#idk where i was going with this but um

[jaeyooniverse]

sometimes i'll be listening to sf9 and it just hits me like this is why i'm still here with them, this is why i love them

[stiffyck]

I love bad art so much. I love when people just scribble and do random brush strokes and I love seeing artists just not care if the end result looks pleasing or good. I love when people do art just because it's fun.

[oceanwithouthermoon]

ive come to realise that i dont actually hate kubokai, i just hate the way people write them

[hecksupremechips]

Come back home when you have some sense

You can throw your life away just not at my expense

You’re not the son I raised

[cerealmonster15]

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

sketching practice with pinterest image suggestions + um. those two guys again. i dont know how to draw anyone else. 🐙🐍

[sipsteainanxiety]

when the night calls...

...do you answer back?

pairing: bakugou katsuki x reader

word count: 2.7k+

mentions: no pronouns mentioned, char death (bkg) but not reaaalllyyy, aged up chars (25+), supernatural elements in a pro-hero au, grief/mourning, horror-esque but it's romantic i promise, hurt/comfort, lowercase, part of the dark chocolates teahouse collab.

you thought katsuki was gone—that he had abandoned you in this life to move on to the next. you saw his body—lifeless, cold, still. saw him get lowered into the ground in his dark casket enveloped in his hero colors. you stayed, for hours after the funeral, at his grave. wondering why he had to leave—why he had to break the promise he whispered to you on the night you both said your vows.

you thought he was dead. that he'd left you alone.

you were wrong.

the shadows seemed to long for your touch.

they lingered just out of the corner of your vision, always appearing closer than they actually were. you'd turn to see them stretching in your direction in ways that did not align with the light. you played it off as your mind playing tricks on you—as your grief warping your perception. but it was so hard to ignore, so hard to simply shrug off.

they crept over your shoulder—a chill running up and down your spine. they followed along as you walked home after a long day at work. they wrapped around you as you slept. you found yourself lingering in the darkness, not quite understanding why you just—never felt like you were alone. not truly alone, anyways. it was slightly unsettling, but you learned to ignore it.

you weren't scared, not particularly. it was just—cold. it made you feel isolated, at times. like the world was trying to shroud you in this darkness to remind you of what you'd lost.

you needed time by yourself, that was all. you told your friends the same stilted words again and again. i'll be fine, you'd say with a smile, just give me time. you lay in bed—that too large bed with too many pillows—and twisted the silver ring on your finger. staring up at the ceiling swathed in the milky lighting of the moon. the shadows appeared to move before you. your mind did not relent in your exhaustion.

with each passing day the ache in your heart only seemed to grow deeper. you wondered if it would ever end. you wondered if you would ever heal.

it was hard, being at home. traces of katsuki lingered everywhere you went. he was in the large boots that rested neatly by the door. in the lingering smell of burnt caramel that plagued your sheets and clothes. in the worn handle of his favorite spatula. it felt like you were suffocating, surrounded by so much of him. it was only natural for you to want to escape—to breathe. but it wasn’t that simple, and stepping outside just made everything worse.

he was on the t.v. screens in stores as japan still grieved, his face on every news channel. plastered to every pole, every brick wall. memorials were scattered around musutafu. candle stubs lined the streets. they were constructing a statue dedicated to him in front of the agency he’d co-owned with eijiro. you did not let your gaze wander for long. you were torn—drowning in your own sorrows and the sorrows of the people who surrounded you.

moping around would do you no good, you came to realize one day as you stared at a framed picture in your bedroom. it was the two of you on your wedding day, fingers intertwined tightly—two threads woven together expertly. the setting sun cast long shadows around the room from the open window that seemed to latch onto you. holding on for dear life. you ran a finger down katsuki’s face in the picture—the gentle smile he’d graced you with. only ever shown in your presence. you set the frame down and sighed—longing.

it took a few days for you to clean the entire apartment. deep scrubbing it and dousing it in a freshener to get rid of the bits of katsuki that lingered in the air. you hoped—so desperately—that it would alleviate some of the pain you felt in your chest. but as you stood in your darkened living room that smelled like citrus, you only felt emptier, it seemed. you ran a weary hand down your face.

you couldn’t… quite bring yourself to pack his things away just yet, either. so you sat on your couch as the moon peaked at you through the slightly drawn curtains, a single candle lit on the coffee table before you. it was lavender scented. you slumped forward to knead your fingers into your temples. you were exhausted. you missed him, so much that it hurt.

you stared at the flickering tangerine flame as it gleamed across your corneas.

something whispered your name.

it was soft—faint like a breath of air—yet it echoed so loudly in your ears because of how quiet your apartment was. your eyes darted up and to the side, wide and searching in the dark. you were alone. you couldn't see much beyond the couch you were sat upon. you swallowed heavily and waited, straining your ears in case you heard your name again. but you didn't.

you wondered if your grief was driving you insane.

you pursed your lips and stood up so you could slowly make your way to your bedroom to retire for the night. the shadows around you grew deeper with every step you took.

behind you, the candle went out.

you felt as though you were being watched.

it happened out of nowhere, the feeling of eyes on you as you went about your day. at first you chalked it up to your nerves, maybe the fatigue that weighed heavily on your shoulders. but it persisted. the feeling was stronger at night, you noticed, when you were surrounded by the dark. or at least, you weren't as aware of it whilst you were bathed in daylight.

it grew harder and harder to ignore as time passed. in other circumstances, you wouldn't have let it affect you so much. you wouldn't have had such difficulty with proceeding on with your daily routine. but you were troubled by the weight of the stare and the voices that whispered your name at night—when you were at your lowest, sitting in that too cold, too wide living room that smelled like a mix of citrus and lavender.

what really shook you, however, happened one evening after the sun had set and a gloomy dusk settled across the navy sky. you were sitting on the couch in your living room as you read a book, the lamp in the corner turned on to swathe everything in a warm honey glow. after what felt like hours, you eventually got up to grab a glass of water from the kitchen. it was then that you felt your foot get caught on something.

at first you thought you'd fallen victim to the blanket that spilled over the arm of the couch like a lazy waterfall. but when you looked down at your foot, you realized it wasn't stuck on anything. in fact, there was nothing wrong with it. you blinked down at your foot slowly, not comprehending what exactly was going on. it felt as though something had wrapped around it, gripping tightly at your ankle. something you couldn't see.

you gave a halfhearted tug at it, noticing how it was in the shadow of the couch from the lamp's light. but it didn't budge—not one bit. something in your stomach seemed to sink and grow deeper as you tried to pull your foot free from whatever held onto it. you swallowed heavily and—with all the strength in your body—wrenched your foot free. out of the deep shadow it was encased in.

the force you used made you stumble back until you hit the floor roughly on your backside. you immediately tugged your legs closer to your body, staring wide-eyed at the spot your foot had been stuck in before. there was nothing there. the skin around your ankle seemed to buzz. a shiver crawled up your spine.

something had changed, that evening.

you started drawing your curtains wide open, letting in the sun's light during the day and the moon's at night. you kept the lights on in every room you were in, chasing away every last remnant of the shadows. you were driving up your electricity bill, but you couldn't bring yourself to care. anything to make you feel safe—in a place where you once thought you could not be harmed.

it made you jumpy—set your attentiveness on fire. it had gotten to the point where your friends had started to notice something was wrong.

"are you... okay?" mina asked you tentatively one day as you met with her for a late lunch. your eyes darted over to look at her from where they'd been lingering on the shadows splayed across the table. "you seem... nervous."

"i'm fine," you assured her quickly, clearing your throat. your fingers tapped at the laminated menu before you. "i just... ah... have a lot on my mind, is all."

mina hummed, but it didn't seem like she really believed you. "if you say so..." her dark eyes looked down at her own menu, then back up at your own with a newfound sincerity to them. "you know we're here for you, right? i know it's... hard. for you."

you looked at her—really looked at her. she looked as tired as you felt, though where she covered her fatigue up with makeup, you didn't. and you were reminded, just then, that katsuki had been her friend, too.

you reached over so you could give her pink hand a gentle squeeze. "yeah"—you gave her a soft smile that she reciprocated—"i know."

you found yourself, one saturday evening, sitting on the floor in the middle of your brightly lit living room as you shuffled through a cardboard box. in it, were photo albums that mitsuki had gifted you so long ago. they were filled to the brim with childhood photos of katsuki—from the moment he was born, to the moment he and you had finally moved in together. you weren’t sure why, exactly, you were compelled to crack open this box, but you did. and it was simultaneously the best and the worst decision you’d made since his death.

you smiled wetly as your fingers flipped page after page, trailed down picture after picture of katsuki. him when he was five, his palms popping like sparklers. him when he was sixteen, grumpily standing with eijiro outside u.a. him when he was twenty-four, an arm wrapped around your shoulders as he scowled off into the distance. you thought everything would get easier—you hoped and dreamed. but it didn’t. at least, not yet.

you sighed and shut the thick album gently. then you hugged it to your chest, closing your eyes as you reminisced.

you breathed in, deep.

there was the smell of burnt caramel in the air—faint.

your eyes snapped open just as the lights went out around you, plunging you into darkness.

for a moment, your breaths stilled. you blinked, your eyes wide as they adjusted to the sudden change. the open window allowed pale blue moonlight to reach into the room, but it wasn’t enough. you glanced around, wondering what had happened. power outage? you glanced at the t.v. stand, where the cable box on the shelf within it still blinked red numbers at you to tell you the time. that was odd. you frowned and slowly picked yourself off the ground.

the moment you moved, you immediately felt the weight of a foreboding, familiar stare. that bore straight through you and set each and every hair on your arms and neck straight. you froze and let your eyes trail around you, cataloging every piece of furniture, every dark shadow that stretched towards you.

and that was when you noticed it. 

in the deepest, darkest corner of your living room. 

there was something. something that seemed to draw in the darkness around it. that writhed and dripped as it pulled itself up from the ground. no, not from the ground, you discovered. from the shadows. it was large. it was tenebrous. and it terrified you. 

but you couldn’t get yourself to run away. no matter how much you willed your legs to move, it seemed like you were rooted to one spot. you watched as this thing slammed a large, clawed hand on the floor—midnight like the shadows around it—and scratched its nails deep into the wood. it coalesced into what looked like a head and shoulders—a torso that moved in a way that was inhumane.

you took in a sharp breath of air when it rasped out something deep. that grated at your ears and made you feel the sudden urge to run. two crimson dots peered at you—bright like smoldering pieces of coal. and you realized you were looking right into its eyes.

it was difficult to decipher where the thing started and where it ended, with how wrapped into the shadows it was. you felt your heart leap up into your throat when it rasped that same word again—that you soon realized wasn't just any normal word. it was your name. and maybe that realization was all it took to jar you into movement.

you stumbled backwards, your instincts screaming at you to get away—run as fast as you could. it wasn't safe here anymore, it wasn't safe. you spun around and lunged for the front door, hoping, perhaps, that once you left your apartment, you would be okay. you could get help.

but you didn't make it too far.

something latched onto your leg, crawled up your body until you were twirled back around and forced into one spot. the thing wrapped its murky limbs around you, looming over you until all you could see was its strange, dark body. it pinned your arms to your sides and gripped at your chin to make you look up at it.

it said your name again—in a voice, you noticed, was familiar, somehow. with an undertone of this desperation. that gripped at your heart and caused you to look into its crimson eyes once more. really look at them. and what you saw reflected against them made you stop struggling. the pale moonlight backlit its features that slowly took on a shape you could recognize. you swallowed heavily.

"katsuki?" you whispered hesitantly. its grip loosened slightly at your voice. and suddenly you were burning up from the inside as the last bits of shadow slipped from its face and revealed one you knew all too well—that plagued you in your dreams and your nightmares. you slipped a hand out of his hold so you could reach up with shaky fingers and lightly touch at the curve of his cheek. his eyes closed.

"how are—" you choked out, your voice thick with emotions you couldn't even begin to decipher. your eyes frantically darted across his features, taking them in—memorizing them as though it was the last time you would ever see them again. he looked like himself, like your katsuki. but there was his underlying feeling that something was wrong. inhuman in the paleness of his skin and the way this darkness seemed to cling to him, unrelenting. "how are you—"

"i fought through hell," katsuki rasped out in a voice that seemed to echo in your ears, "to get back to you."

"you—" something seemed to lodge itself in your throat, just then. and all you could do was lean forward and wrap your arms around his shoulders. pulling him closer so you could rest your ear against his chest and listen to the thrumming of his heart. alive.

"it was hard"—he swallowed thickly—"i tried so fuckin' hard to let y'know i was here. but i was so fuckin' weak. couldn't do shit other than mess with the lights."

"all that time," you breathed as you turned your gaze to look up at him, "it was you?" he only grunted and held you closer. you bit at the inside of your bottom lip to keep it from trembling and buried your face into his dark chest. his body seemed to waver—shake, almost—like it could fall apart at any second. and that terrified you.

"what... happened to you?" you asked in a stifled voice, talking into his sternum. "please tell me you can stay."

"don't think 'bout that," he told you as one of his clawed hands came up to cradle the back of your head. you sunk deeper into his hold, unwilling to let go. "'m here now, yeah?"

you held him tighter—as though you could absorb him directly into your body. it was true, he was back. he was here as this tumultuous being of the night. that had clawed his way back to you—defying death as you knew it.

but at a cost you knew would never be repaid.

[alchemicaladarna]

I don't...I literally don't even know what to say...

Obviously, I wish all the best for Pomme and Dapper's admins, but fuck man-

I can't describe how devastated I truly am to see this news. I stand by and respect their decision to leave the project of course. What they went through for basically the past year was terrible but words can't articulate how truly upsetting this all is.

I don't know, like, I had a lot of hope that things were going to be ok. And you know, that's not to say the rest of the project won't be ok- still holding out some hope for other people.

But a lot of my own personal enjoyment of the server was seeing Pomme and Dapper on the server because I'm gonna be honest, they were truly my favorites.

So like, idk man. Idk what to do or feel or where to go from here...

Just send all the love and support to Pomme and Dapper's admins. Please respect their wishes and don't harass anyone about this. Just give them all the love and kindness please, ok?

Also I just remembered that meme that referenced Dapper's admin might be here and Pomme mentioned seeing Tumblr too: if you guys see this, know that you truly played some of the most beloved characters I've ever seen in any media I've watched. I loved watching you guys on the server for the past year and I wish you all the best in your next endeavors <33 🍎🎩

[alexisrosemullens]

Snow didn't just think of Lucy Gray for 64 years. It was Sejanus that haunted him. Sejanus' parents essentially adopted him and Snow was reminded everyday of his betrayal to Sejanus. He took their money. Took their affection. Told them that he was Sejanus' best friend and did everything to protect him. He lied every day while he was with the Plinths. He didn't make the games the way the were because of Lucy Gray but because of Sejanus. As a reminder to the rebels like Sejanus that this is what happens. Stay in line. Don't step out.

[mattodore]

there's something about the way you are that makes me… ♪

[romance-rambles]

AN APPRORIATE STARING DISTANCE

While at the beach, you take a moment to appreciate your handsome boyfriend while he's taking a nap—and also when he's not.

— word count: 1.2k

— pairing: [modern] clarence clayden x little painter/you

— tags: romantic fluff, established relationship, takes place during azure island phase 1 [no spoilers for the event stories tho]

— notes: absolutely wild that my first time writing for clarence happens to be modern ver, not archmage!! anyways, this is the screenshot you can blame for this silly lil fic's existence.

return to lbc masterlist | series: none

NAVY BLUE STICKS OUT TO you the moment you open your eyes.

Your aching shoulder protests your decision to stay as you are, on your side, facing a still sleeping Clarence. Like this, he looks much younger—you're reminded of the time you had to force him to take a nap. Like this, he's simply the cute guy you managed to score not one but multiple dates with, just Clarence, instead of the incredibly smart and wonderful and kind Student Council President.

You glance at the circular table set between your two beach chairs, taking note of his glasses resting primly upon its surface. With him often having to juggle two different kinds of glasses, you'd offered to put them in your bag so that he could pack lighter. Or, as light as he can.

Right now, it's awkwardly squished behind you, miraculously still on the chair only because it's too big to fall out the gap under the armrest.

Filling in the blanks comes as easily to you as the smile on your face when you get to see your boyfriend, nearly the same one on your face right now—and the expression that goes with it is so endlessly fond that you find yourself with the urge to hit something.

Simply put, your boyfriend is a handsome man—the most handsome one, of all the men your keen eyes have gazed upon. And gazed, they certainly have. But even if they didn't have to pick, then they would gaze at only Clarence for the rest of their life..

You almost giggle at the thought, but think against it at the last minute.

But pressing your lips firmly into a thin line has the opposite effect on your budding smile. You imagine you look rather strange to anyone who passes by—what with your mockery of a wide smile and the silent scream building up in your throat, paired with the quiet thumping of your feet against the legrest.

If you were in a more private space, you would resort to kicking instead.

A proper squish to your still warm cheeks as you begin to sit up helps ease up the passion swirling chaotically across your body. You exhale, then allow your hands to slide off your face. One side of it bears the consequences of your actions more than the other.

With a one last longing at the sleeping Clarence, you start to dig through your bag for the only thing in your arsenal that could substitute for a sketchbook.

There are a few miscellaneous promotion emails waiting for you on the lockscreen. A message from Cael asking about dinner tomorrow too. Somewhere between them, there's a notice about the weather, with the temperature from an almost hour ago listed uselessly.

You swipe past them all and hurriedly slip into the camera app.

The hand holding your phone steadies itself against the armrest as you swing your legs over the edge of your chair. A thumb hovers over the capture button, vigilantly awaiting your command. The fingers of your other hand, meanwhile, busy themselves with zooming in on the captivating scenery.

With each pinch, the focus grows ever narrow—until all that remains is Clarence and nothing else.

At one point, you try to zoom into the mole under his eye, but it doesn't make for a very compelling photo. After a few attempts, quite a few of which involve staring at your screen for prolonged periods of time, you reluctantly give up.

Your pout is soon covered up by your phone. When its front camera presses against your upper lip, your gaze is free to wander back to the sleeping beauty beside you once more.

A healing effect, exclusive to him, takes hold of you instantaneously.

Eyes brimming with fondness narrow slightly. You slide off your beach chair, hands on your bent knees as you take a closer look. You can make out the shadows cast by his long lashes and the drool dribbling past his chin.

He's perfect.

You're content to stay there until your knees begin to ache, reminding you insistently that this isn't a very comfortable position to be in. As a compromise of some kind, you adjust your arms atop the nearby armrest.

It really would be better if you'd brought your sketchbook along—but, you think, remembering his workaholic tendencies, would he even bother to take a nap then?

You scrunch your nose up at the thought.

In that moment, Clarence seems sense to your presence. When you look back at him, you're greeted with the sight of confusion in his now opened, but still drowsy gaze. He blinks, and it earns him an amused grin from you.

"Morning," you say, though it's well into afternoon.

That seems to wake him up. His cheeks flush a warm pink, and he hurriedly wipes away the drool on his face, as though you haven't already committed the sight to your memory.

Clearing his throat, he responds in kind, careful to sit up in such a way that he avoids looking at you.

"You don't have to be so close...I can see you just fine."

You laugh, not unkindly. "What if I'm the one who's having trouble?"

For a moment, when he turns back to look at you, he looks alarmed. Then, his shoulders relax to the tune of a sigh, his groggy mind apparently having caught onto the fact that you were joking.

Without breaking eye contact, you reach for his glasses. But as with the issue of walking into a cave without a flashlight, even if you vaguely recall where your destination is, there's no guarantee you'll actually reach it.

"Give me a second," you mutter, your annoyance making your tone a bit too sharp.

You follow your words up with an apology. His glasses held are carefully by the frames as your sheepish gaze connects with his faintly amused one. Clarence reaches out, getting as far as grasping the slanted tips of the frame before the two of you reach a mutual agreement.

"Well." His cheeks return to being a rosy hue. He coughs politely. "If you would."

Cute. Biting your lip giddily, you shake his grip off. A quick once-over of your surroundings before you stand up shows that no one seems to be paying attention to you. And unless your friends and acquaintences have come to together to unlock the secrets of invisibility, no one you know seems to be present either.

Leaning over, you line his glasses up against his face, the tips of his frame brushing against his cheek. It takes only a moment to slot them into place—and you have enough experience with doing so that they don't snag against his ears.

It takes only a moment longer to give him an innocent peck on the lips.

"There," you murmur, not entirely satisfied with the kiss.

His Adam's apple bobs. Clarence adjusts his glasses with an awkward look that suggests he has some kind of solution to your dilemma. You, of course, beat him to the punch.

"Why—" Your voice cracks a little. "—don't we go find a different spot?"

He smiles, narrowed eyes watching you fondly. "I was about to suggest the same thing."

[viatrix-glow]

new di x warrior cats

name explanations and more info below :3

basic stuff

-each agency is a clan, not each unit. 14-15 clans would be silly and then we would have some clans with 5 cats and some with 2.

-starpro -> lightclan. i couldn’t call them “starclan” for obvious reasons. light is somewhat synonymous with star, so i’m going with that.

-cospro -> nightclan. i don’t think the cats in warriors know the word “cosmic”, but cosmic implies cosmos implies night sky, so we’re going with night

-rhyth lin -> rippleclan. ripple is sort of a synonym to rhythm….? this one was hard

-new di -> fortuneclan. this one is a stretch but neither “new” or “dimension” have synonyms that really fit a clan name. fortune is something that relates to multiple characters in new di though

-starclan still sort of exists, but the cats do not believe in them the way they do in warriors. they are more of a nursery tale than anything, and select cats (ex: tatsumi) believe in them, but it is not written into their code. medicine cats can still interpret signs, but they do not necessarily think of them as coming from starclan.

-medicine cat forbidden romance is not a thing here

-intermingling of clans is ok and common

-there’s like. other cats in their clans besides just the enstars cast i assume

cat names/why i chose them

fortuneclan:

knights

-tsukasa -> scarletstar (scarletblossom) . he is the leader of fortuneclan because he is one of the new di reps for the summits. both scarlet and blossom were chosen bc of his last name (scarlet is a red color… kinda similar to cherry…. and blossom for the cherry blossom).

-leo -> lionheart. ok this one is kind of cheating because lionheart is already an existing warrior, but…come on….

-izumi -> silverspring. sora describes his color as silver, and spring is in his first name

-ritsu -> frostmoon. his first name means cold moon according to the wiki so i just rehashed it

-naru -> goldenroar. since she doesn’t like her first name i didn’t want to use “storm”, and her last name can be read as “thunder” but that’s a little too close to storm? so golden for her hair and roar for her last name

switch

-natsume -> sageeye. a sage is similar to a wizard, and eye is in his first name . also the “dovesong” mentioned is wataru :)

-tsumugi -> bluewing. he is a bluebird. warrior cats probably wouldn’t straight up call a cat “bluebird” so i put wing there instead. deputy cause he’s the vp

-sora -> skyspring . sora means sky. spring is in his last name. i could have used “stream” instead to differentiate him from sena but i think spring is cuter

mam/df

-madara -> tawnystripe . tawny bc it’s like kind of close to calico if you squint. stripe(s) is in his last name

[kithj]

saddest vampire with the biggest wettest eyes in the world

[squishosaur]

woohoo!! silly guys!! for @fyoliars :3

[averlym]

,,, little lemmings in line...

[after-witch]

Smiling Man - "If no, When you tire of me, will you set me free to be happy?"

notes: yandere, kidnapped reader

The question comes out of the blue. At least, it must seem like that, to him. Unless he was paying less attention to his book than you realized, and had watched as you slowly become burdened and burdened and burdened with thought. But when you ask it, he hums, finishing a page and sliding a slim bookmark into the book before closing it.

“Tire of you?” His eyebrows raise, and he sets the book he was reading (something old, in a language you didn’t understand, that made him laugh now and then) on the table next to the well-worn, patterned couch shoved into the corner of what you called the sitting room. You were both sitting there, quiet, comfortable. Or as comfortable as it could be.

“Sometimes you have the strangest of notions, my dear. Truly.”

You shrug, bringing your knees closer to your chest, picking at the laces of your shoes. You’d given in some of the things he wished upon you. Dresses, old fashioned ones. Scents kept in intricate glass vials that smelled of worlds long gone. But your favorite pair of sneakers--more worn now, but holding on--was one thing you refused to give up. No matter how much he asked.

Sometimes you half-expected to wake up only to find them gone and replaced with whatever footwear he deemed acceptable, but he never did. He wants you to willingly let them go, you think--as willingly you’ve let everything else go. Little by little, starting with the biggest thing--yourself.

“What’s strange about it?”

Your fingers trace a loose thread in one of the laces. “You’re… I don’t know how old.”

You glance aside and see his lips thin, can practically hear the reminder to watch your manners on his tongue, and you can’t help your own smile. “No offense. I just mean that, what am I, in the grand scheme of things? Just an ordinary person. A blip. Nothing. You’ll get bored of me, like people get bored of new presents they get for Christmas. Besides,” you continue,  gesturing towards the window, where the strange worlds outside whirl by, accompanied by the din of train wheels running over the tracks. “How could I keep you entertained for very long, compared to all this?”

There’s a few moments of pause. When you risk a glance at his face, he’s merely watching you, his eyes far away for the slightest of moments before returning to look at you with his familiar clarity.

“If you were boring,” he says, his voice taking on the usual primness it did when he was explaining something that he thought you ought to already know. “I would not have sought the bargain I did. And,” he adds, sounding a bit offended now, “I did not make our bargain in order for you to keep me entertained. Really.”

You bite back an apology, to save yourself an ounce of dignity.

“So you wouldn’t let me go? Even if you got bored of me--” His eyebrows raise again and you put your hands up, placating. “If, I said if. Let’s just… pretend you did. You wouldn’t let me go, even then?”

He sighs, a soft sound. His gaze turns out the window, where the scenery has gone misty.

“No,” he says. His voice sounds remote, despite the fact that he’s sitting right next to you. “Even if I did grow tired of you… and I wouldn’t, mind you.” His voice deepens at that, and you nod, agreeing, wanting him to keep going. Wanting to hear the end, even if you knew it wouldn’t do anything but confirm the knot in your stomach. “But even if I did, I couldn’t let you go.”

It takes you a while to realize what he said, exactly.

“Couldn’t? You mean you… even if you wanted, you…” You let the rest go unsaid. You’re too afraid to ask the words concretely.

He’s not smiling, now, his lips etched ever so slightly downward in a frustrated frown. It’s not an expression he often wears when you’re around.

“A bargain is a bargain. The mist is the mist. If it was so easy to get back, do you think any people from your sunlit world would stay here for very long? Especially those who didn’t make any bargain, and merely wandered in. Unlucky things.” There’s a flash of a smile at the end, and somehow, it makes you feel less anxious to see that than it does to see his frowning face.

It’s your turn to look back at the window, at the rushing of unnatural trees with limbs that formed faces, at flashes of hanging bone and monster sharpness and skies the color of red wine.

You think about what he said. You think about what you want to say.

“No.” You rest your head on your chin, and resolve to stare at your shoes for a while. Anything but the window, full of its surprises. Its delights and its horrors. “I suppose not.”

[fitzrove]

Started watching a "problem with greek myth retellings" video and it began with a blurb montage like "Condemned by the misogynist guys of history, this is the true girlboss feminist story of [A WOMAN]" and like. brb writing one of those about crown prince rudolf. It's ok he's like a misunderstood girlboss to me<3