Fic title uhhh "what blossoms through the pavement"
the lurking is not immune to picking favourites
allegory is only 6 years old when the talking shadow in the garden presses a writhing ball of shadow into their hands with a grin full of too many teeth. she smiles right back, giggling as the cool oil-like tendrils wrap around her fingers.
"it tickles!" the shadow laughs, sound fracturing halfway through and there is genuine joy in it, for once. allegory marvels at the way the darkness seeps into their skin, darker than any ink that her parents own tattoos are made of and moving constantly, like it's alive.
he throws his arms around the approximate shoulders of the crouched figure in front of her, kicking her legs when he is suddenly picked up and spun around.

















