koi

Hello ! My name is sleepy/koi & I’m an adult despite how immature I may be lol . I like to read , write , draw , support others’ art , fall into the void for months and reappear with content , and ship my ocs w canon characters :3 

This blog is the main, and is for art , oc related stuff , and written works 🖤 

This blog is for unrelated yap sessions , misc , and reblogs 💙

This blog is for my takes/reviews on books + possible fanfics💚

The #s I use are — #sleepy yaps #sleepy arts #sleepy writes #sleepy answers #sleepy’s library & #sleepy reblogs

NOTE: As multifandomed and silly as I am , keep in mind all of my works (drawings and writing) can be dark/not intended for all audiences . I will have trigger warnings for everything if I think it should , but keep in mind my triggers may be different from yours . It’s your choice to interact with this blog , to see stuff that may make you uncomfortable . I want to remind you that it’s completely fine to block me if you don’t like what I talk about or post , I won’t be offended in any way .

With that out of the way , go explore the pond and have fun ! Thanks for stopping by 💙💙

creds to @andromeda-graphics for the dividers & MrAlderaminowsky on Pinterest for the title picture

Yumehana has been with the Freak Circus since they began to tour — with her quiet beauty and odd predictions she sits in her pale white tent , bringing in all sorts of audience members .

Underneath her human facade she bears the tails and snout of a fox — a kitsune is her true form . Some audience members have been seen muttering about seeing a furry appendage flick out from beneath her kimono , but those audience members are often ignored .

Every now and then her human facade will slip — tilts of the head and noises far too abnormal to come from someone like her . But she’s far better at hiding this , unlike a certain pale acrobat …

little notes : i wanted to try to make Batty and Yumehana’s face shapes different — Batty has a wider face and thicker neck , a more traditionally masculine body . Meanwhile , Yumehana has a slimmer form — a thinner face and neck that makes her kimono drape off her body . i’ll do her relationship chart after this poll is done + her color pallet ..

please DM me if you’re interested ! venmo <-

i woulda liked to draw her tongue as well , however i got tired and didn’t feel like changing the line art :P refs ⬇️

i woulda liked to do her tongue but i didnt feel like it lmao

Mob stood at the glass, watching the complex machine spin. He tuned out Verity’s cries, his pleas, because he wasn’t human. Mob was terrified to imagine what he really was, but he just wanted him away, just wanted him gone.

And he was. The smoke cleared, and the machine was empty.

Verity was finally gone, and Mob released a breath that had felt stuck ever since Verity changed. Ever since he had shown his true face. 

That relief and hope that had bloomed in his chest, however, shattered the minute he saw a bony yellow slam against the glass. He stumbled back, watching the horrible creature rise—it’s too wide and ever present smile, its beady eyes, right on Mob.

Then it slammed its forehead into the glass. Once already made it crack, and the sound echoed in the laboratory—enough to cause Mob to finally snap out of it. His legs shook, enough to cause him to stumble back before taking off into an attempt to run. Verity’s screeches echoed after him, resounding in Mob’s very bones.

He just needed to get out of here, somewhere far away at the very least, just—

“It only works one way.”

Mob’s feet stopped, right at the door—he could see the hills and trees outside, he was right there. But Verity’s voice had shifted back, back to its originally sweet cadence. It felt like a damn dream, maybe Verity hadn’t ever been that monster. Mob wanted to wish that, wish that with every bone in his body. 

But that wasn’t true.

“It receives, it was never designed to transmit.” Verity shifted on his feet, his fingers tapping against his thigh. That habit hadn’t changed. “Whoever built it only needed me to arrive..not leave.”

Mob hated the pity that rang through him. Verity was far too good at pretending to be human. 

“Did you just try to get rid of me?” Verity suddenly mumbled, his voice right behind him. Mob spun around, clenching his fists as Verity replied for him. “You did.”

“You know—“ Mob swallowed. “I could just leave. I could ignore you, I could get away from you. But—but I feel bad for you! I was just trying to get you home—!”

“You could, but I’d still find you,” Verity replied, far too casually. “This isn’t my true form, so it would be easy. You….you don’t wanna end up like Twixle, do you?”

Mob felt his breath catch at the name, but still he pushed his words out. “Then can you just stop? Can you just—just leave?!”

Verity just stared, that damn helmet still sitting askew on his head. Mob wouldn’t ever get a clear look of his face, see a lying tell on his face—if he even had one.

“Stop what?” Verity finally asked. Had this been the first day the two met, Mob would have bought the almost childlike confusion in his voice.

“This!” he snapped. “All of this!” Verity finally moved, a flinch. Like the very first time he had shown Mob his new “skin”. Only this time he wouldn’t soften his voice, wouldn't lower it because it wouldn’t ever get through to him.

Mob jerked his chin up, his scarf pulling with the sudden movement. “Just go. Leave me alone.” 

For a second that seemed far too long, the two just stared at each other. Mob stared at the unmoving helmet on Verity’s head, still tilted. He hadn’t moved a muscle, not to adjust it, not even tapping his fingers anymore.

“I can’t,” Verity finally murmured.

“Can’t or won’t?” 

Once more silence ensued. “Both..”

“You killed Twixel!” Mob cried.

“He was trying to destroy me..!” Verity’s voice wavered, and he finally took a step forward.

Mob jerked away, shaking his head. “He was my friend!!”

“AND I’M NOT?!”

Verity’s voice echoed in the long, sterile hallway. Mob’s breath hitched, and god he wished it hadn’t. Verity wasn’t human, Verity wasn’t anything Mob wanted to figure out anymore.

Verity’s shoulders trembled, his head lowering. “I have been a face people skipped, a voice they ignored. I am—I—I was a helper! A helper that was shut off the second I became useless!”

He finally lifted his head, his breath coming in short hiccups. Verity was crying.

No. No, Mob couldn’t fall for that. Mob wouldn’t believe it, Verity was just mimicking emotions.

He had to believe that. Because if he let even the slightest bit of doubt kick in, it would make everything harder. It already had.

“I’m always close, close enough to watch them leave! Always close enough to know exactly when I became obselete…”

He tugged at his gloves, his hands shaking too hard to even grasp the edge. “But….but then you came back. Nobody comes back.”

He lifted his head, his helmet slipping up for just a moment to make out his neck and chin. Then it slid back into place. 

“Do you have any idea what that does to me?! You coming back, it says a lot because I’ve been alive for more than a hundred fucking years and only you came back!!”

Mob stilled, and damnit he hated how Verity’s voice wavered. He isn’t human, he kept telling himself, and yet still he wanted to treat Verity as such.

Abandonment can’t be felt by code, but it can be faked. Mob wasn’t sure which it was, if Verity’s shaking hands were truly that uncontrollable or if he was just playing the part so damn well.

“Mob,” Verity exhaled, his name coming out more like a reverent prayer rather than just a damn name. It made his skin tingle, being wanted like this. He almost forgot what a monster Verity was, how possessive he would always be.

Verity took a step forward, and by pure reflex Mob stepped away. He watched Verity’s slim shoulders drop, and felt his mind continue to be fucked.

This made no sense. It makes no sense.

Verity can't be human, it isn’t possible. That form? It is just for comfort, he said that himself! 

Mob feels his breath thin, his hood and his scarf and clothes and skin feeling as much like a cage as Verity’s arms were in each embrace. His hand automatically moves to the gun in his pants shoved in the back. He watches as Verity does nothing besides huff a depressive laugh at the sight of the firearm.

“Go ahead! Do it!” he cries, “it won’t do a damn thing! I’ll just be back here again!!”

“I know,” Mob mumbles, his eyes trailing down to his hand. He likes the thought of this being his own choice, likes the sight of his own dark finger at the trigger.

It is as though a countdown starts when he presses the barrel against his temple, 3.

Verity visibly tenses this time, and stumbles forward with his hands out—not to grab, not yet, but to calm. “Mob, wait—“

Mob clicks the safety off, 2.

“Mob! MOB DON’T DO THIS!” Verity cries, forgoing the slow approach and surging forward this time.

1.

Mob remembers the day Verity changed into a human. He hadn’t realized how much he liked it, but now that he’s about to leave it, he cements that love in his head.

I liked Verity’s hugs, surprisingly enjoying the firmness of them.

I liked Verity’s clothes, the old conductor outfit Mob watched Verity fuss with too many times.

I liked Verity’s helmet, the familiar, first form Mob saw him as—a little smiling, yellow orb—always sliding off his head when he moved too quickly.

Mob sees that now, the helmet sliding halfway off his head as he tries to lunge for the gun. He sees his neck, then his chin. He catches a glimpse of his cheek, his nose, and half of his lips.

Mob vaguely wishes he could have seen his eyes, wonders if he even has any. He would see, then, if Verity truly has a soul.