#to be meet him and to be able to share that fragment of his life with him

[bitwein]

I think about Wolfwood having a rosary that he wears and Vash taking it from Nic to wear on his journey after burrying him.

I think about Vash rolling the beads in his hands absentmindedly when he’s anxious

It brings him comfort it’s almost like wolfwood’s there

[zillychu]

woke up from a dead sleep last night realizing I could make soroku flavored pitch pearl and no one could stop me

edit: you know what? I'm feral and I won't apologize. more under the cut bc this is my house

I slammed this out all at once so I apologize for the quality but I'm having EMOTIONS

so imagine. bc of the way Danny was quickly resuscitated, his ghost only barely started forming. With the excess blast of ectoplasm from the portal being created, that little whisp was given form even after Danny's soul returned to his body.

except this ghost (Phantom) slowly comes into consciousness while trapped in Danny's body. they're separate entities sharing one body, but Phantom doesn't really have a sense of self right away. he pieces together vague fragments of Danny's memory to get a basic understanding of the world, and is mostly just observing like a backseat passenger.

Phantom starts reflexively protecting Danny, his powers and instincts bleeding through when his emotions are high. Danny doesn't really transform, and his personality doesn't totally shift that much at first because Phantom’s mind isn't complex yet. but as time goes on, and Danny has tense conversations with ghosts, Phantom realizes that's what he is. he's a ghost, somehow trapped in his old body. and even now, this early on, he already feels separate. he doesn't have all the memories Danny has.

this slowly turns into horror. into rage. sorrow, mourning a life he never got and will never get to have. forever trapped behind the eyes of someone else, never able to interact with the world. Phantom's rage eventually boils over until it allows him short bursts of taking over Danny's body. it starts out small–a stray hand moving without his consent, knees locking up, ghost abilities going awry. Danny can start feeling emotions that don't belong to him. get vague impressions, almost hears a voice inside him.

and eventually, Phantom is able to fully take over. this is when Danny “transforms". at first, Danny blacks out because his consciousness isn't used to being shoved into the back seat. but eventually, he's awake for these “episodes", trapped in the back of his mind while Phantom controls his body. this only happens when ghost stuff is happening, when Phantom feels threatened enough. he's not protecting Danny, he's protecting himself. Phantom knows instinctively that if Danny dies, he dies too. he's not a normal ghost, he wouldn't be freed. he'd simply disappear.

at one point after a fight, Phantom can feel Danny struggling to take back control. and he talks to Danny for the first time, acknowledges he's there. asks how it's fair that Danny is the one that gets to exist. but Phantom is tired and weak, he slips back into the passenger seat.

over the next few days, he's able to start talking to Danny even while he's not driving. though he's not chatty, it's only when necessary. and Danny knows, can feel it across the link between them–Phantom hates him. the ghost he created is desperate to find a way to take over completely. and as time goes on, Danny realizes with horror that it might actually be possible for Phantom to do that. he grows stronger every day, can stay transformed longer, controls Danny's body with much more ease.

it's only through a chance meeting with Frostbite that Danny and Phantom fully learn what happened to them. Danny feels sympathetic towards Phantom now. this isn't a malevolent ghost, it's a person who was never given the chance to live. who's trapped. who has to watch someone else live a life they're just as deserving of.

and Phantom feels that emotion from Danny. is so shocked by it, he doesn't know how to handle it at first. it takes him a while to contemplate, to talk to other ghosts like Frostbite. until one day, Phantom realizes… he feels sympathy for Danny, too.

neither of them asked for this. both of them deserve to live. Danny didn't do anything wrong. they're both villains to each other's story. and if anything… doesn't Phantom owe his life to Danny in the first place?

Phantom takes over less often. Danny doesn't feel hatred from him anymore. anger, yes–but not aimed at him. in fact, Phantom starts controlling their body in little ways in order to protect Danny from things that aren't even dangerous. just to avoid pain that would only affect the human tethered to him.

it isn't long before they're separated, either thanks to another ghost or Danny's parents. they're thrown apart in the middle of a horrific fight, and when Danny sees Phantom's equally shocked expression, he's terrified.

this ghost that hated him for so long–at best, Phantom would leave him defenseless. at worst, surely some part of Phantom still wants to kill him for stealing away his chance for autonomy.

and yet, when fire rains down on them, Phantom risks it all to grab Danny and get them both to safety. they're still both shaken and stunned this is even happening, but Phantom is able to nervously be like shit shit shit okay stay here don't go anywhere or I can't protect you, okay?

after the fight is over and dust settles, Phantom offers Danny his hand. they stare at each other and god if this isn't the weirdest thing. like, uh, okay, what now? they decide to go see Frostbite, who confirms that they're fully separate now. they ask if there's any chance of merging again and Frostbite assures it's impossible.

Phantom asks, even if I overshadowed Danny? or stay real close? yes, it's nothing to worry about. they leave, and back in the quiet of Danny's room, they talk. Phantom isn't sure what to do. now that opportunity is in front of him, he feels paralyzed. Danny does his best to let Phantom know that… they might be separate now, but if he ever wants help or even just a friendly ear, he's here for him.

Phantom is quiet for a while. then says maybe he just needs to rest first. he'll think about it tomorrow. they're both exhausted and injured. Phantom asks quietly… if he could rest in Danny for the night.

Danny's shocked, and–really confused. Phantom blushes and is like I don't know what my haunt is yet, I don't know where to go, but I know… you're kind of my home. now that I know I can leave whenever I want, it's not something bad anymore. I miss feeling your heart next to my core, just a little bit.

and Danny is just as surprised when Phantom overshadows him, then quietly nestles into the passenger seat again. he didn't realize how he got used to feeling Phantom with him. it's a feedback loop of contentedness, and Danny sleeps easily. (they also find out while sharing a body, Danny gets to reap the benefits of Phantom's supernatural healing)

anyway that's all I got for now thank u for coming to my ted talk

[soobnny]

don’t be a stranger — han jisung.

trope. friends to lovers. college au. u live in the same apartment floor. fluff. part 2 to meet odd.

synopsis. you really need to stop meeting han jisung under odd circumstances or alternatively, i accidentally locked myself out of my apartment and you’re offering that i sleep at yours for the night?

word count. 4.3k words

warnings. mentions of that sex-addict neighbor from the first part, mentions of killing bees, and i think nothing after that except for a few curse words

note. this can definitely stand alone but for it to make more sense, read the first fic here! i’ve finally decided to write a part 2 after popular demand, i hope this was ok!

A lot has changed since that night at the rundown convenience store with Han Jisung.

For one, your shared neighbor had moved out after the person living in front of her finally had enough of her. Guess they had more courage to confront the problem than you and Jisung combined.

This meant that the solace of your dorm was finally yours again, and you couldn’t be happier for the return of silence and comfort. Since then, you’ve officially said goodbye to Seungmin’s couch and your noise canceling headphones.

And Jisung.

With no reason to leave your dorm at ungodly hours in the morning anymore, the chances of seeing each other grew significantly low until you were back to small “hi”s and “hello”s.

Sadly, letting go of that neighbor had apparently been a package deal with lesser opportunities to talk to Jisung too.

You hate to admit your disappointment in your lack of interaction after that night. While only a month has gone by, that’s still 30 whole days without that shift in your interaction that you thought you’d bear witness to. That night you’d spent with him was a moment you enjoyed and cherished, and you would’ve hoped he felt the same way.

Similarly, Jisung’s been dejected at the lack of you in his life. He bares no shame in admitting that he had, not once, not even twice, but tried multiple times to gather enough courage to knock at your door just to ask you how you’ve been and if you’d like to hangout with him again — sometimes with a tub of ice cream, sometimes with a cup of coffee he had made for you prior.

Like today.

Han Jisung finds his fist ghosting over your door, hot cup of coffee in hand. Knock, just knock on their door, it’s not that hard. Why is it so hard for him?

He stands there for 2 minutes, studying every fragment of wood on your door.

In that time, he overthinks his actions — do you even drink coffee? Maybe the cup he had prepared wasn’t your preference? He should’ve just gotten the same brand of ice cream you shared that night. Did you want to talk to him again?

Cursing to himself, he trashes the cup yet again after having fallen prisoner to his social awkwardness.

Han Jisung has always had trouble making any type of first move. Truthfully, he was only ever able to gather enough courage to ask you out on that walk because the glint in your eyes was so bright after having laughed with him over your shared situation.

And maybe because he was a little sleep-deprived and you looked really pretty sitting next to him, and you were talking to him like you’ve known each other forever.

Something so humanizing tends to bring people together in weird ways, and that’s what had happened that night.

Now, however, with no reason to spend time with you, Jisung has trouble wondering if you had the same eagerness to talk to him again.

Do male leads in romantic comedies also have a hard time talking like he does? He supposes he could always ask Changbin even if he’d be teased and laughed at in good spirit.

Han Jisung would brave through it if it meant getting useful advice to speak to you again.

For now, with the trashed coffee cup, he retreats back to his own room.

Perhaps he could try again tomorrow.

Jisung recognizes your voice just as the elevator doors open.

He had just gotten back to your apartment after another late night session at the gym with Changbin and Chan — it was their only shared time together, so workouts were always scheduled at night.

With a gym bag slung over his shoulder, he’s about to turn the corner to where your rooms are when he hears you.

Your voice has always been recognizable to him, but this time something else was laced with the way you’re speaking. It isn’t hard to place it as stress, which makes the boy peek in curiosity and concern.

“Seungmin, pick up. Seungmin, pick up. Seungmin! Thank god. Are you at your dorm right now?”

There’s muffled sounds at the end of the line, but your stress seems to grow more and more as the conversation continues. It’s evident in the way your grip tightens around your phone, and you’re pacing back and forth hurriedly, and the way your hand repeatedly moves to run through your hair.

Turns out, Seungmin isn’t at his dorm. He’s gone home for the long weekend, but he tells you Jeongin might be there.

He’ll have to get back to you on that in a couple hours though because Jeongin has a night lecture, and Seungmin can only contact him after that.

Maybe you could kill a few hours in the main lobby – it wasn’t like you were new to that.

Hanging up, you jump back when you see Jisung standing at the end of the hallway, waving shyly at you and bowing in apology.

“Sorry, I must’ve looked like a creep just standing there. I didn’t wanna disrupt the conversation by passing by… I swear, I’m not a creep.”

With a boyish smile, he continues. “I purposefully didn’t pass by because it felt serious. Just in case I ruin the mood by passing by.”

You laugh. “No, it’s okay. You just scared me. How have you been, Jisung?”

Jisung.

He wants you to call him Hannie again.

Still, despite the downgrade in nicknames, he thanks Whomever is Above for the opportunity to talk to you again, even if it was just for a few minutes outside your apartment room.

“I’m great! Just got back from the gym.” He gestures at his bag abashedly, biting down at his lips to control his overenthusiastic tone when talking to you before looking back at you. “Though, I should really ask how you are. You sounded pretty stressed just now.”

“Ah, I was being silly and accidentally locked myself out of my apartment. And I can’t get the spare key from the landlord until tomorrow at earliest. And Seungmin isn’t at his apartment right now, so it’s a whole disaster.”

It’s easy to talk to Jisung about your problems. You feel the same sentiment that nothing ever sounds crazy to Jisung, and it certainly helps that you’ve been through hell and back together trying to survive your previously shared neighbor.

Being locked out of your apartment was basically nothing in comparison to sharing ice cream at the main lobby because your neighbor enjoys having really loud sex.

On the other hand, Jisung has his own conflict in his head.

He’s going over whether it was appropriate or not to invite you over. He could feel his heart pounding straight out of his chest, similar to how it feels when his knuckles are ghosting over your door in attempt of a knock.

“Well… if you really had no other option. You know, my apartment’s just there. And open… for you to stay at, if you want. If you really had no other option, since it’ll be more convenient to you. I’m sorry, is this weird? I’m sorry, forget I said anything.”

Han Jisung is stuttering over his words as he speaks to you, but you think you get the gist of what he’s trying to offer. “No, it’s okay! I wouldn’t wanna make you feel uncomfortable since it’s your space.”

You think he’s feeling pressured to offer since you had shared your problem with him, but you don’t know he’s more than willing to help you out. While Jisung prefers his solitude, he thinks a change of pace for the night wouldn’t hurt.

“I wouldn’t be uncomfortable at all. Actually, maybe YOU would feel uncomfortable, but if you aren’t then it’s really fine!” Then, it’s that boyish smile again and the shy scratching of the nape of his neck and the gentle rock back and forth.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes! Positive!”

He ushers you towards his door, repeatedly telling you that it was no problem for him. And just when he’s about to let you in, he falters.

“Oh… actually.” Jisung remains standing in front of his door, unmoving, hand with his keys hovering over the doorknob. “Can you give me a minute?”

“Uh, sure!” You smile at him sweetly, and then he pushes his key into the keyhole, angling the door just enough so you can’t see anything before slipping into his room.

And then a string of curses follows, and a few stumbling?

His footsteps are loud as he rushes around his room, picking up every piece of clothing and dunking them into his laundry bin. His heart drops to his stomach when he catches his boxers lying on the ground, thankful he had come to his senses before letting you come in blindly.

Close one.

With the wrappers of food thrown out and his dirty clothes back in the hamper, Jisung feels more comfortable letting you in. Reopening the door again, he peeks out to check if you’re still there. “Hi.”

“Hi.” You tilt your head, smiling at the sheer cuteness of Han Jisung and his poked out head from the door and the small ‘hi’ he had addressed to you paired with the cutest smile that accentuates his round cheeks.

“It might be a little messy right now, I hope you don’t mind.” He pouts, opening the door enough to let you in, hands behind his back as he scans your reaction nervously.

His apartment space wasn’t any different than yours, probably the same size, but the way he had decorated his living space was so potently Han Jisung – like a room captured directly from his image. It’s not the neatest, but by all means, it wasn’t messy at all. It was a little chaotic in the way it’s decorated, and there’s a whole mini studio setup in the corner of his room, but it all felt like he had taken a piece of his home and brought it with him in this apartment.

What’s even more adorable is the obviousness of the rushed cleaning that had happened minutes prior. You can see some random things poorly hidden around the house, but you’re too busy feeling flustered to think about it much.

“Oh, it looks so home-y. It feels very you.”

A familiar heat climbs onto Jisung’s features at the compliment that slips out of your mouth so easily, and he suddenly feels more proud of his decorating.

He hadn’t always been the most confident in his living space, only inviting his closest friends over because his place was always deemed the most messy of them all possibly due to his chaotic decorating (and because he liked to keep his things lying around where it’s easier to access – to his downfall as he always forgets where he had put his things later on).

But, the small genuine compliment from you had lifted his worries and now he feels he should invite his friends more often.

“Do you want some water? I’ll get you a glass.” As he navigates through the kitchen, you politely settle yourself on his couch and continue to look around at the artwork littering his walls. It’s signed “Hwang Hyunjin” at the bottom, and they’re absolutely beautiful.

Sounds familiar, you think.

“What did you eat for dinner?”

You snap out of your reverie at his question.

“Actually… I haven’t eaten dinner yet.”

“What?” He rushes over to you with the glass of water, looking at you with wide eyes. All you can do is smile at him sheepishly. “You haven’t eaten yet? Why? Were you busy today?”

“I was probably just gonna eat some instant ramen when I arrived.”

Although he does the same, he can’t help but scold you. “Eat your meals well, you have to eat a lot. Come on, I’ll order us some food.”

“Do you have any recommendations?” You scoot closer to where he’s seated, peeking at his phone as he scrolls through food applications to order for you.

“Hmm.. if you mix seaweed soup in rice and have it with radish kimchi, it’ll fill you up well.” He thinks with a lot of consideration, running over all the options that could replenish your hunger, and ultimately deciding on what he’s been loving lately.

“Let’s have that then.”

You nod your head, and move to return the empty glass of water in his kitchen. Jisung instantly misses your warmth from when you were inches beside him on the couch.

You’re driving him insane.

You drive him a little more insane when you don’t return from the kitchen right away. He makes his way to where you’re standing, but it seems that you’re staring at nothing in particular. With the empty glass on the counter, Jisung doesn’t understand why you’re just staring at the wall in horror.

“(Name)? What’s wrong?”

Your head snaps to the direction of Jisung’s voice. He’s looking at you with curiosity, and you can feel the heat radiating from your face. “I just realized I don’t have any clothes with me.”

“Oh! Don’t worry. You can just wear some of mine.”

Fuck, you feel so embarrassed, but Jisung is making it seem like it’s nothing – like he’s doing you a simple favor, and not the complexity entangled in staying at his for the night. Comfort is unknowingly wrapped around you in everything that Han Jisung does.

“Okay, I laid out some clothes in the bathroom. Just there.” He points at a door before directing his eyes back at you. “You can go take a shower if you’d like, while we wait for the food.”

You nod, thanking him again, but he simply brushes you off with that bright smile. He even hands you an extra toothbrush from his cabinets.

Jisung doesn’t know how he acted so nonchalant while lending you his clothes, because right now, as you emerge from the bathroom with a towel in hand, drying your hair, he feels like he’s about to explode at the sight of you in his clothes.

He knows his face is fully red right now. There’s no way to fight in, not when his shirt and sweatpants were practically swallowing you whole. He feels something akin to when you had messily eaten your ice cream on the walk back home from the convenience store, and he finds himself mumbling to himself. “Cute.”

“How do I look?” You laugh, flailing your limbs around to show the excess of material moving past your feet, and how his sleeves are down to your elbows. Before he has the chance to stutter over his own words in an attempt of a compliment, his phone begins to buzz.

“Must be the food.” He says, and you move to help him grab the takeout containers from outside. Settling them on the table, you move to grab your wallet from your bag.

Jisung blames it on his exhaustion from the gym, but a schoolboy giggle escapes him before he can hold it back the moment he spots the keychain he had won you a month ago still attached to your wallet.

“Don’t worry. I’ve already paid.” He moves to shove your wallet back down from your bag, and he feels himself physically malfunction when you pout up at him. “That’s not fair. Next time, I’m paying, okay?”

Next time.

Han Jisung cannot count the number of times you have made his heart do a backflip.

Over dinner, you talk about a multitude of topics – never running out of things to say. You realize it’s always been like this with him. You always have a lot to talk about, and you don’t feel scared or nervous to talk about anything.

Similarly, Jisung’s feeling giddy at how he feels he can tell you anything, so he does. He likes the laughter and giggles he elicits from you everytime he tells you a funny story. He also likes your efforts to pitch in with your own stories, feeling lucky you’re entrusting him with pieces of your life like that.

“Actually, in 6th grade, I was kind of a bully. I was kind of mean… but I was only mean because there was this girl who was SUPER mean to Seungmin so I had to get back at her.”

“Hmm?” He pushes you to continue your story, looking at you attentively as he chews on his food, following along your every word.

“So what I would do is, I’d step on bees right. I’m so sorry to the bees, I was young and naive. But, I stepped on them and I’d pick them up and put them in a plastic bag, right?” You smile mischievously, recounting the story in your head.

“Don’t tell me.” Jisung dramatically gasps, pointing a chopstick at you.

“Oh, but I did. I put the plastic bag in her locker! Yeah, I was kind of a psycho.”

He laughs, the wholehearted, head thrown back, thigh slapping kind of laugh as he looks at you in disbelief. But your story warms him – to know that even when you were still so young, you had already gone through extreme lengths to protect the people close to you.

In exchange for your story, he tells his own too. He recounts a story of when he had eaten spicy yuptteok without realizing it.

“I learned about the spiciness of life that day. Now, I’m scared of spicy food.”

He allows himself a quick glance at you from time to time whenever the familiar sound of a throaty laughter is bubbling from you, just before he finishes his story. Nothing feels more accomplishing than your genuine reactions and opinions to his stories.

You listen to him. You listen to every single word without fail.

You still listen an hour later while you’re seated on the couch, exchanging stories with each other.

Though, it’s interrupted for a moment when your phone begins to ring, and Seungmin’s face pops up on the screen. He must have an update on Jeongin already as it had been hours past the last time you had ringed him.

Swiping the call button, you answer with the intent to tell him that your living situation for the night has been solved.

“Jeongin’s at the dorm now, if you’re not already sleeping outside your apartment door.” Seungmin is so unserious in the way he says this so nonchalantly, like he has no remorse if you were out on the streets.

You know better though.

“It’s alright. I’ve sorted it out! Thanks again Seungmo.”

“Oh? Where are you staying? Is it safe?” His concern peeks out just a little bit at your words, and he proceeds to tell you it really isn’t a problem if you crashed at their dorms again. Besides, you could sleep on his bed this time, instead of that couch you hate so much.

Seungmin makes another mental note to replace his couch the next time you lock yourself out of your apartment.

“It’s safe, so don’t worry.”

“I’m not worrying.”

“Sure you aren’t.” You giggle.

Then, he hangs up.

You wonder what Seungmin would say if he found out you were at Jisung’s — not that you could ever willingly admit that out loud without stuttering and blushing an intense amount. He’d definitely say something stupid, so you’re almost thankful he doesn’t push at the topic of where you’re staying too much.

You value that he trusts you.

The rest of the night, you and Jisung stay on the couch, unmoving from your positions. Sometimes, you’d chat about stupid things, sometimes you’d scroll through Youtube videos on his laptop – pranks gone wrong, puppies, banned commercials, random videos from years ago.

He’s convinced he could talk all night just to make you keep laughing, and everytime you do laugh, he’s hit with just how beautiful you are, and he feels his heart explode every single time. He can certainly get used to that sound.

It feels so easy with you. Talking, laughing, everything feels so easy with you to the point where it’s scary. What was going to happen after tonight? Would you go back to merely acknowledging each other in the hallways? Would it take another odd circumstance to cross your paths again? Would you stop directing your laughter to his stories? Would all of that have to disappear again?

“Jisung? You okay there?” He blinks out of his own thoughts, looking at you intently before realizing the video you had been viewing had long ended and he was simply staring at a blank screen.

“Just thinking about those poor bees.” He lies straight through his teeth.

“You are so mean.” You hit him playfully, and he grabs your elbow before you can hit him again, laughing down at you. His breath hitches at the sudden close proximity, and he’s letting out nervous coughs while extracting his hand back to himself.

And then you yawn, and Han Jisung feels himself melt into a puddle.

“We should probably head to bed. Take my bed, I’ll sleep on the couch.” He helps you up from the couch, ghosting his arm on the small of your back in case you stumble in your sleepiness.

“It’s your apartment, I can’t kick you out of your bed like that.” You shake your head, planting your feet on the ground so he can’t move you.

“It’s really fine.”

“You’re not changing my mind, Han Jisung. Plus, you couldn’t possibly fit comfortably on this tiny couch. I’d fit right in.”

He sighs in defeat, mumbling a ‘fine’ which makes you grin.

“Let me get you some pillows and a blanket.”

The moment feels strangely intimate as he carefully places some of his pillows and a warm comforter on the couch to make sure you’re comfortable for the night. His eyes are slightly droopy from the exhaustion, but he’s determined in his task.

Han Jisung has definitely taken firm root in your heart, and you hope he stays around in your life forever.

“Do you need anything else?” He had taken it upon himself to tuck you in, and he feels the same suffocating feeling on his chest when you smile up at him in thanks, accompanied by a shake of your head.

He thinks he has a good idea what this feeling is.

“Okay. Goodnight.” Your heart just about melts in your chest at his words. You’ve never heard him speak so softly before with his eyes a little hooded and a gentle smile on his face, with his heart on his sleeve like that for you.

“Goodnight, Hannie.”

Jisung turns off the lights and almost falls when retreating to his own room at the mention of your old nickname for him. It’s a shame you can’t see the lovesick smile he has on his face while regaining his balance.

You don’t recognize where you are at first when you wake up.

When the sunlight hits your face enough to pull your eyelids open, you’re thinking – this definitely doesn;t look like my room.

Stirring slightly, a yawn leaves your lips as you sit up to try and process everything that had transpired the night before. When you remember Jisung and his gentle smile and his crinkled eyes, you almost fall off the couch.

“Good morning!” Your eyes meet his cheery ones, drinking in the details of his features; messy hair that suggests he’s also just gotten out of bed, slightly puffy eyes, clothes from the night prior.

“Good morning.” You peel yourself off of the comforter, walking with him to the kitchen to drink a glass of water.

“How was your sleep last night? Hopefully it’s better than sleeping on your friend’s couch?”

He remembers, and something about that has you biting back a goofy smile this early in the morning.

“It was great. Thanks again for letting me sleep here for the night.” He simply nods his head, eyes still trained on you.

Han Jisung is acting a little strange this morning. While he’s normally this bright and active, it feels like it’s being amplified. He keeps looking at you, in every little thing that you do, and then he looks away when you try to catch his gaze. It feels like he wants to say something, even until you’re bidding him goodbye and thanking him again.

“I’ll return your clothes once I get it in the laundry.” You smile, and he nods his head, but he’s still tapping his foot on the ground excessively fast, bouncing on his feet and walking with you to accompany you outside.

“We seriously have to stop meeting under these weird circumstances.”

Laughing to try and cover up the fact that he can barely pay attention to what you’re saying, he opens the door for you. But can he really allow you to slip through his fingers again?

“Maybe we can meet again soon… tomorrow? For coffee? Under more normal circumstances?” Jisung tries to sound as casual as he possibly can. If you knew better, you’d know he was feeling his most nervous right now – even more nervous than when he had to pass a demo for his classes.

To his luck, you don’t notice the nervous quiver in his voice.

You stop in your tracks at his words, turning to look at him with a smile. The poor boy is falling deeper and deeper, and it’s definitely too late to pull him back up now.

“I’d like that.” You bite down at your lips, glancing up at him with a slight hesitation.

And then you kiss his cheek, and Han Jisung would throw himself out of his window if he could at this moment, running down the streets and screaming in victory.

Instead, he places his hand on his cheek, mouth slightly agape as he stares at your retreating figure.

“Don’t be a stranger, Han Jisung!”

He won’t be.

You’ve reminded him again and again that life and love is here for him to live it, and that’s exactly what he’s going to do.

Starting tomorrow. With coffee. And hopefully another kiss on the cheek by the end of the day.

[moineauz]

જ⁀ "you are a 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌, dearest."

That was what your husband- Neuvillette- mutters breathlessly to you in an outpour of gentle rain. That was when he ultimately grasped the wispy and fleeting sensations of what a mortal calls a 'dream', like a feather grazing the skin before vanishing with an afternoon breeze.

While Neuvillette is poised, eloquent, observant and educated- the sheer complexity of mortal life puzzles him. He has grown to subconsciously question the facts, follies and simple acts of mortals for centuries in a subtle, smouldering aspiration to better comprehend why laughter erupts from your hearty lungs during downpours. Despite, rain being considered an omen of sorrow. Or how you childishly attempt to dance with the shadows of strangers before eventually embracing his.

Oh, oh how he could not help but gingerly place his pens and papers aside when you spend hours simply perched next to him. Eyes closed and silent yet breathing deeply into your stomach and exhaling through your mouth as you unwinded like string before him. Fully aware that you need not utter another word as you unfailingly glowed before him; taking up space in his very office as you did wherever your heart and legs took you.

You'd wrap a thousand-year-old tree in your arms and mutter thanks to the Earth before playing tag with the children on the street, sharing fruit with a local vendor whilst relishing in an evening stroll with Neuvillette. Just the two of you.

It was yet another practice of yours that first bewildered, intrigued and ultimately enamoured him. In the haze of afternoon light under the subtle whiff of smooth parchment- Neuvillette could not have sought a superior way to observe the mortal who unwinded him.

That was the day he began to scan and rummage through parchment and books- scouring for at least one word to encapture a sliver of you. Like an aerologist preserving a mere fragment of bone.

( Of course, the Melusines- who adored you terribly- sought to aid Neuvillette in whatever way possible. )

That was when he came upon a word as he overheard a curt conversation whilst ambling through the streets of Fontaine.

'A dream.'

Hence, as raindrops gingerly slid down your cheeks, Neuvillette observed your soaked figure. However, despite the grey clouds hung above, your eyes- rich and deep in colour- seemed to twinkle like stars.

You pause for a tender moment, your mouth slightly agape as the mellow tunes of rain dance in your ears. Yet, words do not rise from your throat. Instead, the warmth of evening tea sessions, paper filing done together and swaying to no rhythm or sequence of moves.

"Oh Neuvillette," your voice condensing into a mere whisper as you utter his name; having nothing left to say. The muscles in your legs move absent of thought. Thus, you stand now mere inches apart from one another. Rain soaking you both. As you observe his tender face you notice a streak of rain pouring down from the corners of his eyes. Or perhaps it was salty tears?

Worry flickers in your eyes like a match being lit as more tears roll down his cheek in a manner of ethereal grace. You gingerly reach your hand toward his cheek; cupping it tenderly. Neuvillette stirs slightly.

Before you can voice your disquiet, Neuvillette sobs. His eyes glanced down shortly before meeting your fretful eyes. His eyebrows furrowed in the manner you have seen a dozen times before.

Yet, his eyes glimmer like the rays of the sun kissing a broad vibrant lake. A scintillating dazzle of unobscured light.

"Do not fret dearest. These tears are not ones of sadness..."

Neuvillette raises his gloved hand and similarly caresses your cheek; eyes pooling into your starstruck ones.

"... but of my most ardent affections to my partner- a dream I wish to live in for as long as you allow me to."

waaaa what a fic. i accidentally deleted the draft halfway though writing it but thankfully i was able to get it back. hope you all are ready for my comeback!!! ( meaning more angst lol dw there will be fluff too... or not?!?!? )

reblogs with comments are highly appreciated!! pls interact... don't be a ghost reader!

[huenation]

who you are / csb

word count: 3,180

genre: soft angst, fluff, slice-of-life

warnings: not much happens in this and it’s almost a vent piece so you probably wont love this — mentions of nervousness, family issues, mc has a big family

synopsis: when soobin finally meets your family, he learns something about you (and he can’t help but love you more)

soundtrack: lovelovelove by baek yerin and can’t you see (acoustic) by matthew and the atlas

soobin is never home on weekdays in the mornings because of work, happily assisting the newbies at his barista job, since he’s been working there for three years now. he didn’t remember what nine am’s in his home looked like until now. he paces his hallway, awaiting your text message to let him know you’re outside to pick him up. it’s the big day after all, the one where he meets your family.

it’s been roughly eleven months since you both started dating and you’d just been introduced to soobin’s family a week earlier from now at a brunch. his sister and brother had finally decided to both visit his family home at the same time. despite the great harrowing pill of trepidation taken at meeting your boyfriend’s family, they had been so graciously welcoming and accepting of you. their questions were mere softballs, compliments and genuine interest in you that didn’t at all feel too much. you and soobin are familiar with the weight of stares, certain tones, and body language.

you had understood that floods of words could be conveyed through touch. being held by his family, a gripping hug, tearful thank you’s told you everything. it just meant a lot of love. soobin’s parents had embraced you so tightly that night, his mom more than kind and thankful when she held your hands and told you how special her son was to her, how dear you were to him and for that, she thought of you that much as well.

it all made sense that night on the drive home — it made you comfortable, knowing and seeing how soobin was raised well and so loved. he’s his own guy, but he is definitely a fragment of all those around him: infinitely precious.

so, when time allowed for him to meet your own family, despite the fear of jumping off your comfortable cloud into oblivion, you and he felt it was time. sure, he was beyond nervous when you both agreed to today as he’s currently anxious out of his mind, but you are, too. eye twitches, shivers, and that swirling pit in your stomach are all little footprints of this feeling.

really, as long as you have each other, just the knowing of it, that’s what matters.

he feels his phone vibrate and your contact name and picture pop up from a message that lets him know you’re outside. a small grin sprouts between his dimples at the sight of that photo. in it, you’re wearing his hoodie with the hood over your head so only your mouth is showing, a big smile worn. of course he had to set his contact photo as that. your contact name has your name with a single white heart.

just by seeing it, thinking of you… this warm feeling washes over his freezing shivers that wrack him from anxiety. you melt it away. you make a typo in your message as he’s already exiting his place, meeting you, stepping in your car, greeting you with a gentle but wide hug, kissing your cheek and thumbing the ends of your pretty eyelashes.

so, even if he’s nervous, you were able to do it, and it is about time, after all. he can do it. he holds your hand the entire way.

amazingly enough, the drive draws his anxieties away, your hand in his, and far too distracted by your chatter and the way his legs must bend to fit in your passenger seat. you chat about work or school, or something an online player from his game did that was funny, even jamming out to your shared playlist. but then when you start slowing down, pulling into a street, hitting stop signs, it gets quiet.

“we’re acting like we’re going to the police station…” you point out, sharing a little laugh with your boyfriend, whose eyes are bouncing around as they always do. there’s lots of cars down this specific street. it’s why you have to park just a little ways to your destination, beside the curb, soobin gaping at the environment and litter of cars that definitely signifies there’s a lot of people inside. the growing clamminess in his palms only intensifies.

“soobin, we don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, baby,” your small flame of reassurance has him turning back to you, a crease between his eyebrows and a pout on his cute lips. you have this effect; the world can start spinning far beyond a speed he can keep up with, but there you go, slowing things down. “what?” his question comes out a lot louder than intended, making you both laugh. “i wanna do this… i’m just nervous is all. that’s normal. i’ll be fine, babe.” you don’t seem satisfied with that, nodding and trying to smile it off. he sighs, deflating into the seat.

“i just… i don’t want to leave a bad impression on your family.” he mumbles, ears growing crimson. you coo and he scoffs a little, fake annoyance at your touched reaction. soobin’s legs are folded, knees pulled up high from his great height, but they also surround a gorgeous bouquet of flowers that sit in a timeless vase he bought. those familiar, luscious gardens are so full, you can even catch a glimpse of their edges and you’re down the street from them. all in all, it’s a very sweet gesture — you paid witness to him tracking down multiple florists and online shopping for a pretty vase.

“that’s how i felt about your family! and look what happened? i’m still alive and it’ll be the same for you!” you wrap your hands around his bicep in an effort to warm him up. your cheek presses on his shoulder. his head angles down and your eyes lock. oh he’s a very weak man when it comes to you.

“that’s not fair!”

“what is?”

he exhales, eyes dropping to your steering wheel.

“no one could hate you. you’re basically perfect!”

and if you’d been an anime character, your nose would’ve for sure bled. it’s silly how he thinks this way of you when he’s got it flipped. he doesn’t even know how special and loved and wonderful he is. to you, at the very least.

after giving soobin a few more moments to prepare, you both unload your car once he feels ready to enter.

he watches with rapture at the way you look around at what he is seeing for the first time. it’s different the way you do it. you look at things with familiarity and this far away look that can’t decide itself between nostalgia or simple history. soobin’s heart thumps something harder because he’s about to see who you came from and how you came to be.

the door opens once you knock and there’s a few kids lingering in the hallway, waving at you, staring a little too long at soobin. you introduce them as your younger cousins, and all hell breaks loose once you tell them it’s your boyfriend. soobin’s eyes grow so big at their loud excited voices, all asking questions about his height, if he loves you, if he has a lot of money, et cetera — all silly questions that feel like practice runs for when it comes to the adults. he allows himself to be shy, to stutter and make mistakes, expecting harsh reactions for doing so but your girl cousins simply coo and call him cute. the boys ask if he plays any games and right when an interesting conversation is about to start, you hear your mom’s voice before she makes her way over to you, grinning ear to ear.

looking down at others physically-wise is not new to him. he’s just been tall since he could remember, shy, too, might he add, so standing out isn’t a new concept. however, now as he meets your mom and slowly the rest of your immediate family bleed into the living room, he feels so exposed and naked, watching from above, like he can’t control his real body. he finds himself particularly scared. what grounds him is the way you hold his hand or link arms with him, turning your head all the way to face him, smiling at him like you’re the only two here. the littlest contact does wonders for him.

all good?

your eyes deliver this message in the shadows. his dimples flex.

all good.

for the first hour or so, it’s just introductions and endless flow of compliments. all your relatives call him cute, handsome, charming, and oh so very tall. he hides his blushes as best he can despite towering over you. everyone’s having dinner by the time you and he arrive, so you just assume your plates and eat at your own little table, talking and fighting the nervous sweats. soobin finds that the new foods he’s trying seem to distract him with how good they taste.

then, it gets a little… soobin doesn’t know how to put it. nor did he think it was his place to have an opinion. well, at least at first. one by one, some cousins and relatives come by to your table to get to know more about soobin. he gets flustered easily, so it was expected that he wouldn’t be able to handle everything perfectly. but, he did, not that he had a choice. you would be speaking for him, but they would cut you off, demanding he answer instead. you’d seemed flustered, apologizing, squeezing his palm and looking at him expectantly.

it became more than that.

soobin might not know the ins and outs of girl talk and well, the inner workings of your family, but he senses the backhandedness of the constant surprise your family members show at seeing you together. they choose their words incisively. his heart aches for you when they do so. your mom even jovially points out your flaws to contrast his strong points he’s only revealed to answer their question.

you just fight it off with an embarrassed grin, gripping onto soobin’s big hand from under the table.

there’s no place to try to even talk about what’s going on. not without any prying eyes following you or him. he has no ill feelings — well, maybe a little — towards your family, but he doesn’t understand why it is the way it is.

it’s getting awfully late, the party definitely running on momentum to carry on past the dead hours of the night, and you know it’s more than ready to begin bidding goodbyes. you rise from your chair, sparing soobin a tight smile, excusing yourself from your parents first before making any moves with soobin.

leaving seems a lost cause when you keep getting pulled aside by a relative or two. right when each conversation is done, your mom is calling you over to the kitchen to take leftovers. as you should.

it’s when he’s briefly alone, a few family members turn to him, simple questions on their tongue. his heart beats so fast and irregularly, but he somehow finds the strength to ask a few questions.

all he gets is one in, and somehow it is enough to answer a lot.

what were you like as a child?

he is met with inconsistencies or things that seem to be the opposite of you. they fumble softball questions, so obviously unaware of your hobbies, your favorite color, your passions, drawing assumptions of your character on the way they treated you as a kid. soobin smiles and nods, internally confirming his previous thoughts, though it makes his stomach ache at the thought of it.

sunshine comes around the corner in the form of you, speeding over with a large tupperware of food, nearly tripping with the bustling kids running around without care. your smile is stretched so big and he knows more than anything that it’s because you can’t wait to get out of there.

instead of excusing yourself individually from everyone with soobin like you’re supposed to, you both just get up and head to the door, waving and giving one big verbal goodbye. soobin holds the tupperware for you in one hand and he has your purse hanging over his shoulder, bowing his head a few times and smiling while you wave and keep saying bye until the door shuts behind you. you deflate with relief once it does that.

the walk to the car is quiet. both of your stomachs are turning with anxiety because you kinda do have to talk about it.

soobin opens the passenger car door, setting the bins down on the seat before closing, turning to face you as you lean on the car next to him. he moves away so, you can lean on where he was standing.

he can’t really let it go. they don’t even know you. maybe you gave them the opportunity to, while you grew up, maybe you didn’t. but, you just now are old enough, their lack of empathy and familiarity a result of their own carelessness. you were just a kid.

soobin turns on his heel to face you. his shoe twists the gravel beneath, dull against the incoherent beats of crickets chirping and cicadas buzzing. the streetlight above attracts a few fluttering moths, dim in its function, enough for fireflies to float around in the air. the world moves around you both, never pausing for either of you to try and catch your breath. literally. it spins on its axis at 1,000 miles per hour.

it is pretty baffling when he thinks about it. the way you do so much for him, calming down his faint heart, and his chest clenches at the annoyed urge that he can’t have the same or a better reciprocation of providing shelter, happiness, and love.

your eyes are still stuck on your dress shoes, head hanging low and back slumped against the passenger door of the car.

“sorry, you had to see all that.” you finally manage, moving upwards to look at him with a humorous smile.

the world moves fast regardless of what happens. soobin doesn’t know why he gets so hung up on the mountains he can’t move.

he blinks down at you, watching the way your curtain of eyelashes reflect a shine from the lamp post near you, fingers twiddling in real time at the speed of your thoughts. you are everything to soobin. he loves you and declares himself the happiest person ever being with you. isn’t that enough?

there’s a lot he knows he can’t do. but one thing is sure, he loves you endlessly.

“don’t be sorry, babe,” he takes another step closer to you, smile widening and at that, your mouth follows his expression. like magic, lighting a flame in his heart and tummy, your hands reach up towards his, and without sparing another moment, he takes them in his hands. you intertwine your fingers, moving your wrists a little, hands playing around.

there’s a part of him, wide and conquering, that has him unsure of what to say, no room to figure out the best thing to open up with or explain what unfolded. you yourself look overwhelmed with this very burden. even if your smiles say otherwise.

he makes a little noise that is somewhere between a gasp and a hum before sealing the proximity. soobin slides next to you against the car and gently rounds his arms over you, pulling you in for a hug that knows no end to comfort. he curls his hand in your hair. his fingers stroke softly through the area closest to your temple and your own hand fists into his clothes. a kiss is pressed to your crown and your eyes sting.

the crickets chirp so loudly around you. the bass of the muffled music booms from the inside, but it doesn’t reach your ears. he kisses again this time with an audible pucker, making you snicker into his bicep. your hand shifts up to drift over it. you wrap up in each other like two snakes on a caduceus.

soobin is so thankful you let him in to your little world, even if it meant you nicked yourself while opening the door to your background. it adds up as to why you’re so resilient and strong, characteristics he could only dream of being able to call himself. he thanks you for allowing him the honor to knowing you, understanding you, and loving you. the people you consider family don’t know you one bit, but he feels lucky because you let him know you. and you are so beautiful. he has to blink aggressively so as to will the stinging tears away.

“do you think your parents liked me?” he murmurs and you snort, angling your head to now face up at him.

“soob,” your tone is in warning, but he knows you’re joking. “you know they loved you.” with that answer, you reach up and stretch to peck the corner of his lips.

“and your family, too?”

“especially my family.” you chuckle, feeling the fabric of his sleeve. soobin holds back a sigh. guilt and a sort of odd tension bubbles in his gut.

“thank you for letting me meet them,” he mumbles against your hair. you hum out a response, but it mainly comes out as an acknowledgment. “now, i know we have tupperwares of food, but what if…?” you can hear his smile.

“what if we go get mcdonald’s and watch a show while we snuggle?” at the last word, soobin brings you closer in his chest, laughing at your muffled yelp and own laughter.

you angle your head to peck a kiss to his wrist, looking up at him and he is already gazing down at you, eyes full of love.

your heart races just a bit at the excitement but also because you know you are due to talk about how you felt during the dinner. the drive home is going to be filled with your favorite songs, you and your boyfriend singing along to the lyrics while the other one talks or comments on tonight. soobin drives this time, ordering and picking up the food, your order memorized. you feed him some ice cream while practically downing your own. once the show is on, food is settled, you and him are wrapped up in blankets. you bring it up on your own accord, talking about how your family made you feel and how you already would rather spend heaps of more time with soobin’s than your own. soobin will stay quiet for a bit, hand rubbing your back in circles until he tears up, making you tear up, leaving you two to have quite a heart to heart. the forecast has already played out, but it doesn’t matter; none of it does since you have soobin and he makes you so happy. so, you pull away, giving him a big smile, which makes him light up like a star, and say,

“i’d want nothing more.”

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔

　　　.   　　˚　　 　　*　　 　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　　　 ˚　.˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　 　　 　　　　 ੈ✧̣̇˳·˖✶ ✦　　

ending note: if you have any ideas or requests that have actual plots and want to spare me one and do me a favor, please hit me up T_T i feel like i give you guys nothing and i’m so sorry,,, if you made it to the end, thank you 🙏

[theradicalkanji]

I want to share something absolutely wild that went down in the latest episode of the DND campaign I joined.

So my character is a little storm fairy named Lumen. He's a smol boi who doesn't speak much and when he does he's hard to hear. He's able to communicate with the larger races by using telepathy.

This campaign had been going on for years and so there's a lot I as a player and Lumen as a fairy from the plane of air who just found himself trapped on the material plane don't know about the world at large. Today I was introduced to an NPC that has apparently been held prisoner(?) Since the beginning of the campaign. The story goes that this half orc was the front for a shady business set up by The Evil Empire. After busting up the operation and rescuing people who were captured and effectively being prepped to be shipped off as slaves, the party took this half orc into custody.

The party's paladin, sunny. Wanted to rehabilitate this half orc since he did not believe the half orc to be evil. However, the party couldn't risk letting him go free until they were sure that he wouldn't go running back to the rival kingdom. So, the half orc had been effectively under house arrest for the past few years.

A few things I quickly learned upon meeting this guy for the first time.

a) he shows little to no reactions to anything that goes on around him. Everything is met with a bemused smirk and a squirt gaze.

b) the half orc has no real name. He has a serial number given to him by the empire and the nickname of Cabbage given to him by the crew. (ostensibly because he's green?)

c) cabbage seemingly doesn't interact with any of the other people in the place he's under observation and doesn't seem to do much of anything other than eat and maybe sleep.

Sunny wanted to interrogate cabbage and see if he could finally break through the facade and maybe get somewhere on determining if the guy was a threat to everyone or if he could be safely rehabilitated back into society. Lumen offered to go along seeing as he had telepathic abilities and may be able to pick up something other than what conventional words couldn't.

The interrogation starts. Lumen is hanging back and is perched on Sunny's shoulder like a pirates parrot and just quietly observing the conversation. Cabbage is showing no emotions other than slight boredom and his default bemused smirk. Lumen silently casts detect thoughts. (subtle spell is a ton of fun, yo) and the thoughts he picks up? A fat lot of nothing. There's literal static going on in this boy's brain.

Lumen continues to observe as Sunny puts up a zone of truth. As the conversation continues, Lumen is able to telepathically communicate with other party members outside of the interrogation room and get bits of info to fill in the blanks that he doesn't already know.

Throughout the interrogation Cabbage continues to answer in noncommittal ways which pisses off the paladin since he thinks cabbage is dodging the question, but Lumen (nat 20 insight boyos) realizes that cabbage literally has no opinions on the matter.

At this point Lumen decides to push things as uses his telepathic powers to pull a deep dive into cabbage's psyche. He's able to pull fragments of cabbage's memory and thoughts and what he finds is a life devoid of emotion or desire.

As this is happening he is asking other party members about his finding. Cabbage doesn't seem dangerous? He doesn't seem to have any interest in returning to the empire... In fact he doesn't seem to have any interest in doing anything?

At which point one of the other party members mentioning that the reason they are keeping such a close eye on this guy was that he was working directly for one of The Mystics, an order of powerful mages in the empire.

This piques Lumen's curiosity and he pushes deeper into Cabbage's memories trying to find out when he started working with this Mystic. Lumen discovers thoughts all the way back to Cabbage's childhood and beyond. Cabbage was born and raised in captivity. All semblance is self identity stifled in him since infancy.

While he's poking around inside Cabbage's psyche, Lumen goes digging specifically for mental manipulation of a magical origin, and finds a rune etched into Cabbage's very psyche since infancy. (Nat 20 arcana boyo)

This glyph stifles the development of a personality. The person feels no desire or emotions outside of the bare minimum needed to function. Deciding it's time to go big or go home, Lumen fires of a dispell magic unranked to the max. Level 7 dispell targeted at this half orc's emotional inhibitor.

The glyph shatters and Cabbage opens his eyes for real for the first time in his life. For the first time since he was born he is able to feel things and express his own desires. He's able to have actual opinions!

And his very first opinion that he ever had was

The name Cabbage fucking SUCKS

[snekverse]

i have arrived to ask you about your rewrite ro’meave brothers! what are some of your headcanons for them?

wahhh my boys!! I'm so normal about them!! I'm gonna do my best to give you cohesive ideas, but my hc style is super loosey goosey so lmk if I need to elaborate on anything <3

Garroth:

Was enrolled in the Academy at 18 under the guise that it would make him a smarter, more savage leader. This only worked because Garte prioritizes power and strength over genuine leadership.

Of his siblings, he is the only one who doesn't practice magic

He looks arguably more like his mother, however he is incredibly insecure and upset by the few features inherited from his father. He's terrified those features will connect him to Garte's cruelty

He was 20 and still in the Academy when Vylad was murdered, and he ran away within a few days after his brother's funeral

He acts as a rookie guard in Phoenix Drop for many years before the then head guard appointed him as his "heir" and charge, something he was none too pleased about. The idea of being responsible for that many lives made his stomach turn, but his superior refused to back down from his position

O'khasis is a deeply religious city state, and it's royal family reflects that ideology. Garroth is burdened with heavy religious trauma, and the reveal of Nova (Aphmau) actually being Avon (Irene) really screws with his head and creates many complicated feelings

Garroth had no idea what kind of monster Zane had become in his absence, but even after learning the truth he couldn't help but mourn for his brother after his untimely demise

He tends to view young men under his care as brother figures, namely Zenix and Dante. He was devastated both after Zenix's betrayal and meeting Dante after the 15yr timeskip, and he muses from time to time that he's simply destined to lose his brothers

Zane:

Widely renowned as the youngest High Priest of the Church of Avon to date, having been appointed at only 27

He is directly responsible for the death of only one person: Vylad. He's all but gaslit himself into believing that it wasn't his fault

Immediately following the death of his brother, Zane discovered the Divine Relics and ultimately dedicated his life to the research and collection of them. By the time of his stay in Phoenix Drop, he's collected the relics of Kulzak, Enki, Kebek, and a fragment of Shad's. He knows of the whereabouts of Menphia's relic, Avon's relic, and after "reuniting" with Garroth, Esmund's relic.

Is Leona's biological father via the pendant he gifted to Kiki, and he's well aware that she exists. His role in her creation was entirely unintentional, but it was a sacrifice he was willing to make.

As the High Priest of the Church of Avon, he was tattooed with markings similar to her's. Nova also shares these markings (because she IS Avon), and when the two meet he initially believes her to be an incredibly devout worshipper.

Fully aware that he's become a greater monster than his father ever was, and though he refuses to acknowledge it, there's a part of his subconscious that becomes sick at the very sight of his own face. As such, he's rarely seen without a full-face veil, something he's able to excuse using the Faith of Avon practice of wearing mourning veils following the death of a loved one.

Vylad:

A very talented magics user, something he honed exclusively by watching Zane practice his own craft when they were children. He tries not to rely on it too much anymore, but the skill is still there.

Even though he bears almost no resemblance to his mother, Zianna remains the only person who knows the identity of his father. As such, Vylad is accidentally and unknowingly responsible for his own father's death

Of the Shadow Knights we (Nova) meet, he was the second ever to be reborn, succeeded only by Zenix. That's why he retains all of his memories, as Gene didn't begin the process of brainwashing knights until many years after his own rebirth.

Despite being terrified of facing his family after being reborn, he can't seem to keep himself away. He's drawn to each of them in a way he can't explain, and he feels inexplicably compelled to help out from the sidelines (not dissimilarly to his behavior in life)

It took many years and ye old therapy with Hyria to let go of the hate, anger, and bitter sting of betrayal he felt after his murder and rebirth. He can control himself much better now, but when he was still a young knight just the thought of it was enough to push him over the edge, forcing him ever closer to becoming a Husk

Vylad, like Garroth struggles with religious trauma and discomfort surrounding religion, however during his time spent in the Nether he frequently prayed to Avon, just to have someone to talk to even if they weren't listening. (this one is HEAVILY inspired by if not blatantly stolen from this wonderful comic made by @vyladromeave, go check them out!! I love it so much and I can't stop thinkin about it <3 if this bothers you at all lmk and I'll get rid of this bit no biggie)

In line with the previous hc, he had a pretty strong hunch from the moment she spawned from the staff the Nova was Avon, and even after properly meeting her he wondered if she ever heard any of his prayers and pleas. He's still not sure which answer he'd prefer.

[bullet-prooflove]

Muffled Screams #3: The Man In The Corner - Will Halstead x Reader

Mentions of mental health issues.

Part One: Muffled Screams

Part Two: Wonderland

The man in the corner was smiling, bloody lips hiked up towards his ears, extended by white ragged scars that were indented into his weathered flesh. His teeth were bared, making him look maniacal. He was swathed in shades of yellow. A chequered waistcoat. A haphazard bowtie. A worn black top hat made of threadbare silk.

Your heart rate accelerated; black spots pockmarked your vision as you felt your chest constrict.

“Are you seeing him now?”

Doctor Charles’s voice tugged your attention away from the man in the corner and back to his kindly features. You could still feel his gaze upon you, intense and unrelenting. It made that spot in between your shoulder blades tingle, the sensation spreading across your shoulders and down your bandage covered biceps.

“Yes. He’s in the corner.”

“And what is he doing?” Doctor Charles asked as your eyes shifted back to the corner of the room.

“Staring.”

Doctor Charles looked down at his notes.

“And you call him The Mad Hatter, as in Alice in Wonderland?”

“Hm.” You murmured, pursing your lips as you bowed your head.

“We talking Johnny Deep or more old school?” Doctor Charles asked, putting his hand to his heart. “Because that adaption was borderline terrifying to me.”

“Neither.” You shook you head. “He looks like…” You tried to piece together the fragments of your memory, it was like moving through water, resistance, and fluid. You tried to grasp the threads, managing to snag one between your fingers. “I had this case a few years ago, a man who had been slashed ear to ear so his smile…”

“That sounds horrific.” He said softly.

“Yea.” You said quietly, your eyes straying to The Mad Hatter. “It is.”

“And is he there sometimes or all of the time?”

“Sometimes.” You told him, your fingernails scratching across the bandages on your wrist. The skin was itchy underneath, flesh knitting together, scabbing over, allegedly healing. “It’s better since the medication.”

“You know it’s only been a few days; the anti-psychotics can take four to six weeks for you to feel the full effect.”

Four to six weeks…

And that was if they worked the way they were supposed to. It had been explained to you that it was about finding the correct dosage, the right medication and that took time.

Doctor Charles must have read the expression on your face. He leaned forward in his chair tilting his head so that he could meet your eyes.

“I know it doesn’t seem like it, but you are actually at a very good point in your recovery. You are aware that your delusions are just that. Delusions. A lot of people with psychosis don’t have that ability, they live in their own reality and that makes it incredibly hard to treat them because it’s everyone else that has the problem, not them. The good news is that you’re able to differentiate, that’s a positive step in the right direction. I think a few more days and we should be able to treat you as an outpatient.”

The thought of going home was terrifying. This thing bleeding into your life, infringing on it. Being here in the hospital felt like you were suspended in reality, it was safe in a way, comforting. You were sheltered from the outside world. A barrage of sights and sounds that could trigger you at any moment. It was overwhelming, the air seemed to rush out of the room.

You weren’t sure you had the energy to do this. To try and live with his man watching over your shoulder, to feel his gaze on your skin, to not know when he was going to appear. Earlier this morning you had woken up to find yourself alone in your hospital room for the first time in days and it had been the blissful until he’d popped up into your vision like some deranged jack in the box. Will had entered the room to find you in the throes of a panic attack, your palm pressed to your racing heart.

Will…

There wasn’t just you to think about, the two of you shared an apartment. You were bringing this mess into his life, right now he had a reprieve, a place he could go when things became too much, when you became too much. As an outpatient you wouldn’t be the only one forced to deal with your new reality.

“Hey,” Doctor Charles said gently, his hand coming to rest upon your shoulder. That simple touch was grounding, bringing you back into the present and quieting your spiralling mind. “It’s normal to feel anxious, your world has just been flipped upside down, what we’re doing is trying to right it.”

You nodded your head, trying to swallow past the well of emotion in your throat.

“Trust me you’ve got this.” Doctor Charles soothed. “It’ll all work out in the end.”

The end…

You wondered what version he was talking about, because if this kept happening, if the drugs didn’t work…

The end might be that much closer that he thought.

Big Fan of Will! Get added to his tag list!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[pttucker]

He realized that, if he were to get to the end of all the scenarios, he needed to kill off his emotions, that he must not live his life. And so, he decided to become not 'Yoo Joonghyuk', but the 'Regressor', instead. The fourth time, fifth… The timelines that he might've had experienced, but a certain someone's unexpected words stopped him from regressing again. – Being able to regress at any time is the same as having no meaning in 'dying' anymore. However, there being no meaning in dying is the same thing as the value of living disappearing, too. – Yoo Joonghyuk, you need to wake up. What I'm saying here is that, don't mistakenly believe that things will get better by repeating them over and over again. That was why Yoo Joonghyuk chose not to regress. He gave up on several new 'lives' where he could've started off from a higher vantage point while possessing more useful information than before.

The Yoo Joonghyuk of the 3rd turn knew all those information of the future he hadn't yet lived already. 『Han Sooyoung – Records of the 1863rd turn (First)』 『Han Sooyoung – Records of the 1863rd turn (Last)』 It was all thanks to the records from the 1863rd turn in the distant future that he might have gotten to experience if he lived as the story originally intended for him.

[Demon King of… Sal… va… tion!] Indeed, he'd have left this place were it not for those words. Yoo Joonghyuk hesitated for a little bit, before approaching the half-open cocoon. Michael, still not fully alive yet, lay in a defenseless sleep inside the shell.

Yoo Joonghyuk faced off against the gaze falling from the sky and spoke. "…I've told you this before, haven't I? I shall be the one to kill Kim Dokja. Stop your unnecessary actions." The sky didn't say anything else in return. Yoo Joonghyuk sheathed his sword and his steps hurried after the trail of fragments scattered around the forest.

Unfortunately, even before I could fully open my mouth, someone else's voice interrupted me. "His goal is to see the end of a certain insignificant story." Icy-cold rage thickly permeated that voice. And I knew that voice better than anyone.

I'm getting such weird vibes from these.

Like, I do think that Joonghyuk is angry and upset. He's thinking about all of the information that would have made everyone's lives easier, would have made his life easier, if Dokja had shared everything right from the beginning (or as soon as he safely could without constellations spying on them), is thinking about the fact that it's all rightfully his information taken from his story and he would have eventually learned it if he'd allowed himself to regress and get better and better. He'd have been able to experience those things rather than Dokja getting a free pass and just reading about them and living them safely in his head.

But he's also thinking about how he decided to kill off his emotions and lose himself entirely to regression, and Dokja made him, Yoo Joonghyuk, not the Regressor, live again. Which is generally something that most people would consider to be a good thing???

And him killing Michael feels really strange. Like it says that he hesitated for a little bit, like he was thinking something over, and then he killed him and made this big show of saying it's because Dokja's death belongs to him? idk, "hesitation" doesn't really seem to fit Joonghyuk's personality, especially not angry Joonghyuk. In fact, everything in the entire novel has pointed to the exact opposite.

Like, the dude threw Dokja off a bridge into a monster within five minutes of meeting him, killed Sooyoung's avatar immediately after deciding she wasn't giving him the answers he wanted, has killed pretty much every other person the instant their death suited his goals, not to mention 1863rd Joonghyuk also immediately attempted to kill Dokja...

I might be overly hopeful and naive but I'm more getting the vibe that he's trying to stop Michael from coming after Dokja again as a form of protection and is lying to Eden about his motives to keep them away for now.

But at the same time he really does seem like he's seething over Dokja having secretly stolen his life from him. Especially when we think back on all the times Joonghyuk was willing to sacrifice himself to save Dokja because he thought Dokja was the one to save the world...and now he knows it's because Dokja was basically stealing his spot in the novel.

So... idk.

[identityflawed]

captain rex character study

tw: battle scene, death, gore, odd thoughts

---

REX SOMETIMES FELT small. Laughably small, inanely so, like a tick on the mane of a manka cat, plucked off by a tamer and squished thoughtlessly between their fingers. Dead in an instant, with no knowledge of just how vast the real world was. No funerals for the bloodsucker, no mourners for the soldier.

Such emotions were an irregularity, almost certainly carried into his mind on the backs of war machines and mass destruction. Back on Kamino, in the barracks he shared with his birth cohort, he’d never felt like this. The pristine halls of Tipoca City were claustrophobic, despite the height of the Kaminoans that so often traversed them. He’d asked his brothers, in their quieter moments, if they’d experienced this oddity. Some said yes, some said no, others said they had no clue what he was trying to say.

Even his accelerated growth modifications did little to allay this… feeling. If he thought about it for too long, his head would begin to hurt. The complexities of his existence — twenty-four years of life, training and biological processes in a mere decade — were utterly useless in the face of a droid army’s blaster rifles and rhythmic footfalls.

And that was what he stared down now, so he stowed away his foible and ran headlong into battle alongside his men.

Christophsis, by all accounts, was a beautiful city with less-than beautiful people. Rex was born and raised seeing nothing but identical faces and his long-necked creators, and he'd thought that he'd be able to enjoy the new people he might meet while fulfilling his duty.

Not here.

Christophsians had a tendency to look down on those who immigrated from off-world, employing them as slaves or underpaid labor workers in the crystal mines that mapped the underside of their capital, Chaleydonia. Once renowned for its glittering crystalline skyscrapers and impeccably-made jewelry, the so-called Crystal City now sat in ruins, blue-green fragments breaking under Rex’s boots.

The buildings at the center of the City Plaza had suffered the most damage from Republic artillery, cannon fire shaking the ground from behind clone forces with distinct pauses between. Rex could picture his brothers hoisting steel shells into the cannon, calling aloud to send another streaking bolt of blue towards the clanker ranks.

He shook the image out of his head and focused on what was in front of him. His helmet HUD lit up in a frenzy, identifying standard B-1s, silver SBDs, the spindly legs of rotating spider droids and the rumbling overture of approaching tanks. Packed in as he was with his men on a standard frontal assault, it was difficult to bob and weave from the blaster fire. In his periphery, a few clones were shot down. Headshots sent a static noise through their shared comm line, but Rex found it within himself not to wince.

Droids numbered in the thousands as they surged through the ruined city, spewing superheated scarlet volleys towards them. A new squadron of spider droids reached the forefront of their attack, their turrets firing in sluggish, powerful bursts. Rex dove to the side to avoid the onslaught, and the ground where he’d been standing was instantly scorched and scarred by the shrieking hyphen of gas.

He rolled over his shoulder and popped back up just in time to see a darkened silhouette landing atop the spider droid’s sloping carapace. A pillar of sky-blue light illuminated in the figure’s hand, driven straight into the droid’s head. In one smooth, coordinated move, the silhouette hung from the saber and dragged it down the droid’s head, before sweeping it wide and relieving the machine of its only weapon. A final slice at the legs on the way down, and the droid crumpled in a whining, whirring heap, smoke and sparks pouring from the question mark -shape drawn across its body. The droids caught beneath it in its dying collapse let out shrieking wails as they were easily dispatched by nearby clones.

General Skywalker couldn’t deny himself a dramatic entrance, and Rex was glad that his commanding officer had skill to match his melodramatic flair. The golden-haired Jedi found Rex in the mess of things, but recognition was fleeting as he was swept back into the tide of battle.

Rex opened fire once more with his twin pistols, reloading them without pausing in his own miniature onslaught for even a second. Muscle memory allowed him to pop out cartridges with a hard flick of the wrist, and then angle his blaster so he could slide the next one in by lining it up on his hip. One then the other. As soon as that was done, he followed his general into the fray.

Another bout of cannon fire shook the ground, taking out a whole squadron of droids on the left, and several more on the right. Rex landed a series of shots on several battle droids, and watched with grim satisfaction as fire burned holes in their metal hearts, spewing glistening oil from the hole as they imploded. If he really focused, he could see his men doing the same with their repeating rifles. At least one — Patchwork — had managed to repair their only flamethrower, and was carving a path of destruction down the eastern front, noxious smoke gushing out into the air. Another — Strale, telling by the eye decal on his helmet — had fashioned a makeshift grenade launcher out of an SBD chestplate, and was launching them wantonly into the enemy lines.

A world’s worth of effort, and it still wouldn’t be enough. Rex felt himself zoning out, his body moving for him. Briefly, he could imagine a bird’s eye view of the skirmish, reducing each of his men into white pinpricks versus taupe and gray, their battlefront into a warring division of red and blue. That’s all he was, one in many. Just a number.

And whatever that meant for him… he found it mattered less as the man beside him was obliterated by a spider droid round. Blood splattered on his helmet, and his visor cleaned it immediately. So what if he was just one man? He had a job to do and a Republic he was proud to serve. Men he was proud to protect, a general he was proud to follow.

All he needed to do was shoot, and shoot to kill. 

[seths-wife]

The parallels between Meta and Banica

Meta and Banica are actually more similar than meets the eye...they don't have just a very similar appearence...they are not just a pair of Meiko-coded characters.

Here is a list of other similarities the both of them share (you can tell me if you find more to this):

They have both lived their girlhood alone

Meta was the third "ghoul child" of Seth. At one point, Meta escapes from him because she has feared to be put into a refrigerator in "lunaca labora", as Seth has done so to the previous "ghoul child" before her, as a "failed experiment". For more context, read this scene of the "crime" novel.

In her escape, the girl falls off a cliff and loses her memories.

I had run from Seth, fearing being put in cold storage like my “older brother”.

While on the run I had fallen from a cliff…and lost my memories. ("crime", chapter 5, scene 12).

After that, Meta didn't remember much about her life, until her twentieth birthday.

Both the "crime" novel and the song "escape of the witch Salmhofer" state that Meta has lived in loneliness for the first twenty years of her life.

She could only remember fragments of her memories from when she was young, but whatever the case she had rooted in her heart the knowledge that she was an orphan and had lived her life alone, and the awareness that she hated everything in this world. ("crime", chapter 5, scene 2).

Not knowing my father, and not knowing my mother,

I had grown up all alone ("escape of witch Salmhofer").

About Banica, her childhood circumnstances are very different: she has spent the first ten years of her life with her family with the "gula disease" and everything I have talked about in the last post. The song "drug of gold" states how Banica also has "spent her girlhood alone".

It seemed she, too, spent her girlhood all alone Her mother dead, her father with a sick heart, and her home fallen to ruin ("drug of gold").

This fact is also pointed out in the Conchita novel as well. You can read it here.

In a nutshell, Carlos Marlon (the third prince of Marlon) is not very on board with the arranged marriage with Banica. If you read the first scene of the "soup" chapter of the novel, you can kind of get the gist on why the man doesn't want the marriage.

Anyway, Ron Grapple (the chief retainer of the Conchita household) understands Carlos' lack of motivation to pursue the marriage and he makes a big speech about how the marriage between him and Banica could have been a way for the latter to achieve a little bit of serenity after the many years of unhappiness, due to the "gula disease".

Ron also mentions about Banica living her girlhood alone and how Arte and Pollo have been her only friends.

“Thank you most graciously–Due to the illness of her youth, lady Banica has been alone, unable to make any friends for herself. Those twins, Arte and Pollo…when I hired on those two so close to lady Banica in age as retainers, it was because I thought they could serve to substitute as friends for her. Thanks to that, our shy lady Banica has become a little bit more cheerful lately.“ ("evil food eater Conchita", soup, scene 3).

In his speech, the retainer lies about the abuse perpetrated by Megour and the fact that Banica has never been ill with the "gula disease".

Despite that, it is still true that Banica has never been able to have friends (barring the aforementioned twins) and spent her girlhood in loneliness, due to the heart-crushing disease afflicting the family and her mother's abuse.

There's no much elaboration on that, but at the very least...at one point, because of Megour, all Banica has been doing was to eat in fear of her mother.

Both Banica and Meta have impacted the world (negatively for Meta and positively for Banica) after or around their twentieth birthdays.

After the parenthesis of the abusive relationship with the farmer, Meta joins Pale Noel in the "apoalypse" terroristic organization after her twentieth birthday (read this scene)

Of course that has many consequences for the society of their country as she has engaged in destruction of villages (including the village of Nemu, which was a big plot-point ìn Eve Moonlit's life) and terrorism (until she had been finally caught).

When I was 20, the one I loved was

A culprit of murder

If you’re attracted to evil

You’ll find yourself tainted too

And the people

Called me “witch”

I ran through an evil path where flowers bloom

A criminal who was splattered with red, fresh blood

And fled to a corrupted love ("escape of the witch Salmhofer").

About Banica...when she has been nineteen, she has started to travel around the world and in those trips she has managed to make a revolution out of her country's cuisine.

When she turned nineteen, Banica left on a journey to tour various countries with her twin retainers Arte and Pollo, to search for yet more types of food. ("evil food eater Conchita", poisson, scene 1).

The culinary revolution is also recorded in history books in-series.

They both have lived in abusive environments before they have had an impact on their world (which is the previous point).

Before joining Pale, Meta has been abused by a farmer repeatedly. This is stated in the "crime" novel in a scene I have already linked (the first one after the second element of the listing).

Of course those events have an impact on Meta's future because she later attaches to the men who has saved her (Pale) and loyally follows him in everything...and that also has consequences with how she has affected the world around her.

With this I'm not saying that the only reason Meta loves Pale is because he had rescued her from the farmer. I think there is actually more than one reason, but I won't talk about that now. Nevertheless, I do believe that Pale rescuing Meta from the farmer (maybe because she has felt like she has had a debt with him; this is my speculation of which I have zero proof, though) is a factor that explains Meta's great loyalty to Pale.

I was unable to grasp her whereabouts for a while—but eventually I received word from Pale that he’d found her and was taking care of her.

It seemed that she showed quite the obedient side towards him. ("crime" novel, chapter 4, scene 4).

As for Banica, I have already talked about her relationship with Megour, her mother and how it has affected her in my last post (link).

They are both mothers to Hansel and Gretel (in different ways).

Meta is the biological mother of Hansel and Gretel.

Hansel and Gretel probably see Meta in Banica (it can be for the similar appearence, most likely).

That is an in-series speculation by "Ma" in the "evils kingdom" album booklet, though. We don't really know if that is true or not but I believe it can be plausible, at least (especially since during the Conchita novel, the twins hold their memories of their past lives. Still, Meta has died not so much after their birth...therefore I'm not really sure about their memories about her).

In my personal opinion, perhaps they saw in Banica a “trace of their mother”.

As for how Banica regards the twins...as long as the series goes, she sees them as either "friends" (as shown before) or "servants".

For that reason I think the mother-children relationship between the twins and Banica is more likely a one-sided one.

Banica and Meta have rescued their children (in different ways).

Meta has been the product of a sperimentation and has lived her life in sadness. In the series, Hansel and Gretel are the same.

Fearing that her children would live the same life of unhappiness as her, she takes them away from the country with her.

With this I want to come back to the comment of @rileyrose31 that I have started to comment the last time.

The first kind act she does (for the record I haven't read the novel yet, so correct me if I'm wrong) is done when she sees herself in her children. Wanting to give them a better life than she had, she breaks them out of the lab.

Meta in the "crime" novel is a completely sadistic and unsociable individual; she does a lot of nice things for Pale's plans and wants to please him, but that's basically it.

We can say that the twins are the first people Meta gets nice with (outside of Pale): she has compassion, love and (motherly) care for them, unlike with anyone else, except Pale.

Banica is also motherly to her child and rescues her from herself and her selfish hunger.

We don't know if Banica's attitude towards the child is due to a "projection" on the woman's part (whether or not she sees herself in the child as Meta has seen herself in her children) or awareness she had been re-enacting an abusive cycle. This is up to speculation.

Whatever the case may be, both have wanted for their children to have a happy life, with or without them in tow.

[shroudkeeper]

The moon and the stars / Ying-Yue and Takeo

It has always been close to me. How many more times do I still Need to say goodbye to the you of that time? A distant fragment of you shined deep inside my heart.

..She belonged to the kami, in a realm beyond the earthly domain he inhabited, yet she came to see him many a time after their first meeting. He gave her a name for she could not offer one, he recognized her as moon’s grace, the benevolent beacon of moon glow he wished to keep with him until his dying days, to illuminate the darkest parts of his path.

Ying-Yue forsook her heavenly domain to live a mortal’s lifetime, to share in the joys and sorrows that came along with it, if it meant that she was to know what it meant to live. The sacrifice was that she would not be able to return to the pulchritudinous domain of the tennyo, and her life-span would be that of a flower, withering when her bloom is over.

But, the love she received, the love she gave, would remain to be a story that would surpass their shared time upon this star.

[satashiiwrites]

10 first lines challenge

tagged by @whimsyswastry and @quietborderline. Thanks for the tags lovelies. Tagging (with no pressure) @monsterrae1 @alyxmastershipper @tkwritesdumbassassins @outtoshatter @elisela @missanniewhimsy and anyone else who wants to play along.

Rules: Share the first line of your last ten published works or as many as you are able to and see if there are any patterns!

Afterthoughts (911 codas): He fucked up big time today.

An Andromeda Tale (Mass Effect Andromeda, MReyder) No one asked me what I wanted to do in life or if I wanted to do this.

Family, Familia, ‘Ohana (911/H50 Buddie, McDanno) The low brrrr noise of a phone on vibrate ringing was irritating as Steve had set his phone down unattended on the corner of Danny’s desk before leaving for a meeting with the governor about budgets and how 5-0 needed to at least make a show of pretending to have one.

Suspicions (Teen Wolf, Firefighter!Derek series) Noah had always had his suspicions.

The First Spectre (911/Mass Effect, eventual Buddie) Lieutenant Edmundo Diaz—known to his family as Eddie or everyone else as Lt Diaz or just Diaz—sat in the copilot’s chair on the bridge listening to Flight Lieutenant Han, aka Chimney, grumble about their newest mission orders.

Mana’olana (H50, McDanno) He doesn’t know what to do after Rachel dropped her bombs on him, obliterating any sense of purpose he had in his life.

Sleepless in LA (911, Buddie) They buried Shannon on a Tuesday—she’d died the previous Thursday.

Promise Me You Won’t Let Me (Wheel of Time, Cauthor) Doubt eats at him.

Death, Rebirth and the Jackal (Mass Effect/The Mummy (1999), MReyder) I am Anpu on the day of reckoning.

Fragments and Fractals (911, Buddie) Memory is a funny thing.

Pattern: run on sentences or short and sweet…. But i think i like to star with anchoring either an emotion or person immediately.

[iggyartsblog]

I cant get this spuk headcannon out of my head so I'm gonna share it here.

So, bla bla bla Spanish armada. Alot of drinking, fighting, sex and just indulging in eachothers presence and feeling joy with pissing of the other country. Then the war finished, and they never saw eachother again, they didn't even say goodbye.

The two had almost forgotten what had happened between them, until a few decades later. France had dragged England to meet his friends in Paris, Spain and prussia, but didn't tell him who they were and didn't tell Spain that he England was coming.

When the two saw eachother, they were the happiest they had been in a long while. Spain ran up to hug England, wich England accepted, and they chatted excitedly to eachother about where they've been and how life was after the war. France and prussia looked on in horror and concern, it was completely unnatural for either of them to be acting the way they were. When questioned by France, England just brushed him off:

"Oh, it was nothing"

His words deeply confused Spain, as clearly the war meant something to him, if it hadn't he wouldn't be acting that way. The two of them calmed down, England keeping his distance after that.

A few years later, the anglo-spanish war of 1625 began. Everything seemed the same: the open sea, the ships, the guns. But something was different. Spain had seized the same ship, had found the same English captain, had the same sword fight on the masts. But the energy was gone. The spark that made him want to keep fighting England had vanished. Everything he loved about England had completely depleted, he was a new man. A new, boring, militant man. Spain had admitted defeat and left the ship, never facing England for the rest of the war, his heart couldn't take it. The war lasted 5 years from there.

From that day on, a small hatred had grew for the English man. And every war since had stemed from a place of hate. However, ever so often he found that lost fragment of wildness peering through England's dull exterior. And when that happened, he let himself grow closer to him, hoping that he will be able to feel as good as he felt with him all those years ago.

[cahmilo]

After reading about the Caño Cristales river (the place that was an inspiration to Encanto), I have this really trippy camilo x reader fiction that I thought of.

It revolves around two lovers in different dimensions who live in the same physical reality but cannot meet,

yet.

p.s: this contains mentions of alternate dimensions and parallel realities. if you're a reality shifter pls be warned. ++ adding my taglist bcs even if this isnt a proper fic, i feel like its worth sharing yall to hihihihihih

You and Camilo jolt up in bed at the same time, in each other's beds at each other's house. Eerily enough, something is different about this day.

After days of doing chores, Camilo wanders on a secret garden hidden by the bushes at the back of Casita, he falls in love with the scenery and makes it his new safe refuge.

He comes back on a sudden evening to the same secret garden, only to stumble upon hundreds of paper planes scattered along the rocks.

Inside the paper planes contain letters; journals from someone whom he didn't know of. Thinking that the person who was once there probably left it there, he decides to write back.

Coming back to the same garden, you unknowingly question the weird person writing letters to you back.

After days of writing back and forth, it is then that both of you and Camilo realized that you live in different dimensions, but at the same physical reality.

Camilo finds some strange attraction to you, and you find admiration in him despite not knowing what each other looked like. You are an artist therefore you were able to draw yourself while Camilo was an amazing writer that wrote detailed descriptions about his features.

It happened, falling in love with someone you interacted, but never met.

This went on for longer, both of you thought you were delusional, a fragment of a lover created only from the reciprocation of a strange presence.

It was not until then, Camilo's life was falling apart. His families magic, breaking; his cousin, living his uncles vision that everyone feared of.

Unbeknownst to him, when Casita crumbled into pieces, you were along the radius. Since you both lived in the same physical world, you died after the separation of the mountains, falling into the cracks from the dying magic.

Camilo was distraught, no longer were you interacting with him with letters and paper planes. He thought that you were a fragment of illusion from the miracle's magic, and when it died, it brought you away from him as well.

Filled with derealization and hallucinations, Camilo grows insane. Day by day without his magic and you, it was like he lost his identity.

One day, he ventures to the Caño Cristales river, a magical place where the river glows in various colors.

Distracted and depressed, he dips in and drowns.

But all of a sudden while beneath the water, something pulls him up. Camilo's unconscious state rests while the strange entity pulls him up from the river and then back to the riverbank.

Camilo wakes up to a whole new feeling. His surroundings felt different than his usual sighting. The place glowed in orange hues, a color that indicates change. There were butterflies everywhere, a symbolism of metamorphosis, change.

The one insane thought in his brain told him that he shifted into another reality; one of which was different from his own.

Hastily, he runs back to the Casita to confirm his thoughts but alas, there is no Casita, no Madrigals, no village, just a plain empty valley. Nothing but vegetation around him.

Camilo was lost.

Not until he saw a figure running through the trees and chased it.

It was you.

Finally meeting you, both of you melt into each others embrace, taking in the sight of how each other looked.

He was finally happy, but deep down he wished he was back to his physical, original reality that despite you being apart, he gets to live a normal life.

You noticed his hesitation and deep down, you wanted the same too. So you explained the things you have theorized about the situation.

The cause of your death was from the domino effect from Camilo's dimension. The Madrigal's magic crumbled in his dimension and eventually led to your fall from the large cracks on the mountains.

But,

The Caño Cristales river is an outlet for change. The various colors beneath the surface allows you to shift into different dimensions, different realities. And since you both died, you from impact and him from drowning, you were both brought to the afterlife. The physical reality for those who weren't living no more.

You suggested to Camilo to dive into the river, while holding each others hand. You thought that if you both travel into another reality while being physically connected, it would take you to the same one.

Though hesitant, there was a risk.

A risk that it may not work.

A risk that may alter the timeline.

Camilo and you reassured each other. "Think of the day we both met, maybe we can come back to that world".

Both of you dove in to the rainbow-hued mirror. A love dive. Holding each other so tightly afraid to let go. Still holding on, both of you blacked out.

You and Camilo jolt up in bed at the same time, in each other's beds at each other's house. Eerily enough, something is different about this day.

After days of doing chores, Camilo wanders on a secret garden hidden by the bushes at the back of Casita, he falls in love with the scenery and makes it his new safe refuge.

He comes back on a sudden evening to the same secret garden, only to stumble upon hundreds of paper planes scattered along the rocks.

But as soon as his hand landed on one of the paper planes, he felt a warm palm rest on his hand. Camilo looked up to the soft hand grasping his,

It was you.

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[nohaijiachi]

Be free, plot bunny

I have this omen twins plotbunny that's been gnawing at the back of my head for weeks now and it's driving me insane, but I'm already busy enough as it is and don't have time to embark in the journey of writing another longass fic, so I'm gonna share in super abridged mode: When Godfrey is divested of Grace and banished from the Lands Between, he decides he's going to bring the twins with him, even if it goes against the will of his beloved Marika. He just can't stand the thought of leaving them rotting in the sewers, so he attempts a rescue mission.

Things don't go exactly to plan and he ends up only being able to grab Morgott and run, forced to leave Mohg behind. The twins are young enough that given time Morgott would not remember his brother so, even if it breaks his heart, Godfrey decides to never tell Morgott the truth...  Or, at least, only tells him part of the truth, simply omitting Mohg's existence. So at the start Morgott keeps asking and crying for his brother, but as he grows, being told there is no brother, he forgets about him and becomes an adult convinced the vague memories he still has  are only old fragments of childhood imagination. He grows up in a more or less stable-er situation, son of the chieftain and surrounded by the trusted crucible knights under his father's command who do not abhor him for being an Omen. 

He'd probably be a lot more well adjusted than canon Morgott, overall (even if I still imagine life is hard, out there in the badlands) But how did things go for Mohg? As you can imagine, huh.... Not well. Now completely alone and imprisoned in the bowels of Leyndell, baby Mohg does not understand where his father and brother went, why they are not coming back to him. The memory of Morgott held in Godfrey's arms, reaching out to him in tears, calling his name, is all but seared in his memory like fire. He grows convinced their father took Morgott away from him, and the solitude and complete lack of anyone giving him even a smidge of affection (omen twins care for each other it's canon I don't make the rules)  basically makes it so Mohg grows up even more unhinged than canon Mohg. He surely still ends up communing with the Formless Mother, but where canon Mohg wants to challenge the status quo and instate himself in a position of power (if in a highly debatable manner) this Mohg only has one objective: lay absolute waste to all those who wronged him. (Now that I think about it, perhaps it'd be more apt to have him commune with the Flame of Frenzy in this one lol) So idk, Formless Mother or Flame of Frenzy, it doesn't really matter much, what matters is that news of the complete devastation that has spread all over the Lands Between gets even out there in the badlands, soon followed by the new mad monarch's intentions to expand his path of destructive conquest. Then... Idk, Mohg on a rampage gets out there, meets his long lost brother who he probably thought dead and mourned every single day (extra angst bonus: what if in his madness Mohg has been consistently hallucinating what he remembered of Morgott spurring him and encouraging him on his path of destruction) and needless to say the encounter is... Something else. Cannot decide myself if Mohg would end up crumbling at Morgott's feet, too overcome by contrasting feelings to even know what to do, or if he'd be so enraged the destruction he rained on the Lands Between will look like a cakewalk by comparison. As I don't know how it would all end. The inevitable nature of plotbunnies. SO THERE, BUNNY, YOU ARE FREE IN THE WILD NOW, LEAVE ME THE F ALONE AND GO EAT SOME GRASS OR SOMETHING