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[gonnasleeptodeath]

Summary: The world is so boring without ghosts. Fortunately, your very own "fairy godmother" makes up for that.

Characters belongs to @systemtide ,ooc belongs to me,love belongs to you.

Warning: Contain mild horror elements

BGM: solitude. by vietra

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Your house is most definitely, absolutely, undeniably haunted.

 

Of course, there is another possibility: you have lost your mind. All things considered, the former is far easier to accept.

 

Everything that happened on the island was like an absurd dream, indistinguishable from reality. Then, you woke up, the memories fading away like mist as you returned to the ordinary world beside your family. 

 

Yet the dream refused to end.

 

At first, it was just some trivial hallucinations, which you attribute to excessive stress. As you staring absently at documents on the computer, twisted blood-red words crept out from the corners of the screen. Phrases like "You belong to me", "Found you" and "I love you" spread across the entire frame. A blink,and they vanished without a trace. The text cursor still flickered steadily at the end of the line. If someone had hacked into your computer just to pull such a pointless prank,that would be terribly boring.

 

Things took a turn for the worse a few weeks later. Exhausted after a long day’s work, you collapsed onto your bed, drifting off into drowsiness. When a cold, slimy sensation wrapped around your ankles. You snapped fully awake and flipped on the light. Your legs lay safely tucked under the covers, and there was not a single other living thing in the room. You tried to close your eyes again and quickly fell into a deep sleep, but the strange presence returned night after night. Worse still, you gradually grew accustomed to it,noticing its presence later and later each time. On one occasion, the cold touch had already crept up to your knees before you barely open your eyes.

 

Then came a pre-dawn morning. You roused abruptly. Faint pale glimmer seeped through the curtains,not yet dawn. Why had you woken up at this hour? You rolled over, ready to slip back into sleep.

A figure standing on the other side of the bed.

 

The being was swallowed by shadow. Light bend away from its form, leaving only a terrifying silhouette. You felt as if trapped in a nightmare, body rigid, unable to move a muscle. Its edges were jagged and distorted, barely resembling a human shape. A faint sense of familiarity flashed through your mind, but terror snuffed it out instantly. It made no movement, just stood there, as if it were the night itself. No details could be made out, yet every biological instinct screamed that its gaze was locked firmly upon you.

 

You strained every nerve to recall every trick you had ever heard to break free, wagging your pinky finger, shouting curses under your breath, and chanted random incantations from unknown sects. But the figure remained rooted to the spot, simply watching you struggle to rouse yourself.

 

Gritting your teeth, you forced down the surging panic, squeezed your eyes shut and pretended the apparition did not exist. It’s fine. Stay calm. It’s just a dream, just sleep paralysis.

 

What followed was the longest minute of your life. It might have lasted less than sixty seconds, yet dragged on like an entire century. Then the oppressive stare and heavy weight lifted all at once. Sensation flooded back into your body. You sat bolt upright, gasping for air. Your pajamas had long been soaked through with cold sweat, and your heart raced wildly, refusing to steady for a long time.

 

That very night, you dragged and begged Charlie,one of the only two "sensible beings" in the house,to sleep beside you. He sat resignedly at the foot of your bed. “Miss, you’re just like you were when you were a child.” You didn't care what he said, he was staying with you today.

 

Your makeshift "knight" could not fend off the unseen presence either. In the middle of the night, you woke once more, eyes heavy and mind muddled as if you were still trapped in a dream. A familiar sigh brushed your ear, followed by indistinct murmurs. Before you could react, you sank back into a coma-like slumber once more.

 

Sunlight steam onto your face. Just as you open your eyes,Charlie handed you a warm glass of water at once. “You slept quite soundly last night. There was a period of rapid eye movement around two in the morning, and your proportion of deep sleep was…”

 

You tuned out the rest of his analysis. You had not slept well, at all. Weariness weighed heavily on you, leaving you feeling lightheaded and unsteady on your feet after days of restless nights. When you ran into Antey and Sydney, the two brothers were visibly alarmed by your haggard state.

 

“Whoa, how long has it been since you got a proper night’s sleep?” You did not even have the energy to banter back. You told them everything about the strange occurrences and shared Charlie’s sleep observations. The two exchanged a glance.

 

“Uh,about that… don’t push yourself too hard. Stress isn’t good for your mental health,” Antey rubbed the back of his neck, struggling to phrase his words without sounding like "you were losing your mind"—and failed obviously. You jabbed your elbow hard into his side, making him yelp and jump away.

 

Sydney ignored Antey’s dramatic complaints. “If Charlie says the same thing, it’s probably just nightmares. You really do need to relax.”

 

Great. There it was,again. Just nightmares,nightmares that felt as real as actually seeing a ghost.

 

You didn't want to say more, waved them goodbye and walked on. Ant called out random advice from behind you. “Hey! Put a pair of scissors under your pillow! I’ve heard everyone does that for this sort of thing!”

 

Sydney punched his arm. “Superstitious nonsense.”

 

Is there anyone reliable in this household?

 

Night fell. Sleep threatened to claim you the second you closed your eyes, but you dreaded facing the nightmares again. Curled up under the covers, you scrolled aimlessly through forums, searching for related keywords: "How to relieve sleep paralysis", "Ways to stop recurring nightmares", "Middle-of-the-night awakenings". Nothing more than generic tips and superstitious remedies, utterly useless.

 

Sighing, you posted a thread, hoping to find others who shared your ordeal. Replies trickled in soon, from fellow sufferers recommending the same useless methods you were sick of seeing. Just as you were about to close the page, one comment caught your eye.

 

User ID: 99108105112

Do you feel something coiling around your body, or see a figure standing beside your bed?

 

The account had a default avatar and profile was completely blank, its username nothing but a string of random numbers. Yet this stranger had described every single one of your symptoms exactly. 

Clutching at a sliver of hope, you replied:

Yes, that’s exactly what happens to me. Do you go through this too? Is there any way to stop it?

 

User ID: 99108105112

You know that figure all too well, don’t you?

 

Annoyed by their cryptic tone, you turned off your phone and tossed it aside. Still, their words stirred that faint, buried sense of familiarity you had felt before. Where had you seen that shadowy figure? You racked your brains, but something blocked your thoughts, leaving you with no answers.

 

You could not remember when you finally drifted off. A cold sensation seeped up from beneath you.

You open your eyes.

 

White space, threaded with pulsating red tentacles that writhed like blood vessels.

 

There you saw him.

 

Eclipse

 

Once again, you existed only as a disembodied consciousness, floating in the palm of the very being who had haunted your nights.

 

“Welcome back, Pearl. We meet again.” Eclipse wore his familiar smile. Gel-like tendrils swayed before your "eyes", swaying like the ornaments hanging above a cradle from your dim childhood memories.

 

The moment you laid eyes on him, a tidal wave of suppressed memories crashed over you, sweeping everything back into place. You recalled the golden and greyish-blue fish tails, the inescapable thick fog, and this palm that had held you.

 

You were back in the Core.

 

He read the confusion and anger within you, yet made no real attempt to explain himself. “Am I not allowed to visit my little fry?” He rested his chin in one hand, tone as matter-of-fact as if he had merely been tucking you into bed at night.

 

His actual way of “visiting” was to linger beside your bed like a vengeful spirit, staring and scaring his human so much that couldn't sleep.

 

He curled his lips into a helpless smile at your silent reproach, then his expression softened into a serious one. “My dear, I know what you’ve been researching.” He had seen everything through your eyes—the forbidden knowledge you ought never to touch again, the secrets that would drag you back into the abyss. He had sent you to the human world not to watch you fall into yet another endless cycle. Depriving you of sound sleep was the simplest way to stop you. But you were as stubborn as ever, forcing yourself to sit in front of your computer and dig up clues regardless of your exhaustion. That was why he had pulled you here, to warn you face to face.

 

“Besides,” he toyed with the tiny glowing orb hovering in his palm, “your… brother, is right. You push yourself far too hard. You truly need to unwind.”

 

Wait,a strange look crossed his face. You had a very strong premonition that something bad was coming.

 

“Shall your fairy godmother lend you a hand?”

 

Oh, help. What was this situation? Was this something a "fairy godmother" should do? If you still had physical eyelids, they would have been twitching wildly. You said nothing, only staring at him in pure exasperation.

 

He waved a hand, brushing off your piercing gaze. “Alright, alright, I’ll stop teasing you.” He lifted you closer to his face. A frigid mechanical aura mixed with the scent of ocean water washed over you. Though he tried to appear nonchalant, you noticed his lips press together in quiet discontent. He tapped your consciousness gently with a fingertip."Take good care of yourself, Ela. Don’t make me worry.”

 

Before you could reply, a gentle push sent your spirit plummeting downwards. You drifted through layers of darkness and writhing tentacles, back into your physical body.

 

You sat up gasping. The familiar bed, the familiar furnishings. Sunlight filtered through the curtains and cast onto the floor. From outside the door came the sound of Charlie preparing breakfast.

 

Another ordinary morning.

 

Had it all been nothing but a wild, vivid dream? And the details of the vision began to fade away little by little.

 

The anonymous account. You seized on this last thread of doubt and grabbed your phone to open the forum.

 

Your past posts and casual chats filled your account page. That post sat quietly in the drafts folder, still unfinished.

[gonnasleeptodeath]

Fish petting 2.0

Summary:summer,breeze,and your fish.

Characters belongs to @systemtide , ooc belongs to me,love belongs to you.

BGM：easy to love. by Sarah Kang

Go→

❤️ ゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜🔆

The early summer breeze carries the last traces of coolness, swirling dandelion seeds like scattered specks of star, accompanied by the warm scent of sun-dried grass. The sky above is an almost unreal shade of blue, clearly reflecting the patterns of the clouds. Eyes half-closed,you are lulled into drowsiness, hearing the rustle of grass swaying, the chirping of some unknown bird on a distant branch, and the clear rhythm of your own heartbeat. Past memory and the future swirl together with the wind in your mind, then only to drift away. Thoughts slip through your fingers, but if they don’t stay, they must not matter, right? So you just let them go.

A patch of golden shadow pop up at the upper right corner of your vision. “What are you daydreaming about?!”

Ding ding! Critical question! Based on your previous painful experiences, admitting outright that you'd been zoning out would only make him pour out a stream of complaints, eventually ending in endless chatter and cuddling. While you’re lost in thought and unable to answer, the golden glow at your side already hints at a touch of black——Sunny is about to enter his second phase with a dark expression. To avoid the boss battle, you scramble for some excuse. “I’m just looking at the sky.”

The shadow retreats, grass rustles as Sunny lies down by your side, copyright your posture as he looks up. “What’s up there? Clouds? Or birds?”

You lift your hand, thumb and forefinger forming a small circle, holding it up like a makeshift telescope. “Looking at the clouds,” 

The world is captured in this tiny frame, holding only a small patch of blue sky and a few strands of clouds. They drift lazily, merging into ever-shifting shapes before floating out of view. “When I was little, I used to stare at the clouds and make up stories about them.”

A soft chuckle brushes your ear. “What kind of stories do you see?” He moves closer, covering your free hands with his own and giving it a gentle squeeze. You stare blankly at the sky. Though you hate to admit it, as you’ve grown older, your imagination has been worn down by trivial matters. “I’d rather know what you see”,trying to steer the conversation.

“Hmm—” He draws out the words in thought, mimicking you by raising a hand as he searches the vast sky for inspiration. “This one looks like a jellyfish, that one like a ray, next to it is a starfish—oh, and this one, this one looks like a flying fish…”

Is this a seafood market?

You turn to look at him. He tilts his head slightly, struggling to come up with ideas, wrestling with his creativity. Sunny’s eyes are a clear, pure silver-white, holding the sea mist and foam. When he looks at you, they often crinkle with smile, rippling gentle waves. His gaze sparkles with silver light flickering faintly in his irises, radiating vitality. But when he’s angry, his pupils freeze over like an unexpected cold frost, sharp and icy as a blade—kinda scary.

Feeling your gaze, he looks back at you. Two of you observe each other through your “telescopes.”.“Are you secretly watching me?” Sunny suddenly leans in close. “Just look directly! You can watch as long as you want.” His tone carries its usual hint of siren temptation.

His pupils and sclera share the same pale white, making it hard to tell where his gaze lingers—whether still wandering the sky or tracing the lines of your face. At such close range, he’s surely looking at you. You hold his stare unwaveringly. “I’m looking at the clouds.”

Sunny pauses, then laughs. “you're totally staring at me and trying to deny it!”

Your hand, still resting near your eyes, moves to cup his cheek. “Look, your eyes,” voice soften, peering into them. “They hold a vast cloud. What story do them tell?”

His laughter fades. He blinks once,twice then flush creeps across his cheeks, the thin skin beneath your hand burns. His indistinct eyes widen slightly, trembling as he looks at you, momentarily dazed. Ha! A high-attack, low-defense fish! Not wanting to tease him too far, you prepare to pull back, but he grabs your wrist and tugs you back.

Sunny rolls over, pulling you to lying on his chest. One hand locks around your waist, leaving no chance of escape, while the other brushes the corner of your eye. In the blink of an eye, he’s composed himself again, effortlessly radiant. “Your eyes… they’re like the universe.” He presses impossibly close, forehead resting against yours, the siren breath cool against your face.

Like the universe? What kind of odd comparison is that? What color even is the universe? He nuzzles your head and confidently explains, “The universe is vast, so of course it holds every single color.” He grins proudly, showing off his newly acquired human knowledge. “And  don’t you humans say something like, ‘You are my whole universe’——?” Where did he picked up such cheesy lines? But they stir your heart. Your pulse skips a beat, and he takes advantage of your momentary pause to tighten his embrace, pulling you fully into his presence.

You refuse to back down, squeezing him back with enough force as if you can bruise his ribs. Clearly, Sunny doesn’t seem to notice, taking it as a return embrace. His arms wrap around you. You pretend to struggle, but with the slightest movement, he rolls you both across the grass. How silly. Seeing the surprise in each other’s eyes, you can’t help but burst into helpless giggles, foreheads pressed together, noses brushing,drawing closer and closer…

Your anti-addiction system—or whatever it is—screaming for you to break the overly intimate atmosphere. You lift your head slightly, trying to change the subject. “Uh… oh, look at your head fins, they’re covered in grass! Let me clean them for you!” Sunny mumbles a complaint, wrinkling his face as he sits up to let you tend to him.

Tiny wildflowers adorn his hair, thin strands of grass tangled among them, swaying with every movements as if styled on purpose. With no comb, you run your fingers gently through. Starting at the top of his head and smoothing down, you gather each loose pieces,  fingertips brushing against the warm fins, following their flow. 

Sunny tilts his head obediently at your touch, lowering his eyelids with a soft expression, trusting as he rests his head in your gentle hands, letting you do as you please. A faint hum escapes his throat—the tune you often hear him sing. You pluck out all the clingy flowers and stuff them into his hand.

The wind stir his “long hair,” and you catch a few stray strands, tucking them back to your palm before letting them fall to his waist. Staring at this enviable volume of hair, you firmly turn Sunny back around when he starts to shift halfway.

Gathering his colorful head fins again, you separate a suitable amount of hair and begin braiding. Fingers weave through the strands, intertwining them one by one, quickly forming the braid. “Can you feel it? Does it tickle?” You always ask these odd little estions, mindful of his unique physiology, not wanting this quiet intimate moment to turn into one-sided torment.

“No, no, not at all! I don’t feel a thing!” Sunny shakes his head, trying to sound convincing. You quickly press down on his head to prevent further damage of the half finished braid. He’s clearly lying. If his hands weren’t gripping each other tightly, his words might be more believable. But regardless, with his insistence, you continue braiding, easing up to avoid pulling too tightly. Occasionally, your fingertips brush past his ear fins, and he faintly shivers, but only smiles softly, letting you do as you please.

You tie the end with a cord. Perfect. He turns his head at once, fingers tracing the braid. “It looks way better than when I do it!!!” His white eyes sparkle as he looks at you. “Do this for me often, pretty please?”

He takes your hand and pulls closer. A small, colorful ring, fragrant with the scent of flowers, lands gently on your head. “For you!” While you were braiding his hair, he was gathering flowers and grass to weave a flower crown for you as a gift in return.

Of course you like it there’s any room to refuse. Sunny unconsciously twists the ends of his hair again at the corner of your eyes. So it is still uncomfortable for him,right?

[gonnasleeptodeath]

Fish petting 1.0

Summary:Trying to tame a wild siren with love... or more like just encouraging him.

Characters belongs to @systemtide, ooc belongs to me,love belongs to you.

BGM：My Love Mine All Mine. by Mitski

Go→

—————·❤️₊˚🔆.˖ 🌙 ·˖✨—————

You've been staring at Moon for so long that even he,oblivious as he is  has started to notice. You two have fallen into a strange little cycle: whenever he's within your sight,your gaze drift to him involuntarily,(specifically,his head). At first,he'd zone out for a moment before hurriedly looking away. Over time,he grows visibly unsettled——glancing around,touching his face,fiddling with his head fins,trying to figure out what exactly has you so captivated. 

If you don’t snap out of it and break this wordless stare in time, your overly intense gaze will burn him like a fish left under the scorching sun, struggling and gasping as if parched. A faint blue flush spreads across his face, and he slowly tugs his head fins down, trying to hide the other half of his face. Even the most oblivious person would sense his embarrassment by now. Guilt-ridden, you apologize, repeatedly assuring him that you were just spacing out and that you have no issue with his appearance. Barely managing to soothe him, you promise to do better—only to find yourself staring at him exactly the same way again the next time you’re together.

With each instance, Moon grows more visibly flustered. Of course, he never refuses to spend time with you, but every time you wait for him by the shore, he hesitates, mentally prepares himself before dragging himself onto the shore, his every movement pleading "Give me a break". Guilt gnaws at you. Such unreserved staring is far from proper by human etiquette or animal instinct. You do have a reasonable reason for it-but how could you ever explain your true motive to him?

You want to pet his “cat ears.”

Biologically, taxonomically, anatomically, genetically—or just by appearance—he’s unmistakably a fish, a siren. Yet those broken fins on his head look so much like a pair of cat ears. And how could any human resist the allure of cat ears? But can you really bring yourself to do it? Can you really march straight up to this most radiant, most outgoing, most proactive, most passionate, least self-loathing, least scheming fish and say: Come here! Let me pet ears? It feels far more likely Moon would simply pass out on the spot. Of course, he wouldn’t refuse. He’d obediently lower his head, nervous yet expectant, waiting for your hand to fall, bringing either pain or comfort. But that doesn’t make his racing heartbeat any less frantic.

He’s like the type of cat who doesn’t really understand anything, just watches its owner’s expression and blindly picks with its eyes closed. He May act bold at times,being playful, teasing you, being cryptic,but one smack... or, more gently, a little scolding, and he’ll back down. Add a few words of praise, and he’ll break into a silly grin, then push his luck in different way. A dog-cat.

Maybe your gaze really is far to obvious? Although you swear to tone it down whenever Sunny is around. Yet It only took a few times before that glittering gold fish caught you. “You want to pet Moon's head fins, don’t you?” Heavens, he even skipped past guessing your behavior and straight to your intention. Is it even fair for a fish to be this sharp? Can someone please intervene? Embarrassed, you can only admit it.

A cool hand guides yours upward. You follow his motion, looking up. Sunny takes your hand, places it on his own head fin. “Pet mine!” he pleads in his usual whiny tone, craving for all your affection and attention. “I spend so much time every day grooming my tail, tending my head fins, making myself so dazzling. What’s the point of all that if my little nest doesn’t look at me, doesn’t pet me?” Your hand slides between his fins at his urging. The light, delicate texture feels like hair or feathers, soft, warm, winding around your fingers, gliding down your palm . Perhaps warmed by the sun, it carries the heat of the daylight, as fervent as its owner. The large fish holds your wrist, pressing eagerly into your embrace, rubbing his ear fins against your cheek, singing temptingly: “Well? Does my little shell like it?” You nod, dazed, utterly lost in the siren’s tender charm. Then he wraps his shimmering golden tail around you, whispering and crooning a mermaid’s affection into your ear.

Despite thoroughly petting that puppyish sunfish, you still long for the little moonfish’s “cat ears.” You’re sure Sunny's invitation wasn’t just a simple bid for your affirmation—part of it was to steal your attention away from Moon. Clearly, he failed. If anything, he encouraged you. Now that you’ve petted one, why not complete the set and experience both twins?

Night falls as always. Moon peeks half his head from behind the reef where you always meet. You’re sitting nearby, at the sound of water, you turn to look at him. He flinchs under your gaze, ducking half his face back into the waves, blowing a string of bubbles before hesitantly crawling ashore.

“Hey, Moon,” You approach him directly. Startled, he shrinks back. “I want to touch your ear fins? Head fins? The ones that look like cat ears on your head!” Moon short-circuits. You can practically see his memories flash behind his eyes before he blinks, finally reboots. His eyes widen, crimson pupils contracting and trembling violently. Spotting him about to retreat, you quickly catch his wrist. “Don’t go!” Just one touch, it’s no big deal. You coax him,soothe him, determined to get what you've longing for.

He lets out a soft sigh, resigned, and lowers his head towards you. From your angle, you can see his half-closed eyelids, waiting silently. You’re nervous too. Taking a deep breath for courage, you slowly reach out, afraid any sudden move might make him change his mind. Both of you,human and siren,are restless yet expectant for this small moment of closeness.

Your hand finally lands on his fin. Sharp, rough, uneven at the edges, as if torn by force. Yet the center is soft, carrying the moisture of ocean and the chill of the night. Much like his personality: raising thorns to defense himself with an aggressive stance, yet soft inside. Plagued by insecurity, he always doubts himself when it comes to you,trying to evade everything. But a little affection melts him into a flustered mess of bubbles,  questioning if he’s even worthy.

Your hand glides lower. The ear fins have a more elastic texture, covered in a thin membrane. With a little pressure, they bend slightly. The soft yet tough,slender bones arranged in delicate ridges, glowing with a piercing crimson. The weight in your hand grows. Moon yields to the warmth of human touch, tilting his head to rest in your palm, nuzzling beneath your caress. You can feel his cheek,rough, scarred, the side he never shows. Powerless to change his past, you only wish to warm those cold scars,to soothe the phantom pains of memory with your slightly warmer body temperature and burning affection.

Moon edges closer little by little, studying your reaction cautiously. You smile at him encouragingly. He returns a shy,awkward smile, then silently bumps his forehead against yours. You laugh at his fumbling, cupping his face to draw him closer, gently lifting the tattered fin that always covers half his face. “Look at me, Moon.” He dodges your gaze, "I'm not pretty," his voice hoarse. "My singing is bad, I'm not even..." his words tumbled out faster, raw emotion welling up as he fought to keep his voice steady, gasping for breath,"I'm not like Sunny—proactive... about getting close to you." Ah, so he'd seen that? Little jealous fish.You tug at his cold cheek and force his eyes back to yours. "Says who? You're my most beautiful little fish." His breath catches. Heat blooming across his cheeks and even ear fins. He presses his lips together, unsure whether to argue. "Your fins are so soft and smooth, an absolute pleasure to touch. Your eyes are like dancing flames. But honestly, your personality is what I love most—"

Your stream of compliments was cut off as he scoops you up and crushes you against his chest, burying his face in the crook of your neck. His breath came in shaky gasps, almost sobs.  A pale bioluminescent yellow glows at the tip of his head fins. You stroked his back, soothing his trembling. Then a cool sensation coils around your calves, spreading past your knees to your waist, almost binding you to him. "Your tail is beautiful too— and strong," you tease. He relaxes slightly, takes your hand, and places it on his tail fin, inviting more caresses. You look into his eyes. His pupils are nearly heart-shaped,hazy, lingering, overflowing with affection. The excess spills over, trickling down with the moonlight onto you, pooling into a small lake made of love.

You hold each other under the witness of the stars, chest to chest. Inside your chest is another heart, echoing with a slow, slow pulse. Finally, whole as one.