#phantom writes

parts: one, two

this was a night that pushed the limits a little further, than blurry.

you and your girlfriends decided to go to a bar tonight. one of them turning 21. this was your first time having them come to your home town. you already being of age, did your mini-celebration in the dorms with bottles and bottles of pink whitney and hennesy and titos. it was a horrific night. you enjoyed it. you were of course inviting your best-friend, and you both needed to go shopping for this. to the fact that neither of you have had the chance to go to a bar together, legally. so here you two are about to meet up with the rest of your crew, walking down the streets of your inner town. you both lived on the outskirts. you drove your car, but the plan to get home either an uber...or something else if things get to hectic. you'd pick your car up later, this town being quite the safety net. so there was nothing to worry over.

"no man with you?" you whisper to her, her hand grabbing yours before you both step over a puddle. a hearty laugh leaves her chest, but you notice her turn around slightly. almost like to look behind you guys. you feel so paranoid all of a sudden. "right?"

"right! he's in the dog house." she makes a little noise, and you couldn't be happier. you feel the weight lifting, a spring in your step already. but you look behind you guys too. and in the distance you see the only person on your same trail. they were slow about it. not as urgent, but still on a mission. that same paranoia caved in you, but you weren't going to be for much longer. you both we're getting closer and closer to the venue.

"girls!"

with a quick swivel of your head back to what was in front of you, you now see the rest of your babes in-front of you waving the both of you down. this was going to be a cute night. you were so happy to have your best friend finally meet your other friends. with no other interruptions. just you and your girls.

mhm.

by the end of the night, you were buzzing perfectly. everyone had a light in their eyes, and everyone in the building was very respectful. it felt like their was no care in the world. there were some more girls you guys had met that night, and stayed sitting with you in the same area. the music was great, the vibes were great. everything just perfect. you felt cute. you felt sexy. free. young. all of it.

but the end of night, meant some of your girls had do be departing. and you were getting hungry. and something else was bubbling in your stomach. the lot of you begin the circle hugs, the kisses on the cheeks, taking sloppy and drunk pictures. everything becoming a memory. you're outside now, the rest of your friends waving bye as they get into their Uber's. you tell them to share the ride with you, and they do so.

"baby..." you hear you best-friend whisper out beside you, and you look towards the parking area outside of the club. there her boyfriend was, standing beside his car, with his keys in hand. a soft hum leaves your throat at their interaction, it's so cute. and soft. with you following behind her, she leans up towards him and he kisses her.

you're now on your phone as you hear them begin to talk, you're scrolling at nothing really. your brain doesn't even feel here, you still feel the buzz and you can't help but feel giggly. and then you feel fingertips at the hem of your dress. a slight tug downward.

"Your ass is out."

it's low and deterring, drawing you completely away from your phone and whatever was happening around you. but it's so slight behind you, you have to look up and over your shoulder just to see who the fuck was touching you.

simon.

was he here all along? you look into is his eyes, and they're just like you remember. this was his way of greeting you, i guess. hand that's never been lower than your shoulders in a brief hug. fingers that have barely touched any part of you. and there goes the bubbling in your stomach again. he's looking into you, for awhile, before you break the eye contact. your gaze lowering to where his hand meets the edge of your dress. he was picking at it now, the ruffles looking so small in his big fingers. you feel the fabric slip from his fingers, and the ruffle flips up, the breeze catching a squeeze between your thighs. and then simon's fingers are back on the fabric. like he can't stop bullying it.

"okay, and?" your voice is so wavery, just like your balance. you turn around enough to get his hand off of you. and now you're face to face. a silent nod is tutted to you, and then he looks towards his little sister getting into the passenger seat of your ticket home. and then one of your friends began walking your way.

she asks for a ride. of course all of you say yes, and she begins to get in the backseat. everything was happening so fast. or maybe it was your malfunctioning processing skills right now. that car was small, a tiny little four seater. it wasn't meant to be a car-pool, type of car. it definitely didn't feel like it. especially with how far the drive was to home.

you had to sit on simon's lap.

there were no words exchanged when this clicked for you when you see him situating himself into the little automobile. he still finds a way to manspread, just like any guy in any car ever. it's just a glance before you sit down on him. you fold your hands over your dress, hoping this was going be quick. you knew better.

"Sorry." simon apologizes to both you and your friend. you know he didn't think this would happen. being crammed up in the back seat with two girls. but everyone was going to have to deal with his bulky frame.

It's been a few minuets. And it's been a lot of hand hovering, and oh-so-great shifting in his lap. he can't seem to find where to put his hands. and you can't either. you guys were already on the road and it was obvious nothing was going to change. your head was almost hitting the top of the car. your best friend was supposed to be back here. and simon in the front or something. that's if he was even supposed to be here.

you think he was the figure you saw in the distance earlier. following you and your best-friend. did she make him come along? or did he want to be here? it doesn't really matter, he's here. and he's crowding you.

there's his fingers again.

peeking from underneath your still fluttering dress. his hands were on the meats of your thighs. his palms calloused like you remember. he's always felt rough, fingertips, rigid arms, scruffy. you couldn't tell if his hands were roaming your legs or not. but it didn't matter. his hands were there. and they're the only things you can feel. hear. see. just his hands and nothing else. he was having issues with this too. still trying to be respectful of course. even if you didn't feel all too respectful yourself. not with your mind going blank like this.

his name was in your mouth, but you couldn't say it. you wanted to tell him to put his hands somewhere else. because you, with all this alcohol in your system was not something to play with. if you put your hands on top of his and move them yourself, then what is he going to think?you didn't have the time to embarrass yourself. or uncover something you didn't want to have a thought about. just push it away, make it home. go to sleep.

drinking too much always made you horny, it made you feel warm down there. and you sitting and bumping in simon's lap was not helping shit.

"You okay?" his breath is right at your ear. the music in the car slowly disappeared. and it felt like it was only you and him in the car. you're sitting behind your best friend who's talking to her boyfriend, and your other friend to the left of you two. she's fallen asleep. and your dress was no longer tucked underneath your lap. it was fluttered over just enough, to where you could feel his jeans press up into your barely clothed pussy. you had a thin pair of panties on. just so you could feel more flexible with all the walking you were doing. you wanted to feel free.

you shake your head, another bump in the hilly road enlists a small huff from your chest. shit. you don't know what your panties must look like. completely sheer with your slick. and it's rubbing all over simon's crotch, do you think he knows?

maybe he'll think you were saying you were fine. the bumpy texture of his zipper keeps probing your clit. none of this is making sense. you weren't going to say anything. home. bed. you're fine.

his hands snake to your waist. maybe he got the memo. both of them gripping softly. and then you feel a slight press of him slightly lifting you off his lap. you wondered if you felt like any weight at all to him. you felt so supported. and steady. but that friction was gone.

you didn't know how to feel, especially when you hear him apologize again in your ear. he lowered his voice so fucking low, how did he do that? like he almost didn't want to say what he was about to.

"Ignore it." it feels like you are reading simon's mouth, but without looking. barely any noise coming out. just the sound of his tongue leaving the roof of his mouth, and sliding along his teeth. his mouth so close, his breath feels like a kiss to the ear. you knew what he was saying regardless. you can't help but look back. as much as you could to where his voice met with your conscious. he looks away before you can. hands still steady in your waist as he lifts you from his lap.

simon was getting hard underneath you.

Dead thing.

Is that all a Guardian is?

A soul pulled from the afterlife? A protector forced into existence? A body with no real life?

Fikrul. Eramis. The Witness. Riven. Oryx.

They all have different ideas of what a Guardian is - enemies grasping at straws to define the undefinable.

Can the dead feel? Can the dead storm a ship to chase a wayward distress call? Can the dead be haunted by their past? By Nightmares they have failed? 

Can they mourn? Can they love?

The Guardian is not one for the existential but after everything? After the Final Shape was abated? After they bid farewell to Cayde-6 one last time?

There's a sense of finality that hangs over them.

Those fleeting moments of mortality that struck them headlong and shattered any sense of security they'd held. They are the Godslayer. They should feel invulnerable.

All they feel is shaken.

Those moments inside the Traveler, surrounded by Light and a silence that seemed to reverberate through their very soul? The terror that ripped through them as they watched their Ghost fall? The clatter of his shell against stone still haunting them at every turn?

They call the Young Wolf fearless. 

But the Guardian has tasted fear for the first time in ages and they rue its bitterness.

Can the dead fear death?

They don't think so. There should be a peace that comes with their final death and they did not find it in the Traveler.

But maybe...maybe it set the stage for that moment. The moment they clutch their Ghost for the very last time. The moment they close their eyes and sink into oblivion.

The Guardian has seen their grave.

They know when their end will come but this? This shattered that certainty of death being a long way off.

They are as vulnerable as anyone else but they are the Godslayer. They can't be afraid because no one will rise in their stead. No one will take up their mantle. 

Dead thing.

Not yet.

The Young Wolf is still very much alive - still very much ready to fight whatever comes their way.

Nothing will take that from them.

synopsis : kris wakes up with a fever and is forced to stay home by toriel. they're a little bummed because they won't get to see susie or go to the dark world, but it's whatever, they'll just see their friends tomorrow.

so imagine their surprise when their door is slammed open by susie—who looks like she ran there.

a/n : this fic is based on a comic by @monteqi here and there are some text messages in the fic that were directly used from it. i really hope you like it because i had a lot of fun while writing ! :)

i also might want to make a part 2 for this because i have... ideas... but who knows.

also! kris doesn't have an internal conversation with the soul, so you can either read it as soulless kris, or the soul just finally shutting up for once :)

word count : 1.6k

tags : krusie, fluff, that's really it tbh.

read on ao3 : masterlist : fic below the cut

Tagging so this gets notes! @doki-doki-puppy @bueller-alf @enthusiasticaviator @centracks @tylwer34567 @butterflysnowflake @professional-termite @abiscuit I tagged one of y’all for each fandom so there’s a lot of you lol

As the last grains of sand fall

I lay, still and frigid Atop bloodstained ground, Still smoking and smelling of ash And I am the last of my kind here.

I do not hear you creep, You step with deaths silent feet And drop down beside me. I can hear the ghost flesh hit the ground, But I am watching the sky.

You are not warm, And we lay in the sun As two cold-blooded animals, A comfort as only each other can be, Two lonely souls at the end of the world. But still, you make me feel warmer.

You smell of my blood. If I was to turn, I know I'd see it, Staining your hands, your shirt And I know you'd do your best Not to see that I saw. You will pretend you are still clean.

But I don't think you believe that, I can still smell the hints Of lilac and poppy On your hands.

A reminder of a long ago offering. And a question. 'Can we still be friends?' You will never utter the words. I will never answer them.

But we sit side by side And we watch the world end, You do not leave and I do not make you. Flowers dance in the corners of my vision.

I can feel Freezing cold death flesh, Your hand in mine. I say nothing, Lest you should fly away again.

The sun sinks over the horizon, The last of the sand falls And more blood is spilt

As the universe crumbles around us, Your fingers tighten around mine. I look, and you are smiling. This is the closest you will ever get To saying sorry.

“We can make more later,” Andrew says, and he hates himself for how forgiving his voice is, as though it was some benevolent task for him to pour a cup of milk over a handful of neon marshmallows and call it a meal.

Tagged by: @enifmiimfine

Rules: create a new post and post the last line you wrote, then tag as many people as there are words in the line.

the magician: have you ever written a poem or song about somebody else?

yeah, a lot honestly. i think every song i’ve ever written has been about someone else. (which, to be fair, has been like three songs.) i had a sequence of poems that were published in a literary journal and one of my favorites is about and for a very dear friend who passed away. 

the sun: do you believe in magic?

you were a junior now, time has passed and flown just like you like. you had a few weeks left before you could leave your campus, and be on your way back to town for the summer.

while you're away at college, you and simon, kept up with each other on a more than normal basis over the past two summers--normal basis as in enough for you and your best friends older-ish brother? just by a few years. you two have seemed to...bond. in a way that wasn't needed to be explained. because it would be hard to.

don't really know if the term friend even fits for you two. it wasn't even really that. but it wasn't not nothing. it was something and it was interesting and blurry.

he said he liked the way your bagel looked one morning, and starts asking you to send a pic whenever you end up having one. now you can't help but get a bagel everyday, you like when he hearts your pictures. that sound going off on your phone. it was a little silly. it made you laugh. this then turned into you sending pics of your lunch, or dinner. and maybe a snack here, and there.

so now you're here, sitting at one of your schools cafe's, a bag of chips, and a sandwich right in front of you. simon had told you your laugh sounded different than the last time he saw you in person. which was winter break, you had been with them for a few weeks, your break beginning mid decemeber, and ending early january.

"does it really?" you have him propped up on your water cup, taking a bite of your sandwich. you wait for his response. his camera being off of course.

"you sound like a scholar." he says, cut and dry. you softly roll your eyes, he always did that. trying to throw in compliments on your school process. it looked like he was folding his clothes for another few months of bootcamp. he was heading back. "wipe your face."

he hears you laughing again even though it's short, and smiles to himself, one he doesn't let you see. you really didn't sound any different at all. a familiar voice then sounds behind you. it was one of your guy friends, and you move your mouth away from your next bite. your smile fading. you take a napkin just as you hear him, wiping your face like simon told you to the first time.

"hey, is that your boyfriend?"

"no. what do you want?"

"yea right. who is that?" you friend keeps going.

"ghost, i'll call you back." you say. immediately ending the call and flicking your friend off for bothering you. you push out the chair in front of you and tell him to sit down. "i didn't know we were studying for finals this early, johnny."

> call u back.