words were hardly coherent.

"on the call, Sullivan asked me if I had a plan, and I had one. But we ended up doing as he said" she paused, her gaze falling to the hands on her lap "and thank god we did, because if we waited like i suggested she would have died. And it would have been my fault"

"but she didn't"

"yea because I'm not a captain, (Y/N)" for the first time she looked back at you, with furrowed eyebrows and a pleading look in her eyes.

"I've been so fixated on thinking I should be the captain because my dad was, that maybe- maybe I don't deserve it" she concluded, lightly shaking her head.

It was no secret that having Sullivan as a captain has been hard on everyone. You could handle a strict leadership, sure, you were used to hostile situations anyway, but this team has always felt like a home, and someone suddenly entered the family, altering its balance.

And it was definetly no secret that the one who has suffered the most from it was Andy. She had to see her father step down, and the station she grew up in being commanded by someone else, someone who knew nothing about any member of the team.

She tried not to let it show, always claiming she accepted the change, and just wanted to make a good impression on the new captain.

But you could see how it was eating her alive.

You reached for her hand, linking your fingers together. You didin't say anything, waiting for her to look at you, and she did.

"we don't know what could have happened" you whispered "maybe you would have changed your mind halfway through, or you would have taken your teammate idea and changed the plan. You would have saved her, I'm sure of it"

Judging by her silence, you thought she was considering your words, until you heard her take a sharp breath in, and her hand in yours briefly loosened it's grip.

She was finding it harder and harder to keep eye contact, she felt the corners of her eyes burning, and if it were anyone else right now she would have just asked them to leave.

But you weren't anyone else, and she found herself hanging onto your every word, your tone showing a warmth only the touch of your hand could recreate, and with the way you were looking at her, she has never felt more naked, more vulnerable.

"you don't know that" she breathed out, sounding almost defeated.

"no I don't" you admitted, because you didn't. "but I know that you would have done anything in your power to save everyone, like you always do, as a captain or a lieutenant or as a person. I would follow you into a building on the verge of collapsing if you told me to do so, which could happen tomorrow" she lightly chucked, knowing this was a very plausible scenario.

Your tone became serious again, "because I know you pondered every other possibility, and I trust you to make the right choice." your tongue came out to swipe against your lips, and Andy couldn't help but follow the action with her eyes

"I mean it when I say you're the best captain this station could ever have"

"(Y/N)..." she didn't know why she called your name, you were right there, but you were the only thing on her mind at this point.

You were so close to her, she just head to tilt her head and she would feel the lips that uttered such comforting words on hers.

But when she scooted closer, or maybe it was your doing, you blinked rapidly, almost as if you just realized what was about to happen, then cleared your throat.

"you should get some sleep"

You almost regretted your words as you took in the hurt expression on her face. You would have wanted nothing more than to allow her to zero the distance, to finally give clarity to this weird relationship between you two, but you didn't want to take advantage of her vulnerable state, and confuse the need of comfort with love.

"I'll see you after my shift?" you forced yourself to ask as you got up from her bed when she made no move to talk.

"yea" she only noticed you getting to her door when her hand started to get cold again.

"thank you"

"anytime" you replied softly, then closed the door behind you.

4

You took another sip from your cold beer, while you leaned your back on the wall.

You stopped interacting with the others a little while ago, just content with listening to them talk.

To be honest you weren't really following what they were saying, all became a blur to you after the second, or the third beer, but you could recognize their light tones and careless laughs, making you feel at ease.

You could make out Travis and Jack's voice, with some interventions from Dean here and there, probably warning them not to get their feet on his coffee table.

You could also make out the sound of the water by the deck slowly moving with the wind.

The one sound that came crystal clear to your ears was a certain brunette's laugh as she talked with her friend a few feet away from you.

Even if Andy, and Vic for that matter, caught you looking in their direction multiple times, you could just say that you were looking at the water behind them, not that they would believe you. Vic definitely wouldn't.

As you raised the bottle to your lips you found your mouth empty, and a little frown took over your face.

You didn't bother warning the others, it's not like you were participating in the conversation, and headed inside.

And once you were back in the house the lack of the wind running through your hair made your cheeks feel really warm, making you realize they were probably red on the outside.

You actually went inside to get another beer or something to eat, but once your eyes landed on it, you couldn't resist the couch in the middle of the room.

"careful with your head like that, you might throw up"

it was only a few seconds of you sitting on the couch with your head leaned back in the air over the headrest until you heard her soft voice, and her heels coming closer to you.

"and you followed me to make sure I wouldn't?" you changed position, guided by her hand on the back of your neck, and saw her sitting next you.

"it was more so you wouldn't get another beer" she chuckled, turning so her middle was facing you.

"I wasn't going to get another beer" you lied.

She began speaking again, about what you didn't know, you weren't even sure she was talking; you could just see the way her lips moved, lips that had much more lipstick earlier this evening, she must have removed it by accident with a napkin after eating.

Her makeup was still on point though, you saw her subtly checking it with her phone before, but you were too far away to tell her it was perfect.

You were used to her wearing make up, she did that for a night out or, in this case, when you had little parties at Dean's house.

But there was one thing you didn't see often.

"what are thinking about?" her words finally entered your brain, making you blink rapidly.

Your voice came out slightly unsteady, but Andy was the only one to notice

"your hair"

"my hair?" she raised her eyebrows, cackling.

Between the alcohol turning your gears and her laugh stopping them, you struggled to find your next words "yea it's-" you scooter closer, one hand reaching to twirl a lock of her hair between your fingers "-different, I like it on you"

She got out a small "thank you" as she saw you playing with the ends of her curly hair, and she could feel your breath on her collarbone from the way you were leaning into her.

"sorry, I don't want to ruin it" you apologized, letting your hand fall next to her thigh.

When you raised your head to look at her you found her really close to your face, lips mere inches away from each other.

"it's okay" she reassured in a whisper, but she had a feeling your head was somewhere else.

In a bold act, probably guided by the alcohol, you propped yourself up on the couch to get even closer to the brunette, and closed your eyes.

You opened them again when you felt a hand on your chest, Andy's fingers gently grabbing the fabric of your shirt.

Her mouth was still agape, trying to grasp the right words.

"you're drunk" she whispered, but it felt more like an inconvenience rather than a statement.

She didn't give you time to reply and just got up from the couch, excusing herself as she went back outside.

Even after you were left alone, your eyes were still on the same spot were Andy was seated, trying to translate abstract thoughts.

Then, letting out a big sigh, you resumed your position on the couch.

And suddenly, the alcohol in your system wasn't nearly enough to stop you from realizing what you just did.

And how Andy reacted.

You felt the couch dip beside you, and it was only then you reopened your eyes, finding Maya next to you.

You two sat silently for a while, she didn't drink as much as you did, but you could see the light redness on her cheeks and her relaxed eyebrows.

She probably came in here to get away from the voices that seemed to get louder every second; as some of them tended to get loud when drunk.

You cleared your throat, but your voice still came out in a whisper.

"I almost kissed her"

And if you weren't so distracted you would have slapper her for the surprised laugh she let out

"you what?"

"I almost kissed her" you repeated, this time louder "and she pulled away"

While you were looking at the ceiling you missed the way the blonde fully turned her body towards you, adjusting one leg under the other. She squinted her eyes, almost hoping you were so drunk it was all just incoherent blabbing

"what do you mean she pulled away?"

"she pulled away, she rejected me, she refused me, she turned me down- is it clear now?" you asked sarcastically, placing the empty bottle that was still in your hand on the coffee table in front of you.

The blonde furrowed her eyebrows, deeply confused with this turn of events.

"...Andy?"

"yes Maya, Andy. Who do you think I'm in love with?" normally you would have never let something so big slip, especially when she was in the other room, but you were too drunk and confused and hurt and tired to care about filtering your words.

Thankfully she didn't make it a big deal, and tried her best to comfort you. Truth was, Maya herself didn't know how to help you, she was so sure Andy had feelings for you that she couldn't think of any reason why she did what she did.

So, when they all got back inside to end the night and Andy saw you sleeping on her shoulder, and offered to drive you home, Maya tightened the hold on your shirt, stating you didn't need it, and you could just sleep at Dean's for the night.

You made sure to thank Maya the morning after at the station, while feeling a pair of eyes on the back of your back.

5

After the "accident" at Dean's house, you expected Andy to treat you differently, or even to avoid you, but to your surprise she acted normally around you.

Or at least she tried to.

While you tried to pretend nothing ever happened that night, for Andy's sake, Andy couldn't stop thinking about it.

It was not the first time you almost kissed, so it shouldn't bother her this much; but it was the first time she pulled away.

This time there was no call, no one entering the room, no one interrupting them but herself.

She tried telling herself that you didn't really want it, that you were too drunk to actually realize what you tried to do, but it was all just an excuse not to blame herself.

Every time you looked at her she couldn't get the image of your eyes closed and your red cheeks out of her head, every time you talked to her, Andy couldn't stop thinking about how you so softly complimented her hair, and it was becoming harder and harder not to confront you.

But thankfully, with your line of work, she was able to put personal business aside and just treat you like a coworker.

"(Y/L/N), Bishop, what's the situation?" your lieutenant asked through the radio.

She was assigned by the captain to the hoses outside the condo with Montgomery and Hughes, while you and Maya had to go inside the building to check where the smoke was coming from.

"we're on the fifth floor for now, there's still no fire but I'm starting to smell the smoke" the blonde replied, before shutting down the communication.

"you know what I was thinking about" she started, casting you a quick look and seeing your raised eyebrow through the mask before continuing "Andy's been acting weird around you"

"yea I wonder why" you sarcastically remarked, ignoring her laugh.

"no I mean, good weird. She looks at you more from across the room, she always seats beside you during breakfast, she asks you how you are during a call" she finished, referring to what she did a few seconds ago.

"she asked us" you clarified "and she is not acting any different, you're seeing things"

Not that Maya told you, but after that night Andy came to her to confide in her best friend, and finally told her the truth.

"I think you should tell her how you feel, maybe she just needs to hear you say it" she encouraged you, now that she knew both sides she couldn't help but try to push you in the right direction and end this endless pining.

Without stopping, you answered "oh you want me to be direct? Sure" you mimicked her action, shrugging your shoulders "do you remember when I tried to kiss you and you pulled away? yea well, I wanted to tell you that I really like you, in case you wanted to turn me down a second time."

You scoffed at your own words and turned a corner, but when you saw her stopping in her tracks you also stopped, confused.

"there's the smoke" she announced, making you look at the apartment at the end of the hallway, and while she ran towards the door, you opened your radio.

"captain, we found the source, east side of the building. We're going in"

Turns out the apartment belonged to a single mother and while she was distracted by her kids the stove she was cooking breakfast on caught on fire, and the flames instantly engulfed the door, forcing her to hide in the other room with her two boys.

While Maya helped the woman and the kids evacuate the building, you stayed behind to extinguish what was left of the fire.

After receiving confirmation that there wasn't anyone else left in the apartment, you got out of the building to finally get some fresh air.

You sat at the back of the engine, with the oxygen mask covering half of your face. You were looking in front of you at the smoke slowly disappearing when suddenly someone blocked the sun from hitting the side of your face, making you look up at her.

"you're using our vics' masks" Andy leaned on the door of truck, but made no move to grab the device.

"oh I didn't know-" you went to take it off your face, but her hand on your wirst and her laugh stopped you.

"I'm kidding, they used it while you were inside." she explained with a smile. But then it seemed to falter for a second "are you okay? Maya said it shouldn't have taken you that long to extinguish the fire. I could have sent someone up to help you."

You closed one eye and furrowed your eyebrows when her new position exposed you to the sun once again, but you kept on looking at her with the other eye.

You found it cute how she offered you help without realizing she couldn't have made that decision by herself anyway.

"don't worry about it captain, I was just checking for any gas leaks" the fake title rolling off your tongue as sweetly as the last time you used it a couple of weeks ago.

She saw you putting the oxygen mask behind you and let her gaze fall to the ground. When she finally told Maya how she feels about you, the blonde never revealed what she knew about your own feelings, and only told her to "go for it", which didn't help. at all.

"what's up with you?" your fingers reached for her belt loops and brought her closer. Andy widened her eyes slightly in surprise but when she noticed your relazed eyebrows, she realized you just moved her to block the sun.

"what do you mean? I'm fine" she knew it was useless with you, but she still tried to play dumb.

"I know you Andy, I can see when you're lost in your thoughts"

You gave her time to answer but she took it to look at your features.

The full face mask you wore before made your hair messier that they normally were, and your uniform had now dust and ash traces. Since her body covered the sun from hitting your face she couldn't see the brightness she was used to admire in your eyes, but they still held the same softness they always held while you were looking at her.

What she couldn't really take her eyes off where your cheeks. Being close to the fire made your body temperature grow, and gave your cheeks the same hue they had the night at Dean's house.

And that made Andy think.

Maybe your action weren't completely controlled by the alcohol.

In a spur of confidence, Andy grabbed your rosy cheeks, bringing you closer to her. And suddenly, much to your surprise, her lips where on yours.

You put one hand behind you so you wouldn't fall on your back with the force she was using, while your other hand went to reach behind her neck.

Andy could almost taste the smoke you inhaled minutes before, but the fact that you were kissing her back was enough to make up for it.

When she pulled away and straightened her back from the uncomfortable arch it was in, you slowly reopened your eyes and you honestly couldn't tell who looked more surprised.

"I thought-" the hand on your cheeck was making it just that bit harder for you to think "when I tried to kiss you-"

"you were drunk" she replied "I wasn't sure you really wanted it and I didn't want to finally kiss you when you wouldn't be able to remember the next day"

You kept looking between her eyes during the explanation, your hand going back to her waist mid speech.

"I will definitely remember now" you remarked, before pulling her in a second kiss.

Before you could detach yourself from her lips, you heard someone's footsteps coming towards you, then a loud cheer sounded from behind Andy.

"I see you two finally did it"

"and now I don't have to keep your secrets anymore" Maya added, following Vic.

"wait you knew? why didn't you tell me, Andy?" Vic looked between the two women,

"because you suck at keeping secrets Vic" the woman next to you answered, crossing her arms. She shifted her weight, slightly leaning into you hand still resting on her side.

"you really do, Vi" you chuckled, backing Andy up.

"yea whatever you know what?" she pointed at the both of you "I still won the bet, so thank you anyway, love birds" Vic proudly announced, but before getting in the back of the engine, she turned to the blonde once again

"and you're not getting anything, since you already knew"

At that, Maya groaned, following her "oh come on, that's not fair"

Their argument got lost on you as you turned back to look at Andy, who looked both amused and confused. She probably wasn't aware of the bet.

You got up and kissed her cheek to bring her attention back to you.

"do you want to drive?" she asked after a second, knowing that with her as lieutenant you'd sit next to her.

"yea, I'd like that. And,"

you took a step forward, your lips hovering hers "we can talk about this later?"

She nodded with a smile, but when she tried to close the distance, Travis honking from the aid car startled her.

He was a few meters away, so he wasn't able to see what was happening, or he would have never interrupted.

But Andy decided right this moment that she didn't want to get interrupted by anyone anymore, so she put her arms around your neck, and leaned in to kiss you again.

"let's go back, before we get another call" she spoke up once she separated from you, then walked past you to get into the passenger's seat.

And as soon as you started the engine, you heard Andy's incredulous voice, making you laugh out loud

"why did no one tell me about the bet?"

Andy Herrera Masterlist

Station 19 Masterlist - General Masterlist

[causticflower]

A Ship Template!  

a shipping template (a fancy + a simplified/more readable version) that I made for fun

so here! have fun too :3

originally inspired by @awfulalignmentcharts and [their ship chart]; I borrowed the general layout and some of the wording, otherwise the graphics & rest of the words is me ^^

more + explanations down under vvv

> a general note: you can fill this thing out any way you want; you can write the answers, draw them, you also don't have to fill out everything, and you can even delete/replace stuff you don't like (it's not like I'd be able to stop you lol) ((also the title, you can edit the [--] or the whole thing too))

> you don't need to tag me or reblog the post if you fill it out

> if anyone wants a different combination of the graphical parts or different font or something else let me know, I'll see what I can do <3 

= Explanations =

(I explained everything just to be sure, feel free to skip parts)

Top part – Introductions:

the big squares → you can put their faces or profiles or whatever of theirs there

the small square (“describe their vibes”) → what their dynamic is like, what vibes do they give off when next to each other etc; for example, are they a cat-person & dog-person kind of duo, or it's a scary dog privilege kind of situation, or do they look like enemies, etc

ship name → their ship name, or their ship names if they have multiple

age+difference → what are their ages + how big their age gap is

height+difference → what are their heights + how much is one taller/shorter than the other 

fandom(s) -> what fandom are they from, or fandoms if it's a crossover ship

name → their name, full or nickname or other

gender → their gender

sexuality → their sexuality; you can specify if it's a romantic, sexual, both/neither type of attraction 

alignment (of your choice) → what the character’s alignment/personality is, up to you if you want to use the classic DnD alignment chart (good/neutral/evil x lawful/neutral/chaotic) or if you want to use whatever else (like add in bastard/fish/pirate etc)

Left Column (the many sliders): 

big spoon <--> little spoon = when sleeping or cuddling; who is the one hugging <--> the one being hugged

actually functions <--> messy mental wreck = how well they are doing mentally; are they mentally well adjusted/stable <--> are they a mess/have mental issues

ball of stress <--> YOLO = what their general attitude to life is; are they stressed/worried about things constantly <--> are they carefree/careless/going with the flow

hermit <--> social bee = how social they are; not social at all <--> very social

scaredy-cat <--> fears no god = are they afraid of everything <--> do they fear nothing

bleeding heart <--> then perish. = how sympathetic they are; almost too sympathetic <--> don't care at all

incompetently competent <--> competently incompetent = basically: their attitude x their actual skill (with the middle being “normal”); look clumsy/careless but are very competent <--> look competent/confident but are actually useless

the world is ending (I fell in love) <--> blushing giggling kicking feet = what their reaction is when they realize they have a crush/fell in love; is very upset/miserable about it/hates it <--> very happy/giddy about it

allergic to PDA <--> sickeningly affectionate = how they act in general situations/around others; acting like they're strangers <--> constantly holding hands/kissing/complimenting each other

wants to get matching things <--> would rather die than change their style = they want to get something (very visible) to signify they are a couple <--> they like their style and won't change it no matter what

cuddles<3 <--> the table is broken again = the horniness meter; they have little to no sex (or it’s an ace/qpr ship) <--> they have sex as often as physically possible

has zero game <--> has insane game = how attractive they are to other people; cannot get a date no matter what <--> everyone wants to date them no matter what they do

crime doer <--> crime stopper = how likely they are to engage in 'bad' activities (either actual crime or just being a nuisance/prankster to their friends); constantly doing something nefarious <--> is actually more likely to stop crime/pranks from happening

watcher <--> meddler = are they more passive in conversations/situations <--> do they have to take part in everything

doomed by the narrative <--> blessed by the narrative = how much has the universe fucked them over (in canon or fanon); their life is/was pretty miserable <--> they are/were doing very well

Questions pt.1 

what brings them together? → what do they have in common / what might have brought (and kept) them together in the first place

what keeps/kept them apart? → what is/was preventing them from getting together (themselves, outside forces, etc)

Right Column:

Questions pt.2 

(badly) describe their meetcute → describe how they met, you can make it funny if you want

what are their fandom tropes/their ship appeal → what are their most common fan depictions (whether they are canon or not), or what about their ship dynamic is appealing to you/everyone

Questions pt.3

who fell first? → which one of them was the first to fall in love with the other

who first Realized (they're in love)? → which one of them had The Realization happen first, when they actually realized they are in love with the other person (basically the Oh. Oh. moment)

who confessed first? → who was the first to confess their love

who cleans up more messes? → who takes care of the mess they make/the trouble they get into more often

who is the first to apologize (after a fight)? → who apologizes first if they had a fight (where both of them might’ve been at fault)

who steals the bed covers? → who ((un)consciously) takes all the pillows/blankets/etc during the night/when they're sleeping together

who's the headrest? → example: A likes to rest their head/chin on B's head/shoulders/chest/etc, so B’s the headrest

who's the chef? (what they cooking?) → which one of them makes their food (and what the food is)

who takes charge of home decor? → which one of them is more likely to set up/design their home (pick the house, furniture, decor, etc)

who's the 3AM texter? → who's more likely to text the other in the middle of the night (for whatever reason)

who randomly brings home a new pet? → who's more likely to adopt random animals as pets / bring animals home to help them / etc

who's more likely to just straight up trip and die? → who is more clumsy/accident prone

“The Touchzone”

no touch <--> yes touch = in general circumstances, how do they feel about others touching them

the figures → you can draw on them or replace them with the characters, then you can color/otherwise indicate where and how they feel about touch on their body (either from their partner or in general, up to you)

you're dead → “I despise this”

do not → “I don't like this / I hate this”

not really → “I'd prefer no touch but it’s tolerable”

…eh… → “I have no strong feelings about this”

mayhaps → “I don't mind this, actually maybe even like it”

yes please → “I like this a lot”

YESss moreE → “I love/adore this”

note for the uncolored version of this: you can put your own colors/symbols/etc in the -[   ]- square next to the words

…and that's it, let me know if you have any more questions <3