Tumgir
#ghostly mushies
ruinedlibraries · 9 months ago
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creepy + ghostly mushrooms
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likealittleheartbeat · 4 months ago
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if u like avatar the last airbender for the rich atmospheric rural-folkloric scenery, the moments of meditative tone and pacing, and the mysterious cosmic spirits influenced by Shinto and other animist belief systems, all along the lines of princess Mononoke or Pan’s Labyrinth, y’all best also be checking out the anime Mushi-shi. It’s a dark slow-paced episodic show about a medicine-man type who drifts across the countryside guiding people through their encounters with ghostly nature spirits.
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nobathroombreak · 5 days ago
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hi lol this is the previous anon about the aot girls ask, maybe historia? No one would expect her to destroy a bathroom👀
cute!! I could def see Hisu in season three (when the survey corp is wanted and low on supplies) getting unlucky with expired rations. just waking up in the middle of the night, all sweaty. her tummy is gurgling and sloshing up a crampy pressure that has her feeling so bloated. immediately, she curls in on herself, cupping her noisy gut, whimpering a little. honestly, she’s surprised the watery growls from her midsection haven’t woken her squadmates, since they’re all camping out in the same abandoned mill house, and maybe her fellow soldiers have been roused and are laying awake wondering whose stomach could be that upset to be making those awful sounds. Historia tries to tell herself that she can wait till morning, she can hold it, it’s definitely NOT the trots— until a short wet toot slips from between her clenched buns like a letter from a mail slot. her un-Christa-like fart prints a brown stain on her underclothes and has her jumping up and waddling for the mill house bathroom. she passes Levi on guard duty, who has the grace to look away but the nerve to say “try not to make too much noise.” because even he knows about the ungodly chemical reactions happening in poor Historia’s bowels. she makes it to the bathroom, rips off her ghostly nightgown and discolored undies, bares her quivering cheeks and plunks down on the cold toilet seat. immediately, her fair butt blows with explosive diarrhea. doubled over, one hand clutching her sick belly, the other gripping the seat, as though preparing for lift-off with ODM gear. Historia’s waves of mushy poop covers the bowl water in a scummy greenish-brown mud, like floating algae pools. her spluttering farts explode from her little hole like gunfire. shameful tears prick at the corner of her eyes as she stinks up the bathroom. and they want me to be queen, Historia thinks bitterly.
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opaldraws · a year ago
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✨💗 Harringrove Feedback Fest 💗✨
This fandom is so full of amazing creators and if you're seeing this post and you've ever created anything for this wonderful fandom, I APPRECIATE YOU!!
✨Artists✨
@awrble Awrble's art is the reason I discovered harringrove! One of their pieces popped up on my dashboard and I was like "Oh! I've never thought of Billy and Steve together!?" and then everything spiralled out of control. Their art is excellent and I go through their art tag frequently! This piece they did for the zine makes my heart so mushy and this piece is just so playful and cute!
@juu-riin Julie's art constantly makes my day better, whether it's a stream of doodles like these, a fluffy piece like this, or something SPICY like this !!
@lazybakerart Ever since I found their blog when I first joined this fandom, I thought their art was the most creative and visually compelling art I had ever seen! I frequently scroll through their art because I aspire to have the same grasp on color that they do! Like this piece is so perfect!! And I completely adore this one!!
@ihni Ihni's drawings always make me smile! I think that they are so creative and funny and it shows through their art! Like I laughed out loud at this one! And this piece is so perfect for Billy and Steve
@swimbirdyswim Their art is so dynamic and cool! I totally adore this piece and this one is AWESOME! And they have some really cute and soft drawings that just melt my heart!! Like this one!
@b-leach-ing Their art is so sweet! I especially really love this one!! And omg these holiday drawings are just too adorable!!
@dearvenison How could I ever get over this STUNNING piece?! This tender moment is captured so well and if this isn't canon in s4 I'm gonna riot!! Their art is just so amazing!
@ezisdrawing Ez's art is so full of life! I love how they draw Joe and their nb Steve pieces are my absolute favorite! Like these ones! They're just so cute! And this most recent drawing omg! It's so lovely!
@darkmystdrake Annie's art is so spicy and hot! Every time I see it, I notice how dynamic the poses are! And I always appreciate the piercings added onto the boys! This is one of my favs of Steve! And damn! THIS ONE IS AMAZING!
@avalonlights Their art is so so so wonderful! They set a scene beautifully and every piece of theirs just pulls me in! Like I still think about this one a year later! And this piece! Billy and Steve look so in love and the relationship is expressed perfectly! I just love love love their art so much!
@deardmvz Marilyn's art is so fun!! They have so many fresh and interesting ideas and I love seeing what they come up with! Like this vamp Billy is so cool! And this piece is so sweet and beautiful!
@kingsandsaints Their art is unbelievable! Every time I see their art I am in awe of it! Like this piece is insane?! I could stare at it forever!! And omg I love this punk Billy art!!
✨Editors/Gif Makers✨
@memes-saved-me Their photo edits are so distinct and identifiable! And their video edits are always so cool to watch!
@hoegrove I LOVE the gifsets that they make, they're so creative and fun!
✨Blogs I Could Scroll Through For Hours✨
@smashmouth-hargrove - idk how to explain it, but I have actually spent *hours* reading through their writing. You can just tell that they have fun with what they're writing and that makes it fun to read!
@rascheln/@steviespanties Rina's writing is so amazing! They have so many creative and dirty ideas and I can't get enough of them!
@draculcid Not only is their writing amazing, they make some really great edits! I really enjoy reading their responses to asks and they have so much creativity!
@yikesharringrove Yikes has written so many of my favorite fics and I love seeing how they expand on the prompts they receive! I remember the first time I found their blog and I spent like 2 weeks devouring all of their writing,, it was awesome
@ghostofjellyfishforgotten I have read so many ficlets from them and they are always so well written and interesting! And there are so many posts that have paragraphs of tags under them that are amazing! (And they wrote some jestor/king smut months ago that I can't find anymore AND IT'S LIKE ONE OF MY FAV FICS I'VE EVER READ AND I THINK ABOUT IT ALL THE TIME)
✨Fics✨
in the locust wind by @hectordelavega - pls understand that this fic completely ruined me. it's perfect. it's been like a month since i read this and i still think about it all the time.
Walking Home (v)., the Tourniquet by @passivenovember - Jaz's writing is so lovely, I have reread so many of their fics and they even wrote me one that is incredibly adorable T^T BUT back on topic, this fic is everything! Jaz has a way of writing Billy and Steve that is just so perfect, and I love their dynamic in this fic!
orange juice by @aspartaeme - this fic is so fun! I love how thirsty Steve and Billy are for each other and I really enjoyed the whole premise of this fic!
Took it all and took the dirt road home by @nagdabbit - this short lil fic is so soft and emotional,, it just feels so hopeful
with every several pleasure in the world by @rvspberryjvm - I completely adore this fic with my whole heart! Jones is a fantastic writer and their talent truly shines in this fic (and all of their fics)!
Billy Hargrove’s Exploration of Beauty (series) by @mourntheantagonist - this series is amazing! I love how Mandi has Billy and Steve address gender stereotypes and lets Billy explore his gender expression!
Sweet Wonderful You by @cherrydreamer - the way this fic stole my heart! it's just so soft and adorable and Steve and Billy are just the best bfs to each other :') Cherry's writing is so fantastic!
Lonely Hearts Club by @shewritesdirty - this fic (like all of Cait's fics) is so wonderfully written and once I started reading it, I just couldn't stop! It's got the perfect mix of humor, tenderness, and smut!
Plant Your Feet by PeckishDragon - this fic is so sweet,, I will always have a soft spot for dads!harringrove and Billy is just the best dad in this :')
you act so pure (i know you're laced) by @softjish - this fic. THIS FIC. IT IS SO TENDER AND IT BREAKS MY HEART AND PUTS IT BACK TOGETHER IN 5K WORDS.
seventh inning stretch by @holdenduckfield - Idk anything about baseball, but I *do* know that I adore Jill's writing! I love how competitive the boys are in this and how their rivalry evolves!
Bad dog, no biscuits by @catharrington - this is f i l t h y and perfect in every way! Steve is so dominant and he takes care of Billy so well! I am 100% convinced this is how Tina's Halloween party ended.
i'm falling now, but it's so wrong by @hartigays - Ouch this fic has a lovely balance of hurt comfort and it is a great read! I remember I read it all in one go because I just got so hooked!
I Ain’t Fraid Of No Ghosts by @heck-in-a-handbasket - this fic has a special place in my heart bc I love ghost Billy! Reading how Steve dealt with Billy's ghostly shenanigans was hilarious and when they finally become *acquainted*, they work so well together!
@gothyringwald thank you for putting this little love fest together!
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aenaxes · 12 months ago
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PANSLALSOKAAOOSKWOAMSNA CONGRATS ON 200 BESTIE!! YOU DESERVE ALL THE LOVE, SUPPORT, AND EVEN MORE!! YOU ARE SO TALENTED NOT ONLY WHEN IT COMES TO WRITING BUT ALSO YOUR ART TOO!!! If you wouldn't mind, I would like to request a sfw to nsfw with Hardcase? The song that makes me thing of him every damm time, I have no clue why, is Ribs by Lorde. For pronouns would be she/her and if you would like to know, I'm about 5'2" with blue eyes, mid back length half dyed hair, the colors I have dyed my hair are purple, blue, and pink!! Even if you don't do this, just know that I wouldn't mind and I'm always happy with seeing you write whatever you want because you are so talented and keep me very well fed 😌🤲💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖
we'll make it (divine)
[hardcase x f!reader] loving hardcase is something akin to falling in love all over again and again every time he knocks on your door and pulls you into his arms.
warnings: nsfw, outdoor sex, mushy gooey feelings
w/c: 3.0k
a/n: sage my darling 🥺 ily bb mwah <3 i'm going to be completely honest writing this made me fall so so so much more in love with hardcase (bless u for that)
event details here! requests will be open until july 4th!
“Hey!” Hardcase greets you with that very specific sort of glee only he knows, breathless and bright-eyed as your door slides open.
The durasteel parts to reveal him and a shiny keyring lifted eye-level to the blue ink arcing over his temple. The sparse assortment of bronze and silver speeder keys jangle against a polished leather keyfob as he shakes his fist with boyish, giddy joy. It’s one that, you might add, isn’t exactly fitting of Hardcase’s rough-and-tumble style—ergo, keys that don’t belong to him—and one that begets a few questions as you raise a pointed brow in his direction.
Hardcase only grins wider.
But before you can ask if those are—and they definitely are—the keys to Jesse’s planetside speeder, Hardcase shoots his other hand forward and wiggles his fingers between yours, tugging you into the glare of the fluorescent hallway lights and squeezing snug.
“Don’t have much time,” he nods earnestly. “You ready to go?”
“Go where?” you laugh as he stuffs the keys into the pocket of his bomber, tearing his attention away from you if only to shoot a hasty glance over his shoulder. But you’re stepping forwards anyways, crowding up against his side as your door slides shut behind you.
“Out, duh,” Hardcase says with a scrunch of his nose, the telltale twitch of his left cheek that you immediately recognize as a silent, animated, ‘isn’t it obvious?’ He punctuates his response with a quick squeeze over your hand, and his smile grows wider when you tip your head back and laugh.
“How much of a head start do you have on him?”
“I have about a hallway lead,” he says, sheepish if not for the excitement in his voice. “C’mon! He’ll beat my ass if we don’t get moving!”
You might not exactly know what’s going on, because for all the spontaneous and oftentimes questionable visits from Hardcase that you’ve come to expect as part of your regular routine, Hardcase carried with him some mischievous ingenuity to surprise you each and every time. But you can’t help but mirror the contagious delight in his grin as you squeeze his hand and take off behind him.
And it’s the natural thing to do, the ebb and flow of alternating surprises: Hardcase poking into your room well past lights out with Tup’s holo and a bootlegged movie, and you meeting him with two glasses of single malt whiskey before both promptly gagging on your first sips. It had always been like that ever since you had, quite literally, knocked heads with Hardcase in the corridors of your first jedi cruiser assignment, running a bit too fast a bit too far.
A bit of carefree joy, a bit of light, you think as you run past a loose group of shinies, the squeak of your boots blending with your stifled giggling. And when Hardcase turns his head to check if you’re still there (as if he’s not squeezing your hand tight), you see him as he is, a sturdy piton to keep your hold against war’s steep shear.
“Hurry, hurry!” he laughs as you run through the open blast doors. His voice rises above the motions of the hangar bay like the sweetest song, hoarse and free.
You open your mouth to say something along the lines of ‘I’m trying!’ but your mouth fills with the cool air of the Ansion night, sweet with the fragrance of grass, organic and good over the labored exhaust of the base. And instead of words, laughter, bright and loud, bubbles from your chest.
As soon as you’re entering the hangar bay, you already find yourself at its opposite end. Hardcase’s fingertips dig firm into the soft curve of your waist as he hurriedly but no less gently lifts you off your feet and onto the back of Jesse’s bike. With one final look over his shoulder, Hardcase clambers on after you, jamming the keys into ignition and revving the engine to life.
The low thrum of the bike drowns out Jesse’s muted yelling from across the landing as you peel away from the bay. But above Jesse’s fading shouts, above the rumble of eight durasteel cylinders underneath you, all you can hear is Hardcase’s whoops of pure joy when you wrap your arms tight around his waist and press your ear behind his beating heart.
The recycled hangar bay air gives way to something earthy and warm. You breathe deep, even with the speeder ramped up as fast as you think it could possibly go, and your lungs fill with the fading ghosts of sunlight and Hardcase’s cologne as you squeeze your arms around him and imagine the floodlights of the base blinking out behind you.
It’s only when the bike beneath you sputters to a halt and the roar of the engine gives way to the broad silence, curling over the hilltop on the rich and cool midnight winds, that you turn your head and see Hardcase without the giddy thrill of impromptu adventure.
Hardcase hops off the speeder, wobbling once on his feet with a breathless laugh as he hits solid ground. You watch from your perch on the back of the bike as he dusts off his jeans and shoves the keys into the pocket of his GAR bomber. It’s the one that fits one size too small, pulling at the edges of his shoulders as he rises to his full stature under the glow of twin moons.
But when Hardcase turns around to face you, all wind-kissed cheeks and rosy glow that reaches his eyes, the playful tease dies on your tongue.
“Your hair’s a mess,” he says softly as he tilts his head to the side to flash you a smile. He saunters forwards, eyes gleaming with starlight, and finds home between your thighs with a sigh you almost lose to the rising wind.
He shrugs off his bomber, his face scrunching up in the way that makes you both laugh when his arm catches on the tight pull of leather, and he sweeps it behind you to set it snug over your shoulders. And when you’re snug under his jacket, he lifts his hands to your temples, fingertips ghosting over your skin as he gently pushes your tousled hair behind your ears.
You let your eyelids flutter shut, relishing in the careful touch you know he only reserves for you, nothing like the playful roughhousing and loving shoves he exchanges in the barracks. It’s a slow deliberation, callused fingertips tracing over your scalp, sending shivers down your spine as he strokes from your hairline and arcs over the crown of your head, fingertips giving way to his warm palm cupping at the apex of your neck.
And it doesn’t take wide eyes to know that when his motions stutter to a pause, when you hear him inhale through his nose, that he’s watching you with that unnameable warmth: the one that settles deep and wide in his dark eyes, fingertips hovering just close enough over your skin that you feel the heat radiating across that small breadth between you, wondering how he got so lucky, reveling in how he got so lucky.
You know the feeling. (You feel the same.)
You open your eyes, and Hardcase is there. He is there, bathed in the endless starscape above, but all he can see is you, reflected back at you in fond eyes you commit to memory each and every time.
“I think I’m in love with you,” Hardcase whispers. He lifts one hand to rub over the back of his neck and brings the other flush over the curve of your knee with the boyish shyness of twinkling eyes and starstruck joy that had roped you into his gravity the first time he’d stumbled into your path.
“You’d better be,” you snort, tugging his jacket close to your collar as he shifts his palm higher. There is playfulness, just a flash, but it soon gives way to something warm and low in your belly.
The small, slow movements of his thumb over your thigh strike a warmth that chases the midnight wind’s cold, spreading in thrumming waves over your chest. It emboldens you like a neat shot of whiskey, thrown back at once, swallowed down with raucous laughter, the noise and the lights faded away under the open sky, warm, warm, warm, and you reach up to curl your fingers over the hand at his neck, pulling him close.
You lean forwards, touching your brow to his, and just before you slide your eyes shut, you catch the look in his deep brown eyes. It reminds you of the first time you bore witness to the ghostly blue lights of a hyperspace jump, entranced in honest wonder as he stands between your thighs.
Because it’s you. It’s you, it’s you, it’s you—a warm and bright place to call home. It’s always been you. And Hardcase melts into your touch as you brush close.
“‘cause I think I’m in love with you, too.”
He laughs, and it’s a new sound in the night. It’s not quite relief, nor is it that exuberant glee from your sprint down the base halls. When you think back on it, it was understanding, your secret for two.
“I love you,” Hardcase says again, stronger, convicted, something closer to an earnest prayer than words alone as he looks up at you and greets you with the galaxy bright in his eyes. Not a soldier, not one of millions, just him; firm muscle between your thighs, breaths ghosting over your collar, fingertips pressing warmth into your ribs as he snakes his palms under your shirt and pulls you close.
Just yours.
You’re not sure who kisses who first, too full of a rapturous swell that blooms through your chest. But it doesn’t really matter. Not when Hardcase’s lips curl close against yours, wind-chapped and dry but so, so warm as he presses his fingertips into the skin of your back and pulls you close against him.
When his kiss is broken by the cold air, bitter in comparison to his touch, you let a whimper roll from your tongue. Brief as the interruption may be, it’s an interruption all the same.
Hardcase humors you with a quick peck to the corner of your mouth. But he’s quick to make up for that split second of lost time as he throws his leg over the side of the bike, his knees knocking against yours as he takes a seat before you. In his lovestruck daze, he sweeps his arms wide, letting that brief moment of giddy glee pass over his cheeks before he brings his hands over your waist and gently tugs onto his lap.
“Isn’t this Jesse’s bike?” you sigh dreamily when Hardcase thumbs over the crease of your thighs and noses up against the edge of your jaw, sending want snaking up your spine.
“He doesn’t need to know,” Hardcase says with a noise somewhere between dismissal and apathy as he shrugs and rolls his eyes.
“Oh, gross,” and you stick out your tongue as if you aren’t already aching at the thought of straddling his lap and letting him stretch you open under the starscape above.
Hardcase simply shrugs and brings his hand to his chin to offer you his best glamour face in return.
You make quick work of your slacks, kicking them off to the side while Hardcase fumbles with his fly. It’s awkward, if only by the fact that you’re balanced atop each other on the delicate wobble of the hover generator, elbows bumped close in a gentle fumbling that’s simply too genuine to be embarrassing anymore. You’ve done this too many times, shoved up in dark closets and hidden spaces of cruiser corridors, never truly satiated, never having taken your fill.
It’s not awkward—just endearing, you decide as you shift your hips forward and feel the blunt head of his cock dip up between your thighs.
As you sink down onto his lap, the speeder wobbles beneath you, and you fling your arms around him with a half-squeal half-moan, dropping down onto his cock in one smooth movement that sends a shudder through you both.
There is some solace in knowing that if the bike did tip over, that Hardcase would go down with you, his arms tight around your waist as he nuzzles into your chest and laughs. Commitment, you think as your heart bangs up against your ribs, a bit silly and very much dangerous, but commitment that warms you to your core.
“It’s all you, baby,” Hardcase whispers as you finally peel yourself away from him and lean back just enough to catch a full view of his face.
You don’t think you’ll ever get used to it. How could you? How could you assign to the mundane the sweet ease of trust sloped over his brow as he looks up at you like you’re the only thing in the midnight sky, the only thing in his universe?
“Lazyass,” you snort, and he laughs.
But clever quips and snarky remarks are forgotten for the night when you carefully lift your hips, knees quivering over the hard press of the bike, and rock back down onto his lap.
Hardcase fills you in the way only he can, toeing that fine line between easy comfort and the satisfying burn of being split open and squeezed breathless.
You sink down with a whimpering gasp, toes curling when you feel him buck up into the soft spot inside you that whites out your vision. Choking on your own moan, you let your head drop down onto his shoulder, already rendered boneless and pliant around him. You fist tight into the soft fabric of his shirt, cunt spasming around him, and you hold tighter when his hips jerk up again.
“I got you, baby. I got you,” Hardcase mumbles into your shoulder, trailing his lips to the base of your neck and kissing sweet. His arms squeeze around your waist once and anchor you close. And he is there, curled everywhere around you, holding you close as the wind rises broad and far between the grassy plains and the universe overhead.
Where else could you ever want to be?
You want to laugh when you remember Hardcase leaving the pace to you as you feel his palms knead into your hips. But it comes out as a soft sigh when he hefts you halfway off his cock and fucks you down onto him again. All you can do is wrap your arms around his neck and hold as he starts a steady pace.
You won’t last long like this—neither of you will, not when you’re bared to the open sky and yet the closest you’ve ever felt to each other in a long while.
Hardcase breaks your dreamy longing with an uneven jerk of his hips. He’s close, and like muscle memory, he immediately drags one hand over the curve of your thigh to find the soft skin where you part around him. But you’re quick to react to him, grabbing his wrist as you sink down onto him with a soft moan.
“Already feels good,” you gasp, meeting him through the blurry haze of the tears dotting your lashes. You can just make out his wide eyes, and you choke out an unsteady laugh. “Hold me, ‘Case. Just hold me.”
“Okay, yeah,” Hardcase babbles, holding you flush on his lap and coaxing a soft sob from your lips. He brings his arms around your ribs, nestling his cheek against your chest, right above your beating heart. “Anything for you, baby.”
And that’s all it takes.
You come with a whimpering cry, and pleasure, luxuriant and warm, floods through your core as you bow forward and clutch tight to Hardcase’s neck.
It’s too much but only in the best of ways. Hardcase gives you little time to breathe, shedding the last dregs of restraint to press you down hard onto his lap and fuck as deep as he can go. Feeling your own high, Hardcase takes his fill and bends you to his pleasure, fucking into you for himself. And you swear you feel it in your throat as he lifts you up to the blunt ridge of his tip and brings you back down all at once.
“I love you,” Hardcase chants, breathy and low as he spills into your pulsing cunt. Your soft moans twine with his own as a second orgasm shocks through you, pulled over the edge again by his words alone. “I love you, I love you.” And he crushes his lips against yours and swallows your honeyed confessions with his tongue.
You feel him come down from his high with you. Your breathing blends as one until you’re gasping softly against each other, having long since parted and pressed your heads close, brow-to-brow, nose-to-nose. You vaguely remember it meaning something to the good brothers of the GAR, and while you can’t quite place a finger on what it was, all you know right now is that it’s closeness beyond physicality alone. And you feel Hardcase’s breaths level out and fan over the sweat on your collar, all you find yourself able to do is press even closer.
And when the ringing in your ears subsides, when you no longer feel your chests heaving against each other, you slowly open your eyes and find Hardcase already there, dopey-eyed and blinking slowly as he meets your gaze.
“Hey,” you whisper, drawing back.
The wind rises again, cool and sharp as it curls and eddies around you.
“Hey,” he replies. Gingerly, immersed in the sudden stillness, Hardcase lifts his hand from your back and brings his knuckles to your cheek to brush soft over the sweat and bliss over your skin.
“I love you,” you say, and the words curl over your tongue, shy and true all at once, like it’s the first time all over again.
“Yeah?”
You can’t mistake the spark that alights over Hardcase’s eyes as anything but breathless joy, genuine and raw and perfect because no matter how many times you said it, the simple power remained. The vastness of a night sky, stars exploding to life, with no clear centre but him and his soft smile that puts the moonlight to shame.
You love him.
You do.
“Good,” he grins. “‘Cause I love you, too.”
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jainankiem · 6 months ago
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can you hear me? : KOTLC
word count: 1070
triggers: non-canonical/implied d//th (pretty much the entire keeper crew), graveyards, self-care issues, demons, slight violence this is just. really sad ig-
a.n. : *grins* i will never be sorry for this-
his shoes squeak loudly, even in the mushy grass as he walks up to his destination in the pouring rain.
perhaps the dark clouds above him represent his life, his destiny, his future. or maybe they just are there to spite tam song, to yell 'haha, got you there!' everytime he screwed up. or maybe it reveals the shadows, both in his palms and in his mind. maybe it curled up against him when his feelings took a dark turn, when nothing is left in his thoughts but a slurry of doubt and fear.
most days, he can keep it at bay, never letting it get through his walls. but they're starting to crumble, and soon they might just demolish entirely, falling to the ground and letting the demons take full reign on his life.
(now, the thunder rumbles in the distance and he kneels in front of the large trees in front of him-)
this is a graveyard, where the daydreams avoid it and the nightmares are welcome. it is a graveyard where nothing can be heard other than the ghostly wails of the deceased and the regretful. everything is a varying shade of gray or black, no brightness or light to hinder the view. here, the truth is laid out bare, with thin veils made of secrecy that surrounds their tragic demise.
and it is here that tam song comes here to mourn, to mourn his friends. the friends he couldn't save. here, he honors the ones he told his secrets to and the ones he never really knew. the one at the far right holds the mark of one of his best friends, biana vacker. he remembers aer sparkling teal eyes, aer lilting laugh, the way aer arms would slice through the air as ae threw aer goblin stars. he wishes that he knew aer more, even if ae considered him to be aer best friend in life and beyond. aer leaves are tinted deep brown, with orange tints to represent the orange tunic, golden bangles, and marigolds ae wore the day of the war. the flowers on it are a brilliant teal that shine under the flashlight that tam brings with him to see.
(maybe it's his eyes burning, or perhaps it is simply the water-)
next to her is dex dizznee, who was never really that talkative with everyone but always managed to save a slice of mallowmelt when tam locked himself in his room from the sharp claws that were slashing through his sanity. their wanderling bears the symbol of Technopaths, a pathetic spring or two along with some human technologies that tam didn't bother to identify embedded into the roots. periwinkle leaves along with strawberries dot the tree's surface.
(and tam has to start pinching himself not to cry-)
on the other side, fitz vacker and sophie foster are next to each other, their limbs tangled with another's as if they are even united after their parting. by the looks of it (and out of tam's own stupidity and curiosity), they were probably having one of their telepathic conversations about how idiotic keefe was being up there.
(which wasn't all fake-)
with the air around the three wanderlings smelling of cotton candy and cologne, his eyes start to burn with unshed tears and sorrow, yet he manages to save them for the last two trees that are between the four trees, standing so tall and yet hunched over so slightly that tam almost mistakes them for being the actual people he misses the most.
(it was probably insanity, that's what, no one reimagines their loved ones back from the dead-)
the first thing that he is hit with is how utterly linh the first tree looks like. soft, pink flowers with black roots that edge into silver towards the stems connecting the blue leaves. the air is hot and humid around the three beings, and tam can almost swear he hears a soft giggle escape from the area around linh's wanderling. it haunts him to his very bones, settling like an unspoken yet unwanted fact in the open. it starts to bend a little towards the boy due to the wind, but then tilts towards the wanderling that embodies the vacker girl, and the cold feeling of salty water upon his cheeks and mouth wakes him up and he hastily wipes them away.
it pains him, that everyone has someone else. to lean on, to be weak upon, someone who will understand the little self-deprecating joke they make or their shut doors. tam used to have someone like that, someone who he has now taken their entire pains into the small vessel that is his body. they stew and ferment in him, each conjuring illusions so horrifying that he wakes up every morning in a sweat, his breathing hard and labored with the darkness that lurks nearby.
(last but not least, his broken and tattered affections-)
sunshine yellow leaves. ice blue stems and roots. green carnations that were tinted with silvery blue sprouted all over the tree itself. that is all that tam allows himself to see, and it's this wanderling that he starts to sob, the cries of hurt soon turning into screams. the rain only falls harder, and shadows start circling around him. they latch onto him, fangs wide open and grinning, while tam can do nothing more than unleash a guttural cry as the demons reign havoc across the scene. he is thrown against keefe's wanderling, his head snapping back as blackness starts to spot all over his vision.
"you thought it was over," a voice echoes from no possible direction. it is from nowhere and from everywhere, yet tremors occur through tam's hands. a ghoulish smirk is painted on his lips as he then responds to the trees that have leaned in to listen to the boy's response.
(you thought i was worth saving-)
with that, he stands up on shaky limbs, the darkness around him in disgust and vengeful glances as tam song walks away, his heart in tatters and his soul beyond repair. but then he turns, sparing one more longing look at the wanderling in the middle, its limbs swaying due to the wind and the rainfall. a million words flit through his face, a thousand proclamations he could have said. i'm sorry. why did you. i love you.
he does not say any of those things.
taglist and people i kinda wanted to tag: @manyreasonstoworry @if-only-wishes-were-answered @spellbound-fire @sophiesencen @queersofthelostcities @silveredviolets @lynolagranolababyyy @keefes-hairgel @platytheplatypode @ploofyfun @witchy-like-love (
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illyrian-lover-flower · a year ago
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Day 3:  Spies at work
Thank you so much @elrielmonth​ for planning this wonderful event and all the lovely prompts😊😘
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The secrets shadows share
word count: ~4 k
It was the quietest as it had been in months. No laughter or agitated chatting breezed through the air or through the river estate, as merely the wind sang today. Bringing the sweet seer a lullaby of pure peace as her lithe hands kneaded the weed out of the earth in front of her, as if it were a loath of delicious bread, about to unfold its true flavour in the hot depths of a spacious oven, which graced the kitchen. 
Though, of course, would she never bake the earth -she was no little child of the age of six anymore- but this earth she tended to would be the oven for hundreds and hundreds of flower seeds. Nurturing them among the mushy grounds until their heads peaked through the layer of mud, eager to feel the shining light of the sun on their petals.
And the flowers were not the only ones craving the touch of sunlight, as the caressing warmth was her only distraction at the moment, of the things which reeled through her head and loved to remember her of what this day might bring.
The twins had asked her to gather some information’s regarding the clipping of Illyrian females at an Illyrian camp, which rested at the feet of the first mountain in the Illyrian Mountains, their latest observations had stated that the number of clippings had increased rapidly -the High Lords law, a mere bump in the road as they overstepped it almost on a daily base. But even if the twins knew of that, they did yet have not gathered much information’s to prove their research and spying. And as all the preparations for Nesta’s Birthday were keeping them busy, Elain was their last card as Azriel himself was away on a mission – this was at least the thought everyone harboured, as there was nothing heard of him for the past two weeks.
The three spies, well two and one in training, had considered the option of telling Rhysand, but as they saw how busy he seemed, building up the structure from his court at the very pit of the beginning while he also tried to be there for is son and wife, who herself had much on her plate to do, made them believe it was better to keep those two out of option. And even if they would have considered it further to tell Rhys and Feyre of their findings, all it would have done would have been, to invoke a duel of blood and war as the Illyrians did not see any further reason to trust their High Lord, when he in return did not offer the same.
And so, sweet Elain would be the one to go, scurrying around the camps as if she were a slave of one of the higher rated Illyrians, while her pointed ears would gather information’s she would whisper and her hands circumstantial evidence she would slip over to the twins once she was done.
It was all just that. Tried Elain to calm her straining nervous as her hands roamed the earth farther and farther, no crumb, as little as it was, untouched by her naked fingers as the coldness caressed her fingertips. She would only gather some information, stay till tomorrow at the camp and then go home again, with, hopefully, some useful information – that was it, so she hoped as dread had long settled into her guts heavy as a rock and screamed for her attention as it placed the scary thought, of what might happen if a clipping were to take place within these days, in her head.
Elain breathed in and out through her nose, as she tried to calm herself further with the musty scent of the wet earth and as she felt, with the slip of time, the sweet kiss of sunlight caressing her skin for a final goodbye, she knew it was time. A final deep breath, that was all she took as she let the chilled air of night fill her lungs, and smeared the earth, that clung to her fingertips, all over her face.
The mushy soil on her face, the first element of her costume she would wear, as she winnowed, with a slight tremble of her body, away into the slowly darker painted room she inhabited at the river estate.
It had taken her a long time to learn this, but the twins had never given up on her, always helping -and motivating- her in their own way, as they hid some ancient recipes, she wanted to try out, from Elain at the place she should winnow to. And it helped, motivated her in a way she had not thought as possible, as she had learned to walk through the folds of this world, like a needle through fabric, at the beginning of the second month they trained with each other. Dark nights and a veil of stars their only witnesses of this training for the past five months, as the moon illuminated Elain’s room with noisy, ghostly hues of silver, which slipped past the billowing sheet of her curtains as the twins were most often there to teach her the ways of the shadow world.
And today, tonight, would be the day she would prove to the two wraiths, with a heart of pure gold, that she did take each and every of their lessons serious as she slipped out of the green gown, of flowing chiffon and let it pool to her feet. A hill, small and delicate forming to her bottom, as the lower seems were stained in the brown of the earth and softly weaved itself higher to the fabric until only the clean green was left. It was a picture of life, one her sisters would have not understood, as they would have merely seen a gown, stained in streaks of dirt, but compared to the rags which she slipped on now, it looked like a piece of pure gold. Even the dress she had worn, back in the little hut , which she could still hear crying after its inhabitants, in her little village, came closer to a gown than the rag she wore now.
Brown, grey and even greenish tatters of fabric were scantily sewn together as they formed the dress, which hang loosely down her body and barely reached those creamy calves of hers as not even a belt hung around her middle. The twins had told her, that if she were to play a slave, she could not have such extravagances, as the long sleeves of her dress were already something most slaves did not have the luxury to wear. So, this sag had to do, along with the head rag she placed carefully over the bronze mass of her hair.
Though it had not taken five minutes for one of the twins, Nuala, to arrive, in a stiffer stance than usual, and decide to do any further adjustments on the seers costume, which mostly related to a small dark dagger which the wraith hid away in the hem of her underwear. “Just in case.” Murmured the twin at her, as she gave the hiding spot of the dagger a little pat to make sure the blade was properly adjusted.
Elain merely offered her beloved friend a fragile smile with a hug as sweet and warm as the sunrise, trying to ease the tension in her, in shadow befogged, shoulders; “I’ll be fine Nuala, don’t worry.” Was all the seer could say in order to prevent the nerves of her friend from snapping, as those cold hands of hers settled around her delicate hips “My sister and I wish you a lot of luck, little fawn, yet luck alone won’t bring you home safely, so please take care of yourself. Avoid any danger you can.”
“I will.” Guaranteed Elain her companion with silent words as they got carried away by the veil of shadows. And before the seer knew it, did she stand at the dark rim of a forest, close to the entrance of the camp, all by herself as the howling wind already tried to pinch her flesh in cold gusts, making her move towards the width of the camp in the hopes of some warmth.
It was mere steps she had to take in order to move inside, yet it were painfully awkward strides as the mushy earth beneath her already seeped through the thin shoe sole of the boots, which were chosen for her. But she couldn’t care, couldn’t complain as all she had in mind was to help the females which needed it most, as her heart was well aware of the bewildering song the wind sung already dozens of times into her ear, whenever she flew with Azriel, which had sadly stopped after the fateful solstice, mere ten months ago. But again, she could not complain about this heart wrenchingly deep pain she felt, could not even think about this, as her ears were to pick up some useful information.
Though as for right now, all she heard was the billowing laugh of males gathered around a giant, cackling, bone fire. Clanking their overfilled mugs together over a good old warriors’ tale one of the males told with great passion, as he showed and demonstrated on the chilly evening air how he had, already hundreds of times, broken the neck of his opponents, in a twisting motion, as if he merely opened a bottle of wine. Elain’s guts twisted at the mere thought of ever witnessing such violence, while the males gathered around the bulky warrior cheered and clapped in adoration of the great tasks he had fulfilled with this single motion, while others eagerly added their own tales and bathed in the adoration and attention their own tasks of violence granted them.
It was a sickening topic to discuss and showed just how much heart these people had here, thought Elain as she scurried between the warriors silently around the bone fire, carrying a mug of heavy ceramic in her own freezing hands as she bowed her head to each warrior and filled the beakers of those which wished for a refill. A mere lift of their massive arm, in which they held their beer, all they had to do to set the steps of the dirty slave, which Elain played, hurrying over the muddy grounds.
“Hey! You have a face?” lulled one of the warriors at her long after the delicate scythe of the moon had taken its residence in the cloak of black velvet. Elain merely ducked her head as the warrior stumbled over his own feet towards her and pressed his filthy fingers below her delicate chin, to make her look at him; “Oh you have. And what a pretty one even.” It was in that moment that she knew how those warriors could commit such acts of bloodshed, as she saw the filthy lust and pure desire burn, as high as the bone fire, behind the males’ green eyes as he merely saw a piece of meat he would devour tonight. The seer had to bite back her scowl, while her gaze, innocent and submissively, lowered itself to the ground again, pleasing the male in front of her as he merely swung and arm around her shoulder and moved her forward to mother knows where.
Her nerves were at edge as he stumbled one drunken step and another one forward, weighing her delicate shoulder with his massive form as he seemed to use the seer more than a walking stick instead of a sweet companion he wanted to coax into his bed and be a lovely toy of great service to him. But who was she to complain? Elain herself merely wondered how many steps the Illyrian could continue taking, until the alcohol, which she had poured him, slowly started to completely take over his and let him forget everything.
However, it had not taken long before those questioned thoughts became reality, a small root – seemingly delicate, yet osseus- peaked out of the ground and let those booted feet trip over the little bow it formed. A yelp of surprise was all that left the males mouth as he fell – and stayed there. Resting, snoring like an infant, on his stomach on the earth.
Elain could do nothing to hide that smirk on her thin lips. Looks like as if fourteen beakers of wine, mixed with beer, were enough to send an overgrown bat, like Nesta loved to mock Cassian, high into the clouds and rest for a good old nap. Which gave Elain time and freedom to scry for what she needed.
It hadn’t taken no more than five minutes for the clever seer to find the tent she was searching for. Glooming, covered in a blanket of beige, did it stand under the moonlight and practically beckoned her to come closer as those heavy curtains billowed in the freezing wind.
There was no hesitance in Elains silent steps as she slipped into the waiting gorge of the specious tent. All sorts of hidden gems -papers, maps, lists which harboured the names of the next females who would lose their wings-  ready to be discovered by the gentle flower grower, who had merely watched out this evening to find a male stupid enough to not know his limits while he would hopefully lead her deeper into the camp.
A thing of secret, loving beauty at his arm as no one would suspect a thing while she silently noted and judged every step which was taken on these grounds. Something the twins had been drilling into her as they claimed that Azriel himself had punctured this into their very skulls.
Azriel, her heart jumped and leaped in joy as she finally allowed the name of this lovely male back in her mind, as she had not let that happen ever since this fateful solstice. This sweet name, those lovely memories, all tainted by a mere string of whispered words which brawled their way into the very core of her body It was a mistake.
Her lithe hands flinched away from the stack of papers she scurried through, as her heart was stabbed with the force of a daggers blade, bleeding silently out inside her chest while she read through paper after paper. A distraction which carried her too far under as those pointed ears of hers did not here the steps of heavy boots trotting through the mud closer and closer to the tent; “Is she captured?” “No not yet sir.”
Elain’s heartbeat ran a hundred miles as she heard those voices louder and louder, their shadows already stretching below the little slit which led to the outside, while the seer could merely panic. Looking around and onto each and every surface she could hid behind or under, but all that she could chose were the desks on which her noisy fingers just rummaged through pile and pile of paper. The only problem was that, even if they were of a size even Rhys and Feyre would envy but was the chosen space for the chair all open. No piece of wood would hide her away and as she already braced herself to winnow did the shadow at the tents entrance rise and rise.
A solid form of night stepping out of the pool of flitting shadows with graceful steps, while those piercing eyes of his skimmed over the room ever the briefest, landing once and for all on her.
There was a taut string between them as both stared into each other’s faces for the longest of time, which they could allow themselves, before Azriel turned his head away to look behind his massive shoulders. A flicker of a question, as bright as all seven of his siphons, danced for a second in his eyes, just like the shadows around those wonderous wings of his, but the moment was broken as soon as she heard those booming voices again.
Elain had known something like that would happen, had felt it creep up to her in her dreams just before she woke, but she did not stray from her path. Did not let anything bad happen if she could prevent it and if her own fate was on the line – she could handle it. Hundreds of fae and human alike had put their life in danger, it was time to repay them.
But before she could steel her spine and look with the greatest of disgust into the face of he two males which would bring her death, did Azriel take two long strides, swept her up in his strong arms and whisked them away into the realm of shadows only to hide in the darkness behind the massive desk.
And apparently did they work just on time as those two males entered the specious room filled of cards and secrets.
It was weird seeing them, a veil of black dust seemingly hiding those two males as if they were a bride who just anticipated the touch of their beloved groom to lift that layer of fabric between them. Elain wondered if it would feel just the same, touching the shadows as if they were a layer of chiffon, but Azriel held her back as she stretched out those pale fingers. His marred flesh caressing hers as his hand clutched tightly around her wrist; “Don’t.” whispered his ravenous voice against the shell of her ear. This strong body of his still pressed against her, fitting this delicate frame of Elains body as if he was a missing puzzle piece finally locking into the right spot, while those two males kept on talking. Exchanging names of the females which were soon to be clipped and the date on which this crippling would take place, all information Elain had already copied onto a piece of paper.
Both fae stiffened, ready to strike, as the two Illyrians kept on talking and talking about the pleasure the humiliation of the females would bring to them, while Elain and Azriel held onto each other for dear life, as the other one with them in the shadows was their lifeline, preventing each other from committing something neither could really clarify, as this was merely an undercover mission neither the High Lord nor the High Lady knew about.
It were these strained moments between her and the shadowsinger, which made her throat log and her heart pound as loud as a war drum against her chest, but apparently was Elain not the only one with strained nerves; “What are you doing here?” pressed the shadowsinger out, the intense stare of his hazel eyes never leaving the wavering form of the males.
The seer knew that no matter if day or night, tired or woken, Azriel would always know to part a lie from the truth and so she had no use to do something as cruel as lying “Spying.” “Who thought you this?”
“A friend.” Exclaimed Elain after a pause in which she wrecked her brain on how to not call her two teachers by name, but as a little shadow had wrapped around her index finger, as soft as a cattail, did she know what her answer was. And apparently was this not a lie, as she was friends with Nuala and Cerridwen, the shadows and even Azriel, so she hoped as he did not seem to want anything else from her. Yet did his arms close further around her middle as his mighty voice growled lowly through the darkness “I figured that.”
The seer had to giggle at the unease edge in his voice, the all knowing shadowsinger for once unaware of a secret as lovely as a rose. Sweet and delicate far above of the surface, whilst her body was spiked in thorns, pricking the fingers of those who were rough and harsh on her, ripping and tearing at her roots, while her leaves and blooms caressed the ones who were gentle with her, sweet and caring.  Everything the shadowsinger had once been to her.
She hadn’t even known how much she craved his presence as she was cradled into his arms once again – united with a piece of herself she hadn’t even known she was missing. But sadly, did this missing piece see her as a mistake.
Elain flinched once again at the memory of those cruel words ringing through her mind, the shadows around her rising as if they were a fountain invoked by her emotions, but Azriel’s grip on her was unfaltering, a presence of a rock in the tides as Elain whispered at him: “How long do you want to keep starring at those two?”
“Until I can see that they are leaving.” “They won’t.” “Then so do we.” The seer sighed at her stubborn friend, as the warmth of his body seeping into hers was all which held her back from going for his neck right now. “Azriel. They will discuss, for the next two hours, who of them had clipped a pair of wings the best.” The shadowsinger shuddered in her arms, if it were due to the use of his name on her tongue or the fact that these males would pride themselves with bloodshed for so long was beyond her. “You have seen it?” Elain could merely nod now, her voice clogged and caged in her throat as a scent, of sweet night chilled mist and cedar, caressed her nose with the motion.
“I need those information’s.” Was all he answered stubbornly with his jaw set as a stone, while his sweet friend shook with her head “I have them already.”
Surprise lined those godly crafted features of his as he gazed down on her. The seer offered him a charming smile, before she handed him the notes, covered in her scribbled letters, with everything she deemed as important, which was in her case everything because despite her training she was still not entirely sure of how to filter the right information from unnecessary gibberish and so she copied everything, which offered her the opportunity to see the shadowsinger bowing his head every the slightest in respect for her. “For whom are you here, Elain?”
Bracing herself with a smile as sweet as honey, as those piercing orbs of brown with swirling green and grey streaks glanced at her. “A friend and you?” This sweet smile, as little and innocent as a daisy, he offered her was a picture of pure delight while he did not let his fingers stray from her hips. Almost searing a hole through her heart and clothes as his raven voice echoed through the whispering storms of shadows “For myself.”
Elain smiled then, “Well then, Spymaster, had I helped you out well?” And as if her smile were a virus did it spread on to the sweetest pair of lips, the one pair of lips she had always wondered how they would taste on hers. Both having forgotten since a long time where they were. “Very. I might consider handing some of my work over to you.”  
Both of them giggled then, as they stood safely and secure amidst the dark sea of shadows, like two rays of sunshine, competing for who shone brighter, as Azriel let the shadows whisk them away. An inferno spreading as those calm waves of darkness washed over them, whisking them far away to a secure place, while Azriels lips lingered on the seer’s sweet forehead.
A thing of secret,lovely beauty blooming already between them, as not even the lurking clouds of hundreds and hundreds of unspoken words could make the thriving blooms between the seer and the shadowsinger welk, as there was furthermore no more missions which either one acted on alone. 
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Taglist (If I forgot someone or anyone wants to be added, just message me):
@gracie-rosee
@heirofthrnightcourt004
@galenamineralsbismuth
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junpeis-world · 5 months ago
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A fic for the Mushishi fandom.
Summary:
Fujiwara Kaito learns about mushi after meeting a mushi-shi named Ginko.
Prompt used:
There is magic in the air. And the water. And the food. Be careful.
Credit goes to @ghostly-prompts for the prompt.
Read the fic here!
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cuppimagines · 9 days ago
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This is probably very unsexy to discuss but it’s fascinating to me so everyone sit down. Spiders aren’t the only ones to molt obviously but their molted skin is the most unsettling by far. Other insects just leave behind a transparent skin, and crustaceans like crabs end up kinda soft and mushy after molting
So every invertebrate dilf I make here goes through some process of shedding their skin and leaving behind a ghostly husk
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martadiasart · a month ago
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A friend who brew his own Imperial Stout beer asked me to draw a logo for his bottles. He had just broken his jaw and had to eat mushy food for some weeks, so he asked me if I could draw a baby drinking a ghostly beer. This is what came out ☠️ Loved doing it! Hope I get to do more beer projects like this one.
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holy-honeybees · a year ago
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Snowdrift
AO3
Rating: T+ (for swearing)
Summary: Three friends and  their dog get lost in a snowstorm while investigating the paranormal. Amidst swirling flurries of white, some lose their way and get lost in their memories, others lose sight of their friends and loved ones, and an unforgiving winter quickly fills in the footprints one would follow to get back home.
Previous Chapter | Next Chapter
Chapter One
Chapter Nine
It wasn’t long before the trees had closed in behind them as Vivi and Mystery headed deeper into the dark forest. The blue-haired girl trudged forwards relentlessly, ignoring the snow that trickled into her boots, making her socks cold and wet. With the heavy canopy of clouds overhead blocking out the moonlight, the trees melted into the inky black night. The only source of illumination was the flashlight Vivi held, the white snow it reflected off of almost blinding in comparison to their dark surroundings. Normally she would have been thrilled to be exploring spooky woods in the middle of the night, but now, her sense of unease over her missing friend was only compounded by the unsettling atmosphere.
“Arthur!” Vivi called. Her words were quickly snatched away by the wind whistling between the tree trunks. Mystery quietly padded through the snow beside her, vigilantly observing his surroundings. He scented the air frequently for a trace of the missing mechanic, but all they had managed to find was their way deeper into the foreboding woods. She couldn’t believe how much things had changed since yesterday, feeling almost foolish for how they had frolicked and played in the snow which now seemed so menacing.  
“Arthur!” she cried again, hugging her friend’s abandoned hoodie closer to her chest. She could only hope that the howling winds would carry her words to the mechanic rather than further away from him.
“We’ll find him,” Mystery said, but Vivi could see how his ears were pressed back, flat against his head. A clear sign he was worried, despite his assurances.
“I know, I know…” Vivi said, trying to summon her confidence, “But what if we don’t? We have no idea how long he’s been gone. We don’t even know where to look. What if…?”
“It’s not like you to doubt yourself so much,” Mystery replied.
“It’s just…What are we even doing out here?” Vivi said, “We’re only out here because I wanted it to be like before. Before the cave. Back when our friendship was easy, when everything was easy. With road trips and ghost hunts that usually didn’t have any ghosts at the end and Arthur and Lewis were best friends and everything was okay. But it’s not okay.” Mystery regarded her thoughtfully.
“I too wish things could be different,” he replied, “I know our experiences have been very different over the past year, though painful for us both. It’s easy to look back on something to say it was okay then when it isn’t now, regardless of how true that may be.” By the faraway look in his eyes, Vivi knew Mystery wasn’t only thinking of the cave just then. She wondered, not for the first time, just how deep his roots with Shiromori had run.
“Not even I can turn back time,” Mystery continued, “All we can hope to do is to learn from that which haunts us and use it to keep moving forwards. While it won’t bring us back to yesterday, you may find yourself with a new kind of ‘okay’.”
“That’s just it,” Vivi said miserably, “I haven’t learned. I’m supposed to be the leader, but all I ever do is lead everyone into danger. First the cave, now this!”
“Don’t punish yourself for not knowing then what you know now. I have centuries more experience dealing with the supernatural than you do, extrasensory abilities far above your own, and I missed it too. Yet you don’t blame me.”
“No, I don’t,” Vivi agreed softly, “It’s just… Am I selfish? I know Arthur gets scared so easily, yet I’ve been pushing him to go on these ghost hunts for years. He and Lewis are still trying to get used to each other again, but now I’ve dragged them out to the middle of nowhere, just because the memories of what we were are so fresh in my mind and I want it back so bad.”
“I don’t think you’re selfish, no,” Mystery replied evenly, “Bold about what you do and don’t want. Passionate about the things you care about, including your friends. Exuberant in wanting to share what brings you joy with others. But you’re not forcing anyone to do anything or be anywhere they don’t want to be. They love you, Vivi, and Lewis and Arthur would do almost anything for you. They are capable of making their own decisions though. They want to fix this as badly as you do.” Vivi sniffled, blaming her runny nose on the cold and her stinging eyes on the wind that still whipped about.
“I can’t lose them again,” she said, “I just got back our memories together, I just got them back.”
“I know,” Mystery said, “And that’s why we’ll keep searching until we find him.” Vivi nodded vigorously in response, turning away from the kitsune to resume her scan of the surrounding forest.
Despite her earlier protests, Vivi was glad Mystery had accompanied her in the search for Arthur, his familiar presence comforting. She wondered if she would have been as open with her concerns had it been Lewis by her side. She was certain her ghostly friend would be supportive through whatever insecurities she voiced, but Vivi struggled to balance vulnerability and leadership. Sometimes it felt as if everybody expected her to be happy all the time. She was thankful that, frequently, she was, but sometimes it felt like she wasn’t allowed to not be okay. As if she had to carry on like nothing was wrong and be the same bold, brave, bubbly Vivi she always was. How could she be anything but when someone else needed her to be strong? Mystery was always there for her though, even when she couldn’t muster up her usual smile. Despite her outgoing nature, she had at times struggled to fit in and make friends, considered to be too strange or unusual. But Mystery would be at her side, ready to comfort her, whenever she felt sad or lonely. He was a great listener, even before she knew he could talk. She remembered hours spent quietly confessing her worries to her pet dog late at night, running her hand through Mystery’s fur as she talked, curled up on the couch with a mug of hot tea and B-rated horror movies playing in the background. Vivi shook her head, willing her focus to return to the task at hand. The harder she tried to pull herself out of her recollections though, the further she found herself sinking into them. She was back in her childhood home, curled up cozy and warm on the old couch in the living room, rain hammering on the windows as thunder rumbled in the distance. She hugged Mystery tight as she described her latest encounter with the mean girls at school, the static of the falling snow in the forest and the TV screen blending together.
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“I know, and that’s why we’ll keep searching until we find him,” Mystery said as he continued to pad through the snow. He wished he could take more time to reassure Vivi. It was rare for her to be so plagued by self-doubt, but he too was worried for the mechanic. He hadn’t told the others, not wanting to frighten them further, but Arthur’s scent had already begun to fade by the time they had discovered him missing. Mystery couldn’t be certain how long the mechanic had been gone, but with the frigid temperatures, any amount of time could already be too long. I was so sure they were safe this time, he thought, I was so sure I would keep them safe.He wondered at what point he had come to care for humans so much. As a young fox kit, he held little appreciation for humanity and their short lives. Meeting Mushi and being bound to the service of the Yukino family had done nothing to change his mind at first, but over time, he’d gone from reluctant guardian to best friend of an excitable, blue-haired little girl. Mystery refocused his attention on his surroundings, straining all his senses for a sign the mechanic had passed this way. While the tree branches hung low with their heavy burden of snow, the kitsune had yet to see any that had been broken or left askew to indicate someone had passed this way before them. His sense of smell was overwhelmed by the color white, and Mystery had little hope of being able to detect the mechanic that way. Even Vivi’s presence, less than ten feet away, was clouded by the supernatural snowfall. His ears were pricked, but all he heard was the howling of the winter winds.
Mystery came to an abrupt halt as he realized that he was no longer hearing the crunch of snow under his companion’s boots.
He knew before he even turned around that something was wrong, but seeing the confusion on Vivi’s face confirmed it. Mystery wondered if she was having another memory lapse. While she had regained her memories, occasionally something slipped out of place. Sometimes she remembered things slightly wrong, or there was a blank space where there hadn’t been before. Despite her progress with recovery, Mystery knew it frustrated the blue-haired girl to no end. Still, the lapses were getting less frequent, and the problem usually corrected itself shortly after discovery with some gentle encouragement and prompting from her friends.
Something was different this time. Something was off.
“Mystery, where… Where are we?” Vivi asked, looking around with a puzzled expression. The fox spirit regarded her uneasily.
“Are you having a lapse?” He asked.
“I…yes? No? Maybe, I don’t know. What are we doing out here? How did we get out here?”
“What’s the last thing you remember?”
“Me and Arthur are getting together to plan Lewis’s surprise party. He’d be turning 23 this year, and after everything that’s happened, I think we deserve a break.”
Mystery remembered that night. It had been almost two months ago.
This wasn’t just a memory lapse, it was memory loss.
“Vivi, try to remember. Last week, you gathered everyone together to look into a new case—”
“Last week? But Arthur said the repairs to the van might take a month or more after we dealt with that creep with the tarot cards. He couldn’t have fixed the van already.”
“Vivi, it’s December,” Mystery replied. The color drained from the girl’s already pale face.
“No,” Vivi said, vigorously shaking her head, “No way. I can’t be missing that much time!”
“Try to remember. Last week, you met with Arthur and Lewis at the Pepper Paradiso to look into a new case to investigate. You and Arthur ordered milkshakes, and Cayenne spiked his with hot sauce again.” The kitsune told her everything he could about the week leading up to them wandering in the woods, hoping it would trigger her memories to return. He talked about planning and packing for their trip. Arthur seeing something in the road. The almost car crash, the snowball fight, and getting snowed in. Arthur going missing. As Mystery finished his tale, Vivi suddenly doubled over, her face screwed up in pain and her hands clutching her head. The kitsune was by her side in an instant.
“What’s wrong?” Mystery asked, alarmed, “Are you hurt?”
“No, I’m okay. I…remembered. Ugh, it feels like brain freeze but worse. Stabbier,” Vivi groaned, massaging her temples, “Mystery, what was that? That didn’t feel like a lapse, not a normal one at least. I didn’t just forget something about the cave or Lewis, that was a couple of months just gone.”
Vivi peeled her head away from her hands, looking up into Mystery’s face, her worried eyes searching his for answers.
“What’s wrong with me?”
“I… I’m not sure,“ Mystery replied honestly.
“It was so strange. One moment I was here in the woods with you, but then the temperature dropped suddenly, and it was like I was transported somewhere else. Back to my childhood home.” Even as she spoke, Vivi had a pensive, faraway look in her eyes, and Mystery feared she would slip away again. The choice he had to make settled like a lead weight in his stomach. Even with the possibility that Arthur could be only ten feet in front of them, he would put Vivi first, as painful as that decision was to make.
“We should return to the van,” Mystery said. Vivi immediately straightened at his words, glaring at the kitsune.
“Absolutely not! Arthur’s still out there, we can’t just leave him!”
“Vivi, something isn’t right, and I don’t know what it is,” Mystery said urgently, “I don’t want to stop searching either, but we can’t help Arthur if we don’t first help ourselves.”
“We don’t have time! He could be in danger right now, or hurt, or—!” Vivi cut off abruptly with a violent shiver, curling in on herself tightly with a gasp. As Mystery watched, a thin, silvery wisp escaped from the girl’s mouth, disappearing into the night. When Vivi lifted her head again, the kitsune saw that the furious expression she’d had on her face just moments ago had gone curiously blank.
“What…?” The blue-haired girl mumbled. She looked around at her surroundings as if seeing them for the first time.
“Vivi?” Mystery said, padding forwards cautiously. The girl’s eyes snapped to his as soon as she heard his voice, the beam of the flashlight moving to shine on him like a spotlight. Vivi gave a yelp of surprise when she saw the kitsune. Stumbling backwards, she tripped over the thickly piled snow and landed on her rear. She continued to scramble further away until her back was pressed against a tree, refusing to take her eyes off the large fox spirit before her.
“What… What are you?” She asked, her shock tempered by curiosity. The kitsune was frozen in his tracks, too stunned to answer. He’d always dreaded this moment. Worried that the humans he had come to love so dearly would turn away from him if they found out the truth, feeling frightened or betrayed. In some ways, the events of last year had been a blessing. The frantic situation between Shiromori and his own possession had left little time for hurt feelings to surface over his secret, and the joy of having survived and reunited had swiftly washed away the worst misgivings. At the time, Vivi had quickly accepted him for what he was and just as quickly moved on, more focused on his immediate well-being than long-held secrets. He wondered if she would be so blithely accepting this time. Mystery was so preoccupied with his thoughts, he missed the look of recognition that had settled on Vivi’s face.
“…Mystery?”
---
“What…” Vivi said breathlessly, “What are you?”
The large white beast stopped advancing toward her. Had she been standing instead of sitting in the snow—when on Earth had it even begun to snow?—her head would have been at shoulder-height on the wolflike creature. Condensation billowed out of its muzzle, and she could just see the razor-sharp teeth peeking out of its mouth. Its coat was plush in appearance, with a mane of red and black fur erupting from the creature’s head. On second thought, she decided it was more foxlike in appearance, with a narrow snout and long, fluffy tails. Tails? Kitsune, then, her mind helpfully supplied, drawing on the knowledge her granny had imparted with her stories about fox spirits. Despite the creature’s size and what she could see of its fearsome set of fangs, the kitsune standing before her wasn’t all that scary. It seemed almost sad somehow. The fox spirit’s ears were drooping, and his tails hung limp, swaying in the wind. Even his brow was pinched, giving him a worried expression that looked almost human. Vivi continued to scan the creature before her with her flashlight, pausing for a moment when the beam of light glinted off of a familiar golden tag adorned with a question mark.
“…Mystery?” She recovered from her shock quickly, and Vivi couldn’t help the grin that began to spread across her face.
“I knew it! I knew you weren’t just a normal dog. I knew you were special!” She gushed, “You’re a kitsune, right? What am I saying, of course you’re a kitsune! Just look at all your tails!”
“Vivi—”
“And you can talk! This is incredible!” Vivi struggled to stand up from the deep snowbank she’d fallen into, eager to get a closer look at her kitsune companion. She must have seriously spaced out to not realize how nasty the weather had gotten or how late it was. She always had been a little scatter-brained, but the news of her father’s new job and their impending move to Tempest or Cadence or whatever this new town was called had her even more distracted than usual.
“What else can you do? You have to tell me everything!” the blue-haired girl continued as she approached this larger, fluffier version of Mystery, “Well, maybe once we’re out of the cold. It’s freezing out here! Where are we anyways?”
“Vivi, you have to remember.”
“Remember? Remember what?” She was only half-paying attention, instead eyeing Mystery’s fur, eager to know if it was as soft as it looked. She paused when she saw a large scar on his side. It was almost completely obscured by his thick fur, but she was certain it hadn’t been there before. Maybe it only appears when he takes this form, she pondered with a small frown.
“We’re in Nebraska right now, on a ghost hunt. Lewis was driving the van when—”
“Nebraska? Ghost hunt?” Vivi repeated, bewildered, “What are you talking about? Who’s Lewis?” She was so confused. None of this was familiar or made any sense, yet Mystery looked stricken by her response.
“Look down at your arms,” Mystery responded, looking at Vivi hopefully as he padded closer to her, “That hoodie, do you recognize it?”
“What hoodie? Oh!” Glancing down, Vivi saw she was clutching tightly to an orange hoodie. She hadn’t even noticed she was holding it. She examined the soft fabric and its yellow star pattern carefully.
“The only person I know who would wear a color this bright is mom, but I don’t remember ever seeing her wear this,” Vivi replied. A heavy pulse had begun in her head, and Mystery’s intense, worried gaze was starting to frighten her.
“Vivi, you have to try to remember.”
“But I don’t know what I’m supposed to be remembering!” She cried.
Mystery bowed his head so he could look her in the eye. Then, in a voice she could only just hear above the sound of the wind, he began to speak. The kitsune’s voice settled into a steady rumble, the sound washing over her, as he recounted the last few years of Vivi’s life. Years she thought she had not yet lived. The kitsune spoke of a little town in Texas called Tempo, and the life Vivi had made for herself there. Everything Mystery said felt unfamiliar, like he was talking about someone else entirely. With every word, the pressure in her head built up more and more until it was almost unbearable. Her hands clutched at her temples, as if that would keep her skull from splitting apart. She wanted to tell Mystery to stop, but she couldn’t keep from grinding her teeth in order to do so. Vivi felt as if her head might burst at any moment. Still, the kitsune continued to murmur to her, his voice low and melodious, though it had taken on a frantic edge. He talked about the friends she had made, Arthur and Lewis, and how she had started her own paranormal investigation group with them, the Mystery Skulls. The kitsune spoke of the adventures they’d had together, and he only hesitated for a moment before he began to tell her of the cave. The mention of that fateful night felt like an icepick driven into her brain. With a cry of pain, she collapsed to her knees in the snow. She thought she heard Mystery calling her name, but she could scarcely hear him over the keening sound in her ears. With her eyes squeezed shut against the snowy landscape, she saw the last few years of her life pass before her eyes in flickers and bursts.
It was over mercifully quick. One moment, Vivi didn’t remember, and the next, she had. The excruciating pain that had accompanied the return of her memories was subdued to an aching throb, and slowly, the world came back to her. She first became aware of a cold, wet nose poking at her face. Opening her eyes, she blinked away spots as Mystery and the snowy landscape came back into view. Vivi didn’t think she’d ever seen him so worried.
“Are you alright?” The kitsune asked. She nodded her head wearily, letting out a shaky breath.
“I…I remembered,” the blue-haired girl replied.
“That doesn’t answer my question,” Mystery said softly. The fox spirit’s eyes were filled with such gentle concern, Vivi couldn’t help it as her lower lip began to tremble.
“I can’t do this, I can’t lose my memories. Not again,” she sobbed, her voice wavering as tears spilled down her cheeks, “What if… What if I don’t remember next time?”
“I will do everything in my power to make sure that doesn’t happen,” Mystery vowed, “But first we need to go back to the van. It’ll be safer there.” Vivi was caught in indecision as she looked down at the orange hoodie still clasped in her arms.
“But what about Arthur? We can’t give up on him. Not yet, not ever.”
“We’re not giving up on him,” Mystery soothed, “But if we endanger ourselves now, we may not be able to search for him later. We’re just returning to the van so we can regroup. Once we’re better prepared, we can resume our search.” Part of Vivi still wanted to argue. She couldn’t help but feel like she was letting Arthur down or leaving him behind. She knew the kitsune was right though. This new experience with memory loss was terrifying, and they would never be able to progress in their search if Mystery had to keep reminding her of who she was and what they were doing every step of the way. Wiping at her eyes with her mittens, she conceded defeat.
“Okay,” Vivi mumbled, trying to convince herself she was making the right choice, “Okay, let’s go back to the van.” Mystery gave a slow nod in response. He watched her intently as she climbed back to her feet, bracing her with his shoulder when she stumbled.
“Are you hurt?” He asked.
“Just a headache,” Vivi replied, rubbing at her forehead, “And a little dizzy.” The kitsune regarded her for a moment before lowering himself to the ground.
“Here, get on,” Mystery said. It was a rare offer from the fox spirit. His stubborn pride typically prevented him from even considering giving any of them a ride, not without a hefty amount of bribery or pleading first. Normally, Vivi would have taken the opportunity to tease him about it. As it was, she only nodded mutely and swung her leg over the kitsune’s back, storing her flashlight in her coat pocket. She was sure her lack of response would only worry Mystery more, but he didn’t comment on it as he stood back up from the ground with the blue-haired girl on his back. Vivi swayed as he did so, her head pounding. Her shivering increased as the already freezing temperatures seemed to plummet even lower and static began to encroach on her field of vision.
“Ugh,” Vivi groaned, “It’s happening again!”
“Hold on tight,” Mystery said, “We’ll be moving fast.” She buried her mittens into his thick white fur, desperately clinging to the kitsune’s back and the memories she could already feel sliding away. Mystery began to sprint back the way they’d come, agilely weaving between tree trunks that disappeared in a blur as they quickly lost the progress they’d made journeying into the woods. She could already see the clearing through the trees, and in the blink of an eye, they had left the forest behind and were dashing across an empty white field of snow.
“Hold on, Vivi!” The kitsune called over his shoulder.
The static in her vision worsened, and a painful shudder passed through her frame. She could just make out the shape of the van in the distance.
“Hold on!”
Then her vision whited out entirely and she knew no more.
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drsweetzscenarios · a year ago
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Christmas Visit(Himiko Yumeno) Spoiler and Angst warning!
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Himiko trailed into the graveyard, for Christmas Day it was rather gloomy.
The snow was mushy, the clouds were gray, it fit her mood.
She walked over to a gravestone.
A name engraved on it was (Y/N) (L/N)
When everyone entered the dumb killing game, you were the first to approach her.
Befriend her.
You, Tenko, Angie, and Himiko all became friends, and eventually, you and Himiko became something…more.
Sure, the killing game brought you two together but it also threw you two apart.
Korekiyo ended up killing you and Angie, leaving both Tenko and Himiko in frustrated tears
She and Tenko ended up surviving the killing game, alongside Shuichi and Maki.
She remembered.
You always loved Christmas and to be honest the vibe suited you.
Always merry and jolly.
The most selfless person to those who deserved it.
No wonder Himiko fell in love with you…
Maybe…
Just maybe…
In another life…
You two would’ve loved each other and lived together.
Maybe have a couple of kids.
Himiko smiled at the thought while tears ran down her cheeks.
“Himiko! We have to go back!”
Himiko nodded as a signal for them to go on ahead and that she would catch up.
She knelt down, took off her hat, placed a kiss on the gravestone, and stood back up.
“Merry Christmas (Y/N)… I hope you’re happy”
And then she walked away…
Back to the others.
What she didn’t see is your ghostly form crying tears of joy that she even visited you.
“Merry Christmas to you, too…”
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Meeting and Dating Jack Goodman
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(Not my gif)(Requested by anonymous)
(Most of these can probably go for both normal jack and ghost jack but the hcs center around him being amongst the undead. I wouldn’t mind writing some hcs specifically for human Jack though)
- You first met Jack in highschool. Initially, you were friends with David who was in a few of your classes, but soon enough David introduced you to Jack and the three of you became a trio.
- Jack fell for you the moment he saw you, or at least couldn’t help but find you incredibly attractive. You probably thought he was just nervous when you first met with the way he was stumbling over his words and acting so awkward. Gosh, David had a field day with him after you left.
- To Jack, you’re completely out of his league and there is no chance that you would be interested in him. But he has to try. Too bad his “trying” isn’t nearly as obvious as he would like it to be.
- The two of you gradually spend more time together, going from only hanging out once in a while; and only with David, to hanging out for hours on your own. Every time you’re together he tries to psychically project his feelings into your mind.
- Its nearly a year later that he actually tries to put the moves on you but at that point you’re such good friends that you don't even notice what he’s trying to do. Every proposition of a date is just him asking to hang out. Every romantic compliment or pickup line results in you laughing and telling him to stop messing around. He doesn’t know how much more of it he can take.
- When the three of you graduated highschool, you’d decided that you’d take a year off and vacation in Italy. The boys wanted to go backpacking so they agreed to meet you there. Of course, they never really did, did they?
- You were beside yourself when you heard about what happened. Here you were, in the middle of a foreign country supposed to be having the time of your life and instead, you find out that one of your best friends is killed by an animal and that the other is recovering in a London hospital. Jack was dead, it was like the idea wouldn’t register in your mind. Jack was dead and you’d never see him again.
“Y/n came to my funeral. Gosh, she really looked torn up,” Jack smiled at David almost sheepishly. “Do you think now would be a bad time to tell her how I feel?”
- It was a few days after his funeral that you first saw him again. You though that you were going crazy, that your grief had gotten the better of you and you were having a serious lapse in your sanity. But it all seemed far too real, too detailed to be a hallucination.
- After hearing about what happened, you’d cancelled the rest of your trip and went back home. You’d holed yourself up in your room for a week before you finally forced yourself to go outside, though it was only to attend Jacks funeral.
- You were curled up on your bed, still dressed in your funeral attire and feeling utterly miserable as you fumbled with a book you’d borrowed from the boy for your plane ride to Italy. The room was quiet, save for you sniffling, ...up until a sudden voice rang out.
“You never did get the chance to give me that back.”
- Your eyes widened as you clumsily sat up and turned around. There he was, standing in the doorway to your bedroom; torn and bloodied but there. You watched as he walked inside the room, smiling at you as he took a seat on the edge of your bed. Feeling the mattress sink under his weight was what fully convinced you that you weren’t just going mad.
- Your mouth went completely dry as you looked at him. You couldn’t think of anything to say even as you tried your hardest. All you could manage to get out was a “how” and a clumsy sounding “what”.
“How ya doin y/n/n? Wonderful service wasn’t it. I was glad to see you there. I think my parents were too, they always liked you,” he said sweetly though the words held a bitter air. “You know, I was thinking about sticking around here a bit. You said I was always welcome and, well, being around the dead all the time is really starting to bum me out. I much prefer your company.
- You inched closer to him, placing a tentative hand on his cleaner shoulder before moving it to touch his undamaged cheek. His skin was cold but you could touch it as though he were really there. Letting out a sob, you lunged forward, smushing you’re lips against his cheek and pressing your forehead to the side of his head.
“Well don't get all mushy on me now.” 
- True to his word, he did stay, albeit in intervals. Every now and again, he’d disappear for a while but he always came back and was seemingly content and relieved to be around you.
- Its not very long after he comes back into your life that he finally confesses his feelings. He figures that, hey, he’s dead, what else has he got to lose? So one night, just as you’re drifting off to sleep, he enters your room and kneels beside your bed, delicately shaking you awake.
“Y/n/n? I know its late but I’ve been sitting up and thinking. Thinking about my life, all the things that happened, everything I should have done. I realized that I didn’t do much at all. I mean; I should have met more people, went out more, slept around more.” he chuckled softly though it sounded more like a scoff than anything else. 
“But you see, I can live with all of that, or, well... nevermind! The point is, that there was one thing that I should have done that I never did, something that I can’t just let go of. …I should have kissed you Y/n. I should have kissed you and never stopped. I was an idiot, I was an idiot because I never told you how I felt when I had the chance. Well now I’m a lousy mess of ghostly meat but I’m going to finally tell you.” He paused, taking a deep breath and trying to calm his nerves. Even in death, he was a coward. 
“Y/n. I love you. I’ve loved you since the moment I saw you and never once has that love gone away; …not even in death. I know this isn’t very orthodox and that I’m not a very nice looking corpse either. …And maybe this whole thing is insane and I never should have said anything at all!” He spoke as though he finally realized how bizarre the situation was, an nervous edge in his voice. He paused and collected himself before speaking again. “…but I did say it, so now we’re just gonna have to move on from here.” 
- None of his dreams could have ever prepared him for the sheer shock and joy that he felt when you told him that you liked him too. 
“So you’re saying we could have been together all of this time?” You couldn’t help but laugh at the look on his face. With a tired smile, you beckoned him into your bed and laid back once again to go to sleep, this time with him by your side. 
-  You had your first date in your house, cuddled up on your couch and watching movies. It was just like any other day yet different at the same time. It felt right. 
- The two of you shared your first kiss that same day when you were saying goodnight to each other. You were going to go to bed and he wanted to stay up a bit longer so he walked you to your bedroom. You both paused at the door before he leant down and kissed you gently, saying goodnight with a smile as you retreated into the room. 
- And so, the dead joined the living... in her small studio apartment. 
- Jack is sort of an indoor boyfriend so to speak. He’s a ghost; and a mangled one at that, so you can’t exactly be seen with him out in public. 
- He’s a bit clingy. He’s pretty much always alone when you’re not around so he hates when you have to leave him.
- I hope you don't mind gore because his isn’t going away anytime soon. 
- Please let him kiss you. Please. He is literally begging you to makeout with him.
“I know the face is a bit messy but my lips are still perfectly intact.”
- Humor is sort of a defense mechanism for him. Whenever he’s nervous or doesn’t know what to say; or how to say what he wants to say, he’ll just keep cracking jokes and trying to make you laugh in an effort to ease the tension.
- Getting surprise visits. He’ll most definitely scare you with the way he just pops up wherever you are, though its hard to stay mad at him when he says that he missed you. 
- Sudden butt pinches and grabs. He puts his hands behind his back whenever you turn to look at him, glancing away and whistling before looking at you with a little devilish smile. 
- Jaw kisses. He loves them and he loves giving them though he uses his for evil. 
- Cuddling? He loves it though it may be a bit difficult with his …injuries. You'll usually lay side by side and hold hands while you sleep or you’ll clutch his hand  to your chest and snuggle into that. 
- You can’t exactly go on dates so you’ll have to find things to do at home, unless you want to go somewhere very secluded. 
- Picnics in the woods. 
- Late night walks. You’re pretty much only able to go out with him when it’s dark, otherwise you’ll have to pretend he’s not there which certainly puts a damper on things. 
- Curling up on the couch together with some hot chocolate and a corny sitcom. 
- Giving him some goddamn toast. There's not much to eat in the spirit world and god does he miss your cooking. Would you mind making him something?
- Talking to a corpse is boring. To him, you’re a much better conversationalist, even if you think you're a bad one. 
- He has a bad habit of speaking when he shouldn't or saying the wrong thing. Nowadays, there’s not too many instances where that's a problem though it’s certainly earned him a few glares from you. 
- Lovingly calling him meatloaf and chopped liver. He …tolerates it; only because you look at him so sweetly when you do so. 
- Is he legally obligated to say your name; at least, twice during every conversation of yours? At this point, you’re honestly pretty sure he is. He doesn’t use nicknames though he doesn’t have anything against them, he just prefers saying your real name. 
- He has kind eyes, doesn’t he? It seems like whenever you turn to him, he’s always gazing down at you with this sincere look of absolute adoration. It makes your heart skip a beat every time. 
- Jack is a bit naive when it comes to girls or, rather, girls he’s in love with. He always believes what you say and falls for your devilish little tricks. 
- David definitely teased him relentlessly for his crush on you and was betting on the two of you getting together. The circumstances aren’t the best but at least it happened, right? 
- He’s a fan of old literature and makes references to it whenever he can. If he finds out you haven't read his favorite novel, he will literally sit you down and force you to.  
- Teasing compliments. They aren’t the most romantic but hey, they still make you smile. 
 “Baby there is nothing mediocre about your body.”
- He likes sitting in your bathroom while you take a shower so that the two of you can talk. He also likes doing it so he can watch you shower but you like to focus on his interest in what you have to say, it’s much sweeter. 
-  He’s a horny boy, even in death. Are ghost boners a thing? Well he’s certainly gonna find out. 
- Being welcomed home by a smooth jazz record and him patiently awaiting your arrival with a somewhat suggestive grin.
- Every time you say something all lovey dovey to him, he swears his heart nearly starts beating again. He never knows what to say back, he usually just turns red and laughs all shyly.  
- He makes a big deal out of your birthdays, he doesn’t let you just forget about them or treat them like any other day. You’re alive! You’re another whole year older! …Fuck! …You’re aging and you’re going to keep aging.... He’ll try not to think about that part. 
- Getting to hear little bits of gossip. No one can see him so he’s certainly witnessed some interesting things, interesting things he likes to tell you about. 
- Nosy ghosty. He snoops around your stuff constantly. He’s practically memorized your entire house down to a T. 
- Having to accept that there’s a lot of supernatural things in the world. Werewolves, ghosts, and who knows what else; they’re all real and your life has just been completely normal up until now. 
- Getting to have all of your questions about death answered though some of the more painful things, he’ll keep a secret just because he doesn’t want to make you upset. 
- I feel as though his looks can depend on his mood and also the type of spiritual day it is. You know how some days are considered more spiritual than others? Well on those days, he’s normal, looking very chipper and with a lot of energy. On bad days, he’s practically a skeleton with a few flaps of dried up skin. 
- He usually hides away during his bad days, not wanting you to see him like that and be scared away. You reassure him that you’ll love him no matter what but a part of you is sort of thankful. You don’t know if you want to see him all horribly decomposed. 
- He does get jealous. I mean, he’s a ghost, you're human. Plus, he was a loser in life, why wouldn’t you pick the attractive living guy whose hitting on you over him. 
- He uses humor to pretend like he isn't bothered by the guys actions but will call him an asshole or something otherwise insulting later when you're alone together. Like out of nowhere, he’ll make some offhanded comment about the guy and you’ll realize he’s still mad about it. You just agree with him and give him a kiss. 
- A part of him; a selfish, disgusting part of him wishes that you were dead. That something would happen to you, something quick and painless but something. On one hand, he wants you to live the life that he couldn't. But he also can’t help but want you with him, encased in eternity as beautiful as always and just how he remembers you. 
- He used to be more of a coward but now that he’s dead, he really has nothing to fear, does he? The only thing he’s worried about is your wellbeing. 
- You’re very good at changing his mind and convincing him to do things. He defends himself by saying its because he likes you so much and that you should consider yourself lucky that he does. 
- He’s not stupid, maybe a bit cowardly at times but not stupid, if something doesn't feel right he’s getting the hell out of there and making sure he takes you right along with him. As much as he’d love an equally undead girlfriend, he knows you aren’t ready to go and shouldn’t be going. 
- He’s quite protective of you. He hates even thinking about you being hurt in any way. He literally can’t even hear about it in hypothetical situations. 
- He cant stand seeing you cry. He never knows what to say or do. He always yearns to comfort you but god, how does he do that? He’ll usually just rub your back and let you cry into his shoulder, trying his best to crack some carefully selected jokes in an attempt to make you feel better. 
- He can be annoyingly persistent when he wants something. He wont let up so unless you’ve got real thick skin and the patience of a saint. You’ll wind up doing what he asks just to get him off your case. If you don’t do it for him, he’ll wind up doing it for himself anyways so don’t sweat it too much.
- There's constant short lived bickering between the two of you. It’s just how he is. He’s a smartass, especially when something bothering him and highly argumentative when something doesn’t sit right with him. You don’t have all that many real fights though. 
- He apologizes when he’s in the wrong or when he feels that he could have handled things better, shyly and jokingly pleading with you to not try and exorcise him while pressing little kisses across your face. 
- He doesn't say he loves you very often. He deems it a very serious thing to say and saying it makes him nervous so he keeps it reserved for special moments. 
- Well, he’s not going anywhere anytime soon so I hope you’re ready for a long relationship. 
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acefeather2002 · a year ago
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Valentine's Day Special: A Delicate Kiss (Moxiety)
I totally forgot that I wrote a Valentine’s Day story on Wattpad! Would’ve been nice if I remembered and posted on that day...anywho, here it is (like a week late). Hope you like it.
Human AU
💙🌩💙🌩💙🌩💙🌩💙🌩💙🌩💙🌩💙🌩💙🌩💙🌩💙🌩💙🌩
Virgil woke up early around four in the morning. He glanced to his left to find his boyfriend of two years sleeping comfortably with his back facing him. He then looked at the time and realized he had about two and a half hours to prepare everything for the day. With that thought in mind, he got up quietly so as to not disturb his snoozing lover, and he headed downstairs to put his plan into action.
~Saut de temps: deux heures (time skip: two hours)~
The sound of the alarm shouted in his ear as Patton reached over to turn it off. Patton rolled over and smiled in the direction of his beau but found the space empty. He shot up somewhat worried but was quick to calm down as he heard running water in their shared bathroom. He stepped inside in his baggy baby blue t-shirt and shorts to find Virgil brushing his teeth, and he wrapped his arms around his waist while kissing the back of his neck. Virgil shuddered at the touch before spitting out the excess toothpaste and turn in his lover's hold and pecking his forehead. "Good morning, babe," Virgil said softly. "Good morning,"Patton replied, "Happy Valentine's day, hun."
Virgil leaned down and kissed his Valentine, admiring the softness of his lips. They pulled away, and Virgil let Patton get ready for the day. Once he was ready, Virgil led him down the stairs, and his eyes widened at what they saw. Heart-shaped pancakes stood in a tower on both plates on the table. Red, heart balloons populated the ceiling. Red and pink roses in a baby blue vase decorated the center of the table. The kitchen was cleaned and swept; the living and dining rooms we're vacuumed, and Winnie the Pooh was ready to be played on the TV in the living room.
Virgil led Patton to the table, and they devoured the perfect pancakes that he made while enjoying a happy conversation. After eating they moved to the couch to cuddle and watch Patton's favorite movie. Virgil sat with his arm around Patton as he leaned into his hold. He blushed a little as Patton snuggled into his shoulder.
As the movie went on, Patton looked up at Virgil and stared for a small while. Virgil, suddenly disconcerted asked, "What? Is something wrong?" Patton just smiled and lightly pecked Virgil's neck, causing a shudder and deeper blush to take place. He responded happily, "Nothing's wrong. You just make me happy." Virgil smirked as he rolled his eyes fondly, "C'mon, no need for the mushy stuff."
Patton gave a small giggle as he kissed the same spot again, earning the same but slightly harsher reaction. "But I love you," he said he planted another kiss on another spot of his neck, "because you're sweet." He left another kiss, "and kind." And another, "and loving." And another, "and caring." Virgil half-heartedly pushed at his lover to end the kisses while trying to stifle his chuckles, "Patton, stohop. That tihickles."
Patton gave another giggle and replied, "That's another thing: you're adorable!" He then tackled his boyfriend down and started kissing all over his neck. Virgil could do nothing but laugh from the sensations. "Haha Pahahat, cut it ouhouhout!" Virgil yelped through his giggles. Patton just laughed with him, "I can't help it. You're so cute that I wanna eat you up!" He then blew multiple raspberries against his boyfriend's neck, earning him squeals and squeaky giggles.
By now, Virgil was getting tired of defending (even though he wasn't really trying that much anyway), so he decided to fight fire with fire. He reached down and scratched at Patton's sides, hearing a squeal with chuckles to follow instantly after. "Eehehehe nohoho!" Patton squeaked happily, recoiling from his attack and curling in at the ticklish touch.
"Hehehe stahahap!" Patton giggled as he tried to grasp Virgil's skilled fingers. Virgil snickered at his boyfriend's giggly state, "You started it. I thought you should at least get a taste of your own medicine." Virgil slipped Patton's shirt up and pinched and scratched at the soft and plump tummy skin. Patton couldn't contain his squealish laughter, "AHAHAHAHAHAHA! NAHAHAHAHA!" "And guess what flavor your medicine is, Pattycake," Virgil grabbed his attention again, but he couldn't respond due to his continuous cackles. He just shook his head violently because he knew exactly where this was going.
Virgil wrapped his arms around Patton's waist while still squiggling circle into his side to leave him in stitches. He leaned in to Patton's ear and whispered the one word that he was dreading, "Raspberries." With that, Virgil dropped down and blew a long and teasing one right in the middle of his tummy. Patton all but screamed in hysterics at the vibrating feeling. "AAAAAHAHAHAHA! OKAY OKAHAHAY! UNCLE! UNCLE!" Patton cried, and Virgil stopped his attack, rubbing away the ghostly tickles left on his lover's skin. He then left a kiss on his forehead and another, more gentle kiss on his lips full of love for the bubbly character in his arms.
"Patton," Virgil started, "I have something to ask you." The atmosphere seemed to have dropped from happy and adorable to more serious, leaving Patton to worry. He asked, "What is it, hun?" Virgil then pulled out a small, navy blue velvet box and got down on one knee in front of him, and Patton sat up instantly. Virgil then began his speech.
"Patton, these past three years have been the best years of my life. I've never gotten a chance to get to know someone as well as I know you. It had been a long while since the last time I opened my heart to someone. This time, it's as if you barged in and laid claim on your territory, and I'm so glad you did. Thank you for showing me how to love and the happiness you've given me. But something that would make me happier is if you answer my question: Patton Morale Hart, will you marry me?" Virgil opened the box to reveal a beautiful silver band with a baby blue aquamarine stone in the middle.
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Patton stared speechlessly in shock at the ring. Virgil got nervous from his silence and asked, "Patton?" Patton shook out of his trance and said with a nervous chuckle, "I guess it's my turn to say something, isn't it?" Virgil gave a small nod but froze when he saw him pull out a small black velvet box. Patton started his speech.
"Virgil, I love you so much. I've always been the one to help make people happy, but I've never experienced true happiness until we started dating. You've given me that chance to actually be truly happy. I love the idea of waking up next to you. I enjoy the time we spend together. I treasure the happy memories that we share, and I want to make more with you. I can't imagine my life without you. So, Virgil Angus Black, if you please. Will you marry me?" Patton opened up his box and displayed a black band with an amethyst teardrop.
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Both stared at each other with wide eyes but enormous grins grew to split their faces in two. They looked into each others eyes and simultaneously answered, "Yes." Patton launched himself into Virgil's arms, and they rolled a little on the floor from the momentum while laughing with such glee. When they sat up properly, they each picked up their purchased rings and slipped them on the respective fingers. A tender kiss overflowing with love, adoration, admiration, and affection was shared between the two, excited for the bright and happy future that they were going to have together.
💙🌩💙🌩💙🌩💙🌩💙🌩💙🌩💙🌩💙🌩💙🌩💙🌩💙🌩💙🌩
I was making myself happy as I was writing this. I was practically fangirling to myself...is that weird? That's probably weird. Oh well. I'm kinda proud with how this one came out. I hope you liked this fic.
I'll see you later Kings, Queens, and Non-Binary Nobles. And spread the love!❤
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fallen029 · a year ago
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How Did You Know?
"How did you know?"
"Because it looked off," Mira sighed some as she continued on her yearly trip through the deep freeze in the basement of the guildhall. She was shivering a bit, as she pulled different cuts of meat from their wrapped places, examining them for freezer burn. "Plus, it was bought on a whim, when Master wanted to try adding something new to the menu, but no one actually seemed to ever buy lamb."
"W-What?"
"Oh, Lisanna, have you never had lamb?" Mira looked over at her with pity. "It's actually really good."
"No, sis, I meant… That's not what I was asking you. Originally." The younger Strauss sister shook her head. "That's not what I wanted to know."
Lisanna actually showed up randomly that day, after having claimed to have plans when Mira had asked her to cover a shift that morning. When Kinana saw the other Strauss sister arrive, she got hopeful that she might offer to take over her shift, but instead, Lisanna only requested her sister.
"It's that time of year again," Kinana offered with a bit of a shrug and a sympathetic gaze as Lisanna made a face over the idea of having to go down into the deep freeze.
In the early days of winter, the idea itself was uncomfortable.
But she made the trek down there all the same, Lisanna did, finding her older sister in her element, doing the guildhall's dirty work. She seemed surprised to see Lisanna, but quickly put her to work helping out with the checking of dates and such.
It didn't take long though for their idle chatter to turn, apparently, into something more.
Though Mira wasn't surprised by this (something was clearly eating at her youngest sibling), when she glanced over at Lisanna, it was with the same wide eyes she used whenever someone in the bar was talking around an issue. It was rare for Mirajane to be out of the know, but was typically rather important for her to pretend otherwise.
If she wanted to truly enjoy juicy gossip, that is.
"What did you mean then?" Mira asked with a tilted head and sighing some while fighting off a shiver, Lisanna took to explaining.
"I..." Lisanna was rarely lost for words, especially around her older sister. "I just meant you. And Laxus. How did you know?"
"That…I what?" Mira prompted. "Liked him? Loved him? Wanted to marry him? What?"
Looking away, the other woman thought for a moment before questioning, "All of them?"
"Are you asking me?" Giggling, Mira said, "You know I love to talk about my dragon."
She made a face as, oh yes, Lisanna certainly did, but at the same time, she'd come for this and now she had to follow through.
"I just… Yes," Lisanna decided. "I am."
Mira took to humming then. She didn't seem nearly as bothered by the frigid temperatures in the walk-in freezer.
"I've always kinda liked Laxus, I guess," she offered a bit flippantly. "Who wouldn't? He's attractive, but an ass, but all the good men are. Well, not good, but good you know."
"He's my brother now, so no, I don't," Lisanna retorted with a roll of her eyes, but Mira feigned fanning herself, regardless the temperature. "But anyways-"
"Anyways," Mira went on "the first time I thought of him as more than, maybe just a fling, we'd already went out a handful of time over the years. It'd never really clicked, but we both run in similar circles from time to time and… He came in one night, really late, looking for his grandfather. I hadn't seen him in awhile and he didn't look well. Like something was bothering him. Master was out on a job, but I offered Laxus to have drink while I closed up. But after I finished, he wanted me to have one with him and there's just something about him. For me at least. That's so captivating. So I had one. Just one. But...we started talking during it and…
"He's different. With me. And I know I've said that before, that I've told you this before, but… When you're with the right person, the things that you talk about and bond over… We just connected, that night, when we were both a little buzzed, maybe, and were openly talking, instead of just pretending and…" Mira shook her head. "If you don't stop me, I'll go on forever."
Bowing her head some, Lisanna prodded instead, "Is that when you knew he loved him? Or-"
"Of course not." Mira made her own face. "Love is… Love is different. Depending on how you mean it. I love all of my friends in the guild."
"Mira-"
"The deep, mushy, certain love? I felt that over time. The way that you're supposed to." Mira glanced over at her sister. "It happens how you'd think. When we'd go on dates and he was extra sweet or the times that he'd take time off from traveling or doing jobs, just to be with me. When he'd buy me gifts or come around the bar to spend time, even though I knew he'd hate it otherwise. When he'd sit through family dinners with me, you, and Elf. Or wait up for me, all night, to get home from the guild, even though he had something to do the next morning."
"You fell in love," Lisanna whispered, "from being with him. From him wanting to be with you."
"Sort of, I guess, yeah." Mira giggled. "A lot of guys I'd dated before would try and make time for me. But it's different with Laxus. He's busy with serious things, but I'm more important than them. He's more important, to me, than most of the things that I have to do. We're each other's world."
Lisanna stared over at her sister for a moment before, with a soft nod of her head, agreeing. Then she asked, "But… It wasn't always like that, was it?"
"What do you mean?"
"When you first got together...or even after awhile… Sometimes he wouldn't make time for you. Right?"
"Well-"
"It's not the end of the world to get blown off sometimes."
"No, not the end of the world, I guess, but-"
"And if something really did come up-"
"Is there something you wanna talk about?" Mira dropped her facade as she turned fully to look at her younger sibling then. "Lisanna?"
"No. I was just-"
"Laxus reached a point, early on, when we first started getting serious, where he kind of...panicked." Mira looked off. "A lot of people have issues with that. Eventually. Commitment. The real deal. I think in everything we do in life, you reach a point of no return. Where you either turn back and things can, eventually, return to how they were, or you go forward. And if you cross that line, if you go forward, then whatever happens next will change things forever. We eventually got to a point where, if we were seriously going to see only one another, where things became a bit uncomfortable for him. It's hard, saying goodbye to a part of your life. You know that."
"What if he couldn't do it?" Lisanna asked. "You know, commit to you?:Fully?"
"Then he wouldn't be ready for what I was ready for. And we'd not be able to cross that line together."
"But what you wait for him?"
"Know what I know now? Of course."
"Then not knowing."
"No." Mira even shook her head. "Probably not."
She made some sort of loud sigh then, Lisanna did, that tugged at Mira's heart and she was quick to close the small, cold gap between them and pat gently at her sister's similar, ghostly locks.
As Lisanna raised her deep blue eyes to meet her sister's, Mira only smiled warmly, adding, "First relationships are hard. Especially serious ones. But if you're not getting what you need out of it, or not feeling heard in it, then you have to make that known. Bottling up or just blindly agreeing won't get you what you want. It doesn't mean it'll get you what you want either though. But it does mean that you're making a reference point, to refer back to."
"Yeah, but Mira-"
"Are you ready to hear about when I knew I wanted to marry Laxus? When I knew, without a doubt, that if he asked me, I'd say yes? And mean it with my whole heart?"
"Mira-"
"We'd had a big fight, actually," she carried on over Lisanna's complaint, "and I thought that we were done. I don't think I ever even told you about this. You and Elf were out on a job and I'd planned this whole, big weekend to ourselves, just Laxus and I, but we got into an argument that first night over something so stupid, I… But it spiraled into other things, the way dumb fights do, and it had all built up, and I was done with him. We'd just started moving some of my stuff more permanently over to his apartment and I thought, when you and Elf got back, that he could help me go get it all, and that would be it. I was that done."
"What changed your mind?"
"He apologized to me," Mira told her simply. "Truly. And deeply. Something I'd never seen him do before. When we'd fight or get upset with one another, he'd usually buy me something or just give in. But he didn't this time. He came back around that next morning and over breakfast, he told me that he was sorry for getting so upset with me. It's not an easy thing for him."
"That's it?" Lisanna asked, a bit incredulous.
Shaking her head, Mira said, "After he apologized, he told me that though he was sorry we'd fought, that I'd gotten upset, he wasn't backing down from whatever the dumb thing was we were arguing over originally. And we had a full, level headed conversation about it, instead of a fight, and when it finished, I wasn't really happy with the results, but I remember being glad that not only he apologized to me, but that he was able to come to me and have a serious talk about something that made us both uncomfortable, instead of running from it. I never knew I needed that before, but I did."
Softly, Lisanna sighed before asking, "Can we get out of the freezer now?"
"I can't, but you can."
"Sis-"
"Why don't you go have a drink upstairs? And I'll be up later." She moved to hug her sister then, the warmth from this more than little welcome. "Being heard is important. But so is listening. When your boyfriend gets back from whatever was more important than your date-"
"I didn't say-"
"-talk to him." Releasing her, Mira told the younger woman, "Even if he doesn't want to. You're either both on the same page or your not."
It wouldn't be, but another half hour before Mira was done with her tasks down in the basement and, after depositing the trash in the dumpster behind back, she took another detour before relieving Kinana just yet.
Laxus was sitting at his usual table, with just Freed that day, the other guy detailing a recent job to his idol while Laxus toyed with the wedding band on his finger and glanced over a map for a trip he'd been planning. He felt his wife approach before he looked up, but as he raised his head to greet her, he found she was already at his side.
Freed blushed, regardless of their marital status, when Mirajane leaned down to deeply kiss Laxus. Public displays of affection always made the rune mage uncomfortable. But when they broke apart, the guild's most elite slayer was all smiles.
As he was opening his mouth to say something though, she was quick to interject by remarking, "I'm glad we worked out."
Laxus laughed, but it was dryly, watching as she moved to grab both he and Freed's mugs, no doubt off to refill them.
"Weird way to say I'm the best husband ever," he retorted to her back, unconcerned with any who may overhear, "but I'll take it."
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ongaku-ato-kakikomi · 2 years ago
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ooooo :0c sorry for bothering but do you think you could write for the monster prom characters with an s/o who has a really don't mess with me attitude but enjoys cute things, is kinda touch starved an' they like get hella scared when people yell at/near them
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Miranda Vanderbilt:
You and Miranda were walking around local shops in town, your girlfriend wanting to see where people of your social status go shopping (you cringed a little at those words, but you know she didn’t mean any harm). Though you looked like you were hating every single spec of this outing since you had to step out of your house, you actually quite enjoyed shopping with Mir’… especially since she seems to be amazed by anything she sees.
“Love, look!” You turn your head towards the mermaid princess just in time for her to hand you a beautiful and glowing (f/c) flower that she bought while you were looking away, a bright smile on her face. “This flower is as adorable as you… You shall take it and keep it close to your heart.”
Your neutral expression suddenly breaks into a red mess when her words stab your heart, your fingers slowly picking up the flower from her own while looking at the ground.
“I-I’m not adorable…” You can’t help but silently be mesmerized by the glowing flower in your hand, already trying to think of a place to put it back at home. “… but thank you.”
Her grin stretches out at the sight of you, your eyes soon going wide when she gives your cheek a quick kiss.
“You’re adorable to me.” She just giggles when you start grumbling under your breath, her hand soon intertwining with your free one before she drags you towards another shop. “Come on now! We have so many more things to see! My kingdom is also in a lack of serfs these days… Do you think one of those shops sell them?”
You can’t help but let out a small smile as you follow her.
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Damien LaVey:
The first time Damien invited you to Hell, things were awesome: You tortured a few folks, had dinner with his dads, got to meet a few dead celebrities in complete agony… but the one thing you had been looking out for the most was the tour, and Damien was more than happy to be your guide. He showed you everything he knew you would like and he fucking loved how bright your eyes were sparkling the entire time. Everything had been perfect and awesome until you both got tired, and so you decided to go back to his home.
It’s on the way back home that you met what is commonly known as a fire dog: so basically a dog from hell that is constantly on fire. The creature had been designed to be both cute and awesome, but also to help torture more humans with its deadly features. Damien was expecting you to burst in admiration at the design, but what he wasn’t expecting was for your face to turn into this mushy adorableness as you kneel in front of the creature.
“You… are… so… cute!” His eyes had gone wide in shock when you outstretched your hand gloved with fire protector to pet the said the dog, the creature leaning into your touch as you scratch its head. “Who’s a good boy? You’re a good boy!”
He couldn’t help but snort at the excessively high pitch voice you just used, not having expected that from you at all. You snap your head back at him to send him a glare, your eyes full of a dark emotion.
“What are you laughing at?”
“You.” He puts his hands into his jacket’s pocket and gives out a smirk. “You’re adorable.”
“I’m not…!” Red spreads onto your cheeks faster than a deadly disease, your gloved hand now petting the dog’s belly as it rolls onto its back. “I’m not adorable! I-I’m dangerous!”
“That too.” His smirk stretches out. “But right now, mostly adorable.”
It’s when you let out an exasperated groan that he knew you were the right one.
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Scott Howl:
“(Y/N)!” You give out a yelp when large arms suddenly engulf you into a tight hug, not having expected that in the slightest since you were too enraptured into your phone’s content. “I missed you!”
You give out a light chuckle once you recognize the cheery voice of Scott, a small crimson color settling onto your skin as you pat one of his arms.
“Of course you did.” The color deepens when he rubs his cheek against yours, knowing how bright his smile must be. “… I missed you too…”
He gasps in pure joy at those words, ignoring your annoyed grumbling before he picks you up and swirls you around laughing. You almost never admit things like that, so the fact that you just said it out of nowhere made his heart burst out in happiness.
“You missed me! You said you missed me!”
“P-put me down!” You excessively move your arms with wide-open eyes until he finally puts you on the ground, trying not to let his joyful laugh affect your heartbeat so bad. “Don’t ever do that again.”
“Awn, but I like hugging you.”
“That wasn’t hugging, that was an attack!”
He tilts his head at you, confused. “It was?”
“Yeah-”
“Hey, Scott!” You jump up in fear at the sound of that voice, not liking how loud and close it was to you just now. “Are you grabbing a bite with the boys?”
You unconsciously start to tremble as Scott’s cousin speaks with him, putting a hand against your chest to slow down your breathing. The werewolf boy notices your stressful state, and though he doesn’t quite understand everything you’re going through despite you having explained it to him multiple time, he knows you don’t like when people scream, and so he shakes his head at his cousin.
“Nah, sorry.” You give out another yelp when he puts his arm around your shoulders and crushes you into another tight hug. “I’m spending the evening with (Y/N)!”
The cousin quirks an eyebrow before he shrugs and leaves. “Whatever you say, dude.”
You wait for him to have left before you shyly look away. “… Thank you.”
“No need to thank me, sweet cheeks!”
You just give out another grumble when he pinches your said cheek, only making him laugh loudly in response.
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Liam de Lioncourt:
You carefully observe the purple vampire on the opposite side of the table, his yellow eyes silently reading through another old book of his while you’re trying to not bother him. You promised you’d let him read in peace and not force him on another of your dangerous adventures out of nowhere. Lucky for him, you’re not in the mood for something deadly, as he would call it.
Your (e/c) orbs slowly move away from his concentrated expression to one of his hands holding the book, your own starting to shake as you try to suppress the need to hold one of them this instant. You desperately need some touch to ease down the tension in your mind and heart, but once again; you don’t want to bother him. Plus, wouldn’t it be hard to turn the pages if he only has one hand?
The sigh escaping his lips brings you back to reality in time to notice him stretching his hand on the table towards you, your expression turning to a confused yet hopeful one as you look back to his. His eyes are still looking straight towards the content of his book, but the simple movement of his fingers urging you to take his hand gives you the answer you need.
You gently put your hand in his and you instantly feel your whole body relax, your happy smile resting on your lips despite your edgy features. Your heart melts when his thumb starts caressing your skin unconsciously, your head instantly dropping onto the table so you can hide the heat your feeling rising inside your neck.
You hate that you hear him chuckle.
“Tired?”
“Shut up.”
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Polly Geist:
The blaring music and long screams around you makes your soul terrifyingly shake through your entire core. You normally never stay long at the parties Polly always invite you to; they’re loud and too crowded for your taste, but this time you wanted to force yourself to stay to spend more time with her.
Bad idea.
Now you’re looking around with fear in your eyes, all the sounds cutting through your brain like a sharp knife, and everyone’s too afraid of your tough nature to even ask if you’re okay. You don’t have the reputation of being good and kind among the monsters, and so you desperately try to spot Polly’s ghostly figure through the crowd.
You finally manage to find her, a ghostly alcohol beverage in her hands as she laughs with other strangers. You don’t care if you push a few people away while you walk towards her form, not letting your eyes wander away from her until your fingers brush against her cold shoulder.
She turns her head towards you with a wide grin, but she soon loses it when she notices your whitening expression and the slight fear jolts going through your body.
“(Y/N), what’s wrong?”
“I-I…” You stop speaking and shake your head, trying to regain some composure. “Can we go, please?”
“Yeah, of course!” She drops her cup on the ground and links her arm with yours, giving you a comforting smile while she leads you towards the exit. “Let’s go chill at your house. This party’s lame anyway.”
You give her a small smile, silently thanking her for saving you from this nightmare.
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Vera Oberlin:
The gorgon girl silently types on her phone as she stares at it intently, an unreadable expression settled on her face as she exchanges orders with her minions. Boredom is swirling inside her chest, a few annoyed groans almost escaping her throat during her text conversations with mere people. Crime has been dull and repetitive today; nothing was interesting her or lightening a spark inside her heart.
She slightly stiffs up when she feels arms slowly enrapt around her form, but rapidly relaxes when you hide your face in the crook of her neck and exhale in relief. She frees one of her hands to carefully let her fingers go through your hair, feeling your own body relax through her touch. She gives out a small smile, slightly turning her head to give the top of your head a kiss before she continues to type.
“Hard day?”
You tighten your grip on her, your face slightly rubbing against her skin in the process. “Hm-hm.”
Before she got to know you, she would never have guessed how much you needed touch, but she would lie if she said she didn’t like it.
“Crime’s not interesting today.” She puts her phone on the counter and frees herself from your arms to be able to turn around, her hands rapidly cupping your cheeks as her eyes lay on your tired expression. “How about a day in? Just us two?” 
The light firing up in your eyes is the only answer she needs.
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illyrian-lover-flower · a year ago
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The chosen forest keeper 5
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                                       I never deserved you
So just a little note, thank you guys so much for being patient with me❤❤ and please enjoy the chapter😊 
Though I must warn you, there is a moment in this one where I questioned myself - it’s propably going to be pretty easy to point it out😅
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Fear clawed at her back, like a cold trail of water, that slowly climbed up her spine, millimetre for millimetre, as she stood shaking, like the leaves around her, in the middle of a small clearing, inside a forest which she never wandered upon.  
And though it was fear, that set her heart shaking and her blood running, and held an icy reign over her body, so did the dagger, which she held with such intensity, that her knuckles turned as white as the jade beneath her trembling fingers, while the tip of it glittered happily under the moonlight as it pointed towards the rustling bush to her right.  
Elain had always dreaded such a moment. A moment in which her body would over throw her own power of will again, and claim her. The wish of shedding blood, attached to the very root of her heart as she stood still as death, waiting for her prey. Elain didn’t know from where this lust for blood hailed from, but what she knew was the fear, that always flooded her heart in crashing waves whenever her mind ran wild on blood red fantasies. Leaving her trembling each night, when she awoke sweating from such a dream.  
And now her fantasy was reality.  
Control having long slipped from her grasp as her feet started to move slowly towards the rustling leafage, the grass below her not even daring to bow in the wind as her feet padded softly over the green grass - the dagger held protectively out in front of her as she moved closer and closer, her stance ducked and ready to sprint forward and stab, if she had to.  
Elain would hate herself if this blade would dive into the depths of a fae body, an animal body even, she did not wish to shed blood, but her body was against it. A primal part, which she wasn’t too familiar with, inside of her kept on shouting to just let blood splutter, to get herself dirty.  
But there was no such need for it. The glittering pearl white, of a sharp talon, making her sigh in relieve as she put, Fate seeker hurriedly away, back into the delicate sheath that was dangling carefree off of her thin leather belt. There was no need to draw Fate seeker, it was only an Illyrian, that probably searched, just like her, some peace and semblance among the endless greenery of the mother and the dancing moonlight of the gods.  
There was no need for fear, no reason for bloodshed - everything was fine.  
“Hello.” greeted her cheery voice the male, that came stumbling out of the bush. Leaves ripping and rustling, twigs cracking and breaking under his heavy weight, as he fought his way free.  
Some of the greenery was still tangled in the mass of his chestnut-brown hair, as his eyes found Elain’s, shock washing through them as he stood, stiff as a stone, in the middle of the bush. One strong foot standing proudly on the mushy floor, while the other was tangled in a mass of twigs and leaves, fighting for freedom - all the while his shocked gaze never looked away from Elain, that shifted uncomfortably from one foot on the other.  
Only for a brief moment when his foot in the bush started to shake, in the hopes of finally gaining freedom, did his gaze turn away from her and that only because he stumbled forward and crashed, face first, into the mushy green earth below them.  
It took Elain a lot of willpower to not burst out laughing, but even though her hand flew quickly up her mouth, trying to hold in the laughter, a giggle still escaped her while the male to her feet, only one step away, grumbled into the dirty earth.  
“Here, let me help you.” was all Elain could muster saying, as she calmed her giggling self again and bent down to help the bulky Illyrian up. He still continued to grumble on as he slowly stood up to his full hight again. Fresh mud glimmering under the soft silver hues of the moon light, while it stuck to his chest and face, slowly falling down in flakes too after he once ruffled through his fluffy hair.  
Elain couldn’t contain the giggle as she eyed the male, his way of acting somehow reminded her a lot of Cassian. A clumsy male that was easy to fall into a stream of better never spoken curses. And the male - that stood with his back towards her, as he still tried desperately to get rid of all of the mud on his body - was just as tall and bulky as her kind hearted warrior friend. In general, all Illyrians seemed tall and bulky, she thought. After all, Fersia was just as tall as Azriel and Cassian, just a bit less of muscle mass, but Elain was sure they were around the same hight.
Just like the male, that stood in the middle of the clearing and still didn’t acknowledge Elain's presence at all, only when the Seer approached him, stopping three proper steps away from him did she catch his words.  
“I go for once, only once, in the forest and then this happens! Mother above, why don’t you have a little mercy with me!?” with a sigh, on his now mud free lips, did he turn abruptly towards Elain.  
Ghostly hues of moonlight seemingly dancing around his talons, while he slowly waded through the shaded sea of silver glimmers towards her. His whole being seemed to glow as he took each step silent and swift, approaching his prey ever so slowly. Slightly scared by him, did Elain subtly put a hand on the shaft of Fate Seeker, trying to gain calm and comfort from the cold Jade but neither came. Only the males hunting blue eyes peered down at her petite form.  
“Can I help you?”  
The male did not speak, all he did was taking a predatory step closer towards her and another one and another one, making Elain slowly back away from his intimidating stature and claw tightly at the hilt of Fate seeker.  
Only when he was a breath away, the seers back pressed to the rough bark of an oak, who's leaves stretched far above their heads into a crown –protecting them from any prying eye- not even the moon beams able to dive through the sea of thick leaves, did the stranger speak. His eyes, who were filled with distaste and apologies, were locked on hers as he positioned his arm next to Elain’s head.  
If he goes any further, I’ll draw Fate seeker. Was all Elain could think, not even his honey voice able to calm her nerves “I am very sorry.”  
She didn’t even had time to process his words, before his lips pushed roughly down on hers, his hand, that was not positioned next to her head, moving to her waist and pulling her wide-eyed figure closer towards him.  
Her whole body seemed to screech at the feeling of his lips, seemed to buckle in disgust as his lips kept on moving, as if he would guzzle her alive. Elain did not know why she stood tense for so long, why she had let his hand grip tighter around her waist as his lips continued on moving, but all she knew was the sting.
The sting that tickled along her palm, like an army of ants.  
And then he was gone, his weight was off of her, her lips were freed of his, as his body stumbled back. This disgusting large hand of his, that had grabbed her so roughly, flying up to hold his red check while his eyes were wide as plates, capturing softly the hues of the silver moonlight as they seemed to glitter like a pile of glass shards. “What in the mothers name?!” hissed his voice through the air.  
Elain still tried, with a heaving chest and shaking hands, to process what just happened, of what she just did – she had raised her hand against him, an Illyrian who was born and crafted for battle. Her heart raced, her lips hurt from his rough movement on them and all her mind could do was to yell back at him, her puzzled brain not even able to form the words properly.  
“That I could ask you too!”
His head snapped to her, something like amusement mixed with a bit of anger was displayed in these ghostly light blue eyes of his; “You could ask me that?! You were just the one the broke the rules of the forest?!”  
“What rule are you even talking about!?”
“Don’t act so sanctimonious! You know just as well as I of the rules around here!”  
“Do I look like I do!?” was all she could manage. Her breath was still uneven as she started to yell at the male. Never in her life would she have thought to ever yell at a person, such as the male in front of her, who argued, with wildly gesturing hands, about his point of right.
The male didn’t even answer her question as he continued to grumble on, his chest rising and his lungs fighting for air, as he took deeper and heavier breathes throughout his telling-off. He did not even notice how Elain herself shook from uprising anger, hot searing anger that arose inside of her and protected her of the cold air around her.  
Who does this male think he is?!  
He was in luck that Elain only lifted her hand against him and not drove Fate Seeker into his sculpted cheek!  
“You females of the Angisciri-tribe know just as much of the rules around here as we males!”
Now that had caught Elain’s attention. Fersia had mentioned the word Angisciri a few times on the flight towards her village, as well as when they marched through the thick woods, that protected Fersia’s home for already such a long time. It already had wondered Elain a few times what it meant, but she could not be bothered to ask this question. Not when her mind was preoccupied with her cruel train of thoughts and the whispers around her.  
Just like now, as an abradant hissed laugh echoed through the woods, making her flinch and draw Fate Seeker once again, who’s blade was pointed once again towards her surroundings. But there was nothing, nothing but thick darkness as she scanned the bushes, the stems, the leaves, anything –she didn’t know what- for any trace of an enemy.
And just like that did her disgust vanish, like a cold drop of water on the hot surface of a stone. A bit of it still lingered on her tight skin, but it was forgettable, just like the male that stood puzzled behind her and eyed her stiff body with furrowed eyebrows.  
“May I help you?”  
Elain didn’t answer it, she only turned towards him again – ever so slowly- Fate Seeker clutched tightly in her hands and resting calmy against her chest. “I just thought I heard something.” The tall male, who bathed once again in the silver sea of moonlight, lifted his gaze. Slowly searching every surface behind her, with a trained eye, for any danger and as he found none of that did his blue eyes focus on her doe ones again.  
“You do know, we still have to follow the rules of the forest. Even though you and I, both, might not like it we still have to follow the rules, which were only set up for our own good.”  
His voice was stern as he spoke after a while of silence, his gaze unweathering on Elain as he lectured her about a rule, she had no clue existed. Voicing out this thought, quiet like a church mouse, he had laughed at her.  
“Did your mother not teach you the rules of the forest?”  
“My mother was not from here, neither am I, so it is only natural that I do not know of this rule.”
“You are not from here?” was all he asked, repeating her words with such a hopeful beam in his eyes, that he reminded her of Feyre when they had celebrated her birthday last year. Struk by this memory did her strength to speak slowly evaporate from her, fleeing as if it never belonged to her, as if she was always meant to stay silent – a nod everything that was deemed as right for her.  
Oh, and how this nod of hers set the male running towards her. Twirling and lifting her in an overwhelming hug, similar to those Cassian always gave her –whenever he came back from Illyria. Why did she have to remember all of this now? Was all she could ask herself as guilt slowly wrapped itself around her throat and heart, slowly suffocating her as she thought of her family in the arms of a stranger, who practically bounced off happiness.  
“Oh, thank the mother!” were the words he first spoke to her as he set her back down on her feet, with a spinning head and a nervous laugh on her lips. She still didn’t know of his reason to be this happy, nor could she explain herself why he had forced this kiss upon her only minutes before.  
Elain would normally not pry, but she had a right to know why he did what he did – after all, her time of silence was over, she would no longer accept others to just talk around her, ignore her. Those were the reasons why she ran away in the first place, why she had abandoned her family and now preferred to life with this sting in her heart – slowly healing, even with such a sharp thorn. While in Velaris she would have withered away, would have never spoken up and would have never really questioned the moves of anyone, after all, she had the least right to question Rhys and Feyre’s motives of why they had sent Nesta away so cruelly. Elain was, from any point of view, the weakest of her family, so it was most likely to think that she was the one who had the least right to decide on the doing of the strong ones. Always used to being the one that was protected – not even a say in the slightest.
That was how she had always accepted –thought- of such things, but here she was free to grasp this strong thread of deserved knowledge.  
“May I ask what the kiss was for?” though she asked politely, Elain could not hide the edge of distaste, that lined her words and set the male to shift uncomfortably from one foot on the other, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly while his gaze looked everywhere but her; “Right, you might want to sit down for this one.” 
Elain was puzzled by his act of behaviour but still let him guid her back onto the open clearing, sitting down with her on her white cloak, which she had spread out without hesitancy.  It were long moments of silence and whispered hushes of the wind through the shaking leaves until he spoke again, more to himself than to her “Mother, this is hard to explain to a female.” But Elain was patient and waited till the flustered male opposite her was ready to speak freely. With a final huff and the seers waiting eyes fixed on him, did he meet her gaze. Determination was written inside his ghostly blue orbs, while confusion was displayed in her doe eyes. 
 “So, I did mention a rule to you.” Elain nodded.  
“What I did not tell you, was that this rule is the most important one between the males and females of the forest, or rather it’s one of the three most important rules around here. They are that important that you could consider them as law.” his uneasiness was bright as day, but still Elain could not help but to wish that he finally got to the point, which he tried to dance around so gracefully.
 Another huff followed as he rung once again for words; “All right, to give a bit of insight I’ll tell you all three.”
 Elain only nodded and bit her tongue, it would be rude to interrupt him now, when he tried to give her more information than she asked for. The male only laughed nervously “Mother, I had never thought I’d have such a talk someday …. anyhow the first law of the forest is that no male of the Skirin-tribe is allowed to life together with a female of the Angisciri-tribe, neither is a female of the said Angisciri-tribe allowed to life with a male of the Skirin-tribe. “  
His gaze looked deeper into Elain's once he finished the first rule, looking for questions in her eyes. Questions which she simply voiced out; “You say ‘Angisciri-tribe’ and ‘Skirin-tribe' does that mean there are other tribes around here?”  
The male shock his head, his fluffy chestnut hair ruffling in the wind as he did so “No, here in the Night Court and the forest do not reside other tribes. The Angisciri-tribe is the only female tribe, just as the Skirin-tribe is the only male tribe.” Elain eyebrows furrowed together as she heard that “Does that mean in the one tribe are only females allowed and in the other only males?” An approving nod was all she got. 
 And as she thought about it, it all made clear sense. She might not know how it looked in the male tribe, but in Fersia’s home, the Angisciri-tribe, it was clear that only females resided on those grounds. No male warrior protected the Village, or the Mother that sat so proudly on her black throne, no male was seen training or doing house chores, like getting the wood for a fire inside. It all made sense, but something still wondered her.  
There were children giggling and running around through the Village, fighting each other with little sticks, that they pretended were great swords, while their Mothers did their assigned task in the Village. 
 “But if you all life separately, how do you provide offspring?” it was a rare question for her to ask aloud, but if she wouldn’t have it would have not let her go for the rest of the month and asking Fersia, who was a great friend and knew that such questions were unusual for her, would have been much more difficult than to ask a male –a stranger- who shifted uncomfortably in front of her and did not know her. 
 “Well, about that, it’s the second law of the forest – ones a male and a female, of the tribes, cross paths inside of the forest, it is expected of them to perform the act of reproducing.”  For a moment his words did not struck her, only made her nod as if she understood his words, but in truth all they left behind was a puzzled net of thoughts in her brain that was not fully able to understand the weight of them, but once she did – heat rushed to her cheeks and cloaked them with the same dust of pink as his. 
They were supposed to … .
 Mother above she did not even want to think about this!  
Was that the reason why Fersia had warned her that it was dangerous in the forest, because of this law? Elain was full out puzzled as she sat there, her head bright red as a tomato, while her skin seemed to melt off of her body due to the heat it radiated off. 
 “Thank the Mother I am not part of the Angisciri-tribe.” she clarified again. 
The male only nodded at her. 
“Anyway,” did the male start, trying to change the subject as soon as possible “...the third law is something pretty common – no member of the tribes is allowed to kill a member of the other tribe.”
 “That is something pretty comprehensible.” she stated matter of factly. 
 The male, once again, only nodded and let silence spread under the hues of moonlight.  
Granting Elain some semblance to collect her thoughts, while she processed his words with a cautious mind. 
He was a kind male so it seemed, as she looked closer at him. His whole being did not whisper of a bad intention with her, nor did he look like as if he would do with her what was wanted of them, if she would have been a member of Fersia’s tribe.  
All in all, he did not radiate off the aura of a typical Illyrian Warrior – brash, self-constituted paired with a heart cold as ice while they were trained to harden it even more. What she had seen, of the Illyrians in Windhaven when she once visited Nesta, was horrifying. 
They mistreated those of them who had strength and a gentle heart, laughed about the females and talked about them as if they were a useless accessory, they kept around for fun. It still tore her heart to shreds when she thought about it, when she remembered how some of the male's bragged that they were only hours away from having the Commanders little toy under them.  
Her blood went boiling as she remembered these barked laughs, how they echoed through her hollow body as she walked past them together with Azriel, who had openly fought an inner battle. It was open to her at least, the grinding of his jaw was indication enough that he fought the urge to punch them, weather it was for Nesta or Cassian was beyond her, but she somehow had the feeling that if he would have lunged forward and placed a punch on their nose – then it would have been for Nesta and her alone.  
It warmed Elain’s heart, in the cold of night as she sat here on the forest floor, her memories taking her to thoughts she long didn’t allow herself to have. The warm thoughts of his care, that Azriel had truly cared. 
The seer was not in the picture how deep the friendship with her steeled sister ran, but no matter the depth he always helped her as best as he could. He had shared so much pain and laughter with Nesta that it occasionally made Elain feel weird, as if a strep wrapped tightly around her heart and did not want to stop bothering her until the Shadowsinger was in sight again.  
It often made Elain feel guilty, possessive, of this male who deserved to have his own freedom and friendships and if Azriel would want to labour such a deep friendship with Nesta – then so would it be. It would have been alone their decision and the fact that Nesta even wanted, allowed, a friend – then Elain would have to be fine with it. 
 And she was. 
The thought alone that Nesta had healed enough to allow someone close in her life, made the rubbing strap on her heart disappear and replace it with warmth instead.  
Nesta was healing.  
Hopefully she still would after all of this, would still let this kind hearted male, that cloaked himself in silence and shadows as well as a dry sense of humour, close to her.  
A faint whisper of a smile ghosted her lips,as she thought of his dry jokes, while the moon beams wanted to caress those plush lips of hers, but something made them shy away, made them dance around her, like her thoughts danced around the Shadowsinger, covering her in a veil of silver that draped around her shoulders like the finest silk.  
It was weird how light seemed to shy away from her pale skin, as if even the slightest ray was afraid of hurting this delicate skin of hers, while it hugged tight to the male who still sat opposite her. 
Covering his hair, his face, his body, his wings and soul in a second skin of silver, it was as if light was drawn to him. 
No shadow danced to his feet, not even behind him, while those around Elain seemed to creep closer and closer.  As if they still carried the protective thought of their master, who was thousands of miles away, inside of them. Clinging to the seer as if it were their destiny – to stay with her.  
Let go of me. was all she could whisper in her mind; Please leave me behind. 
Begged her broken voice in silence, while she eyed the small twirls of black that danced and caressed the forest earth next to her. 
Small tendrils lashed out towards her, while others wrapped around a delicate hilt of grass, as if they were hurt by her words and sought comfort in the softness of the greenery.  
But softness never came, neither for her heart nor for them. Cold stings of guilt were all that bore tight in her heart, set it bleeding, as she looked with teary eyes at the soft veil of blackness, she so wished to feel whispering across her skin again, but never would it caress her in such gentleness again.  
After all, she had hurt him – rammed a dagger through the already broken heart of their master- and yet they still clung to her, as if they were not ready, not able to let her go.  
“Please ..." she whispered at them, a broken word that was barely audible over the strong gusts of wind, that picked up pace somewhere in between her thoughts. Yet the stranger seemed to have heard her, his blue eyes looking her way, puzzled, while he slowly got up. 
 Each of his careful few steps seemed to echo through the forest earth below them, the beams of moonlight which followed him, able to shoo away the broken shadows around her.  
It is better like this. He deserves to be happy; the clinging of his shadows would have only made it worse – for both of us. It is better like this.  
Was all she could think as the male stretched out a hand to help her up, she gladly took it, but still – her skin felt weird where he touched her, seemed to freeze and sear at the same time while needles picked at her flesh. It felt weird, this rough hand on hers felt so different, so wrong, compared to the one her skin already seemed to have memorized.  
Yet she still did not intend to be rude “Thank you.”  The Illyrian only nodded, while he tucked his wings in tight and stepped off of the cloak. “Ah, I am very sorry about your …" he did not come to finish that sentence as Elain already picked up the cloth and wrapped the clean fabric around her shoulders once again. 
“What?” giggled she at him – he was even more baffled than Fersia.  “Nothing.” and with that did his chestnut- hair fluff up in the wind a last time, before he was gone. 
Swallowed up in the woods once again as he left Elain behind.  
Smiling did she shake her head at the male, who's figure grew darker and darker in the covert of the summer greenery of the forest. 
He probably went home, just like she should – Fersia might already be worried, though the female was not one of her sisters and preferred that the seer had her own life and freedom, she still tended to worry a lot at times and Elain did not want to make her worry more than she already did today. 
 Her break down from forenoon most likely still lingering in the Illyrians head, just like Elain’s as it still pounded harshly at her. But perhaps it was only her trail of thoughts that led her up to that headache, her remorse long taking over her still weakened body.  
The walk home would perhaps turn out longer than she thought.  
With a sigh did she already want to set out south towards the Village, but there was something nagging her, clawing at her mind like the wind at her cloak and gown. 
Don’t go there! Come to me! Come to me! Visit me!  
Hissed the same voice over the wind at her, from yesterday. And against any better judgement, against any up roaring worry in her body, did she turn and went north.  
Closer and closer towards that hissed voice that continued on beckoning her closer. 
_______________previous chapter | next chapter __________________
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24 notes · View notes
racketghost · a year ago
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Came for the breathtakingly lovely fics, stayed for the beauty and kindness you share with generous abandon.
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AhhhhHHHHHH. OH GOD. This is fine. It’s FINE 😭😭😭 I’m not melting or anything. I’m totally okay (I’m not).
You know when I posted that ask meme I was anticipating like, “came for the guy fieri love stayed for the flavortown”, or “came for the dumb AO3 tags stayed for the Dust Bowl Handjobs”. I was not expecting like, actual lovely, incredible, heartfelt answers that make me do the Jerry Wheeze face at my screen 😭♥️ it’s too nice. TOO NICE, I SAY.
So I say very sincerely thank you for this incredible bit of kindness and for making a very ghostly so-and-so feel very mushy and overwhelmed 😭♥️♥️♥️
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quosterking · a year ago
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2. with Fester...? (Adorable spooky babe~)
Ooh first Fester ask, thanks @stormyweaver! Time to elaborate.
So a bit of pretext: Fester is the spirit of Adult Halloween—aka a ghost demigod deal. His younger sister, Spoop, is the spirit of Childish Halloween; candy, trick-or-treats, etc etc, and is a remarkably more powerful poltergeist than he is. Fester personally struggles with finding out the true meaning of “Adult Halloween,” where costumes and candy aren’t exactly the hype anymore.
Then he runs into Lucas.
Lucas is a simple straight boy who’s fresh out of high school, and itching to explore his independent life now that he’s 18. On an early September afternoon, Lucas and Fester bump into each other, and Fester has no issues making himself acquainted and following this poor kid around. With hope, Fester can find his hidden powers through annoying Lucas, and Lucas can get a girlfriend or something.
But you guys don’t care about that! Y’all just wanna read about him sneezing. He’s got hayfever, and straw drives him nuts. Enjoy the 1000w drabble!
2. Pumpkin Patch
Lucas was tucked up in his beige, cross-knit sweater, crunching along the mushy, wet soil path of the Mabel Farmer’s Market. He was lost in a field of yellow grass and round pumpkins and his gentle breaths resonated with the crisp, sharp air that nibbled at his cheekbones. For early September, it sure was getting chilly; of course, the crows never seemed to mind. Their rusty calls echoed eastward with the cinnamon that clung onto the west-flowing wind from the farm.
The fresh teen stopped short of a half-rotting pumpkin before his feet. Mold had abducted its side, and its ridges were complex and messy. In fact...it almost looked like a face, the longer Lucas stared at it. Planting his palms on his distressed white jeans, he squatted, leaning forward to be completely eye level with the gourd. It did resemble that of a face. Closed eyelids, a crooked, closed-mouth grin..?
Suddenly, the flesh of the orange plant split open, revealing two hideous purple orbs of eyes, bright green snake-like slits constricting at the sight of the boy before him. A gruesome smile was quick to follow, fleshy teeth peeling out from the rough skin underneath.
Lucas, the poor thing, had flung himself backward in a bout of terror dragging his bright clothes across the dark soil with a scream. The vegetable split into a fit of hideous laughter, and as it did, a half-transparent young man made himself known from the depths of its innards.
“Oh come on,” he folded his arms just above his exposed chest, fixing his neon crop-top, “I didn’t even say “boo,” yet and you’ve already pissed down your leg. I love you, but you’ve gotta give me something to work with!!”
“Ugh— Shra’an,” Lucas stammered through a bright blush, before he was quickly cut off.
“It’s Fester.”
“Fester. Whatever. I thought you got tired of me from last week,” He continued sternly, pinching his eyebrow and peeling himself up from the soggy ground.
“I almost did, to be honest,” sighed the poltergeist helplessly, sitting himself down on the rotting pumpkin, “in my defense, watching someone go job-searching and web-surfing and watching naked ladies dance on a computer screen for a week can get a bit boring...well, except that one lady with the dope skeleton tattoo—”
“Fester, please,” Chirped the helpless teen, shielding his red cheeks with a hand.
“Right Right, my point!! I almost ditched you for some other guy, but then—? Here you are! A pumpkin patch!! Why??”
Finally, after a moment of dusting and smearing dirt, Lucas simply walked around Fester, eyebrows just as stern as ever. “To pick a few pumpkins,” he responded effortlessly, earning a grunt of dissatisfaction from the ghostly figure, who was soon hovering upside down above him.
“Well, obviously, but why? You seem like the type of kid to never go outside when your parents are begging you to, let alone on your own terms. Why are you picking pumpkins??”
“You really wanna know?” Lucas shot back, a leading ring to his tone as he arched an eyebrow. He was lifting a smaller, rounder pumpkin from a set of large, oval ones, brushing the dirt and spiders off with his thumbs. He turned fully to meet the eagerly awaiting eyes of Fester.
“Well??” He pressed after a pause, gesturing to him to continue.
“I’ll take a knife, a sharp one, and crush it into the innocent flesh of this lil guy...I’ll gut him, cleaner than a dog’s dinner, and force eyes into it. Let it see from its own carcass, the sights of my front lawn, carve out a nose and let it smell its innards roasting in the oven…cave a mouth so it can try to scream as I maul him.”
“Ooh...that’s—you’re screwing with me,” Fester’s once elaborate grins and hand rubs melted into a mush pile of disappointed scoffs.
“Using them as decoration,” Lucas concluded, rolling his eyes to hide the smile already itching at his lips, “Hurry up, I still need to pay for the ones here, and then take the bus home.”
Fester walked with sagged shoulders behind the simple boy, playing with his black nail paint; he watched his reflection in the glossy finish as the two entered the barn, sticking out a forked tongue and splitting his left iris into six. The stench of farm animals were nearly as strong as the overwhelming aroma of hay and straw, and Fester could see his pointed nose darken in his reflection.
Lucas placed the last of six pumpkins onto the desk, waiting for the elder lady to weigh them and total a price.
“Hehh...hHEH! HEHH’SHHHTOO!!”
“Bless you,” Lucas said subconsciously, not so much as looking up from his wallet. The woman behind the stand did a short double take in confusion, letting her eyebrows harden as she lowered her head back to her calculator.
“Bless you,” Lucas had said again, just as she looked down to continue.
“h-heheh-! Lucahh- hhAHH-! HIIITSHH-EWWW!” Fester fumbled through a third, tearful sneeze, fanning the dust from his face as the spider on his chin scampered back to his nostril from whence it came. He rubbed at his nostrils with two fingers, clearing his throat wetly from the hay dust, “guh...I need a tissue...need I remind you that you’re the only one who can see and hear me?”
Lucas' hair fell into his face as his head shot up to meet the confused store-clerk. That’s right, he was talking to himself this entire time.
“Sorry ma’am-!!” He stammered, face growing peach with embarrassment, “I-I uh, I say bless you when I feel a sneeze coming on, so that I don’t.”
“Ohhhhhh, that makes sense. $38.45” the woman nodded to the 18-year-old, exchanging the sack of pumpkins for two twenty dollar bills. Once the transaction was done, Lucas shot his head over his shoulder, boiling with red cheeks and a scrunched nose, watching Fester pull a black widow from his nose.
“....what?” The poltergeist did a quick double take from the squirming arachnid.
“I genuinely hate you.”
“Hate who??” Fester muttered equally, just before blowing his nose into the front of his crop top. He grinned as Lucas looked to the confused onlookers as he accused a crate, sitting unoccupied in front of a few hay bales. Grabbing his sack with a few muffled grumbles, Lucas dragged himself out to the bus stop with a scarlet face, his poltergeist pal hovering lazily beside him.
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