no pressure tags. @dazefm, @cupidszzzn, @heaveninruins, @solaseolha, i can't think of anyone else rn but if you want to pls join!
the night's siren, adam frankenstein.
your home, more like your small castle, sits deep within the forest. the castle lives and breathes the wilderness. green vines and flowers wrapping themselves around the aged browned stone. the cold wind nips around him and its almost as if your home blew the air his way. he can’t tell if the wind welcomes or shoos him away. a rather large part of him hopes it’s the former far more than the latter.
your voice, wrapped in silk and honey, sways with the warm candle lights illuminating your estate. they dance as a crow perched beside your cracked open window listens, enjoying the show just as much as the creature beneath him.
songs of worlds unbeknownst to him come prancing from your mouth. one of your animals, a feline sharing the same darkened shade as a freshly picked blackberry, takes her place by the crow on the windowsill. as you glide through your nightly routine, her head tilts, tail swinging, as if judging adam’s lingering presence in the trees.
rethinking [ temp title ], fujikawa yumeka and shimizu nanami [ bnha ocs ].
“do you ever regret wanting to become a hero?” nanami questions, scales on her face reflecting the faint orange lighting in the room.
she can’t see much, not without her glasses. she’d left them back in her room, a decision she regrets. but in a way, it helps yumeka conceal the scars on her back and the wings threatening to tear out of them. bandage between her dull fangs, they sharpen and yumeka rips away at the material.
nanami can see the heat radiating off her motions, it’s the same signature as it always is when she changes her bandages. her backside glows more than the rest of her body. the warmth of it pulsates, mimicking the black body radiation of a star.
the elbow of yumeka’s left wing twitches beneath the skin, and nanami reaches her hands out to catch the slipping bandage.
“do you?” yumeka counters, voice muffled by the bandage between her teeth.
from yūshin's perspective.
my satoru 🤍. it’s late in the night when she changes his name in her phone once more. satoru’s visiting the hachikan estate to look after the younger hachikan children with yūshin. the night has folded over into hushed giggles and whispers as yūshin’s busied herself with cleaning the leftover mess in the kitchen from their self-made pizza night. satoru and the children are a room over, enraptured by a late night run of an anime episode played for the second time that day.
her ears shift in curiosity when whispered words roll into silence. the dishes are clean, so her quiet steps carry her to the living room where she’s met with her younger siblings seemingly competing over who can cover up satoru the most. his infinity is off, and he soaks up all the heat radiating from their small bodies. satoru’s still as a rock, cerulean eyes only shifting upwards once he notices yūshin’s figure standing behind them.
they blink at one another, as if speaking through morse code. thank you, her’s says, and of course, anytime is his reply. satoru’s eyes flutter close when her lips press against his hairline. yūshin’s hair falls beside his head as her hands cradle the sides of his face, creating a barrier of just them. only them.
i’m rewatching this video while i crochet this cat themed star bag and it’s still as fascinating and informative as the first time, especially after watching okc’s dominant playoff run (outside of their series against the nuggets). i dont personally consider them a superteam in the original sense but they have all the makings of what this new era of superteams have to look like in order to excel in this new age of basketball.
