#then reliving trying out brushes to feel the vibes

[kittenofdoomage]

Body & Soul

Summary: Sam plays just as hard as he works.

Pairing: Dom!Sam Winchester x Sub!female!reader

Word Count: 3586

Warnings: two smutty stories in one, told through flashbacks (in italics), elements of BDSM, BDSM specific club, voyeurism, public smut, smut with an audience, shower sex, dominant/submissive, use of toys, restraints, paddling/impact play, marking, biting, bruising, rough smut, nipple clamps, dirty talk, no daddy kink, squirting, slight size kink, possessive!Sam, CEO!Sam vibes, no hunting AU, praise kink

Ao3 Link

The pipes rattled a little when you turned the shower on, and you snatched your arm back to avoid getting the cold water on your bare skin. It always took a few seconds to warm up, so you stepped away, leaving the door ajar as you finished removing your underwear, wincing when you caught a bruise. Steam slowly curled out from the stall, filling the already warm room, but you didn’t rush to get in, drawn to the spot that had hurt.

It was on the inside of your thigh, one of many, each one crafted with precision, exactly where he wanted it. You smiled, rubbing your fingertip over the spot, shivering as a delicious thread of pleasure accompanied the pain this time, a reminder of all the things he’d done to you.

The Black Garter was a private club, one you’d been to before, though that didn’t make you any less nervous as the sleek black car pulled up to the curb and Sam’s hand covered your knee, his fingers long enough to stroke the sensitive inside of your thigh where the stockings ended.

“Are you ready?” he murmured, leaning in to brush his lips across your shoulder, covered by the long coat that hid your sultry and minimal clothing from the chilly New York air.

“Yeah,” you croaked, remembering yourself at the last second, “yes, sir.”

Sam chuckled, and you felt his other hand slide underneath your ass to squeeze it. “Good girl.”

Warmth swelled in your chest at the praise, and when he climbed out of the car, you followed dutifully, trying not to worry about what lay ahead. In all the times you’d been here, you had only observed, for the most part. Tonight, Sam wanted you to be the observed party, and you knew you had to give him a good show.

Stepping into the stall, you tugged the sheer door behind you closed, humming as the warm spray washed over you. Your muscles ached, and you could still feel the pressure of Sam inside you, the stickiness of his seed on your skin where he had marked you. There was a disappointment inside you at the thought of washing it away, but he’d been clear when he’d sent you in here, you had to clean thoroughly.

You couldn’t stop reliving the night. Every single movement provoked the discovery of another bruise, another mark, all of them his, along with all of you. Sam worked hard, and he played just as hard too.

He kept you close as you entered the club, one large hand almost encasing yours. When you reached the cloakroom, he helped you out of your coat, and you tried not to duck your head bashfully as your outfit - chosen by him - was put on display for every other attendee.

Sam liked you in black, specifically lace. He liked the delicate look of it, how it made patterns on your skin. You had no preference in material and before him, you hadn’t bought anything more exotic than a front-clasping bra; he’d introduced you to more than just pleasure.

“You look beautiful.”

The water was soothing to your tired muscles, so you leaned against the tiled back wall, enjoying the warmth. You inspected yourself, running your fingers over the marks on your forearms from the cuffs, smiling to yourself. Those marks were ones you’d inflicted yourself by thrashing in the restraints, too high on pleasure to care..

Your careful exploration halted when the bathroom door opened and Sam slipped in, his gaze searching you out, lips curling into a grin as he saw you. He was only wearing a pair of low-slung sweats, and his bare feet made no sound as he crossed to the stall.

“Room for one more?”

“Always,” you whispered, lifting your chin with a smirk. “Sir.”

He chuckled, stripping out of the sweats before opening the stall door. “Just Sam,” he corrected, climbing in and closing the door behind him. Joining you under the spray, he tugged you close, cupping your jaw with one hand. “No rules… I think you earned it.”

It was warmer inside the club than outside, so the amount of skin you had exposed didn’t seem to matter, though you could feel eyes on you as Sam led you through the familiar corridors to the main rooms of entertainment. The lights were all low, coming from half-covered lamps on the walls, with only a few spots highlighted in whiter, starker luminance. Soft music filled the air not occupied by conversation or gratuitous moans, and you chanced a look around, spotting numerous couples and throuples engaged in everything from light teasing to full sex. Alcoves in the corridor were filled with harnesses and toys, and as you walked along, you made eye contact with a woman wearing a bit between her teeth, her eyes half-shut and face contorted in pleasure as an older man fucked two thick digits into her cunt.

Sam’s hand was hot against your lower back, rubbing through the thin fabric of your teddy, pressing just enough to keep you moving forward. Your senses were buzzing with apprehension and nervousness, and his touch helped to ground you, guiding you towards the middle of the crowd. You’d watched this happen a hundred times before, now it was you who would be the center of attention.

“Just remember,” he breathed, sliding his hand to your hip, “you say the word and I stop.”

You nodded. “I know the rules, sir,” you whispered, turning your head to look up at him with a smile. 

He returned the affection, squeezing your hip gently. “Would you like a drink first?”

His fingertips danced over your skin, adding to the sensation the water was already creating. He didn’t rush, watching his own hands move, and you smiled as you realized what he was doing - exactly what you’d been doing when he walked in. Every time his fingers stopped, lingering on a spot, you felt a tingle of pleasurable pain, sudden and briefly sharp, leaving you with only a gasp and a yearning for more.

“So beautiful,” he murmured, dropping to one knee. You bit your bottom lip, unconsciously spreading your thighs to allow him whatever access he wanted. He chuckled up at you, watching your face as he pressed his thumb into the same large bruise on your thigh that you’d found earlier. “Does that feel good?”

“They’re yours,” you hummed. “I love them.”

The club rules were simple: no alcohol, no drugs, and consent was compulsory. Sam’s rules aligned with that, aside from one - he never allowed anyone else to touch you. It wasn’t unheard of for some dominants to be happy with others around their sub but Sam was far more possessive than most. This was a performance but as far as you were concerned, the only person you were out to impress was Sam.

You could feel your whole body trembling as he helped you onto the raised platform, and you let your gaze wander over the plush leather upholstery of the table. Sam allowed you to get comfortable, waiting for you to stretch your arms out either side before he fastened the soft cuffs around each wrist. Your legs were split open by the table, and he was quick to secure your ankles in similar cuffs to the ones on your wrists, and once he was satisfied, he stepped between your thighs, resting one hand over your sex. The crotchless panties did nothing to hide either your modesty or your arousal, and you tried not to emit a sound as he held his hand there, the warmth of his palm soaking into your pussy.

“Gonna make you scream for me, baby girl.”

The water had drenched his hair now he was lower down, and you watched him inspect your thighs, not even trying to conceal the sound of your pleasure when he grazed a bruise. His lips replaced his fingers, getting closer and closer to the apex of your thighs, and you tipped your head back when his nose pressed against your folds.

“Sam -” you whined, resisting the urge to grab his head and force him where you wanted him.

“Patience,” he ordered softly, a low chuckle vibrating against your thigh. “You’ll get everything you want.”

You hummed, biting your lip as he continued his torturous path upwards. One of his hands cupped your thigh and lifted, and you allowed him to manipulate you, wobbling slightly when he left you on one leg to hook the opposing knee over his shoulder. His grip held you firm, and in the next second, his tongue stroked over your folds, coaxing a desperate mewl from your lips.

The toys were provided by the club. You hadn’t gotten a good look at the selection on an adjacent table before Sam had tied you down, but you trusted him to know what you liked and what your limits were. He abandoned you for only a minute or two, though it felt like an age under the bright spotlight with the air conditioning making your nipples stiff underneath the lace covering them.

Despite the crowd, only a few paid attention to the stage. Most were engaged in their own pleasures; you could hear snippets of dirty talk, and the occasional climatic wail but you didn’t stop looking at the ceiling, avoiding the spotlight. Sam appeared a few seconds later, looking down at you with a soft smile.

“Lift your head,” he commanded, loud enough for you to hear, and you obeyed, finding a small measure of relief when he slipped a blindfold over your head. “Keep it up,” he added, and you did, ignoring the slight ache in your neck. A gag pressed against your lips, so you dutifully parted them, letting him slot the soft rubber ball between your teeth. “Good girl.”

He paused, fingers grazing your jaw purposefully, asking if you were okay with a tap against the curve below your left ear. You nodded at the practiced signal, and answered his question by clicking your fingers twice, smiling as best as you could.

It didn’t take long for him to make you cum with his tongue. Your pussy was still sensitive, almost raw from how he’d used you that night, not that that stopped your body craving him again. You cried out as he sucked at your clit, keeping up the pressure even when your knee buckled, leaving only his strength to hold you up. Even then, he sought more, easing one, then two thick fingers inside you, dragging them back and forth slowly.

He pulled his mouth away to look up at you in amusement. “You’re still all full of me,” he commented. “That tiny pussy holding all my cum… let’s see if we can’t make you drip.”

You whined loudly, clawing at the wall behind you as he held you in place, driving his fingers into you over and over. Each stroke made your whole body shudder, and your pussy clenched around the intrusion, hips canting forward in search of more.

A second climax almost fried your overstimulated nerves, and you could barely scream. Sam chuckled as you grabbed for his wrist, staring at him with lust-drunk eyes. “Pl-please, Sam,” you whimpered, still rocking yourself onto his hand even though your fingers pried at his wrist.

His lips curled upwards into a hungry smile that made you shiver. “Tell me what you want.”

He didn’t take long in unlacing the teddy, exposing your breasts to the audience. You moaned, lifting your chin slightly.

“They’re watching you,” he murmured,, fastening a clamp around one stiff nipple, forcing you to whimper through the gag. “I’ve already had an offer.” His hand cupped your breast, squeezing lightly as the clamp pinched at the swollen peak. “They didn’t realize that I won’t let anyone touch what’s mine.”

You shuddered, perspiration already beginning to gather on your forehead. Sam’s low chuckle was barely audible over the music, and you had to pay attention to figure out where he was when he wasn’t touching you. Another clamp tightened around your other nipple, tingling jolts of pain mixing with pleasure and only adding to the arousal between your thighs.

His fingers tapped at your jaw again. You swallowed around the gag, clicking your fingers twice again. Moving his hand to your thigh, he held it in a tight grip, rubbing his thumb deep into your flesh. You could feel him leaning over you, the fabric of his shirt brushing against your painfully hard nipples, jostling the clamps just enough to make you gasp around the gag.

“I want to hear you,” he instructed. “I want them to hear you.”

He moved away again, leaving you almost breathless. Deprived of his touch, you could only focus on the throb of each clamped nipple, the pleasure of it making your fingers curl. Something hard and cold patted against your thigh; you recognized the sensation, eyes rolling under the blindfold.

“Want you inside me,” you whined, looking down at him again.

He crooked his fingers inside your cunt, almost making you choke on a cry. “I am inside you.”

“No,” you gasped, shaking your head, trying to articulate your need as he kept working his digits against your deepest spots. “I wa-want your cock inside me.”

“And?”

You moaned low in your throat, struggling to think through the fog of desire. “Want you to fuck me,” you stammered out. “Want you to cum inside me.”

“You want another load of my cum, baby?” he teased, slowly rubbing his thumb against your clit. “You gotta earn that.” You groaned in frustration, releasing his wrist as he began to move a little faster. “Cum again, and I’ll fill up that pretty pussy just like you want.”

The gag stopped you from vocally keeping count of the blows of the paddle but you counted in your mind out of reflex. He started with light impacts to your thighs, twenty each side, keeping to the inner, softer flesh, until each tingled with the repeated impacts. Your tits were next, and you keened loudly every time he struck you, feeling your nipples fight against their prisons as your skin darkened with bruises. 

Every hit was another burst of pleasure, and though you knew you wouldn’t cum from this alone, it never stopped Sam from trying. You could feel how wet you were, certain you’d soaked the table underneath you, and he would no doubt show everyone just what a dirty little painslut you were. After ten on each breast, he stepped back, letting you writhe in the haze of arousal, unable to get friction from anything.

“You want more?” he asked, voice suddenly right by your ear. “Two clicks for yes.”

You released a shuddering breath around the gag, desperate to please him, and then clicked your fingers twice.

Sam’s mouth covered a bruise on your thigh, sucking at it. You cried out, finally obeying the urge to grab him, running your fingers through his thick, damp hair. He moaned against your leg, working his thumb harder against your clit as he buried his fingers deep and stroked the tips right against your sweet spot. Your eyes went wide, cries turning silent, and your hips began to rock faster, your orgasm right at the peak.

You could feel fresh warmth gush around his fingers, and he moaned again, releasing your thigh to look up at you, a pleased smile on his face.

“That’s a good girl,” he praised, and you gave him a dazed smile as you pulled your hand away from his head, drunk on the burst of pleasure hormones. He withdrew his fingers, letting your foot drop back to the floor as he got his feet, and your gaze lowered to his thick erection, feeling the blunt tip brush your belly when you looked back up at him. “You earned this.”

Orgasm after orgasm had been wrung from your body. The clamps around your nipples were slick with sweat, and you could feel your own drool on your face from the gag. Sam had only used his fingers so far, making a spectacle of how little he needed to render you limp.

But he wasn’t done. 

Releasing your nipples from their prisons, you felt a small measure of relief when he sucked at each one, letting his tongue soothe the ache. His teeth scraped against him, making you moan again, and when he started to suck at your breast, you squirmed, unbearably desperate for him to fuck you, unable to beg.

“Look at you,” he chided, lifting his head. “So desperate.”

You jumped in surprise when his hand curled around your head, long fingers making easy work of the gag. He tugged it out of your mouth, and you gasped, quickly realizing what he was expecting as he moved away.

“Turn around,” Sam ordered softly, tapping your hip. You smiled and turned, putting your back to him, arching and sticking your ass out. He hummed in approval, placing one hand over your left cheek and squeezing. “Hmm, we’ll need to even this out. Paint your ass as pretty as your tits.”

You moaned as he thumbed his cock between your cheeks, letting the tip catch on your aching hole. He still wasn’t rushing, teasing you with only the head, chuckling when you squirmed impatiently and whimpered.

“I’ll stop teasing,” he promised. “Can’t help myself sometimes.”

A reply popped into your head and fled the next second when he pushed forward, impaling you on another few inches. You gasped, forced up onto tiptoes, and you placed your hands against the wall to brace yourself when he pulled back only to penetrate you more.

“How are you always so tight?” he moaned, repeating the action until he was balls deep, holding you with the entirety of his thick shaft inside you. He leaned forward, brushing his lips against your shoulder. “This pussy was made for my cock,” he muttered. “It belongs to me, just like the rest of you.”

You hissed out a yes in agreement, pressing your forehead against the cool tiles. “Body and soul,” you gasped, unable to stop your pussy clenching around him. “Oh, god, Sam -”

It wasn’t surprising that he made a show out of how well you took his cock. Sam was more than well endowed, intimidating almost - it had been when you’d first experienced it. Now you craved it, prided yourself on how easily you could take him. You heard someone gasp when he finally revealed his favorite toy to torment you with, slapping the solid column of flesh against your sensitive cunt until you let your desire get the better of you.

“Please, Sir,” you cried out, so desperate now that you were choking on the need.

“Poor little cockslut,” he teased, bumping his cockhead against your clit. “Is that what you are?”

“Yes,” you whined. “I’m a cockslut, Sir.”

He hummed, pressing the tip further down, threatening to enter you but holding back. “Why don’t you tell everyone exactly what the little cockslut wants?”

Your mouth felt so dry but you know he would only torment you further if you didn’t do as you were told. “I want your big cock inside me, Sir,” you mewled. “Want you to fuck me full.”

The water cascading over you made the sound of your bodies colliding echo against the tiles, and your cries soon followed, mixing with Sam’s grunts as he fucked you up against the wall. You couldn’t keep your eyes open as the intense pleasure in your belly started to get stronger all over again. Pushing back against Sam got harder with each brutal thrust, and he moved one arm around your waist, cupping a breast as the other slipped underneath your hips until he was practically holding you off of the stall floor, using you like he wanted.

“Cum on my cock,” he growled, biting at your shoulder again. “Lemme feel it, baby, and I’ll fill you up, just like I promised.”

You gasped against the tiles, barely able to form a coherent thought as he kept fucking you. Every moan was punched out by the force of his thrusts, and you didn’t need to put any effort into obeying, letting bliss wash over you. He felt it, groaning loudly as your body tightened around him, and when he finally came, he held himself as deep as he could. Warmth flooded your cunt and dripped down your thighs, and your high simmered in your veins as you relaxed in his hold.

You were shaking when he released you, but he didn’t wait for you to stand up, scooping you into strong arms. His seed was drying on your thighs and pussy, his marks still buzzing as they developed into bruises, but you ignored it all, settling into the warmth of his arms.

“You were so good tonight,” he whispered, carrying you through to the quieter rooms, away from the applauding onlookers. “My perfect girl.”

Your legs trembled as Sam let you down, his strong hands helping you to stay upright. He smiled as you lifted your chin to give him a dazed grin, and when his hand cupped your jaw, you leaned into it, raising your own hand to cover his.

“You’re mine too,” you whispered, the words breaking apart as a yawn disrupted your composure.

Sam chuckled, nodding lightly. “You know I am,” he assured you softly. “Now, let’s get you cleaned up and into bed.”

Thank you for reading! Please let me know your thoughts with a reblog or an ask 🥰

[fuckentoastybitch]

dream journal post bc im still in the process of waking up. Its been 10 minutes yet my brain and chest is still going "wtf wtf wtf"

It's our final year. My friend and I are finally going to be tasked with the biggest project of our lives yet. Is this project a requirement for us to graduate or continue to live? I'm not sure cause on the surface it sounded like a typical university project, but the stakes are.. a little odd to say the least.

There is a deadline, although I'm not sure when. It was very vague but sounded like a really long time. Like, your lifetime type of long.

But here's the catch: we only have one chance in this lifetime to complete it. At this point, the "project" started to have the vibes of a mystery that needed to be solved. If we fail once, we don't get one more chance to do it again. Not in this lifetime at least. What does that mean? We literally have to keep living our lives as normal, wait out until we die, live again in the next timeline, age until we reach this same point again and start the project there. Mind you, it sounds ridiculous I know but in the moment when I heard this it was genuinely forboding. Like yeah, reincarnation is totally a viable option to finish your project. Of course.

I rode a motorcycle to head to the initiative location, but my whole ride to there felt ominous for some reason. Like something was watching me, waiting for me to slip up and crash or something.

My friend and I meet at the location: an asian restaurant for some reason. There, we were welcomed with a feast. A bunch of staffs carried oit plates of delicious food, there were sparklers around us for some reason and then at the center of it all was a man.

My friend informed me that he was the one in charge of guiding us through this project. He said a few words from a card, sounding almost bored. But when he reached the final sentence, there was a glint in his eyes. He pulled out two guide books that looked innocent enough, and yet the moment he laid eyes on us as he handed the books, it sent chills down my spine. I felt unsafe for whatever reason.

"And your time starts from this very moment."

We didn't even immediately start. We both sat down, tried to have our meal instead. But before I could even take a bite, I turn to the side to look at my friend when suddenly I met eyes that weren't hers. I pulled back and saw there were two new seats between us, occupied by two of my school friends for some reason, and the table had stretched its length to accommodate all four of us. The eyes that stared back at me were intense and unblinking. The face they belonged to looks like someone I know but in that moment, the room felt chilly. Once again, I feel unsafe.

Eventually the two people left, for what reason I couldn't remember. My friend and I regrouped and we started discussing our plan while taking bites of these delicious asian dumplings. The food was delicious but I still couldn't shake off the feeling that something dangerous awaits me.

"So that man is the only person in this room really knows what's going on?"

"Yep. He knows everything from the past, present and future. He's seen how many people had to relive their lives just to complete this thing."

In that moment I almost thought he was Lucifer.

We finished our meal and decided to move to another table, closer to the restaurant's entrance. We pored over the guide books, trying to make sense of our task.

Out of nowhere, three kids came hanging around us. They seemed innocent enough until suddenly one of them started to ask "hey, are you doing your final project?". At that time I was thinking "wtf how would these kids know what this thing is, theyre children!"

Then one of them asks if they could see have our guide books. Of course we said no, brushed it off nonchalantly by saying this is grown up stuff and we need it for work. Then there was that chill again and I felt immensely uncomfortable to be under the stares of those 3 children. They're children, I knew but their eyes... were something else's.

Unfortunately that's around when I woke up IRL. I am currently doing my final year project btw and i swear its been haunting me for a while bc im falling behind on progress but i never expect it would come for me in my dreams too ;_; while i was still half asleep i nearly panicked cause i thought the stakes irl were the same too

[gruvu]

When you cannot join art fight this year because you’re working on your style and technique on a new art program and so far making even a sketch has taken hours of your life. Unable to actually do a full piece at this point because god is against you.

[moodymisty]

Death's Door

[ 𝕸𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖞𝕸𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖞'𝖘 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙| 𝕬𝖔3]

Authors note: I decided after much deliberation to start posting all my fics on Tumblr again, and bring this old blog of mine out of cryostasis. As much as I love Ao3's post editor and whatnot, the lack of interaction with people kinda sucks.

Summary: After the Well of Souls, you'd become far closer friends with Karn, as much as Death absolutely hated it.

Relationships: Death/Fem!Reader

Warnings: Just Death being a crusty old git

Word Count: 8210

AO3 Mirror

The stone against your bottom was cold through your clothing, a winter’s chill hard on the weathered rock. But it was at just the right height to talk to Karn, who was leaning towards you with the utmost of interest. You’d normally feel under pressure with a gaze like that, but it was just the way he was, and you’d eventually gotten used to it. You hadn’t gotten used to this cold however, even through layers of gifted clothing still making you shiver. Winter in the Maker’s realm was intense and without their help you surely would’ve frozen right over.

Just another thing to thank them for, as if you didn’t owe them enough already. But they never cashed in, always just seeming grateful to help. The clothing they had given you fit perfectly and kept you far warmer than anything else had, along with making you feel like someone right out of a fantasy book. You’d be tempted to take a mountain trek and further enjoy the vibe, but there was no way you’d make it past the tree line with so many Makers wanting to keep an eye on you. You had far less mass than them, and they worried the cold could ravage your body quite quickly if you weren’t behind a wind break or close to a fire.

So when Karn saw a shiver run through your whole body he asked if you were cold, instantly on edge. One of his hands even raised slightly, stretched as if he was going to just grab you and take you right inside the Forge if you even so much as hinted at yes.

“I’m fineee, you all just worry to much. I'm not going to freeze over in five minutes.” You rubbed your mitten covered hands together and continued talking about what you had been seconds before. You tried your best to ignore Karn’s still noticeable look of concern, still scanning for any signs of you being uncomfortable. The Makers could be far to fussy for your liking.

“But please, you really think that I’d just say goodbye to you guys and never come see you again? I mean, I don’t even know if Death would let me come with him...” Karn brushed the back of his head and laughed as if agreeing with you, but it was blatantly obvious that was indeed what he had been thinking.

“And besides, of course I’d come back! I’d damn well overstay my welcome until you have to put a little poster at the front door that says ‘don’t let this human in’. You guys have been amazing friends, no way I'm just ditching you.” It relived Karn to hear the words from your own lips, dousing the fire in his heart that was quite worried you were going to just disappear. Many of the Makers had thought that, as they had all grown quite fond of you as made your rounds talking to everyone, making friends. They just weren’t as obvious about it as Karn, who was as open of a book as they came.

“You’d have to make a damn right fuss to have Thane do that! I mean I almost got Alya and Valus killed and he nae banned me yet…” Karn threw off the accidental morbidity of the sentence off with a laugh and a smile, content enough to if you were still laughing with him. You rubbed your hands back and forth again, breathing against the fabric trying to instill some more warmth in them.

“Maybe I’ll ditch the ol’ spoilsport and stay here; Take his bird for good measure. I mean, who knows what’ll happen?” Those final words down near sent Karn almost tumbling, overjoyed at the thought that you might consider staying permanently. Even if he hadn’t seem to realize it was largely a joke. He knew it was selfish, to care more that you would be closer to him and the other Makers, but he couldn’t help it.

You’d become particularly close friends with him, who despite the different in sheer number of years, was as youthful as you in personality. In a few weeks after your depressive slump you went from being acquaintances to nigh inseparable, the Maker following you like a ship’s anchor.

When Death had killed himself to save Humanity, to him it felt like seconds of dark. To you however, it had been weeks of unknown and confusion. You’d slumped around the Tri-Stone a wreck, devastated that the one stoic part of your life for what seemed like forever, had completely vanished. Even if that stoic part was a sarcastic, emotionally stunted, putrid corpse smelling Nephilim, he was your rock and his disappearance had hit you harder than any freight train ever could.

In that time you had been inconsolable, but Karn was constantly by your side, doing his damnedest. When you had eventually begun to heal he was the first one to do anything with you, and you wouldn’t be far off to call him your cheerleader. It bred an intense friendship, so much so that if a Maker needed Karn, they could just search for you, and vice versa.

But when Death had returned, it suddenly made friction where things had just been finally smoothing out.

As for The Reaper himself, he had returned only to see you more cheerful around someone your mental age and far less worn down by cynicism, closer to Karn than before he had left. It was one of the first times that Death actually felt something akin to disgruntlement or even jealousy in an uncountable number of years. He hated Karn, that he was a spontaneous mass of energy and would only serve to put you in more trouble.

And now you were even closer than before he had ‘died’, showing him smiles and whispering remarks that previously had only been reserved for him. It had only a temporary thing anyways, a maligned Death thought to himself the last time he had let this get the better of him. You’d previously been nervous of them and huddled behind his pale form, but now with so much time together, you and the Makers had all grown closer.

Great, he thought. He could finally once and for all ditch the human off on people who were at least slightly able to care for you in a way that wouldn’t get you killed. He now no longer had business left in the Maker’s realm, he could just cross this accursed place of the list and forget it existed.

But for some reason, he just couldn’t.

Something always just kept bringing him back, filled with excuses and waiting for moments where you weren’t looking up at some Maker with a cheery face, only to talk himself out of just going to you. If you spotted him however you’d race over, eager to see him again. He could never just walk over, almost as if their was some sort of force stopping him. It further confirmed your suspicions that Death felt, different, than before. He had never been the most inviting person to be around sure, that would be a massive understatement, but he’d always had just enough openings for you to try and wiggle your little way in. But now, he seemed so much more shut off than you had even remembered.

“Uhhh, ye’ freeze over?” You jolted out of your thoughtful streak with no small amount of movement, but Karn didn’t seem to notice. He was glancing over your body, and you beamed back.

“Nah not yet. Just feels like my face is getting smacked by all this wind.” You made a clicking sound with your cheek and looked around. “So, how long does this whole cold season thing last? I don’t mind a good winter but, this is a little to much for me.” Karn let out a boisterous laugh and threw another giant log onto the fire of the kiln, sending embers kicking up and out of the port. The best source of heat was inside, but you enjoyed the fresh air, so the Makers kept this kiln hot just in case.

“Oh, it’s gonna be awhile yet. Just wait until ye’ see the snow get so bad ye’ can’t see yer darn feet!” That, wasn’t to exciting to think about. But at least you had Alya and Valus’ hot forge to retreat to when needed, and a variable treasure trove of warm clothing. Even with all that however you couldn’t help but want a cup of hot chocolate or tea, just to bring the whole thing together. It was highly doubtful the Maker’s realm had any chocolate, but tea however… Maybe you could find something that might taste good if you talked to Muria.

“Geez, just try not to let me get blown away?” Karn enthusiastically reassured he would while you continued to speak.

“Say, you haven’t seen Muria around here have you? I wanna ask her something real quick. I have an idea that i think would be pretty neat.” That final sentence was one that Karn always loved to hear, as it would surely bring some sort of entertainment to the otherwise relatively boring, according to him, Tri-Stone. Grand ideas of adventure and splendor were quickly dashed however, when you simply mumbled about wanting to make something warm to drink, rather than search for relics.

Karn didn’t get many opportunities to go exploring with you, as Death had a watchful eye on your safety most of the time. He had all but banned your leaving of the forge without him. The Maker found it suffocating; And truthfully, wanted an opportunity to truly have you alone and show off. The Tri-Stone was fine sure, but he could always feel someone's eyes on his back, whether it be Death, Valus and Alya, or Thane.

Sure he’d made mistakes, a few big ones, but he wasn’t a child with a sword that needed watching. But then again, all the Makers treated you as if you were made of glass, and even Karn couldn’t help but agree.

But even a beautiful glass figurine like you couldn’t just stay in a display for the rest of your days, you needed freedom, breathing room.

“Karn?” The Maker stood upright, quickly turning his head and scanning for Muria. You stared at him concerned, but didn’t actually comment.

“I’m lookin’ for ‘er I’m lookin’!” He didn’t notice the Shaman, but someone else did catch his eye.

Death was coming into the Tri-Stone, wind attempting to displace him only to face an unmovable body. Before he could make any comment about not seeing Muria you turned your head to look as well, wind blowing your hair in every direction. You caught Death’s glance first, watching you huddled near the fire of the outdoor forge. Then he glanced upwards and noticed; You were with Karn.

Of course, you were with that damn Maker. Why did he ever expect otherwise. Part of him was almost tempted to just turn around and leave from whence he came, until you seemed to spot him. Karn knew what you’d do and gave you a smile and throw of a giant hand.

“Go say ‘ello to the Horsemen for me, will yah?” Now Karn had an acceptable out, you jogging over to Death as fast as you could while he could go back inside. Karn only watched for a moment, already not liking the feeling down his spine. Death’s glare was as cold as the grave, and Karn wasn’t fond of it in the slightest.

Back to the wind you hopped down the tall steps, holding onto your clothing. While the main paths were clear of snow everything else wasn’t and you seemed intent on taking the technically quickest path. Trudging through snow however quickly slowed you down, along with the sizable weight of your boots.

Death had never seen someone run at him with a smile, nor had he ever seen a human so swaddled to the ears in warm furs. You had so many on you’d almost lost your silhouette, a belt the only thing still defining your waist.

While it highlighted just how fragile you were, he also found it almost endearing. Especially when you almost tripped and fell from the thick snow, regretting not taking the cleared path. He would’ve met you half way, but the whole scenario was so oddly amusing he couldn’t find himself the will power to make the scene shorter. He stood firm, arms crossed, watching you hobble over.

You did eventually make it to him, standing in front and looking up with a small hop, as if you’d just accomplished some great ordeal.

“Phew, the snow is intense here.” Death looked down, orange eyes trained right on you. It was an intense stare, but you’d gotten used to it over your time with him. What he was thinking about you had nary a guess, brushing some of the stray snow flakes off your thighs.

“Indeed. Though it seems the Makers have quite well prepared you for it.” He noticed quite quickly you had even more furs on than the last time he’d seen you, including something to cover your ears and another scarf. And even with that, you were still noticeably shivering. Your nose was a bright red, sniffling.

“Yeah, they did a great job! Alya even made me a hat since my ears kept freezing.”

They clearly didn’t do well enough, if you’re still shivering.

Death’s eyes noticeably glanced around your form, watching your arms tucked close to your body. When he didn’t speak aloud, to busy in his own head, you brushed some snow from the top of your head and looked around.

“I was actually just about to ask Muria something. I was trying to see if I could make something from Ho-,” You stopped yourself. “Earth, but…” Another brush of chill pierced right through your clothing, sending a shiver right up your spine.

“It’s just so damn cold during the day, I can barely stand it! I need something warm to drink before my insides freeze over.” Death was either completely unaffected by the weather, or simply didn’t care if it did. Now that you thought about it, never once had you heard him complain about weather, nor ever seen him sweat or shiver. You'd never realized it before, but now you found yourself almost curious.

“It will only get colder as night falls.” Clearly speaking the obvious, you rolled your eyes jokingly at him. It was noticeable that Death’s mind seemed elsewhere, something you were familiar with during your times together. You’d just gotten used to it, the Horsemen’s head always having a million tabs open.

“Yeah well, I’ll eagerly await the nighttime then.” As if the air wasn’t cold enough, you didn’t like the idea of your body cracking under more intense shivering. “Not like I can stop it.” Death looked down towards you, eyes squinted.

“How marvelous, you’ve finally grasped the concept of time.” Death had that familiar wry, teasing tone to his voice, dragging off the final word to a rumble.

“And all thanks to your help, Death.” Your smile was wide, taking delight in the way he sighed and feigned disappointment in you. But there was still something distinctly off about him, more so than usual. He almost seemed to be looking over you, only glancing down when you walked forward. He never backed up, but you could see his shoulders tense.

Your scarf was the same color as Karn’s clothing; Death wondered if it was a gift.

“It’s cold. You’d do best to get back inside by the fire, before the chill finally gets to you.” Death didn’t have to much to say after that, and mostly resigned himself to leaving you, grabbing whatever thing he had made the excuse to need at the Tri-Stone, and then once again took his leave. It was abrupt, and left you standing with your arms tight trying to protect from the wind.

You watched him go without fanfare, and it foully reminded you of a few months earlier. In order to not dwell on sour memories, you decided to take shelter inside the Forge, eating some food and trying to have a chat with Alya. It had surprised her you were without Karn, until he made himself known only a few minutes later.

It seemed he either had applicable timing, or he had waited until you were out of eye-shot of the Horsemen before swooping in.

Karn would never consider himself a coward, and he’d have half a mind to pick a fight with the Horsemen, had you not be guaranteed to take a large issue with it. Your approval of him was worth it’s weight in gold, so he’d avoid trying to upset the Reaper anymore than usual; As tempting as the idea was.

“What did ol’ Death want?” Karn approached you from behind, looking down as you finished off whatever you had been munching on.

“Oh, I don’t quite know. He didn’t tell me.” You were smiling, but your voice had that same almost deflated sound it almost always had when Death left. Karn despised it, that the Reaper always left you in a worse mood after he left. Your friends should cheer you up, not sink you downward. But you always kept going back to Death, even if the Makers thought it not in your best interest.

Karn just so desperately wanted you to stop knocking on that door, knowing Death wasn’t going to answer.

“Ahh well, Death’s always a busy lot. Surely he has important… Reaper business to go about to.” The awkward sentence made you chuckle, watching Karn move to sit down beside you.

“Yeah, probably.” A corner of your mouth dropped slightly, looking around the Forge in thought.

Damn that Reaper, he didn’t deserve you fawning all over him when he kept leaving you like this. Why out of everyone, did you choose him?

“I’m probably gonna go to bed early tonight, if I keep it up out here I really do think I’m going to end up an icicle. Maybe my blankets will keep me warmer.” It was the perfect excuse to just spend some time alone, in sun slowly beginning its decent and bringing colder hours. Karn wouldn’t disagree with you getting some rest and warming up; But he didn’t like leaving you sad like this. Just as you began to slide of the step you’d made your temporary seat, Karn quickly jumped up. It startled you and forced you to jump backward, him quickly holding out his hands and apologizing before speaking his thought.

“How ‘bout tomorrow, we ask Muria and make that thing you wanted te’ make?” Face lighting up, it made Karn’s own smile grow wider.

“Sure! Sounds good to me! You can help me taste test and everything, if you want.” ‘If he wanted’; Karn almost scoffed. Of course he’d want to. He was already thinking about what wonderful things you were going to come up with as you walked off, waving goodbye as you went to huddle into bed. He couldn’t help the small bout of pride at having cheered you up, after Death had pulled you downward.

Karn spent the rest of the evening trotting around like the happiest Maker alive, excited for whatever you had planned for them tomorrow.

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You never would’ve guessed how different sleeping would be, with the dusk to dawn schedule and no technology to keep you awake. You could wake up almost instantly, sleep fulfilling and regulated.

But you’d gladly take the shit sleep back, if it meant be able to play little phone games and text friends. And with humanity still In a rabble trying to gather themselves back together, it would be another hot minute until that life was a reality again.

Slipping from the bed and shivering as your socked feet touched the stone floor, it was a dash to get shoes on and bundle back up. Even with no wind, it was still terribly cold, and part of you had hoped you’d just sleep endlessly until the weather was a little more, human friendly. With that an impossibility however, you fully clothed yourself and looked around, glancing at the knife on your little makeshift side table.

Death had given it to you, and though you needed it far less now, you’d never have the heart to part with it. It reminded you of him to much; a curved, ghostly blade with a dark handle, weathered from many years of use. You loved the damn thing, in all of its morbidity.

Death surely would’ve cursed your sentiment, against the idea of attachments and mementos. Even if you knew that there was an old weaved friendship bracelet you’d snuck around the handle of one of his scythes you know he's noticed, and he’d never once taken off.

Eyes leaving the blade you raced off out of your tiny room, in search of Karn and the end goal: Your tea. Muria would surely know what plants were at least edible, and you could both experiment from there.

Unless, the Makers already had invented their own tea? And this whole adventure of yours turned out to be a giant circle.

Either way you were still excited, almost ramming into one of Karn’s legs once you’d managed to locate him. Karn laughed and turned to look down at you, before reaching down.

“Slow down there! Someone might step on ye’ if ye’ ain’t careful!” Hopping into his hand then quickly to his shoulder you both took off, all the while you shrugged off his joking worry.

“Nah, don’t worry; I’m pretty good at dodging Maker boots by now.” Giving Karn a chuckle, the two of you managed to catch Muria by her garden, which was no where near as beautiful as it was during the warm months. But she still had plenty of persistent plants, that were still growing leaves somehow despite the weather. Maker realm plants were persistent, if anything.

“Hey Muria! I, we have a question, if you have a minute?” Muria turned from whatever had been previously occupying her, sitting it down before you had the chance to see what it was.

“Ahh, hello you two.” She glanced up towards you, a tiny smile on her face. “And what are the two of you up to this time, might I ask?” Karn turned a little sheepish, gesturing towards you.

“I’m trying to make a drink I remember from Earth; Do you happen to have any plants that, one might consider edible? Not that much could grow in this weather…” Muria chuckled and gestured a hand to a few of her garden boxes.

“You would be surprised how resilient some beings can be, even in the harshest weather. Yes, I might have a few that would fit your description.” That sent you clapping, happily thanking Muria. Karn contracted your joy as well, smiling wide and taking the few branches that she had deemed acceptable. They all looked ok enough, it was just a matter of if they tasted ok.

The spare forge outside would be the perfect place to conduct your experiment, gathering things you needed to boil water, and even a small cup. You didn’t have quite enough for Karn, but you vowed that once you had something that tasted good, you’d make one just for him. Not that he minded either way, as just enjoying the time with you was more than enough; Watching you fuss over boiling water, trying to make, well, whatever you had called this. He had honestly forgotten.

The first plant had tasted awful, the second, slightly better but unbearably sour. The third was even worse than the first, and you’d had a coughing fit from the vile taste. The fourth one however, had potential. You kept making more, testing and futzing around, Karn watching your hands work.

He wondered if this was normal, for humans to spend so much effort making things as simple as a drink. He thought it a little silly at first, but to see how much attention you gave to each taste test, he found himself actually quite eager to test human food.

“Do you think Muria would be mad if I asked her for more?” Your voice snapped Karn out of his thoughts instantly, looking down.

“Only one way to find out, right?” Karn was just about to storm on over, until he noticed Death, standing in the garden he was about to go to.

When had he gotten here? You two had been so distracted neither of you had noticed his arrival. Karn couldn’t keep the idea down, as guilty as it was, that maybe he could keep you busy enough to let Death leave.

“Yeah, we can go and-” Your voice trailed off, and Karn deflated. “Death?” Dammit, you’d noticed, watching the Reaper descend the steps downward and onto the main path out. Eyes locked on the reaper you watched him, standing firm in the wind. Death normally didn’t return so quickly, and a not small part of you was curious as to why. Karn watched you turn to look up at him, a smile on your face.

“I’ll be back in a second, ok? I’ll meet you back inside the Forge.” Leaning inward and breathing in some of the hot steam you sighed, warmed enough to venture away from the fire. Karn would wait inside the Forge for you, but he watched you raced towards Death, swinging your arms while running. He watched, even as Death glanced upwards at him.

Damn that Reaper.

Karn went inside, leaving you out alone in the cold for the time being. You caught up to him just as he was halfway down the main path, managing to get him to stop.

“Hey, you’re back awfully soon. You miss us?”

Us. Since when did you and the Makers become a group?

“Indeed, quite horribly.” Death was cut and dry, even more so than the last time. And you were no closer to figuring out why he was suddenly so despondent. This past week with him had just been awful, and you were trying desperately to patch up the cracks, if you couldn’t find the source.

Trying to figure something out about Death, you might as well have decided to bore a hole through a mountain. But you were still curious what brought him back so soon, even though he more than likely had things to do elsewhere. He was still a busy man, even after everything that had happened.

“So, what did you come back for? S’not like you travel with much anyways.” Death had glanced upward over your head, not noticing the way Karn’s gaze lingered on you before disappearing from view. It seemed the Maker had replaced him as your personal shadow, ever since he’d left you. Ever since he died. Now he kept talking himself out of coming here, throwing around excuses to not see you.

It was the closest Death had ever felt to cowardice, and he hated it. Despised that he could never just tell you how he felt, because it was absurd, pointless and fruitless. But he could never just leave, he had to keep coming back, just one more time.

Damn it all to Hell, he should’ve never let you get this close to him. He couldn’t get you out of his head anymore, the way you looked at him. Death snipped out a curt reply to your innocent question, hoping it would send you off. If he kept doing this, maybe you’d finally get sick of him, leave him for good.

But the feeling it kept making in his gut; He knew it was wrong. That he didn’t want you to.

“Is it common for humans to pry for every meaningless little detail?” You wiggled your nose, rolling your eyes at him.

“Am I not allowed to just ask? Can't fault me for being just a little bit curious.” You noticed him take in a deep breath, his eyes closing for a moment. Fingers rubbing together in your mittens you watched him seem far off, before suddenly starting to walk towards the entrance of the Tri-Stone again. You weren’t content to let him just leave like that again; You had a hard enough time already. It took a quick few paces for you to catch up with him, talking loudly over the wind whipping in your ears.

“Death?” When he didn’t answer, your face dropped significantly. What even was so different now? You didn’t remember doing anything to set him off, or was it something else bothering him?

Death sighed, barely even crooking his head to face you.

“And what, pray tell, is your problem this time?” you turned to face him, crossing your arms and staring up. You could see in his eyes he was quite irritated, squinted downward as if his brow was stuck furrowed.

“Can you at least quit ignoring me for five minutes?” When Death didn’t answer, you kicked the snow and attempted to round him and look him in the eyes. He turned away, looking straight forward and over your head.

“There is no need to throw a tantrum.”

When Death acts like this, it is absolutely infuriating. The complete shutdown, locked somewhere within himself. You didn’t know if it was something you said, he saw, he thought, or he remembered, as it was always a mystery. And it usually remained a mystery, until he finally opened back up just enough to his normal self again. Not that his normal self was that talkative either. You’d dealt with it enough already, and it was impossible to deal with, irritating to the point of near insanity.

Your hands outstretched and fingers curled, clearing your throat and looking up at him.

“Well you’re the one acting like a child and ignoring me!” Death finally looked directly down at you with clearly glaring eyes. He may give you far more leniency than others, but he had his limits.

“Behave, girl.” In any other situation, that sentence might’ve very well made you shiver. But Death kept walking forward despite the demand, you trailing just behind as you softly grumbled a ‘make me’. And before you could even realize it, he had his hand cupping your jaw pushing your cheeks upward.

“It would be wise, not to taunt me.” You’d try your best to remain stern but those eyes were like ice, staring down at you from behind the bone mask. You tried your best to keep a stern face but Death could see it cracking, watching your eyes flicker around his face. Your fingers flexed in your mittens, wanting to hold onto something but unable to.

“If you just told me what I did wrong so I can fix it, I wouldn’t have to!”

For a second, Death faltered. You thought this was your fault? While you weren’t incorrect this involved you, it was by nothing of your conscious making.

Death was simply, desiring something where he had no right to.

You were a bright young Human with the world before them, he had no right to tell you who you should show favoritism to. Or that you should only spend your time with a someone like him. He hated that no matter how hard he beat down his emotions, they just seemed to come right back up again like determined weeds, weaving themselves through the cracks. He let go of your face and turned around again.

“You are not at fault.” Death turned his face from you again, closing one eye. “Now end this pointless talk.” Death was stoic, cutting off any hope of communication in moments. Hands bunching up into fists tight enough to leave little dents on your palm, you pursed your lips and breathed harshly. Unable to hold it in any longer you were so frustrated, sick of this. You couldn’t solve anything with Death and your frustrations just kept bottling up, unable to escape and just pressing tighter and tighter against the lid.

“Ughh! Goddammit!”

Your sudden aggressiveness did get Death to turn his attention to you, seeing your face bright red and fuming. One arm raised up and for a split second you look more than ready to give Death a good wallop right on the bicep, but you threw your arms right back at your sides and stormed off instead. He watched your feet attempt to bore holes into the ground as they stomped, hands tugging and ripping at your clothing in anger.

Why you didn’t hit him remained a mystery to Death, watching as you disappeared. He would’ve let you, in a rare moment, not as if it would’ve hurt him in the slightest. Physically, at least. But the fact that you cared enough about him to hold it back, Death thought maybe you might’ve-

No. He wasn’t going to find things where there wasn’t any. Any human would know better than to try and pick a fight with the Grim Reaper. That would be his excuse, ignoring the uncountable other times you’d mocked his speech, bit back at his sarcasm, or even gave him a playful smack on the chest without even the slightest hint of fear.

Standing in the middle of the Tri-Stone like a statue Death suddenly felt out of place, the wind blowing his hair in all directions. He’d get nagged by every Maker here if he let you run off and hurt yourself, might as well go drag you back.

Or he could just go get Karn to do it, as you quite seemed to prefer him now.

Growling into the wind only heard by himself he turned around on a heel, almost throwing his body around, shoulders tight. It would eat at the back of his mind for hours if he didn’t just grab you and throw you back to the Makers, if only to just keep them off his back. But he wouldn’t trust Karn with your safety in the slightest, not after all he’s seen the Maker muck up. What you saw in him confounded Death, but he refused to admit it jealousy.

Stomping down the path he passed no Maker, thankful that each step was free of harassment until he saw Thane in the same spot as always. Guarding the front of the Tri-Stone, and using the training dummies to keep himself busy. He’d have to pass the Maker in order to leave, outside to the meadow where you were probably hiding.

In reality he had only stopped for a few moments, but it was enough to steel his will and sigh, beginning to walk again and turn as soon as possible to make his way up the stone steps. But right as his left foot hit the first step...

“Ahh, so what’d ye do this time Horsemen?” Stopping his mindless thrashing the minute the Horsemen was in earshot he spoke, amused from seeing him bristle. Thane put one hand on his hip and stared downwards, an unmistakable knowing smirk on his face. Death continued to look forward almost frozen, until he bit the inside of his cheek underneath the mask and creaked his head to look towards the Maker.

“And what do you assume I am at fault for? I am fairly busy, it’s sometimes hard to keep track.” Thane either didn’t notice or straight up ignored Death’s sarcastic bite, pointing behind him. Death’s voice was coated in venom, but Thane wasn’t the type to care.

“You sent the girl right up in a tizzy there not a moment ago, stormed right on by without so much a hello. Looked mighty red in the face, if ye ask me.” Death sighed and rolled his eyes, mask moving with his face.

“Many things make the girl upset. I’ve quite lost count of them.” Thane didn’t have much of any patience, especially for Death.

“Not much makes the wee’ thing fumin’ to tears, that’s for sure.” Thane threw a hard stare. “Cept’ fer you.” Another huff of breath, signature for the Reaper, and he crossed his arms. Since when was every Maker here suddenly the expert on Humanity; On you? He was the one who’d brought you here, he was the one who you’d spent the most time with, and-

Wait.

You had cried because of him?

Death closed his eyes for a moment. You’d shouldn’t have wasted the effort.

“I find it hard to believe a human would cry over something quite pointless.” Thane was a Maker of few words, and it was tempting to use his preferred method of problem solving on Death as well. But he held back, if not for the grinding of his teeth. Thane found your infatuation with the Reaper a bad decision, as to him, all that Death seemed to do was leave you in tears and alone. Not that Karn was a better option in his eyes, but at least the Maker had yet to make you cry. That he knew of.

“Horsemen, that damned girl gets so worked up over you nae anyone can calm ‘er down. When you went and offed yourself, her heart damn near broke in two. Not a Maker here was able to make ‘er not shuffle around like you’d taken her soul with you. Who are you to tell her who she’s suppost’a worry about?” Thane crossed his arms tight, before making a hard jerk of his head in the direction you’d fled to. That was the most he'd spoken in quite a long time.

“If I was ye, I’d go apologizin’. Ye ain’t gonna find a better lass than her.” Death let out a one note chuckle, left fingers tight against the hilt of one of his scythes. If it was a neck, it would’ve well been wrung by this point.

“Well yes, humans have been in a rare commodity until quite recently.” Thane shook his head and let out a laugh. It bristled Death quite the wrong way, and if it weren’t for the fact he was in the Tri-Stone, he might’ve done something more aggressive in response.

“Ye might think you’re all smart trying to say all that, but we ain’t stupid. It’s obvious ye care about the girl far more than just makin’ sure she ain’t hurtin’ herself.” Taking his one foot off the step he turned to look fully at the Maker, not content with letting people assume anything about him.

Even if they, weren’t incorrect.

“I do not take kindly to you just making wayward assumptions.” Thane’s head tilt gestured to the partly opened door and by extent, the area beyond it.

“It’s an open field with not a creature in sight, ye have no reason to go after her other than that ye want to, Horsemen.” Death could feel his body tense, neck and shoulders tight enough that he felt the like the muscles could almost rip.

Death hated this. Hated feeling like this. That his emotions were visible to others, and not deep within that rusted, multi-chained lockbox he calls a heart.

“Watch your tongue, Maker.” Thane just smiled, showing sharp tusks behind his lips. It was a taunting one, Death knew well.

“Right right, my apologies. The ‘ol noggin just got knocked in to many times, that’s all.” Death could hear the sarcasm coating Thane’s sentence, downright almost begging the Reaper to try and refute his claim. Which would inevitably start a fight. Death stayed silent, and began his walk again up the steps again. Thane kept quiet, but could hear the heavy sound of the Reaper’s boots before they faded out of earshot, leaving the Tri-Stone.

But now outside you weren’t instantly visible, the meadow looking almost barren.

“Dust.” The crow appeared from almost nowhere, landing on Death’s shoulder with a thud and responding caw. It was shrill in his ear, Death nodding outwards towards the meadow.

“Find the girl, will you?” The lazy bird quite well did as he was told, for once, instantly taking flight and having Death follow not long behind. The beat of Dust’s feathers kicked up powdered snow right into the wind, blowing it westward.

Dust ended up taking him eastward, just to the edge of the where the meadow ended and Baneswood began. That seemed to be as far as you felt safe going, teetering just on the edge of the wilds. There was many things in the that forest that could make easy work of you, so it was smart to stay towards the clearing. He could see your back hunched over, poking a stick into the snow as you sat on a fallen tree. It was just something to occupy your hand while you thought, the wind blowing little snowflakes onto your shoulders.

However when there was a shrill caw and your hair whipped around from the flapping of wings, you gasped as Dust moved to sit on your lap.

“Dust! How’s my favorite crow?” He warbled in response, fluffing up and sitting content on the expanse of your thighs. Death would’ve normally scolded him for being so lazy, but it never seemed to sink in. Quickly you dropped the stick you’d been preoccupied with, abandoning it for the eager bird.

“I was unaware you knew other crows than Dust.” Turning to look over your left shoulder and see Death standing behind you, you struggled to smile with pursed lips.

“Gotta puff up his ego just a little to keep him happy, right?” The mitten of your right hand sunk beneath black feathers, scratching against bumpy flesh and earning a delighted shiver from the bird. Death was surprised you were attempting to be amicable, after how angry you appeared. Strife and Fury couldn’t manage that much, and they were legions older than you. Death made no attempt to come closer, until you looked away from him.

“Sorry for, yelling like that.” Death almost laughed. You were apologizing? He had just gotten ‘scolded’ on the way out to see you that he should.

But then again, you seemed to just give them out like candy, as he’d gotten more sincere ‘I'm sorry’s’ just from you than he had in an uncountable number of years.

Not quite content to have a conversation with the back of your head Death finally moved, sitting down beside you with no small amount of awkwardness. Dust opened a single eye to glare at his master, before closing it again when he realized he was safe for the time being. His head further dug into your stomach, body wiggling to slip further into the comfortable dip between your pressed together thighs. The giant crow took up most of your lap, but you didn’t mind in the slightest.

“You are on thin ice, bird.” Damn the Crowfather for giving him the laziest bird of the bunch, content to sit on the lap of the first willing participant. Death knew you were aware the giant bird happily ate carrion, but you still cooed at the damn thing like it was a child.

Death could have a knife to his throat and would still never say he was jealous; However, he wouldn’t be displeased if you kicked the bird right off your lap and into the snowbank.

Hand continuing to love on the giant bird Death’s face looked mostly forward, eyes watching you. You were busying yourself by playing with Dust but he could see your eyes glance over to him for a second, expectant. You were hoping he would continue the conversation in some way. But Death just continued to watch you pet his crow, silent.

You didn’t even want an apology, why was it suddenly like his mouth was chained shut?

Just say something to her.

He opened his mouth for a second. But, he just couldn’t get out the words. Death sighed and looked down at his feet, seeing how they sunk into the thick snow.

“Come back to the Tri-Stone, will you? You are going to freeze over.” You were shivering clear as day, the shelter of the treeline not doing much to prevent the icy wind. When he stood back up, you made no move that would hint you were going to follow. Scarf whipping in the wind he looked down on you, feeling his eyes on you again.

“Are you deaf, girl?”

“No, I can hear you just fine.” Death stared down at you, feeling it on your shoulders. He seemed hard intent on bringing you back to the Tri-Stone, now that you’d been fetched.

“Then let us go. Before you get ill.” Blowing hot air through your nose forming a steam cloud, you looked up at Death. Your nose wrinkled looking up and him, the wind whipping your hair around and framing your face.

“Oh, so you can care about my well being, but god forbid I do about you?” Your anger seemed to almost melt away, looking down at Dust. “I do care about you, you know. Even though you don't seem to want it.” Why were you, out of all the beings he’d met, so damn determined about him? Even War never cared so blatantly about him, so unafraid to show it, like you were. He sat back down awkwardly beside you.

“I do not require a human to worry over me.” Judging by your tensed hands and frustrated growl, that was quite clearly not the response you’d wanted. You turned your upper body towards him and threw your hands outward, yelling up at him.

“Goddammit Death! Can’t you please just let someone love you, for once!?” He stared at you, and even with you learning to tell from just his eyes his expression, this one was particularly hard to read.

It was almost like he was looking through you, lost in thought.

Putting a hand on his shoulder Death turned to look at you with a small amount of surprise, only able to see his eyes for a split second before you closed your own, and pressed your lips against the exposed area of his cheek.

It was the only option left you could think of, if he kept throwing your words to the wayside thinking they were meaningless.

Leaning back, your lips almost tingled from the feeling. You’d felt his skin against your hands before, but this was a profoundly different experience. He always had cooled skin other than after intense fighting, but the winter had made it almost feel like ice.

"Please just, stop ignoring me."

Were all humans so profoundly absent of self preservation? Death sighed.

“You certainly aren’t the wisest of your species.” You just smiled, wringing your wrist in your hand.

“Well, that wasn’t a no…” Death sighed. It looked like he was going to pinch the bridge of his nose, but simply rubbed against his mask with his palm instead.

“Indeed it was not. How awfully astute.” Now that you were far brighter, smiling and ruffling at Dust’s feathers, he rose up again.

“Now, up. Go back to the Tri-Stone before you freeze over.” You pursed your lips into a pout and got up off the log, holding Dust in your arms not unlike a baby. That bird was like putty in your hands, and Death wouldn’t forget to scold him for this.

“What, do you suddenly need someone to attend your return?” His eyes glanced towards the general area behind the two of you, towards the Tri-Stone. “You seemed to get out here just fine.” Death snapped his fingers and Dust started to rustle, forcing you to let go as he took off to the air. You blew a raspberry watching the crow fly off, before stepping closer to Death.

“Can I not enjoy a nice walk back with you?” You moved to wrap your arms around his, but loose enough that he could wretch it from you if he wished. He didn’t, but sure did he complain about it.

“I change my mind. It was a no.” Suddenly letting go of his arm, you started trotting forward through the snow, away from him on the path back.

“Fine then! Race you back!” Death’s significant height advantage meant that his fast walking steps were competitive in speed to your jog, able to keep up a slight ways behind you. Having snow up past your ankles on the ground didn’t help with your speed either, as it was hard to lug around boots covered in thick, sticky snow.

Until you tripped on a hidden rock, falling face first into the snow. Death let out sigh that shook his ribs, catching up with you as you started getting up. Grasping the back of your coat and lifting you to your feet, You felt a large hand on your head. He shook the snow from your hair, not missing the way one finger pulled a few strands from against your forehead. He assumed your were apologizing or laughing at yourself, but he couldn’t quite make it out, distracted by your eyes. They looked so, unbelievably happy. Dust suddenly landed on your shoulder and almost sent you toppling back downward, only saved by your hand grasping at his arm.

He could afford to be selfish just this one time.

[undiscovered-horizon]

"Wolven storm" - Druig x Reader

SUMMARY: Having returned an artifact to Eros, he grants you one wish. There is only one for whom your heart yearns and no matter how wrong it feels to force this love, only death can console you from its absence.

WORD COUNT: 871

[500 followers special!]

Author's note: Yes, inspired by Priscilla's song from The Witcher. It sounds better in Polish imo. Yandere!Reader kinda vibes? Idk

These scars long have yearned for your tender caress. To bind our fortunes, damn what the stars own

The Bow of Eros became nothing beyond a forgotten tale as merciless eons shaved mountains into dust. Legends, however, have an unfortunate tendency to contain a grain of truth. And that kernel lies in your hands now, after long months of looking for it. As pathetic as it may sound, it's your last resort.

"I've been looking for this for eons," Eros speaks quietly as he carefully inspects his bow. The intricate design has endured the long centuries, still being as legible as the day it was made, revealing the secret of its owner's power: to spark either love or hate at first sight. "I assume you want something in return."

As if he hasn't been watching your pitiful yearning for quite some time now. Your misery has been of utmost amusement to him. Eros knows its ins and outs, having seen this same lethal disease eat away trillions of lives across the universe. He is like a doctor successfully diagnosing an illness from just one symptom.

"Yes, Druig...He's been on your mind for a really long time, hasn't he? I was beginning to think you've given up."

You don't answer him and something about this lack of response makes Eros laugh under his breath. His skinny fingers caress the wood of the bow as if reliving some secret memories it held.

"Do you think he'd want this?" Eros asks with a glint in his eye. He's not actually trying to speak to your conscience, he knows it's long gone.

"Do you think I want this?" you ask back. No one wants to make use of their last resort. That's why they're called last - "in case of emergency". A drowning man holds on even to a razor and yet he doesn't wish for his hand to be cut. He simply has no other choice.

Eros nods in silence, eyes returning to the carved bow. His finger strums the bowstring. After all this time, it didn't lose its tightness.

"There's only one rule," Eros speaks as he looks back at you. "No take-backsies, no matter what happens."

Both of you know your will and so words, although spoken, are quite useless now:

"Not planning to."

The wish I whispered when it all began. Did it forge a love you might never have found?

"My beautiful, beautiful (Y/N)," Druig says quietly. His eyes dart to your lips, lingering there for a moment as the back of his hand brushes against your cheek. The touch burns your skin the same way a thirsty throat feels the most sore right before water washes it. "Aren't you gorgeous today?"

You have relived this scene in so many of your dreams. It was known to you down to the rhythm of his breath, how he inhales a little deeper when his face gets closer to yours, ravishing the scent he has grown to adore. Only now this lovestruck Druig will not leave you with the break of dawn.

"Am I not gorgeous every day?" Your question is quite forward, testing out the strength of the spell and your own bravery in the face of your greatest desire.

Druig chuckles, his eyes not leaving yours. They study your face, darting to your lips every now and then as if he's doing something he's not supposed to but can't stop himself. His fingers are still against your cheek, slowly moving towards your jaw.

"Then I should tell you that every day, m'lady."

He rests his forehead against yours, closing his eyes and taking in the sweet sensation that made his heart race. How could he have been so blind before? The greatest of wonder has been right in front of him this whole time. Only by some true miracle, this was revealed to his blindsided mind.

You feel his lips against yours, slowly kissing you. There's an odd uncertainty in his actions like a child taking its very first steps. That hesitation, however, is not granted enough time to find its home in Druig's heart. The escalating passion of the kiss is no different than a fowl running shortly after its birth; an old song engraved into his ancient bones is egging him on and Druig, although clueless about the reason, somehow knows that kissing you is right. It's something he's been meant to do since before his own creation. And for the first time in his long life, he is grateful for predestination.

Even when he's out of breath, breaking the kiss for a short second, his lips involuntarily chase yours - they'd rather risk suffocation than waste precious time by being away from you. In his hazy, lovestruck mind, Druig knows he has wasted enough time already, wondering how, or if he ever can, make it up.

Others will know, they'll notice quite fast. Your desperate decision will make them hate you with no end but it doesn't matter. The wrongs of the world were right again and no amount of contempt thrown at you can ever change it. Selfishness is, after all, a very human affliction. Now that you had Druig to yourself, their opinions were less than irrelevant.

From this day on, you are his confidant, the one he trusts with his hopes, fears and shortcomings. You recognized your own face in his tender loneliness.

Like it was always meant to be.

_____

@restingbitchsblog

[jonnnysuh]

rating svt on how haunted they'd be

A/N: this was originally "how I would haunt svt" BUT I wanted to rate them, so keep the original idea in mind while you read it I guess.

Series Masterlist

—S COUPS 3/10 his ghost can only do mundane shit like turn the lights on and off. Even tho it's such a lil thing, he checks behind himself every time he enters a room.

—JEONGHAN 10/10 You think Jeonghan comes up with all that devious shit on his own??? His ghost is whispering in his ears and telling him what to do

—JOSHUA 1.5/10 could be like “I forgot my bag upstairs” and his ghost would float his things down to him. Domestic vibes <3

—JUN 5/10 summoned the ghost himself bro. He was feeling a little bit lonely so he brought out the Ouija board for fun. “Ghostie, if you’re really here, drop something” and when his bottle of lotion hits the ground, he’s at peace, smiling to himself.

—HOSHI 4/10 his ghost stands in the corner of the room and does not do anything unless provoked. Any time he refers to himself as tiger? His mouth gets covered. Horanghae anti.

—WONWOO ??8 maybe?/10 the trajectory of his life completely changed bc he saw ONE pillow randomly floating in the air. Now he's a paranormal investigator on youtube. Offers all the ghosts he meets crackers and then LAUGHS and calls them foolish when they take the bait.

—WOOZI 10/10 his evil ghost possesses him every so often to try and make him produce a terrible song AND THEN unposesses him in the middle of presenting it to people. Also makes him play chopsticks on the piano for 7 hours straight.

—DK 6/10 his ghost lifts him by the armpits and flies him around town weeeeee. DK is now Seventeen's resident grocery fetcher.

—MINGYU 10/10 the only explanation for this man's clumsiness is that he is perpetually getting dunked on by a ghost. There can be no other reason.

—THE8 7/10 walks into a room, feels bad vibes and immediately burns sage. The ghost returns to see if he's serious about hating it 😪 and if he banished it again???? It would leave him for good 🥺

—SEUNGKWAN 2/10 is afraid of it at first, but learns to love it. His ghost folds clothes, sets up his tooth brush, makes sure his slippers are always by his bed. Seungkwan fogs up his mirror with his breath and writes "ily" to show appreciation. The ghost writes "ILY2". Lowkey his guardian.

—VERNON 47/10 haunts his dreams. It continuously shows up and makes him relive their childhood memories with them. When it physically appears in a crowd, it creates a breaking feeling in his chest bc are they real? Or are they just a figment of his imagination?

—DINO 12/10 gets haunted with a Chucky doll. He thinks one of the members set it up in his room so he laughs it off BUT it keeps showing up in random places. "Guys stop messing with me" and yet no one will fess up to it. Dino’s breaking point is when the Chucky doll is sitting in his shower and it laughs exactly like him

[polishksiezniczka]

By God's Grace | Camerlengo Patrick McKenna x Reader

You believe Patrick, your lover, to be dead after the explosion but are eventually reunited.

Notes: AU—Patrick is the good guy! Angst, romance. Also, I can’t help but get serious Obi-Wan vibes again from this oneshot ?? I am definitely picturing a similar reunion between you and your dashing Jedi lover when he returns to you after a dangerous, far-off mission (minus the Italian, LOL). 1.4K words.

Thank you to the lovely @quiescentcrepuscular for being a phenomenal beta reader!

By the time you learned of the situation, it was too late: the helicopter had taken off, Patrick its doomed pilot. As you watched him ascend higher and higher into the night sky, you nearly became catatonic. You couldn’t bear to witness the man you loved so deeply die alone and afraid while you stood there, completely helpless.

So you ran back to the Swiss Guard’s headquarters, tears blinding your vision. You couldn’t calm down and slowly felt yourself pulled down into a spiral of panic. As you ran, images of Patrick replayed over and over again in your head. Your first meeting. When he reciprocated his feelings for you. Your first kiss. The first—and last—time he told you he loved you. The last time you had been together...

You had rushed to his side with Lt. Chartrand after discovering him lying on the floor of His Holiness’ study, his chest badly burned by the brand.

“Whatever happens, know I’ll always love you,” he had whispered hoarsely, so that only you could hear, his fingers ghosting over your hands as you cleaned and dressed his wounds.

“I know, Patrick. I know,” you replied, your eyes still fixed on his chest as you hushed him gently. “And I will always be here for you.” Your voice dropped to a murmur. “I love you...”

The memory of your distracted nature stained your last moments together—how you wished you could relive those moments again! Shaking your head, you squeezed your eyes shut, trying in vain to shut out the anguish which you now felt, but grief coursed through your body so violently you began to feel physically ill. Your lungs burned from overexertion, exhausted by both your sprinting and crying.

Why hadn’t you done more to comfort him? Why hadn’t you gazed into his beautiful, caring eyes one last time?

You did little to stop the loud sob which escaped your throat, surely drawing the attention of the Swiss Guards at the door to the command center, but you didn’t care about them, nor anyone else for that matter. Your entire world had died with Patrick.

Why had you not told him how much he meant to you? How much you cared for him? Loved him more than life itself?

You collapsed onto a sofa then, weeping bitterly. “Please, Patrick, please forgive me. Please…”

----------

You couldn’t tell how much time had passed when the door beside you burst open.

“...it is truly a miracle, what happened to the camerlengo!” At first you barely registered Olivetti and Commander Richter’s presence until you heard his name. You froze.

“What about the camerlengo?” you cried out, abruptly wrenched from your grief.

“Didn’t you hear? He survived the explosion!” Your heart stopped, barely processing the words coming from Olivetti’s mouth. “Before the bomb detonated, he was able to parachute out of the helicopter. He saved us all! Sia Lode a Dio!” he marveled.

“Where is he?” you demanded frantically. “Where is he?!”

Before Olivetti could even finish his sentence, you were already flying out the door, on your way to the hospital.

----------

You nearly let out a cry of relief upon seeing Patrick. Doctors and nurses fluttered about him, attending to his wounds. He looked so small and fragile in the moment, far from the confident man of God you knew. But that didn’t matter. He was alive. Your beloved. Your Patrick. Alive.

“M-Monsignor!” you exclaimed breathlessly.

His eyes immediately locked with yours, and you saw his heart break. Your eyes were likely still red from crying, tears glistened against your cheeks, and your windswept hair indicated your haste. He stared at you incredulously, afraid that you were merely a hallucination brought on by one of his injuries.

“Miss Y/L/N…?” Even in this state, he remembered his propriety, bringing tears to your eyes.

You needed to pull yourself together, lest you make a scene. You cleared your throat. “Monsignor, I have urgent news from the US Embassy. About the incident.” You gazed at him in earnest, silently begging to speak with him.

He tore his gaze away from you; his eyes darted about, as if deep in thought. Then, he spoke:

“Starò bene. Se ci scusi, sorella.”

You offered your arm to him, which he eagerly slipped into yours, carefully making your way to the hallway with him. Once out of view, he whisked you into an unoccupied room and shut the door.

Your reaction was immediate: you bolted into his arms and held him tightly, burying your face into his neck with a sob. You were careful to brace your weight against him, remembering the angry red marks of the brand which marred his beautiful chest. He held you just as passionately, stroking your hair and tenderly rubbing your back.

Although his scent brought you instant, indescribable comfort, your bawling only intensified. You felt his skin grow warm from your tears and ragged breathing despite his attempts to hush your incoherent babbling with his soothing voice. “Oh darling, shhhh. Please, don’t cry. Shhh…” He leaned back to study your flushed, tear-stained face, his hand coming up to cradle it. “I’m here, I’m here.” He lightly brushed his thumbs over your cheeks to wipe away your tears.

You stared up into his beautiful eyes, bringing your hands to his face in turn, memorizing its angels and curves with your soft fingertips. You felt him lean into your gentle ministrations, his eyes squeezing shut in sheer comfort.

“I thought that I would n-never s-see you again. I th-thought I had lost you f-forever.” You choked back a sob. The shakiness in your voice made it difficult for you to speak coherently as the tears relentlessly streamed down your face.

He clasped his hands over yours. As he slowly revealed his cerulean orbs to you, you noticed the luster of tears. “Never, angelo mio,” he whispered ardently, turning his head to softly kiss your palm. “Never. By God’s grace, I returned to you.”

He kissed you softly then, assuaging your fears; you tasted the saltiness of your tears lingering on his lips. As if to reassure you of his presence, he rested his forehead against yours. You remained like this for several minutes, the peaceful silence interrupted occasionally by your quiet sobs or the soft words of affirmation Patrick whispered against your lips.

You finally leaned back, your eyes immediately filling with tears as they scanned his face. “Y-you’re hurt,” you lamented softly, brushing back the few pieces of hair which had fallen into his face. Angry red gashes and bruises riddled his face and torso, and you longed to kiss each and every one, to hold him until he was no longer in pain. “I’m so sorry...” you whimpered.

As your eyes continued their frantic scan, Patrick brought you back to reality by whispering your name, pleadingly, his eyebrows furrowed in concern. “Cuore mio…look at me.” Your eyes found his effortlessly as he caressed the nape of your neck, the sensation sending shivers down your spine. “I’m all right. All that matters is you are here, safe, with me.” He smiled then, his eyes crinkling endearingly. “And I would never leave you without saying goodbye.”

You sniffled and let out a soft, choked laugh as you watched his face brighten. “Patrick, my love,” you whispered reverently, “I’d be lost without you.” You paused, cradling his face once again. “I love you more than life itself. Please…I don’t ever want to be without you again.”

His gaze softened as his eyes welled with tears. “Ti amo,” he replied, laying a soft kiss on your cheek. “Ti amo,” he repeated, planting another on your opposite cheek. He looked at you lovingly as he leaned forward. “Ti amo…” he murmured, capturing your lips in his. ¤

Translations

Sia Lode a Dio! = "Praise God!"

Starò bene. Se ci scusi, sorella. = "I'll be okay. If you'll excuse us, sister."

Cuore mio = "my heart"

Ti amo = "I love you"

Taglist: @seraferna @lemairepstuff

[julie-thefatones]

Ghostin || Luke x Reader|| Part 1

A/N: Its been over a year since your best friend Luke passed away, finding it hard to cope with everyday life you go through stages of grief and depression, until one day Luke comes back.....

This story will include flashbacks, when that happens I will put the words in bold.

Inspiration for this story coming from Ghostin by Ariana Grande (if you wanna feel the vibe for the first chapter listen to this song)

Word Count: 1, 384

WARNINGS: Depression, Death, Thoughts of self harm

It had been exactly 1 year and a month, 395 days, 568800 minutes, countless nightmares, countless tears since he.... well, since the incident. Days seemed to go by in slow motion, everybody around you used to ask you if you were okay, give you hugs, call you and see if you wanted to hang out.... you appreciated everyones kindness and words, really you did.... you just couldn't. Whenever you would give in and go out, you would see Luke in every person you saw, only making it harder to deal with the pain. Eventually ignoring all calls and people all together..... Slowly causing the people in your life to fall away from you, until eventually everyone was gone... your parents did the best they could to interact, your sister gave up after 6 months... you couldn't blame her though, she was only 13 and didnt really understand what was going on... the only person that seemed to stick around was your boyfriend Jeremy.

You and Jeremy had known each other since you were just kids. You actually met him through Luke while playing on the playground in 4th grade, Luke had told him the main way to a girls heart was to throw mud in her face.... which he did .... and he learned that day forward not to listen to Luke because most the time he was full of it... but most of the time, he would listen to him anyway.

Jeremy probably understood you more than anyone..... well that was except... Luke. Jeremy understood yours and Lukes relationship though.... even so, you couldn't help but feel bad, you haven't exactly made things easy on him. You wondered time and time again why he stayed with you.... why he loved you... The Body of the girl that was once full of life and there, now standing with a vacancy sign on her chest.... hallow.

You sat in your room watching the rain trickle down the window pane, looking up at the sky.... sometimes you wondered if Luke was watching you, was with you sometimes. You felt the tears start to trickle down your cheek... that was usually your sign to go and lay down, for the pain was to unbearable to stay awake.

Although,Sleep wasnt always your friend ........ "LUKE" You cried in pain, tears streaming down your face, caused by a reoccurring nightmare of when you found out he had passed. clutching your chest to catch your breath, you felt arms wrap around you to hold you closer, a comforting "sssshhh" coming from behind you, it was Jeremy.... you had completely forgot he was supposed to come over. You buried your face into his chest, soaking his shirt in tears as he gently patted your hair until you drifted off to sleep once more. The minute your eyes would close.... there he was standing there with his smirk, and kind eyes getting ready to welcome you into a hug.. this was when sleep was kind to you.

The next morning you woke up to a sunny day, you rubbed your eyes to fully accept the morning, rolling over to find Jeremy looking confused and lost. "Good morning" you said trying to sound as positive as you could, Jeremy just kind of glanced over at you, his eyes slightly puffy.... as if he were crying "Are you okay?" you asked genuinely concerned, even though you were empty, you still wanted to be there for him.. after all he has been here for you this whole time. He looked at you hurt, but like he was trying to understand, biting his lip "What did you dream about last night?" He asked, you could tell in the tone of his voice that he seemed to have already knew, and wasnt happy about it, you thought back about what your dream was about .... You and Luke were hanging out in his room messing around with his guitar, and him looking at you and telling you that everything was going to be okay, and that he was there, and not to be sad anymore..... you looked back at Jeremy "It was just ... a dream.... nothing super big" You said trying to change the subject, "You kept saying... Luke....." He said biting his lip again, you sighed, fidgeting with your pillow "This isnt anything new, you know I have that nightmare where I relive hearing about his death....." You said with a crack in your voice, Jeremy sighed "No... I know that one, when you scream, which did happen... but im not talking about that one.... im talking about the ones after that" He said looking straight into your eyes, "These were different... you kept saying his name, like he was right next you ... and you would cuddle up to me and then say his name." Jeremy said, with almost betrayal in his voice, you played with your hair and then looked him in the eyes "Its nothing.... he just.....sometimes he visits me in my dreams.... or " you paused and scrunched your blanket more up to your face "Or feels like he visits me.... " you said in almost a whisper.... "Its nothing you need to worry about" you sighed hoping he would forget about it and move on "Are these new? or have they always happened?" you pondered at his question, not sure if you should tell the truth, Jeremy was the only person you had left and you didnt want to scare him off too, Luke would have told you to be honest and do what you feel in your heart, and then he probably would have tickled you to lighten the mood, but he would have been right, you always hated when he was right because then he got this cocky grin and would tease you endlessly... you hated it so much .. that you loved it. You sighed "They have been here for about 9 months.... so not the whole time but they aren't new either" You said with full honesty, Jeremy sighed and ruffled his hair, as if he was trying to cope "Okay.... " he said with almost exhaustion and frustration, then he grabbed you and held you next to him "Well, I wish you just.. would have told me sooner" he said kissing the top of your head, you loved that he cared... but you didnt want to tell him .... because then it became real that the dreams in fact... were not.

The nightmares and dreams continued like they always do, you would wake up and live your days like you always do..... Jeremy would try to be supportive like he always did. It all got so monotonous.... you just didnt know what to do about it. The only person that knew how to bring you out of your slumps, the only person that knew how to talk any sense into you was gone... he wasnt there.... so you just sat, going through the motions of every day like a robot on command. Everything around you felt fake, even yourself.... you couldn't take it anymore... so you ran.

You felt the crisp nights air brush against your face as you ran, smell of the ocean wafting in your direction as you made your way to the top of the cliff. You came to a halt right at the edge... breathless. Tears streaming down your face with uncontrollable cries bellowing from within your lungs. You looked over the edge thinking about what you were planning on doing.... you kept thinking about Your mom and dad, your sister, Jeremy..... Lukes parents who still invited you over every Sunday for brunch.... would they care, how much would this hurt them? but then all these thought of everyone in your life disappearing when the pain within you arose again.... you knew that of course they would care and it would probably destroy them all.... just the pain in your heart was unbearable, you looked over the edge once again, taking a deep breath in "I love you Luke" You said in a whisper, tears rolling down your face "Y/N! what are you doing" A voice from behind you exclaimed with caution, and then you felt a hand grab your arm, you looked behind you ...... you couldn't believe it "Luke?"

[dreamsmp-au-ideas]

Hollow Crown from Phil’s point of view is nice to think about. Like imagine.

You’re a dad of two kids. You’re currently residing in this small town called Dirtmouth. It once was a part of the fallen kingdom of L’Manberg, but all there is really is a few people now. You open up a small shop that sells charms and it’s semi-successful. People come in and you go and continue life like this.

You also get some books on L’Manberg’s history to have something to do. Might as well know more about the place you’re living in now. It’s not much but you have enough to somewhat put the pieces together.

Then your sons go and tell you that they want to go down the kingdom to explore and to get to the Colosseum of Fools. Understandably, you’re panicking over this. You’ve seen a lot of travelers go in and never come back out. And those who do, go babble on about how it’s cursed.

(You felt the pull more than once. How it whispers to you on how it can take away all his problems and protect your children. You refuse every time.)

And now your sons want to go in it.

Your own sons.

After some arguing and some compromises, you let them go, on the condition that they write to you and that they visit every few days. Yet you still feel intense worry for them. Intense big worry for them.

Then, not even an hour later, a kid drops in. Probably sixteen or seventeen from appearance but they drop in. They don’t really respond to your attempts at conversation but hey, they might be shy.

(It’s a kid. Where are his parents? Who’s watching them?)

You realize that the kid is going to L’Manberg and impulsively, you tell them to watch over your sons. You give him some change in return and he accepts. You have no idea why you did that.

A few days later, both of your sons come back from the kingdom and tell you about a Ravine and an abandoned town on stilts. They talk about the people they met. A three wanderers and how Tommy got in a fight with one of them. A lady who carries a needle and throws it with precision. And of a traveler who’s about Tommy’s age and how Tommy is trying to befriend him despite the weird vibes he gives off.

Turns out the kid actually did met your sons. You appreciate this and hope that he’ll keep on doing this. It’s a little worrying that your eldest child told you that the kid has no parents though. It makes you regret giving the kid that. You can’t really take it back now though.

Your kids depart once again and a few days later you see the kid again. They seem to got a different cloak and seem faster now. You thank him and show him your shop and offer some items you have on sale.

The kid buys a few of them (Sprintmaster, a shard, and what you think is an egg. You have no idea why he bought the egg.) You wave to him goodbye and the kid looks at you for a moment, before delivering his own stiff version of a wave.

Weird kid. Then again you’ve seen weird people before. No need to be offensive or anything.

You then wait at your shop once more and talked to them. Among the people who passed by was a lady with rainbow hair, claiming to be off to protect those who need her. 

A young man with ginger hair and mapping supplies has also passed by to ask for some ink for his travels. There also seems to be some history books in his bag and you both compared your notes and piece together more of L’Manberg’s history. Eventually he had to leave but he promised to come and visit again at some point.

There has also been two people who passed by. One a bard with a beanie and another, a historian wearing bright colors. The bard reminds you a bit of your eldest son with his chaotic energy and all that. The historian then asks to compare notes with you on L’Manberg and more of the history is revealed. They soon left, saying that they’re looking for the library of L’Manberg. An impossible task, but sometimes the journey is better than the end result.

Your kids come back again, only to be a little bit shaken from their last adventure. They tell you about the City of Tears and about them meeting the three wanderers again along with the kid. This time, your youngest did not go and fight the one with the bandanna but it’s a little hard to focus on fighting when apparently the kid and the wanderer with goggles accidentally got trapped in the Soul Sanctum.

The fucking Soul Sanctum.

(You hate that place. You have heard stories about it from those who came back and they all tell you about how they can hear screams from there. How they distantly saw human experimentation being conducted. It’s terrifying.)

All of them had to go and break into it and apparently when they did find the kid and goggles, they apparently defeated the Soul Master and the kid apparently got magic from his corpse. Disturbing but this kingdom is pretty disturbing.

The story thankfully takes a lighter turn as after a few days of rest, they all talked and gotten along pretty well. The kid as it seems also seemed to be a little bit brighter. A spar between goggles and the kid happen and the kid won. And apparently according to your sons, the kid has also won against the Badlands. Pretty impressive if you think about it.

They leave but not without telling you that they sort adopted the kid as their brother. A bit surprising, but nice to know about.

The kid comes back again and seems to be a bit lighter than usual. He seems to have a brighter look in his eyes and he perks up when you wave at him. He buys things and you thought that was it before the kid gives you a beautiful writing quill. 

He looks at you expectantly and you realize that this is a gift. You’re touched by this and smile a bit. He smiles back and your heart warms a bit at the sight. He waves to you goodbye and goes off to the Stag Station.

Things are slow for a couple of weeks. The map maker visits again and you find that some more people visit. You talk to them and you find them to be pleasant company. Your sons visit, the kid visits. Rinse and repeat.

Your sons visit again, this time the eldest is holding the hand of the kid that you’ve been seeing. They then tell you that this is their new brother and the kid looks so much more brighter than last time. He smiles a bit and goes to hang out with your youngest as you talk to your eldest.

Things then go back into rhythm again. The only thing that was changing that was when the kid one day visits you, and tells you, with the brightest expression on their face and with a shaky yet happy voice that their name is Tubbo. 

The kid comes a lot more often with Tommy and Wilbur. He seems happy with those two. More people start to visit the town. 

For one, the lady with rainbow hair seems to decide that this is her home now, saying that she has protected who she needed to protect but now is currently being told by the kid to be on bed rest after a rather close encounter with an infected. She seemed shaken despite her brushing it off, so you offer some tea and tell her that his door is always open to talk.

The map maker, bard, and historian also came back and also made residence in the town. Apparently the bard, historian, and the kid found L’Manberg’s secret library. Well shit. All of them actually found it. They came back with books they made copies of and you compare more notes and get about almost all of L’Manberg’s history. 

You also notice that they all seem to hate the dark now and panic a bit when it does get dark. There’s some trauma there but all you say is that they can talk to him anytime. You don’t know them that well but you still should comfort them.

Your kids came back but with another kid. Apparently an End Folk kid. You let him stay at your house after some convincing and you’re patient with them. Several days later and you accidentally adopted him. Whoops.

Things seemed to get weird in that week. The kid summoned the vessel of the blood god and then fought said vessel of the blood god. It was weird. Said blood god turns out to be just a vessel and you accidentally became friends with him after talking to him. Well then. He then tells you that the kid fought well and that he actually beaten the actual blood god.

The kid has beaten a god. 

What the fuck.

(Isn’t he like sixteen or seventeen? How did that happen?)

Well then. The kid apparently beaten a god! That’s great! ANd also a bit terrifying but you don’t say that. The potato farmer (what the vessel would like to be remembered as) then decides to make residence in the town.

A blacksmith with red and blue glasses then comes around and asks if this is Dirtmouth. When you said yes, he nodded and asked if he can stay here. You let him and now there’s no excuse for your sword to go dull.

A month has passed again and you grow closer to everyone in the town. A man in goggles also visits but seemed frazzled. Frantically asking for anything on the history of the infection. The historian seemed to know him and gave him access to the books.

By the end of it, he leaves disappointed and panicked. You tried talking to him but he only rushed to the stag station.

Several days passed and then you find that your youngest had almost died at the Colosseum. You panic. You panic so much and your eldest and the kid is crying.

He barely survived the fall and only was saved because of a woman who calls herself the Protector. You thank her and you get your youngest on bedrest after some arguing. You eldest however looks distant. You’re worried about him but before you can say anything, he leaves, saying that he has to do something.

Several more days passed and the kid is frantically pulling on your clothes to come with him, he seemed to be crying. You then find your eldest at the lake and looking at the water a bit too much and talk him out of it. You take him home and the kid stays with you for a couple of days before leaving.

Both of your sons are at home and you and the rest of the residents help them heal. Eventually they do and they start to be a bit like themselves again. You’re eternally relived and think that is the end of your problems before the kid comes back with the three wanderers that your kids talks about.

Turns out bandanna was infected and had to be snapped out of it. They made residence there in order to heal. Though after a couple of days you saw that the guy in the hoodie was slowly bringing things such as flowers and flower pots to the house they’re residing in. Yep. They’re permanent residents now.

The kid- no. Your son, then comes up to you and tells you that there is something he needs to do. If you looks closely, you can see that some parts of him seemed to be void. You aren’t sure what to feel about this.

A month passes and no one has seen your kid. The Badlands, the Protector, the Colosseum, no one, has not seen him. The Protector now goes to the town once a week to ask if anyone has seen him.

Then a week passed and the infection starts to fade away. People wake up and so many things happen at once. The Badlands are whole again, bandanna says that he can’t hear the call anymore, and the Protector confirmed that this is happening everywhere.

Then a guy with chipped armor and eyes with no pupils appears in town and you know. You know from the history books that they’re the hollow knight. Everyone asks if they’ve seen the kid and they sadly replied no.

Another week passes and as everyone heals, you start to think that the kid might be gone. And then you hear a thumping sound is heard and you look outside to see a humongous creature outside.

You were about to fight it only for them to raise their hands in surrender and then turn into the kid. You and your family (because admit it, you adopted all the people in this town) can only stare in shock before hugging him tightly.

This happened in a year. All of this happened in a year and you are glad for it. Your family has gotten a lot bigger and yeah they’re a bit traumatized but they can heal. All of them can heal.

[ethereousdelirious]

I've been reliving my P.okemon phase lately so I decided to revamp an old fic I wrote. I only edited, didn't re-write, so it might not be up to par with my usual stuff, but I'm happy with it 😊

Fandom: P.okemon DPPt (games)

Characters: C.yrus, S.aturn, J.upiter, M.ars

Pairing: N/A

Tropes: Caretaking, working through a cold, mild fluff/"team as family" vibes, no real plot

Summary: C.yrus comes to work with a cold and seems determined to work through it without doing anything to make himself more comfortable. His Commanders refuse to stand for this.

“Saturn. Hey, Saturn!” Mars waved a hand in front of her colleague’s face. “Are you listening?”

Saturn came back to the present with an unpleasant jolt, blinking at Mars' unimpressed face before him. "No," he said and blinked a few more times to try to reorient himself. "Sorry. What were you saying?"

Jupiter straightened up, making the wheels of her rolling chair click. “What’s gotten into you?” she demanded. “The fate of Team Galactic could very well be in our hands and you can’t even pay attention? It’s disrespectful.”

Saturn swallowed down his embarrassment. She was right of course, but he couldn't seem to keep his thoughts from straying to a more pressing topic. Memories from earlier today flooded in, the thick congestion in his leader's voice, the careless mistakes he usually never made. It all painted a clear picture. Clear and distressing. “I said I was sorry. It’s just… I’m worried that Master Cyrus is ill.”

“Is he?” Mars sat up a little straighter. “How would you know?”

“I went to his office this morning to talk to him about one of the machines we’re developing. I asked if he was feeling well and he brushed me off, and that would have been the end of it, but...” Saturn hesitated, “His calculations were all over the place. I’ve never seen him get so many equations wrong. And…" Talking behind Master Cyrus' back like this made Saturn's stomach twist with guilt, but… "He didn't look well." Mars bristled, her leather chair squeaking, so Saturn hurried to clarify: "You know, he looked–" Glassy eyes, labored breathing, pale skin. "He just looked sick."

“Hmph. Sounds to me like you’re overreacting.” Mars stood up, slapping her pen down on top of her legal pad. “Be right back.” She left Saturn and Jupiter sitting there at the conference table and walked down the hall toward Cyrus’ office. Typical Saturn, chasing shadows when there was nothing there. He was weak and jumpy and it made him a bad leader.

Upon reaching Cyrus' door (closed, of course) Mars knocked once before calling, “Master Cyrus, may I come in?”

The reply came after a few seconds of silence: “Yes, you may.”

She found Cyrus seated at his desk, eyeing some sheets of paper with a thoughtful frown. A few notebooks sat beside him and Mars recognized the ones she had picked out. They were leather-bound and sturdy, as befitting a man of Master Cyrus' stature and intellect. The flimsy cheap ones were probably from Saturn, and the patterned ones from Jupiter. Stupid. Didn't they know that Cyrus deserved only the best?

Cyrus made a mark in his notebook with a blue pen, stared at it for a moment, then turned his gaze upward to Mars. "Yes, Commander Mars, what is it?" Just as Saturn had said, Cyrus looked ill. Even his voice was heavy with it, slow and ragged, like he'd been coughing all day.

“Grunt #35 is requesting acquisition paperwork for a new Pokemon,” Mars lied, taking all this in without so much as a twitch. “May I have a copy?”

“Yes. Just a minute.” Cyrus gave his paper one last look before setting his pen down. He opened his bottom desk drawer and moved to pull out a sheet of paper, but froze halfway through the motion.

“Mas—” Mars started to say, but stopped abruptly when Cyrus sneezed twice. The force of them snapped his head forward, bending him nearly double as he buried his face in his arm. He was red in the cheeks when he resurfaced, sniffling and teary-eyed. Smoothly, he reached for his tissues with one hand and passed Mars the paperwork with the other. "Make sure Grunt #35 keeps the carbon copy."

Mars stepped forward to take it, making a mental note to find the nearest hand sanitizer dispenser on her way back to the conference room. “Of course, Master Cyrus.”

He sniffled once. “You’re welcome.”

With no further excuse to stay, Mars turned on her heel and left. She balled up the requisition paperwork and tossed it in a trash can as she went.

Jupiter drummed her pen against her notepad, trying to look busy in case Mars came back in a foul temper. She and Saturn had made no progress, not that it mattered. Mars wouldn't accept any ideas unless she was there to pretend she'd come up with them.

Mars paused in the doorway before dropping back down into her chair. Jupiter looked at her expectantly, which only lengthened the silence before Mars confirmed: “Master Cyrus is sick. He looks terrible.”

“It’s funny,” Jupiter said after failing to picture it. “I almost didn’t think Master Cyrus could get sick. He seems…" She swallowed, a blush warming her cheeks. "Well.... Untouchable."

Thankfully, Saturn and Mars paid her no mind. “You think there’s any way we could convince him to go and rest?” Saturn asked. Jupiter and Mars both shook their heads. Saturn frowned. "I'm worried."

“Well,” Mars said decisively. “If Master Cyrus is too busy to take care of himself, we’ll have to do it for him.”

“What do you mean?” Jupiter asked. Cyrus was not the type to sit back and let others fuss after him. Especially not his Commanders. Especially when they had work to do.

Mars gave her a hard look. “ You know all the little things you do to feel better when you have a cold? We'll do that for Master Cyrus.”

“What did you have in mind?” Saturn asked.

“Umm…" Mars looked up at the ceiling, thinking, before shooting a glare at Saturn. "Well, I shouldn't have to come up with everything!” She flipped to a blank page in her notebook. “Let's get planning!”

-

“M-Master Cyrus?” Jupiter called. She tapped at the door with the knuckles of her free hand. In the other, she held a mug of tea in a vice grip, terrified she might spill it.

“Come—” The reply was cut off, smothered by a series of muffled coughs that made Jupiter wince. Poor Cyrus! “Come in.”

Jupiter eased the door open, eyes downcast. “I was taking a break and I thought you might like some tea.”

Cyrus muffled a few more coughs behind his lips. “Thank you.”

Jupiter finally dared to look up and had to swallow back a gasp. Mars and Saturn had not been exaggerating. She set the mug down gently, careful to avoid any of Master Cyrus' paperwork. “It's green tea with honey,” she said, watching him anxiously.

“Is that all you wanted, Commander Jupiter?”

She blushed. “Um, yes. Please drink it, Master Cyrus.” She bowed her head and left.

Only Mars was waiting for her back in the conference room. She had her feet up on the vast wooden table and was tossing a balled-up paper from hand to hand.

“I sent Saturn out to get some supplies,” she said once Jupiter had sat down again.

“He has the most important work out of all of us,” Jupiter said, looking at the mess of mathematical and chemical equations on Saturn’s left-behind legal pad. “Why didn't you go?”

“Because.” Mars looked her dead in the eye, challenging her. “I didn't feel like it.”

“Saturn is working for the good of the organization—” Jupiter began hotly, but Mars cut her off.

“The most important thing is making sure Master Cyrus gets better so our plans can go on smoothly. We're taking care of that right now, so quit complaining or I'll be forced to sic Purugly on you.”

Jupiter huffed and crossed her arms. It wasn't worth arguing with Mars; she'd never win. "Is anything even open at this hour?"

Mars shrugged. "It's Veilstone; I'm sure there's something. Saturn will figure it out."

“What did you send him out to get?”

In response, Mars shoved her legal pad over. Jupiter had a hard time deciphering the messy scrawl, and Saturn returned before she was even halfway down the list.

Saturn paused, panting, in the doorway. A small plastic bag dangled from one wrist. “Master Cyrus called me back,” he explained, gesturing briefly to his Pokétch. He entered the room long enough to grab his legal pad and a pen, then disappeared.

Saturn entered Cyrus’ office without knocking. “I’m sorry, Master Cyrus, I stepped out for a moment to—” He noticed the plastic grocery bag still hooked around his wrist and paused. “Well, I’ve almost finished my calculations. I can finish them right now if you want, and we can compare.”

Cyrus nodded and took a breath to speak. This turned into a cavalcade of coughs that forced him to bury his head in his sleeve. Saturn bit his lip and looked down.

When Cyrus spoke, his voice was barely audible, though it grew in strength a little after the first few syllables. Even so, every word sounded painful and grating. “I know you can work faster than this. I won’t ask what you were doing, but I must request that you not let it interfere with our work here at Team Galactic.”

“Yes, sir.” Saturn had already taken up his pen and was jotting down the tail end of a chemical equation that spanned several lines. He waited for the ink to dry, then set the grocery bag on top of the legal pad and passed the whole thing over to Cyrus.

“What’s this?”

“Cough drops, sir. And a box of tissues. They’re for you.”

“Thank you.” Cyrus set the bag down by the mug of tea Jupiter had brought him and turned his attention to the twin legal pads in front of him. “We seem to have drawn the same conclusions. I’ll call you back if I need to discuss this with you further.”

“Yes, sir.” Saturn saw himself out.

Mars and Jupiter sat in stony silence, glaring at each other. Saturn returned to his seat and waited, but neither woman seemed inclined to speak first.

“I wasn’t able to get everything on the list,” he said after a moment. “Only two of the things, actually. Master Cyrus is busy now, and I don’t think he’d appreciate any more interruptions. He said he’d call me back if he needed me.”

“Great, so we can get back to our earlier discussion,” Mars said with a hint of sarcasm in her voice. “The best way to crush that interfering little brat into the ground.”

-

It was about 2:00 am when Cyrus finally left his office. He left his papers in a neat stack, with the cough drops and the spare tissues off to the side where they wouldn’t be in the way. Since Saturn had come in, he’d fastidiously taken one cough drop an hour, and his coughing and congestion had eased off a bit, though his temples still pounded with a dizzying pressure-pain. The plastic bag and the now-empty mug he brought with him. He disposed of the bag in the break room trash can, washed out the mug, and proceeded down the hall. He had to walk slowly, as his head had a tendency to spin if he made any sudden moves.

He found the wall and leaned on it for a moment, breathing shallowly through his mouth. His bleeding lips protested this, chafed at the hot breaths cascading over them. Cyrus filed this away with the rest of his body's paltry complaints. It was a head cold. He would be fine with a reasonable amount of rest and time.

He had been planning to ignore the symptoms as they came, but the interference of his Commanders was… Not unwelcome, in the end. It was easier to focus with sweet menthol cherry soothing the burn in his throat, easier to catch the distracted mistakes in his calculations and double-check Saturn's work against them with the slight buzz of caffeine in his veins.

The path to the front doors took him past the conference room where his Commanders often worked when they were collaborating on something. The overhead lights were still on. As Cyrus got closer, he could make out the shapes of all three of them asleep in various positions at the table.

Saturn had his head down on his legal pad, a pen still balanced against his fingers. Mars was leaned back in her seat and had her feet up on a spare chair. Jupiter was slumped over to the side with her head resting on her shoulder.

Cyrus stood in the doorway and looked at them for a moment. His Commanders... he had chosen them well. Then a sneeze took him by surprise. He hid his face in his sleeve and scrunched up his nose against the lingering tickle. His ribs ached.

It was Mars who got her bearings the quickest, looking up to meet his bleary eyes. “Oh! Master Cyrus, are you leaving?” She hopped to her feat and the others followed suit, gathering up their belongings with careless speed.

“Yes," said Cyrus, eyeing them. They didn't usually stay this late. "I’ve finished with my work for today. What are you three still doing here?”

“We wanted to be sure you were feeling better before we left,” she answered.

“I see.” Now that Jupiter and Saturn were done packing up, Cyrus turned to leave. The others flanked him: Mars to his right, Saturn and Jupiter to his left.

They walked in silence until they reached the lobby, at which point Saturn turned to him. "Are you feeling better, Master Cyrus?"

“Yes," said Cyrus, and it was true. It wasn't in his nature to dote or fuss, but seeing the shining, exhausted faces of his Commanders staring up at him stirred something long-dormant in his chest. He held the door open for them despite the ringing ache in his head. "Thank you."

“You’re welcome, Master Cyrus,” they said in childish unison.

And in the wintry darkness, they parted ways.

[goatbi]

Hi friend! If it vibes how about angst #1 for gordon?

It was really such a simple thing. The dark heavy feeling that hung over Gordon for the past couple days hadn’t been there, not really, and Gordon thought, maybe, that this certain episode was over. Fae was... pretty sure it was. 

Pretty sure. 

The problem with that is pretty sure is not confident. And Gordon was never confident where faer waning and waxing mental health issues were concerned. 

All fae did was drop a plate. An old plate, that fae had dropped hundreds of times in the past, that had never shattered before, but chose this moment to splinter into thousands of ceramic pieces across the tile, as if taunting faer. 

“Fuck!”  Gordon was backed into a corner, broken ceramic covering the kitchen between faer and the door way, with no clear way over for faer to get through without stepping on sharp ceramic, and Gordon couldn’t help it, couldn’t help the sudden all-encompassing panic that surrounded faer in that moment, the stuttering heart beat against faer ribs, as Gordon slid down against the counter, eyes wide, hands shaking. “I can’t do anything right.” Fae muttered bitterly, tears already streaking down faer face, chest heaving as fae tried to breathe through it, tried to calm, it was just a plate, but it was so much more than a plate, wasn’t it, it was indicative of a bigger, more pressing problem, the issue that Gordon couldn’t even handle a small issue without shattering into the same ceramic pieces that littered the kitchen floor now, unrepairable and unworthy of the care that faer friends and family were so careful to give faer in these moments- 

“Gordon.” Gordon jumped, head flying back against the counter, cushioned by a hand that Gordon would later feel bad about hitting so harshly, but for now, fae barely noticed it, barely felt it, staring wide eyed at the person in front of faer. 

Bubby, equipped with a broom that had been on the other side of the kitchen when this started, had cleared a rough path through the carnage of the plate to the door way, and had xyr hand reaching around, holding Gordon’s head from slamming into the cabinet, and Bubby looked so worried, so concerned for Gordon’s health, in a way fae never deserved, it almost made it worse, but god, Gordon felt so selfish, selfish enough to take the comfort, take it and hold it close, so when they did realize that fae wasn’t enough, there would still be these moments of comfort, hidden deep away from harm, and Gordon shoulders shook more, as Bubby carefully knelt on the ceramic-stewn floor, for Gordon of all people, as if xe could pick up those shatter pieces and put faer back together correctly, as if the minuscule pieces in the grout wouldn’t be missed, and Gordon just sobbed harder, curling tighter into a ball, nails digging into the flesh of faer arm, even as Bubby so carefully and tenderly pulled faer hand off, stopping Gordon from drawing blood before Gordon even realized that was a possibility. 

Instead, Bubby held Gordon’s hand to xyr chest, breathing so carefully for faer, and Gordon hiccuped, clutching onto Bubby’s sweater, hands still shaking, but trying to focus on that, the deep careful breathing, the flow of words in a calm voice that Gordon didn’t understand, but could feel in the way Bubby breathed, xyr chest rumbling with words, and Gordon focused on it, kept faer eyes away from the ceramic covered floor and the way Bubby was surely going to have tiny ceramic pieces in xyr pants, the way Gordon was going to be covered in ceramic powder, tried so hard to keep faer eyes on Bubby’s, so careful and gentle, so caring, and Gordon hiccuped through a sob, trying to breathe, trying to keep Bubby’s words tight. They still slipped through faer brain like river water, in and out, Gordon unable to focus on a single word Bubby said, instead focusing on xyr voice, which, while most people wouldn’t think could be comforting, was a god send in these moments, the careful gentle way Bubby spoke, and Gordon could feel the tension leaking from faer shoulders as they focused on the sound of Bubby’s voice, the feeling of Bubby’s chest moving under faer hand. 

It took a moment, as Gordon sniffled, relaxing slowly, for faer to realize that there wasn’t ceramic on the floor anymore, that Bubby wasn’t holding onto the broom, that rather, Coomer had come in at some point, that it had cleaned up around the two of them, and Gordon felt both relived and guilty, hating that it had to clean up after faer, but so relieved fae didn’t have to do it, that fae could just focus on the careful breathing Bubby coached, and finally, Gordon’s eyes focused properly on Bubby, watching as xe smiled at faer. 

“Back with me?” Xe asked carefully, and Gordon found no words buried in faer chest to say back, nothing there to say, no way to apologize for this, and instead nodded. “Good. C’mon.” Bubby stood, wrapping xyr hands around Gordon’s elbows and pulled, and Gordon didn’t think to help at first, but it didn’t seem to matter, Bubby was deceptively strong pulling Gordon’s bulk up until Gordon realized and got faer feet under faer, and xe smiled at faer again, and what the did, Gordon didn’t understand. Fae wasn’t deserving of that smile, one Bubby didn’t often use, a careful gentle smile on a face that so often had something more akin to a smirk on it, and Gordon’s hands were still shaking. 

They got to the couch, and Gordon curled up there, against Bubby’s chest, as Bubby lay with faer, one hand carding through faer hair, a tangled mess Gordon hadn’t gotten to brush in a few days, hadn’t gotten to wash in a few days, and Gordon felt guilty about that too, so many things that Gordon tried to blame on faerself, and yet fae was so tired of it, so tired of faer own brain betraying faer like this, and Gordon tried to lock it out, instead focusing on the way Bubby breathed, the way xe hummed, hand snagging on a few tangle that xe were so careful not to fully tug on, and Gordon couldn’t help but feel appreciative of, couldn’t help but relax against Bubby’s chest, finally letting faer eyes drift shut against the world, forcing those thoughts away in favor of the love Bubby radiated in this moment. 

[maeryn-liones]

The legends as types of ASMR they might listen to

[I came up with this idea at 2AM and couldn’t sleep. Shhh]

Bangalore

Believe it or not, most of the ASMR she listens to is to relive her trauma. Years of experience in battle can scar a person and being in the IMC??? She’s seen a whole lot, most of it not good. She’ll listen/watch videos that are helpful for people who have experienced trauma. That may include videos that help her try to forget or maybe a few videos trying to help her move on.

Bloodhound

Camping ASMR. Listening to the crackle of the fires or rain always reminds them of home. They can almost feel the late nights in the wilderness on their own again. During very sleepless nights, they’ll open Arthur’s cage and have the bird curl up in the corner of the room and try to mimic sounds that nature makes (look it up, crows can and will mimic the sounds of other creatures)

Caustic

Generally, he won’t listen to ASMR. If he ever has trouble sleeping, he’ll usually take melatonin or drink some tea. But on the rare occasions he does, he’ll try to find carving ASMR. Maybe it’s wood carving or soap carving. The sounds just feel calming and relax him, the sounds can ease his mind. On very super rare occasions, he’ll listen to Mad Scientist ASMR to either make him laugh or just see how some people view him since fan or other legends will joke about that.

Crypto

Anxiety Relief ASMR up the ass my dude. Hacking or spending extended times on his computer will cause him to put on headphones to listen to background ASMR. During the night, it’s sometimes insanely difficult to sleep so he tries to calm himself down. He deep down knows none of the legends would try to hurt him (except for Revanant, that rat bastard that climbs on the ceiling like a fucking creep) so he feels much calmer and safer than he has in a long time

Gibraltar

Not gonna lie, I struggled so much to try and find something he’d listen to. I eventually came up with the conclusion that he listens to nice positive vibes ASMR. Any video that has negative vibes or a weird RP? Begone thot! This man cares about one thing and one thing alone: Trying to stay positive. The original reason he joined the games was to protect those around him and literally all of his lines are along the lines of staying positive and happier. It’s better to keep your head held up high than to put yourself down.

Lifeline

Tapping. As somebody to loves to jam out with her drumsticks, she enjoys tapping on things. This includes when she tries to sleep. She enjoys listening to the sounds late at night as it remind her of her favorite hobby. Anybody who has watched her sleep as she listens to ASMR might notice how she lightly tries to sleepily tap along what she’s hearing.

Loba

Ngl, at the time I’m making this post, Loba hasn’t been out for too long. My personal view of her character may not really be good enough for me to get an accurate viewpoint for this post. Just throwing that out there before I state anything😅

Loba enjoys mic brushing/mic pulling. The sound just feels soothing to her. It drowns out all the background noise that scares her or just makes her feel unsettled at night. Revenant has caused many many many sleepless nights for her so she prefers something to drown out whatever insecurities or fear she might be feeling internally.

Mirage

Positive. Affirmations. Ya’ll. Mirage is so fucking worried all the damn time about everything. He often finds it difficult to sleep because he just worries about a lot. Do the other legends find him annoying??? Do they talk shit behind his back??? Do they hate talking with him??? Do fans only like him for his looks??? He especially struggles after having phone calls with his mom or the anniversary of his brothers disappearing. Those nights are the worst and the hardest for him. He stumbled onto ASMR by total accident and has not stopped using it each and every night since.

Octane

I originally was going to kinda brush this off and say he doesn’t really listen to ASMR and then my brain was like, “You’re a fucking idiot.”

It’s kinda rare to find them (at least in my experience) but Octane listens to ADHD asmr. It is just so fucking difficult to sleep when you can’t turn your fucking brain off. It also doesn’t help when you play video games all night. Octane doesn’t usually listen to ASMR, he’ll try to roll around in his bed for a couple hours before looking up old videos Lifeline showed him when they were kids. He never ever tells her this.

Pathfinder

Doesn’t really listen to ASMR because robot who literally can’t sleep. But, if he finds any of the other legends struggling to sleep, he’ll look up all their favorite ASMR videos and send them to their phones to remind them, “Hey! You use these to sleep friend! You should use them now!” 😁

Revenant

Doesn’t use ASMR to sleep, but will browse old memories or horror movies to hear people screaming. Everybody sleeps super far away from him for a reason

Wattson

Very very gentle and quiet videos. Loud noises bother her so very much that she enjoys very gentle, very soft videos. She enjoys the ones with inaudible whispering so she doesn’t have to focus too hard on what people are saying or doing. No crazy role plays, no doctors appointment role plays, just very very soft and sweet videos.

(I repeated very a lot in this description but shhhh it’s fine)

Wraith

Wraith was one of the hardest to decide because she listens to every kind of ASMR if you want to get technical with dimensional travel. Whispers are definitely a no go, the voices in her head late at night are no fun at fucking all. Doctor ASMR triggers her PTSD at the IMC facility so fuck that. I eventually came to the conclusion that it’s either hair brushing or listening to rain. The hair brushing gives her a sense of peace and eases her mind by quite a bit. At some points, she’ll feel an odd sense of familiarity with those videos. The rain calms almost everybody enough for sleep and Wraith is no exception.

[callmethehunter]

Hey everyone!! New Chapter of Robert Fan Fic!! Thanks @firethatgrewsolow for help with edits and for just being so incredibly giving of your time and talent and as always, thanks to @brownskinsugarplum76 for her encouragement to keep at it! This is a continuation of Part I from a few weeks ago. I am pasting the very last paragraph of Part I in italics for a smoother transition. RECAP: So basically, its 1968, the girl had spotted Robert walking towards a group of people at the beach, and was just starting to feel the effects of the acid she had taken earlier. There’s lots of flirting and some sensual moments but the real NSFW is soon to come as Part III. Previously… Ending of Part 1: The same breeze that now caressed her skin also danced among his ringlets . We are all interconnected, she marveled. He brushed the hair away from his forehead, tucking a few golden wisps behind his ear, as his eyes roamed the gathering, coming to rest on hers. A bolt of lightning lit the darkest corners of her mind. Her tanned face flushing, she instinctively dropped her gaze and looked down at her feet, still buried in the sand where the white foamy waves pursued and retreated. She swallowed hard, as she looked up to find him still studying her. And smiling. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Part II Why did his gaze and his smile cause a visceral reaction, speeding up her heartbeat and making it difficult to breathe? Trying to appear nonchalant, she looked up in his general direction, afraid that she would find his eyes lingering, but he was deep in conversation. She looked away again, flustered, only to find his beautiful face imprinted on her brain. Damn, she murmured to herself, get yourself together girl, or this acid trip’s gonna take you off on a wild ride for sure… You want to be the captain of this trip, she thought. With his afterimage still floating on her retinas, she mustered all her courage and tried to stand on legs that felt numb and rubbery. She bent down to grab her sandals, almost lost her balance, turned, and began the trek back to the picnic tables. Through the shadows she tried to calculate how long she would have to walk unobscured and visible to the group. She suddenly felt conspicuous and a little paranoid, as if everyone would stop and stare. But why should I care? She wondered…and answered herself under her breath, singing: “Actin’ funny but I don’t know why, ‘scuse me while I kiss the sky- ta dah da da dar” she air guitared Jimi’s solo with gusto, playing the imaginary Stratocaster left handed, like Jimi. She realized just how absurd she must appear, but that only made her collapse into peals of laughter. The more she tried to stop, the more out of control she became. “Pero que chevere! How groovy is this!” If only she could save this moment of complete abandon and take it out to relive whenever she wanted…wouldn’t that be sweet? For a brief moment, she was literally on all fours, as she tried to resume a respectable upright posture, hoping no one had noticed her momentary insanity….But someone had seen, and it was then she realized that the blonde stranger was emerging from the shadows, taking on shape and substance…the stars flickered on and off, the universe held its breath, time and distance were distorted by the acid so that he bridged the gap between them as if in an instant…She was just getting up when she felt large, strong hands encase her, helping her to stand. She smelled the ocean breeze and the tradewinds in his hair, intermingled with an alluring manly scent; she felt the golden rays of light emanating from his blue eyes. Eyes that were as blue as bluebirds flying over the mountains; blue like the limitless sky above them. Her mouth and face felt numb, her tongue was stuck to the roof of her mouth, barring her speech. “Are you allright?” the tall stranger asked with genuine concern, in an accent that almost caused her absurd giggles to return. She had to bite the tip of her tongue so as to ground herself in the moment and not fly away like a hot air balloon or a feather in the wind. She heard herself, a disembodied voice miles away, replying “Yea, Im fine!” and before she could censor herself, blurted out, “I’m just tripping - Hard. From a purple microdot I did earlier…” she added, with a telltale giggle. “Ahh, I thought as much!” he said in a bright, melodious voice and timbre, as he stifled his own laughter, blue eyes sparkling mischievously like diamonds and sapphires. Holy Shit!, a voice shouted in her brain, This guy is good looking!! And that IS a dimple on his cheek! Her eyes glided over his face and body, surveying his strong chin, the broad shoulders, and toned torso that tapered to a slim waist. Further down, she couldn’t help but notice his bulging crotch - his jeans bursting at the seams in the best way… it was unmistakable, evoking within her a primal longing as old as time; a yearning to feel his body and his hardening manhood pressed against her… “Get a grip,” she admonished herself. Her mind registered all of these impressions in a split second, and the moment was suspended in the stillness of time. When she met his gaze, a lopsided smirk deepened his dimple. Her perusal of his body had not gone unnoticed. In fact, he seemed to be amused by it and amused by her embarrassment at having been caught! She realized they were still hand in hand but that it was she who had sustained the contact far longer than was necessary. Hurriedly, she released her hold, continuing the movement in one fluid motion as she brushed the gritty sand off her cutoffs…God, she was acting like a complete spazz, and the acid wasn’t helping matters one bit. In those moments, it was his turn to survey the landscape of her body, the tanned skin, the swelling of her breasts, her perky nipples that protruded proudly…the small waist and curve of her hips. She would fit right in my hands, he thought, her soft flesh would be the warmth of hearth and home after a long voyage; her full lips like the petals of a velvety rose. He felt a stirring in his loins, the tell tale hardening of his cock beneath the denim. Good God, she was beautiful! He wanted nothing more at that moment than for her to lay down in sweet surrender as her long black wavy hair spilled all around her… Snapping out of his carnal revery, he realized he was standing there like a fool, smirking at this gem of a girl. To fill the charged silence between them, he said. “I’m Robert…and who might you be?” “I’m Maggie,” she replied as she looked up at him. He had to be at least a foot taller, and she found that incredibly attractive. She immediately envisioned him being her shelter against the storms, keeping her safe and warm. “Pleasure to meet you…Maggie.” he savored the taste of her name on his tongue and hoped that by the end of the night he’d be tasting a lot more. “May I ask, where are you from Robert? I detect an accent and I’m sure I haven’t seen you around these parts before… I would remember that,” she said, meeting his steady gaze. Was that the tip of his tongue flicking out and licking his lips?! Lord have mercy, She sensed he was just as attracted to her as she was to him, for his eyes traveled up and down her frame, pausing at certain points of interest. He smiled at her, his tongue back in place, “Of course, darlin’… ask away, I’m an open book!” “Well, then, answer my question, Mr. Open Book… “ she stated as she looked up at him, “or better yet, let me guess!!” she added excitedly. Her exuberance was contagious! “You’re ….Australian, am I right?! “ “Guess again..” he said as he began to walk, not toward the group, but away from it toward the shore. As she joined him, she remained quiet for a second, studying him intently, then suddenly stopped in her tracks and practically shouted, “Wait a minute, I got it! You’re from England?” “Yes, I am actually! Just in Florida for a few gigs. My band is playing at Tugboat Annie’s on Thursday and Friday, before we have to head back to England Saturday afternoon. Would love to see you there if you can make it.” “That depends,” she answered coyly. “Depends on what?” he queried, grinning from ear to ear. “On what happens tonight,” she answered, uncensored once again by the acid, feeling wild and carefree as she took a step closer to him. “And what do you want to happen tonight… pray tell.” She looked into his eyes and answered his question by going up to him and kissing his cheek, right on that irresistible dimple, then she brushed her lips against his and pulled away. He smelled even better up close, and she was filled with desire for him, this perfect stranger who had walked out of the shadows. “I like a girl who knows what she wants,” he replied, encircling her waist with his large hands and reeling her in. “You do?” she replied pushing up against his growing erection. Good God, she was liking this turn of events for sure. “Well, it’s easy for me to know what I want right now” she continued “you’ve got the most amazing, positive vibe. I could tell from the minute I saw you that there was something special about you… something different.” “Oh Yea? That may be the acid talking..although I won’t argue with it” he answered, laughing as he pulled a joint out of his pocket and placed it between his lips, lighting it with his Bic. He inhaled deeply, blew out the smoke and passed it to her as they continued walking down the beach, to a cluster of large rocks that protruded out into the ocean. The locals called this section of the beach “the Jetties.” “So, tell me about yourself, Maggie,” he said to her. “You know where I’m from but I don’t know anything about you…” “Well what do you wanna know?” she replied. “That’s such a broad question.” “For starters, I want to know if that’s a tan or if you were born with such luscious brown skin?” he ventured as he took in the contrast against the white of her top. “Oh, you and your silver tongue,” she rolled her eyes at him but inside she was loving it. “I’m Dominican but I grew up in Puerto Rico…family came over here when I was 10 and we’ve been here ever since” “Really? And do you still speak Spanish?” his eyes expressed genuine interest. She was used to guys playing that game but Robert seemed so authentic. “Actually, I do! My family speaks only Spanish at home.” “So you’re fluent are you?” he exclaimed. “We could have used you last night in Calle Ocho! We almost got ourselves arrested!” he laughed and passed the joint to her which she declined this time. No need pushing her buzz to the max, she needed to be sharp, or at least coherent. They reached the jutting rock formation where the waves incessantly pounded the boulders, spraying salt water everywhere. Droplets came to rest on Robert’s golden curls as well as his arms, and he glistened under the moonlight, his skin almost translucent. In her heightened state, colors seemed more vibrant. “Wanna go up there?” he asked. Mesmerized by the silvery sheen off the moon in his eyes, she nodded absently. “Wait here then, I don’t want you to slip and fall”. As he made his way upwards, she stood on the sand, admiring the view from below. When he had reached the top, he stretched his arm so she could grasp it. She felt his strength as he effortlessly lifted her and set her down beside him. He took her by the hand, leading her to a relatively dry patch. His damp shirt clung to his body and revealed the musculature of his shoulders and back. He’s absolutely beautiful, she thought. She was overwhelmed with the force of his presence as she sat down on the cold hard surface next to him. The smooth rock was not at all welcoming and she looked and felt uncomfortable. He patted his lap, gesturing for her to sit on it, as the joint dangled jauntily from the side of his mouth. What are you getting yourself into?... she thought of Steve, her old man, back at the Bahia Mar, but that wasn’t enough to deter her from the irresistible urge to climb onto Robert’s warm and ample lap. Maggie usually had no trouble striking up a conversation and keeping it going, even with a perfect stranger. With the purple microdot buzzing through her system, she was even more social, more talkative, uninhibited, and carefree. Robert’s sensual and friendly vibe encouraged her natural inclination and she found herself telling him all kinds of things about herself and about having to move from the islands to the United States. He, too, was a great conversationalist, usually interjecting his goofy sense of humor but also listening quietly to her as well. They talked of family, of the U.K,, of his music and his dream to be a singer. As he watched the waves crashing on the rocks around them, he told of his experiences playing the circuit of pubs and bars in the Black Country, where he was from. Recently, his parents had thrown him out of the house, and he was a gypsy, traveling wherever the band was scheduled to play. “That’s too bad about your parents… Does the constant moving from town to town get old after a while?,” Maggie ventured, “There’s a lot to be said about traveling and exploring the world, but to me, there’s no place like home.” “I get it! It’s not that I don’t want to be settled, it’s that I don’t have any interest whatsoever in becoming an accountant and doing people’s taxes for the rest of my life” he groaned. “life’s too short and I’ve got to feel passion about what I’m doing, I’ve got to get off on it, y’know?” he looked up at the silvery moon and stars, gesturing dramatically with his hands he added “Music’s where it’s at for me, Maggie, I live for that…and moments like this when I meet someone I truly click with. It’s cosmic energy at work!” “ Oh my God! “, Maggie exclaimed, “I believe in cosmic energy too! The idea that we are interconnected, that there is something mystical at work in our lives. Like tonight, we are aligned with it!! Can’t you feel it?” “Yes, I can feel it too. But I need more” he answered, leaning in for a kiss which she gave back somewhat distractedly. Her hyperactive mind was full of thoughts, impressions, and random ideas, one of which was the need to hear him sing. “Will you sing me one of your songs…please?” she asked him, in between playful kisses, eager to ascertain for herself if he had talent. He shook his head, his curls bouncing to and fro, and told her she would have to wait till he played Madison Square Garden. She playfully punched him in the arm, saying, “Mean man, I want to hear you sing to me.” Something about the way she looked at him and pouted erased all trepidation and suddenly, in almost a whisper, his voice dropped an octave and he began to sing the blues. It was from a song he and his band recorded just prior to coming to Florida. “I’ve been all around the world, Lord I gotta find my baby ; Yes, I’m going all around the world Yea, I gotta find baby Please mama Please, have you seen my sweet baby ; Oh I’m gonna lose my mind oooh, if I don’t find my baby” She knew she was done for. His voice was …she could not put words to it… his voice did things to her. How he climbed octaves effortlessly, sang with such feeling and passion. He was simply irresistible. Steve was but a distant memory as she adjusted her body to be closer to him, purposely grinding her ass closer to his obviously growing erection. Suddenly a wave pounded on the rocks below, drenching them in an instant and interrupting their moment. They yelped in unison, jumped up and quickly but carefully made their way off the slippery rocks onto the sandy beach below. Dripping wet, they scampered toward the boardwalk, slowing as they spotted a lifeguard tower not too far ahead. They both looked at each other. “Robert! Let’s go there. We can sit on the ramp while we dry off, and you can serenade me.” she teased him as she led him by the hand in the direction of the tower… To be continued with NSFW :D

[delldarling]

forest rumors | aspen i

forest being x gender/body neutral reader 3000 words sfw | size difference, flirting

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The rumors around Makeout Point have been flying about for at least a month now. They range from whispers and stifled laughter over Bigfoot jokes, to scared teenagers claiming something large and utterly frightening is living out there in the woods. No two people seem to have the same description at hand, but there are two words that stick out frequently when the rumors come up. Large and hairy. 

Despite the clear and utter lack of tracks, the general consensus is that a bear must be in the area. Nothing more than an animal, roaming in the wrong places, the papers have claimed. Skeptics repeat the words so often that outright panic is halted, even though the whispers continue. Especially after forest rangers comb the area and find no evidence of bears.  

You’re rather of the opinion that it’s more along the lines of an internet hoax though. Halloween is fast approaching, and people love to seize onto stories eerie in nature, just to give themselves a bit of a thrill. Besides, you’ve been coming here frequently for years. Makeout Point is just an old hiking trail that ends in a clearing. It’s perfect for teenage parties, complete with a fire pit made out of stones gathered from the woods or brought out specially by people that want to make a mark. During the day it’s nothing more than a nice place to wander about the trees and get away from the noise of the highway. 

It… Isn’t particularly hard to imagine the silly Bigfoot stories though. Most forests have always given off that trees have eyes vibe, but there are a few spots, particularly in the mouth of the clearing, that give you more than the chills, the feeling of something lives here. You’ve always simply chalked it up to the fact that the spot is old. You go out there anyway, despite the strange feeling, despite the rumors, because sometimes dealing with the local populace just sucks. And nature, if not always a forgiving entity, is still more soothing.  

You’ve always tended to err on the side of caution though, and generally time your visits for midday. Any earlier and frost peppers the ground, making any branches slick and dangerous, and you don’t feel like bundling up from head to toe. Not unless you absolutely have to. Any later and you risk running into couples of some sort, sometimes teens giggling and kissing, and sometimes people twice your age or more, looking to relive old memories with their spouses. Not to mention the darkness, which is almost absolute if you go wandering about in the evening.

“One day,” you mutter, cresting the hill that darkens from one step to the next. The trees grow thickly here, and the temperature drops sharply due to constant shade. “One day, I’ll bring someone out here with me.” You come to a stop under one of the trees, adjusting your sweatshirt, and then freeze when you hear a strange creaking noise. It sounds a bit like a branch bending, the creak of wood getting ready to break, and you can’t help cautiously lifting your head- but there’s nothing above you. Nothing out of the ordinary, anyway. Leaves shift in the breeze, small slivers of sunshine casting the illusion of water over the forest floor… You’re still alone. 

You would have heard someone stumbling about by now if you weren’t, but you can’t shake the feeling of something… something watching. It’s never been quite this eerie before, but the rumors have never been quite so widespread either. 

“Letting the stories get to me,” you say, sighing, and purposely turn away from the shadows deeper in the treeline. The back of your brain is almost insisting that you saw one of them move. You ignore it. Thoughts like that lend only to potential embarrassment. Or maybe a ridiculous run back down to the parking lot. “Maybe I should have asked for company,” you mutter wryly, “just to be safe.” 

The breeze picks up, chill air seeping through the weave of your clothes like it’s sole purpose is to make you shudder. You stamp your feet a few times, rubbing at your own arms and force yourself to get moving. The only way to get a bit of warmth running through you right now is by movement, and the sooner you get this walk over with today, the better. 

You shift branches out of the way with your feet as you walk, needles and leaves crunching underfoot. Despite the strange feeling, it’s calming out here. You can’t hear the cars any longer, and this time of year it’s always fairly quiet. Most of the birds have moved on by now. That, of course, probably lends to the eerie stories most of the locals have been passing around. It’s always easier to frighten someone in absolute silence under the trees. 

You’re scrambling over a fallen log when you realize the creaking - just branches in the wind, you tell yourself - is getting louder. Your eyes dart up to the trees overhead, wondering if some kind of storm is going to blow through here soon. You’ll have to speed things along if you don’t want to get caught by fallen limbs. 

“Did you truly want company? I would have come to you sooner.” 

The surprise has you tripping over your own feet. You slide through the leaves, just barely catching yourself before your face hits the ground and pause where you are, trying to regulate your breathing. And your irritation. 

“Have you just been waiting for someone to stumble through here?” You demand, slowly getting back to your feet and whirling about. The path behind you is empty. Just the same, shadowy trail you’ve been walking, peppered with the smallest hints of sunlight and stray branches. You brush your dirt sprinkled hands over your trousers, frowning. You didn’t imagine that voice. It was clearer than a bell, ringing in your ears, though the tone was… Off. “...uh, hello?” You ask softly, heart jack-hammering inside your rib-cage, eyes searching the area in vain. You still can’t spot anyone. 

“I’ve been waiting for you,” someone says and their voice- It has every hair on your body standing on end. It echoes strangely, smooth and rough all at once as it fills your senses, and then the creaking noise comes to a rustling stop behind you. 

You turn, promising yourself that you won’t scream- and you have to lift your head to meet their eyes. They’re unbelievably tall, branches curving off of their head and away from their shadowed face like horn, and that creaking starts up again as they kneel slowly, balancing themselves with a splayed hand on the ground. They’re humanoid, you notice vaguely, in that they have a torso, arms and legs. But their eyes- all you can truly see of them is the faint reflection of daylight off of their dark irises. You haven’t screamed, but you’re finding it a little difficult to breathe, air catching in your throat.

Perhaps it’s an age old instinct: sitting on the ground and curling your arms over your head. Don’t see me, the pose screams, even though you know you don’t have a hope in hell of that happening. They’ve already seen you, they’ve been speaking to you, they claimed they were waiting for you. You want to kick the ass of the person that claimed Bigfoot was out here at Makeout Point because fucking Bigfoot doesn’t even begin to cover the ent-like being in front of you. You’re fairly sure that hand of theirs could wrap around your torso - you’re willing to bet that they’ve got Bigfoot beaten in foot size. Or would it be trunk size? Your eyes flash open, darting to where their feet should be, but- You can’t focus on that now and you close your eyes again.

“For… For me?” You finally ask in a choked tone, knowing the silence has gone on for too long. Don’t make the giant tree being angry, right? That’s a good piece of advice if you’ve ever heard one. Manners help every situation. 

“Yes,” they answer, and they’re closer. You can feel them looming over you, and there’s a faint, warmer breeze that makes you think it might be their breath.

“Ah.” You swallow, preparing yourself - it’s animatronic, your brain quickly lies, and then you’re hesitantly lowering your arms and lifting your face, just a little. You blink open your eyes, focusing on what you think is their shoulder, covered with moss and dotted with the tiniest mushrooms you think you’ve ever seen in your life. You don’t even attempt to glance at their face. Cute mushrooms feel… Safe. “And… And you are?” You ask, because manners.

“Hmm,” they sit back, slow and careful. Your eyes are drawn to their chest. It’s smoother there, void of moss, and the whorls and grain remind you of polished, petrified wood. “Aspen,” they say decisively, and you can’t help but wonder if they chose the name, just now. They don’t look like an aspen tree, not that you’re an expert in tree identification, but aspen trees are pale, nearly white with markings that remind many people of eyes. Aspen is… More of a gray. Silvery.

“Lovely,” you offer, and mean it. The name rolls off of the tongue and for all that they’re frightening because of their size? Their head tilts, a pleased noise rumbling out of them, and you can’t help it, you look back at their face - and then quickly away. It’s not that Aspen’s face is horrifying. You close your eyes, and you think that looking at them from an artistic viewpoint, they’re a wondrous creation. But Aspen is- is- The problem is that you don’t know what Aspen is, and you’ve never seen their like outside of movie screens. The real wonder here is that you’re still not screaming, and you haven’t passed out. 

“Lovely,” they repeat and then they’re reaching towards you, and your heart nearly gives out. One long branch of a fingertip strokes over your shoulder, and the touch is softer by far than you thought it would be, not even catching on the material of your sweatshirt. They repeat the motion as soon as they’ve finished, adjusting the pressure when they tip you over a little bit. 

“So,” you start, focusing back on their mushroomed shoulder, letting them stroke down your arm like you’re some kind of cat. They nearly upend you with every pass, but they’re being gentle. You can let it go. You don’t dare tell them to cease because they’re tall and likely strong and- “You, uh, are you from around here?” It’s strangely charming, having such a large creature fawning over you. 

Aspen makes another humming noise, pausing in their stroke to glance back towards Makeout Point proper. “I came into being here, yes,” they tell you. “I’ve watched for many years.”

You’re not sure you have a response for that. Is Aspen saying that- that they’ve watched Makeout Point for years? In which case, part of you wants to cringe. Some kind of forest.. Forest being and they’ve been an eternal witness to human lust and the fumbling about of teenagers? There’s love there too, you suppose, but having been raised in society- The thought of being trapped there, watching humans of varying ages copulate, isn’t exactly a good one.

“I’ve seen you here too, Lovely,” and it’s then that you realize: Aspen thinks your name is Lovely. You honestly don’t know how to go about correcting them, so you let it lie. 

“Yeah,” you say, nodding as Aspen resumes their careful stroking of your arm. “I- I come out here because I think it’s nice, the trees are gorgeous-” you halt, lips pressing together to stem the flow of words. Does that count as a compliment? What if they don’t call them trees, what if you’ve overstepped?

“Yes. You drew my interest,” they tell you and they turn their face to you again, their breath soft as it breezes over your cheeks. They smell like greenery. Crushed leaves and sweet grass, and the tang of pine.

You came out here for nothing more than your usual stroll through the woods. You’ve never been particularly verbose, walking through here, and you’re not sure exactly what made you stand out to them, but- “If you don’t mind my, my asking, Aspen, what exactly did I do that, uh, drew your interest?”      

They shift even closer, leaving off their stroking of your shoulder to reach both their hands towards your face. The movement has you closing your eyes again, heart ceasing it’s rhythm, as if any moment now you’re going to be crushed, so-

“You’re not the same,” Aspen murmurs, branch-like fingers both cradling and caging your face. Their fingers prick at your skin, leaves twisting into your hair as they move, and every wince or change of expression has them leaning close to examine you. They’re being as gentle as they know how, as gentle as they’ve observed other humans acting. The problem is that they’ve only ever seen humans being intimate, if their words are anything to go by, and they’re close enough to kiss. You can’t take a breath without tasting growing things on the air. “You’re not like them. Attached. Out of reach.”

The words startle a nearly-hysterical laugh out of you, which has Aspen straightening, great eyes blinking slowly in confusion. You notice with a start that their eyelashes remind you of minuscule ferns and you find yourself wondering what they’d feel like against your cheek. “Is that why you’re interested in me? Because I’m always here alone?”

There’s a shifting, leaves rustling and branches creaking as they let go of your face, and your heart starts up again, though you hope you haven’t offended them. Instead of moving away like you expect, Aspen’s hands pluck you up as they get to their feet. Air rushes past you. They’re ridiculously careful, hand underneath your thighs to support your weight, and one across your chest and curled around your arm, to keep you from falling. You’re still not entirely sure you can breathe correctly. You feel like your brain must be short circuiting - you’re still not screaming or shouting your head off, and part of your brain says this is fine - you’re only like six feet off of the ground. Maybe you hit your head crawling over that log earlier, and all of this is your imagination.

You have no idea where Aspen is taking you, but they’re heading straight for Makeout Point now, their footsteps so slow and measured that you can barely hear them walking. They don’t fill the silence with speech either, though you notice that one of their fingers is still shifting softly across your neck and the top of your shoulder. They must like the feeling of your skin- or maybe they like the warmth? 

They come to a halt in the clearing, gently uncurling their hold on your chest to point at the spot… At the spot you usually sit. You realize with a start that the tree you usually sit at the base of is gone, and you have to glance back at Aspen in surprise. 

“You care for this place, Lovely. It calls to me,” Aspen whispers and they tilt their head towards you, eyes falling closed as they press the smooth bark of their face to the side of yours. “I had to answer.” Their hand curls back around your torso and a blazing heat spirals through you. From embarrassment, and because- because you’re touched. It sounds and feels fairy tale, that kindness or care within you called to a being made of the forest and they- what? Want to show you care in return? 

You’re not sure if or how they would ever intend to do that, but their experience of humans- well. It lends a bit to the carnal. A thrill runs through you at the thought. 

You whisper your name, which interrupts the strange moment of cuddling, and they open their eyes. “That’s my name. I- I was telling you earlier that I think your choice of name was lovely.”

“You’re still Lovely, to me,” they decide, but you think- you think Aspen might be smiling. 

“I… I have another question,” you say, breath coming a little fast as you glance away from them, towards the fire pit in the middle of the clearing. “I’ve been coming here for- for years. Why are you showing yourself to me now?”

Their jaw can’t shift, can’t curl into an actual smile or frown, but for a moment you think they might be annoyed. “I have no desire to speak with others,” they tell you, and there it is. The annoyance. It passes quickly, especially when they focus their attention back upon you. “There are many of them, often, and- I am not human,” they confess, like you haven’t truly noticed. They sound almost… Apologetic about it. “There was a chance you would flee, like those that have only caught glimpses of me.”

That gets your attention and you glance up at Aspen’s face again. “The people running from the woods lately- they came across you?” 

They nod their head in agreement. 

That explains the rumors. It still makes you snort though, because large hairy animal or Bigfoot still doesn’t even come close to describing Aspen. Never mind the fact that they don’t have a hint of fur on their body. Moss, mushrooms and a drapery of lichen - you wonder if these people even got a good view of Aspen before they ran. Not that you truly blame them. Aspen is so large. 

"But this time," they say, continuing, "you asked for company. I would never have intruded," Aspen explains, nodding at the place they're typically rooted. "But if I can give you something-"

That warmth fills your chest near to bursting. Softness and embarrassment, all at once.

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...turn the page?

[enchantedamusedslightlyconfused]

73 questions.

I was tagged by @wescoasts @machine-gun-casie (BABES)

Almost all my friends have been tagged and I don't wanna be that asshole so ill try not to be. I tag @awkwardrocker @backoftheroomandnotbelonging @trixiehoe @she-who-is-timey-wimey

On a scale of 1-10, how excited are you about life right now?

Well it’s finals week so about -864. After that I have two weeks of legitimate nothing where I will bake my heart out so we’ll see

Describe yourself in a hashtag?

#yikes #ughshesinherfeelsagain 

If you could do a love scene with anyone, who would it be?

Milo Ventimiglia, Kells, Rook.....being a music video love interest is only my life’s pipe dream 

If your life was a musical, what would the marquee say?

And that’s on daddy issues and no supervision...

What’s one thing people don’t know about you?

I used to model like went to modeling school and got paid for it type shit

What’s your wakeup ritual?

get woken up by my dog tired of hearing my alarm, walk said opinionated quadruped, feed quadruped, get dressed, COFFEE, then take life as it comes

What’s your go to bed ritual?

melatonin gummies (gotta make anxiety fun), skincare when executive dysfunction will allow, brush teeth, fight dog for my spot in bed (moving a 90lb animal is no joke), turn on my sleep playlist or use my ambient noise app, stare at ceiling

What’s your favorite time of day?

witching hour followed by golden hour

Your go to for having a good laugh?

lately tiktok and Kellyvisions, previously vine compilations or Netflix specials

Dream country to visit?

Ireland. I NEED to go to the motherland. My families castle is still standing and I get in for free. its on my bucket list FOR SURE. 

What’s the biggest surprise you’ve had?

getting into nursing school and chiropractic school. I’m a loser and I’ve never had a surprise party. I’d melt in puddle of love tbh

Heels or flats/sneakers?

Flats 98% of the time. Heels are reserved for business casual necessity, Halloween, or if I’m feeling myself 

Vintage or new?

both, depends on the item

Who do you want to write your obituary?

Amy-Sherman Palladino 

Style icon?

lmao a what? on the real though catch me fucking with those eco-friendly kitchen witch vibes. All the dainty jewelry, linens and converse/docks fam

What are three things you can’t live without?

my dog, my family (found and blood), healing people however I can (medicine ruined me for any other career and its sucks you guys)

What’s one ingredient you put in everything?

tbh salt, I question a recipes validity if salt isn't involved 

What 3 people living or dead would you like to make dinner for?

Kells and the band (I'd be too nervous for a one on one), a dinner party with my MGK fam, Elvis

What’s your biggest fear in life?

Failure, not accomplishing anything 

Window or aisle seat?

window all day everyday, on the wing preferably cause I like to feel the landing gear #pilotsgranddaughter 

What’s your current TV obsession?

Roadies forever, pry that series from my cold dead hands (also Gilmore Girls and Criminal Minds)

Favorite app?

tie between Tumblr and Pinterest (im an aesthetic slut)

Secret talent?

I am bomb at disney princess songs, the girls I babysit for treat me like a jukebox at bedtime, cutest thing ever

Most adventurous thing you’ve done in your life?

delivered a baby has hands down been the coolest thing I’ve ever done

How would you define yourself in three words?

I fucking hate this question. always have. empathetic, resilient, intuitive 

Favourite piece of clothing you own?

overall: my senior prom dress. its emerald green, backless, with a slit to upper thigh chefs kiss 

everyday wear: Colorado sweatshirt

Must have clothing item everyone should have?

I second Jude: over sized hoodies

Superpower you would want?

nonspecific healing powers so they aren't limited to physical ailments

What’s inspiring you in life right now?

Colson

Best piece of advice you’ve received?

HA. probably that the body remembers more about trauma than the mind and your seemingly irrational physical reactions to things are your brain’s attempt to protect you

Best advice you’d give your teenage self?

his mistake does not define your worth. I went for a variant of these boys aint shit don't judge me cause she needs to hear it

A book that everyone should read?

Harry Potter series (yes the whole thing), Speak by Laurie Halse Anderson, Wintergirls by Laurie Halse Anderson, The Giver by Lois Lowry 

What would you like to be remembered for?

empathy, the way I made people feel

How do you define beauty?

FOR THE LAST TIME ITS SUBJECTIVE, things that give you peace, it could be a song, a person, a sunset, a scone, a leaf. If it makes you stop a second and exhale then its beautiful to you

What do you love most about your body?

holy trigger question Batman...my eyes, my hair color, texture, and its ability to grow

Best way to take a rest/decompress?

drive with the windows down and blast music while singing at the top of my lungs

Favorite place to view art?

unexpected places, like street corners, carnivals, just somewhere it takes you off guard and makes you stop and pay attention

If your life were a song, what would the title be?

it’d be one of those crazy long 2000s fall out boy titles for sure, subject matter yet to be determined 

If you could master one instrument, what would it be?

violin hands down, it hits me different

If you had a tattoo, where would it be?

I have a bunch planned, plane on my right shoulder, Kells related between 3rd and 4th ribs (maybe lower in case I ever need a chest tube), watercolor portrait of my dog at some point location TBD

Dolphins or koalas?

dolphins are stoners and they're super smart, but koalas cause they’re grumpy af and honestly same

What’s your spirit animal?

again Jude and I are vibin: I've been identifying with a phoenix as of late. according to pottermore im a greyhound though (yes a patrons is a wizarding spirit animal. fight me)

Best gift you’ve ever received?

seven year old me was stoked to get a functional microscope and metal detector, I was in my egyptology/archeology phase, I still have them lmao

Best gift you’ve ever given?

oh hell idk...I made my cousin cry once cause I made cupcakes for her birthday party, they were cherry limeade flavored and had little straws and everything. that was pretty cool, granted she was seven. I also made my teacher cry cause I made sea salt caramel chocolate cupcakes for her going away party. I guess my baking brings people to tears

What’s your favourite board game?

candy land, battleship, cards against humanity even though there isn't a board

What’s your favourite colour?

forest green atm

Least favourite colour?

bright yellow/orange, its offensive to my general The Dirt Mick Mars disposition

Diamonds or pearls?

pearls (actually opals though)

Drugstore makeup or designer?

not picky provided they are evironmentally friendly. I really like Besame Cosmetics though

Blow-dry or air-dry?

air-dry, I don't have the patience for blow drying

Pilates or yoga?

yoga

Coffee or tea?

COFFEE, im still learning to like tea

What’s the weirdest word in the English language?

holy shit how much time do we have, my favorite weird word to say is fistula or omphalocele (they're medical conditions, don't goole it unless you have a strong stomach) 

Dark chocolate or milk chocolate?

dark chocolate

Stairs or elevator?

stairs 

Summer or winter?

neither FALL BITCHES   winter if I had to pick cause I love Christmas 

You are stuck on an island, you can pick one food to eat forever without getting tired of it, what would you eat?

burgers

A desert you don’t like?

red velvet cake....just why is it a thing that exists 

A skill you’re working on mastering?

baking scones or shit that’s flaky in general 

Best thing to happen to you today?

being tagged to do this twice, I felt special for a hot second (thanks babes)

Best compliment you’ve ever received?

that I would make a good doctor (I handled a scary pt situation like a champ, they didn't know I threw up after I made sure my pt didn't die. puking in a foreign country on the download is a skill in and of itself)

Favorite smell?

bergamot, baking bread, baking spice cakes at Christmas

Hugs or kisses?

HUGS CAN SAVE THE WORLD

If you made a documentary, what would it be about?

gifted kid fall off

Last piece of content you consumed that made you cry?

In These Walls - Machine Gun Kelly

Casual Sabotage - Yungblud

genius assholes...

Lipstick or lip gloss?

lipstick for special occasions but actually tinted chapstick or lip stains 

Sweet or savoury?

savory to eat sweet to make for someone else

Girl crush?

Brittney Furlan Lee, Alexis Bledel, Lauren Graham 

How you know you’re in love?

you look at them and just say yep. them. usually while they're doing something stupid 

Song you can listen to on repeat?

imma out myself but Swing Life Away - Machine Gun Kelly

If you could switch lives with someone for a day who would it be?

the grass is not greener ya’ll. id rather go back and relive days 

What are you most excited about at this time in your life?

hopefully passing my first trimester of chiropractic school. fingers crossed pls

[mysticmylifeisamess-enger]

Misguided Ghosts

Pairing: Jihyun/Reader (though mostly centered on Jihyun)

Word count: 2,319

Summary: Jihyun’s moving day and he still had one room left to pack.

A/N: This authors note is going to be a little long and very sentimental, so you can either skip this or bear with me. When I started this piece was around the time my grandparent’s house was being sold. My grandpa passed away in late July and my grandma couldn’t live there alone, so she had to let go of the place they called home for over 20 years, their first piece of property since immigrating to the states. This was a place I went to every holiday, new years, easters, birthdays, weekends and even within the weekdays because I grew up very close to it. 

At first, my grandma offered the house to my mom to finally have some stability after years, and my mom considered it. Around October, I finally went there after months of avoiding it. I didn’t want to see it empty or renovated but the inevitable happened where I had to go and I took one look around and the first thing I said to my mom was “we can’t stay here.” It was a place that held so many memories, so much had happened there, and I knew that it was supposed to stay like that. 

This piece took me months to write and I didn’t want my hard work to be in vein so I’ve decided to post it.

The place Jihyun had called home for so many years had started to feel less like one the emptier it got--Boxes taking the place of end tables, picture frames, and decor that he carefully chose when first moving in. The walls that once hung paintings and photographs were now an empty stretch of white throughout, outlined by what was once there. His house became a hectic mess of bubble wrap, packing peanuts, and cardboard that he wasn’t sure he’d see the end of.

Though, as moving day came around, that mess seemed much more bearable than before. Maybe it was the thought of moving into the city or your gracious offer to help, but it lifted a weight off his shoulders nonetheless. The thought of living in a new environment, somewhere to start fresh, with the love of his life excited him. A place to breath new life into, to find his muse, and to make entirely his own.

It was, in every definition, a new beginning. His chance to start over and properly learn from his mistakes. He wanted to wake up early in the mornings; brew some coffee and have the scent waft through the house. To pour himself some and sit out on the porch as he watched the sun rise over the horizon. His thoughts would roam as he took in the crisp, cold air before his feet padded along the wood floors to his art studio. He’d want to sit and create for hours, letting his brush dance along the canvas, until your presence brought him out of his trance, giving you a ‘good morning’ kiss at noon.

He wanted that for the rest of his life, for years to come when you two start a family and grow old together. And he knew from the moment he came back that this wasn’t the right place for it.

At this point, every space had been emptied, as if no one was here to begin with. But he knew fully well that wasn’t the case as he found himself lingering in every doorway with an almost wistful look on his face, nostalgic waves at the thought of every memory that sat behind each wall. He could almost see what sat there before, recalling memory after memory that took place in each room. The more memories he looked back on, the more he realized that it should stay exactly like that: a memory.

It used to seem so perfect but coming back to it after two years felt different. What was once a place he had built to be away from the world, to be completely alone with his love and to focus on his photography work now became a monument to everything he wasn’t. He outgrew every aspect of this home and it showed in every small detail. The cracks and chips that decorated through the walls and creases told a story he wouldn’t want to relive. A story that shaped who he is, but was so close to breaking him entirely.

There still remained one room almost untouched. One that he knew full well he had to go in and pack up sooner or later, but he just couldn’t bring himself to. Every time he was about to open that door and walk in to box everything up, something in him told him not to. His home office was a space he couldn’t stay in long since coming back, as it held an unnerving air. A place he once spent hours in became a vacant, uninhabited room. And inevitably, he had to go in and do what he’d avoided for over a month.

As he made his way to it, he felt the pit in his stomach tighten, as if he was nervous to see just what lies behind it. His hand gripped the door handle, taking in a deep breath as he turned it, opening to a room that was kept in the same shape he last left it in. A room that remained uncared for over two years, evident in the dust and cobwebs that sat on every surface.

Old cameras and prints scattered the desk haphazardly, as if someone was trying to uncover some sort of mystery. Large framed pictures hung on the wall--though they all seemed outdated--an image that no longer held any truth. The plants and cacti he carefully decorated throughout the room had either dried up and withered away or stood tall and unfazed by the negligence. He smiled to himself to see them stand the test of time, wondering just how they could have remained when its surroundings and conditions were so harsh.

Setting down the cardboard box in his hand, he quickly went to clearing the drawers, opening the top one of his desk to find all sorts of knick-knacks that got shoved in there. Unused sticky notes and pencils littered throughout; books he hadn’t opened in years, even before leaving.

And shoved right in the back was a shoebox.

There was no label on it, but he knew just what they were. Upon opening, he saw all the polaroids he expected to find. The smiles and laughs captured in them, the seemingly laid back vibe they had, and the common long, blonde hair that was all too familiar.

Though the one that stood out among the pile of memories was one that looked perfect at first glance. A picture of himself and his then-fiancé, smiling at the camera as they held up their ring fingers to show the promise of their commitment for one another. The physical evidence that they were made for one another. Or so he thought.

It was a portrayal of their highest point, the happiest moment in that relationship, but it didn’t show just how truly despondent he was. The longer he stared at it, the more hints of sorrow he could see on himself. The pained smile that was wider than ever, but completely forced. The eyes that always had a spark of joy in them seem to have dwindled down to nothing.

For the longest time, he thought that was love. He thought that that’s exactly what he deserved, what he needed to go through in order to find the peace within it.

Putting down the photo, he felt a shiver down his spine from the chilling aura this box contained. He sat it atop the desk as he continued to rummage through the drawer, not yet set on keeping it or not. His attention went back to what was in front of him, the scattered mess that made him wonder if past Jihyun just dumped everything in here. He could only hope to be more organized in his new place.

Taking out a few more things, he found a small pile of cards that sat right at the bottom. The design that showed was all too familiar, a simple black print made to look like the aperture of a camera contrasting the white background. A simple logo he designed when starting his career.

He picked one up out of the pile, turning it over to see his old contact information and minimalist design. Along with it, a name and occupation he hadn’t even thought about in a while.

‘V, photographer.’

A name, a simple letter, that he hid behind for years like a mask that didn’t quite fit. It was his way of separating his identity of ‘Jihyun,’ cutting ties with his past to pursue photography under the guise of ‘V.’

Looking at the card, he could almost recall every time he spent hours editing just one picture to perfect it, only to move onto the next photo with the same intent. He never truly realized how to love his work until it was a brush in his hand instead of a lens.

He put the cards down along with the polaroids, continuing on to rummage through the next drawer. Upon opening, he only saw one thing that sat right in there. An old pair of dark-tinted glasses that he hadn’t used since he had surgery.

The lenses were covered in dust, wiping them off as he examined them. To him, this was a reminder of a time he refused to get better. When he let his self-loathing get the best of him and disregarded his own health in the process. He set them down with the rest, looking over the pile one more time with a thoughtful look.

Everything that sat there was the evidence of his growth, but he couldn’t help but feel nauseous at the sight. It was a showcase of every way he was different now, every step of his journey to self recovery led him to look at this differently.

It was as if another person had worked here, someone whose self-doubt and insecurities were reflected in every corner of the room. Someone who tried so hard to paint this perfect image, that strived to be an artist but never let themselves get there. The ache in his heart only seemed to get heavier at the thought that this person, who once was himself, now haunts this room. They cling onto every piece, hoping and praying that things will go back to the way they were. Someone who desperately tried to make it all right on their own, stubbornly carrying the burdens of others on their shoulders until it crushed them underneath.

Jihyun was so lost in these thoughts that he didn’t notice the cautious steps approaching him from behind. Inching closer, you could see how stiff his shoulders were, knowing that his face had to be holding those same taut lines. His tense demeanor thick in the air, feeling it cut through you as you crossed the room.

You placed your hands gently on his shoulders, feeling him relax under your touch as they ran down his back. Before he could turn around, you pressed flush against him as your arms wrapped around his middle, holding him tight as your head buried in the middle of his back. His own hands found yours, dragging them up to meet his lips as he pressed a few short kisses to them.

For once, the silence in the room felt comfortable. This gentle reminder brought him back to his current reality--the one that had a bright future ahead and let him know he wasn’t alone this time. Everything that sat in front of him no longer had any ties to what he was currently feeling. The smile on his face widened at the way your fingers toyed with his own, playing with the band on his left hand for a short second before they went back to holding him close.

“Your box is empty, is everything alright?” you asked, head coming around to lean against his arm and look up at him.

“I’m fine,” he said with a small chuckle, eyes meeting your own, “I’m just having a harder time cleaning this than I thought.”

“Why is that?”

“I’m not entirely sure. I guess it’s just harder to accept what I’ve been denying myself for years. All those times I could have changed, but it took years before I would allow myself that.” He paused, taking in a deep breath before gazing back down at the desk, “I just wonder what would have happened if you hadn’t come along.”

He couldn’t bring himself to look at you again, only glancing from the side to see your face in deep thought before you spoke again.

“But it’s not like that anymore. You can look forward to the rest of your life and allow yourself that happiness you were seeking, and I’ll be here to help with that.” You smiled, coming around to face him, “You’re no longer alone on this journey, okay?”

A fond smile graced his face, leaning forward to press his lips to your temple in silent reassurance. Hearing it said out loud, vocalized by you, solidified his gut feeling that he was doing the right thing. And he knew just what to do now.

“All of this,” you motioned to the mess on his desk, “is in your past. And you can choose to let it have a hold on you, or learn to grow from it.”

His eyes followed the movement of your hands, landing back on the work before him with an intense gaze. You noticed the pensive look on his face, pushing yourself off the desk as you placed a quick peck on his cheek.

“I’ll let you finish up in here,” you said, turning on your heel towards the door, “In the meantime, do you want me to make you some tea?”

“You still haven’t packed the kitchen? The moving truck will be here any minute,” he said in mock exasperation, following it with a small chuckle.

“Says the one who is barely one drawer into their office,” you mused as you made your way down the hall, leaving Jihyun alone once again.

He could feel his shoulders release, as if you took whatever strain was on him and out of the room with you. The breath of fresh air and clarity was more than he could have asked for, looking to the pile once more before picking everything up. Holding it all felt heavier than it looked, though he knew not for physical reasons.

He turned to look at the empty box behind him, thinking for a second before he walked over to the trash bin beside his desk and all at once, dropping everything in. All the polaroids, cards and glasses he held onto for years and he simply let them go.

They no longer had a hold on him, no true ties to who he is now. He could now leave his past where it belonged. And with that, he felt the ghost in the room disappear, as if it finally found peace and could move on.