Fantasy Veiled World (Closed)

[MaskyOrGhosty]

You find yourself trapped within the vast, crumbling expanse of a long-abandoned school, a space that seems to groan under the weight of its own deteriorating structure. The aged bricks, once a vibrant hue, are now dulled and covered in patches of mold, while the paint peels away in long, curling strips, exposing the bare wood beneath. Cracks run ominously along the walls, their edges faintly glowing with an eerie luminescence, pulsating rhythmically as if they are vessels of some hidden, arcane energy. Each crack seems to breathe, throbbing with the rhythm of your own racing heart, intensifying the sense of panic that knots your stomach as you realize the unsettling truth—you are not alone.

Scattered throughout the dimly lit room are the spectral figures of unfamiliar elven students, their expressions a chaotic blend of fear and bewilderment. Some crouch low, their wide, frightened eyes darting around, searching for an escape, while others stand frozen, seemingly entranced by the terrifying spectacle unfolding around them. The air is thick with tension, and the oppressive atmosphere amplifies the sense of doom that looms over you all.

Just as the suffocating chaos heightens your anxiety to unbearable levels, an unsettling calm shrouds the room, extinguishing the frantic sounds of breathing and rustling. The stillness is surreal, wrapping around you like a chilling fog, broken only by the sound of your own uneven breaths echoing in the silence. Suddenly, the floor beneath you begins to shift; intricate circles of light manifest at your feet—whirling patterns of brilliant luminescence and deep shadows dance elegantly against the cracked tiles, creating a mesmerizing but unnerving display. Whispers, thick with an archaic and foreboding timbre, swirl through the air around you, their haunting resonance weaving a chilling tapestry of sound that sends prickles of fear skittering along your spine.

Then, as if summoned by a sinister spell cast long ago, ethereal silhouettes emerge from the very shadows, manifesting behind you. Wispy, waif-like versions of yourself take shape, their translucent forms gliding effortlessly, reaching out with disembodied, smoky hands. They grasp at your legs and curl around your wrists, their cold touch sending shivers through your body as they hold fast wherever they can. The atmosphere becomes charged with their spectral presence, coiling like a trapped animal as an overwhelming mixture of fear and bewilderment hangs palpably in the air.

As the grip of these ghostly figures tightens, a chilling transformation takes hold within you. Elaborate skull designs begin to manifest upon your skin, pulsating with an unsettling glow that mimics the eerie luminescence of the cracks in the building. The markings etched into your flesh seem to pulse in time with each heartbeat, each throb mirroring the rising dread in your heart. Just as suddenly as they appeared, the ghostly figures began to fade, retreating into the shadows from which they came, leaving you breathless, disoriented, and shaken to your very core. Suddenly, everything went dark. You felt and could see nothing. After heavy breathing, you woke up from the terrible nightmare.

 

[EMIYAman]

Ulysses Sgòthabongrá




​

The young man jolted awake, his eyes snapping open as his arm shot out to grasp for… something.


sigh
“Another nightmare.”

Ulysses dropped his arm, covering his eyes in exasperation. After a brief moment, he reached under his pillow and grabbed his phone. A quick tap illuminated the screen, revealing the time. More than enough to make it. Thank goodness.

These tormenting dreams had plagued him for some time now. He had grown used to their presence, though they still left their mark on his sleep schedule and energy levels. He had learned to work around them.

Ulysses cast his gaze about the room, noting its stark, spartan appearance. It looked the same as it had over a year ago—barely lived-in, as though he might move out tomorrow.

“This is home now. This is home now...”

He muttered the words like a mantra, as if trying to convince himself. After a moment, he sighed and pushed himself out of bed, ready to start the day.

A quick shower. Teeth brushed. Clothes on.

His school supplies, always prepared, waited for him. But before heading out, Ulysses paused to choose a book from his shelf—a small comfort to carry through the day.

As he descended the stairs, he froze halfway down. The sound of his father bustling about, getting ready for work, drifted up to him. Ulysses hesitated, his foot retreating to the step above.

Coward.

He shook his head, sighed at his instinctive retreat, and steeled himself. Taking a deep breath, he descended the stairs with his backpack in tow, attempting to appear casual.

“Morning, Dad.”

The sounds of movement stopped abruptly. His father, caught mid-motion as he slid his laptop into his bag, turned to face him.

“Ah, hey there, buddy. Up a bit late, huh? Bad dreams again?”

Ulysses’ father was a kind, unassuming man. Dirty blonde hair bordering on brown, dim green eyes—he didn’t stand out much. Ulysses only bore a faint resemblance to him.

“Um, yeah. Don’t really remember it. Just messes with my sleep, is all. I’m… fine.”

An uncomfortable silence stretched between them.

They had made an effort, but it was awkward—just as it had been since the move. Once close, father and son now seemed estranged by something they couldn’t bridge.

Ulysses glanced at his father, his expression complicated. He didn’t hate him—far from it. But too much had changed. They didn’t know how to move forward. Not with the secrets between them.

“Have a good day at school,” his father said, forcing a smile. “Just a little longer, and you’ll finally be a man. And then—”

“See you later, Dad.”

“…Yeah, see you later.”

His father’s attempt to break the silence faltered, and Ulysses regretted his curt response. But how could he even think about “and then”? Did his father expect him to simply move on?

At the front door, Ulysses grabbed his keys from an ornately carved bone tray. His eyes drifted, as they always did, to the lone photo sitting on the stand.

He stared at it with melancholy. His mother stared back, frozen in time.

They shared the same hair color and texture, the same eyes, even their complexion. In the picture, her serene, aloof expression radiated the deep understanding she always had. She rarely laughed or smiled widely, but her love was clear in her hums and soothing songs.

Ulysses closed his eyes. For a moment, he almost heard her lullabies.

Almost.

His lips moved unconsciously, forming a faint hum. The soft sound resonated with something unseen. Wisps, infinitesimal and ethereal, began to gather around him, drawn to the melody.

Behind him, his father stopped, watching silently.

Ulysses didn’t notice. His quiet act of remembrance carried on, and when the song faded, the wisps disappeared with it.

“Till next time, Mom.”

Ulysses opened the door and stepped out into the world.

Behind him, his father moved to where his son had stood moments ago. He picked up the photo, holding it close.

“My Angel,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “Our miracle has grown up so well. I’m doing my best, like you said. But please… be safe, wherever you are. Come back soon. Both that boy and I—”

He faltered, his composure threatening to crack before he forced it down. The mask of calm returned—a strength he’d relied on for too long.

With a sigh, the father, an ordinary man caught in an extraordinary world for the sake of love and duty, left for another day of work.

Neither father nor son knew what was coming. Chaos waited, poised to shatter their fragile world.

 

[MaskyOrGhosty]

The morning light spilled through Jay's bedroom curtains, casting soft, golden rays across the walls like warm honey. She groaned as she pulled herself from the remnants of sleep, her heart still racing from the nightmare that had clung to her like a dark shadow.

She took a deep breath, trying to fill her lungs with the sweet, fresh air that always seemed to brighten her mood, no matter the circumstances. Pushing her hair away from her face, Jay glanced around her room. The chaos of colorful posters plastered on the walls, a scattering of art supplies, and the twinkling fairy lights created a vibrant oasis that reflected her optimistic spirit. "This is my world," she reminded herself, finding comfort in the little things. I can do this today. I won’t let a nightmare ruin my first day of school.

Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, Jay felt the plush carpet beneath her bare feet, grounding her with a sense of familiarity. Today was the first day of school, a day that should’ve been imbued with excitement. But the nightmare lingered in her thoughts. It’s just crazy to let something so silly get me down. I need to shake this off.

.

She shook her head firmly before preparing for school. Following her usual routine, she took a shower, brushed her teeth, put her hair up, and chose her bright clothes. After getting dressed, she went to her desk and picked up her necklace shaped like a shooting star. It was one of the few things that survived the fire; only she and that necklace made it out. Why did I have to be so little back then? I wish I could remember that day. That way I knew who they were at least, she thought, tracing the engraved message: "Always Wish on a Shooting Star."

As she walked, she could already smell freshly brewed coffee wafting through the air, mingled with the delicious scent of pancakes sizzling on the griddle. Her stomach growled in response, a gentle reminder that she needed energy for the big day ahead.



.
Entering the kitchen, Jay was instantly enveloped in the cozy warmth of home. Eisck stood at the stove, his brow furrowed in concentration as he expertly flipped pancakes. His large frame filled the space with a sense of safety, and Jay could feel his protectiveness radiating from him like a comforting blanket. He always knows how to make me feel safe, she thought, smiling as Eisck looked over his shoulder. “Morning, sweetheart,” he called, his voice carrying a calming blend of authority and gentleness that wrapped around Jay.

“Good morning!” Jay chirped back, the initial nerves softening with just being around her father. She made her way to the counter, eager to help out and distract herself from her nightmare.

“Did you sleep okay?” Eisck asked, his eyes filled with concern as he poured some batter onto the griddle, the sound sizzling like tiny fireworks. Jay could tell he genuinely wanted to know; it was a protective instinct he always wore like armor. He's always so worried. I wish I could ease his mind, she thought, feeling a twinge of guilt mixed with a longing to calm his concerns. I can handle this. It’s just a nightmare.

“Just a silly nightmare, you know?” Jay shrugged, trying to keep her tone light despite the unnerving feeling in her stomach. “I guess butterflies are flying around a little too much this morning.” Why do I even bring it up? It’s not like it matters. I’ll be fine.

Eisck sighed deeply, turning around to face Jay fully. “You know I’d do anything to keep you safe, right? Just remember, you’ve got us in your corner.” His hazel eyes were filled with warmth, a reassurance that he'd do anything to protect Jay and his family from harm. I wish I could believe him; I wish the nightmares wouldn’t be so powerful.

“Before Jay could respond, Damian swept into the kitchen, towel in hand, his hair damp from his shower. His easygoing demeanor was like a breath of fresh air. “What’s all this talk about nightmares?” he teased, ruffling Jay's hair as he grabbed a mug for coffee. “Did someone try to steal your favorite crayon?” He always knows how to make me laugh, Jay thought, grateful for his light-heartedness.

Jay laughed, swatting Damian's hand away playfully. “Very funny! And don’t worry, the crayons are safe, thank you very much.”

Damian poured himself a cup of coffee, the steam curling up into the air. “Just remember, kiddo, school is kind of like a treasure hunt. You might have to sift through some dirt, but you never know what treasure you’ll find,” he said.

Eisck finally plated the pancakes, thick and dripping with syrup, and they gathered around the table. The first bite melted in Jay's mouth, sweetness washing over her. With each forkful, she felt grateful for her two amazing dads who always knew how to fill her mornings with love and laughter. No matter what, we’ll always have this, and that makes everything else a bit better.

After a couple of minutes of chatting about weekend plans, she asked them, “Are you going to pick me up after school?” She took another bite of her last pancake out of the three given to her.

“Absolutely. We’ll be there right on time. If someone gives you any sass, just call us, and I’ll swoop in like a superhero,” Eisck declared, puffing out his chest playfully. I love that he believes in being my hero. I hope I can be brave enough to face the day without needing rescuing.

“Or we could just send him to talk to your teacher instead,” Damian added, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. Jay smiled at his words. Their unwavering support felt like the perfect shield against her insecurities.

With breakfast finished, Jay took a moment to look in the mirror, tidying her hair and adjusting her outfit. She wanted to be bright and confident today. She could hear Eisck gently asking if she was ready, his tone softening as he, too, caught on to Jay's growing excitement. Just breathe. You’ve got this.

“I think so!” Jay responded, offering a smile back at her reflection. Is this what confidence feels like? Perhaps today I won’t just fake it—I think I can actually own it this time.

 

[CHUUYAS_HAT]

CODE BY SEROBLISS

Beau Arde

Lonely Shapeshifter

It was a dream of always wanting. A dream of always needing. And a dream of never ending.

The sheets were sprawled away from him and his body, a sign of his restlessness while he was asleep. The push he gotten at the very end of his nightmare was enough to get Beau awake. But for some reason, there was a part of him that wished he didn't. The nightmare felt so oddly real, and he wanted to know it's true meaning, despite dreams never having a particular reason to bug a soulless person's mind. Well, soulless from how he depicts people to be like when they let themselves rest. It only made sense if one's soul left their body when they slept, but the other functions of the body still worked.

"It's nothing to worry about," he said through gritted teeth, as if to assure himself from what obviously was a lie. But Beau had no time for this, he had school. How long had he been out, and was he close to being late? No, of course he wasn't. He was used to forcing his body up earlier than when he even needs to. There was soft shuffles he could here from down stairs in the mildly big house, and he shook his head. His indigo/navy blue locks flew around his face, and only now had he realized it was a bit matted due to some sweat that probably formed from what he had seen. Beau gave a good look at his body, making sure there really was no intricate skull designs left.

His room wasn't much neat, but there were fairy lights and other types of nice blingy things that adorned his walls and ceiling. He had a curtain to go around his mattress for privacy reasons, and then a study desk nearby. He didn't like spreading the window's curtains, though, because the light that he could get would be like the change from black to white. Beau preferred keeping things dark. A few cushioned chairs lay on the floor, in front of probably where he played games most of the time.

The getting-up part of the morning wasn't something everyone loved, and nor did he, but he did it anyway. All that was needed first was a quick wash through his mouth that was still done properly. His bathroom's mirror had glinted back at him, as if to mock Beau while he stared and got ready for the day. His hair was full of tangles due to the heavy scrunching of it and letting it be messy the day prior, so he made sure to let loose all knots that so happened to be there. It wasn't long before he had a silky looking 'bowl' on his head, but it was going to be ruined. Note one, brush your hair before you shower so it's easier to do it afterwards again! It's not much of more work. That was what he followed.

When Beau had let water touch his skin, an audible his flew past his mouth, as he was a bit sensitive like that. Mist fogged over whatever glass was nearby, and hands had began to comb around his body. When washing himself away from grit and germs was done, he flung on a towel around him to dry off, before dressing himself. The same golden bell necklace, though, hung around his neck. It gave a sense of protection, at least to him in some ways. Letting people come in contact with it would mean he'd actually get the urge to bite them.

Beau's legs took him down the spiraling stairs so he could meet with the elongated halls and cobbled poles. A full wrap around led towards the family room, which had a rug underneath all three couches. Past that was an empty room, one that was supposed to be...for his care-taker. He had made sure it was not to be destroyed by other people's things, so it had been left as is from how it was before. He turned towards the kitchen, not sparing a look to his mother; Véronique, who was checking out a few newspapers. The silence was loud, which was funny since the word's meaning meant the opposite.

Beau fixed himself an avocado toast, since he didn't want to make anything that would be a waste of his time. The quick mash of greens, and soon a small egg sliding on the top. Sprinkle in some garlic, extra salt, other seasonings, and the last thing to do was a sauce do over. Two slices were prepped for him, sadly nothing more, but he cherished the bites. With whatever tension that was still in the air, he already gotten his answer-he would have to walk to school. Well, not have to, but asking his mother for a ride would be like a death sentence. He wouldn't want to say please, and then be forced to see the twitch of a smug smile beginning to form on her face. Let's just say their relationship isn't all that healthy.

With that, Beau had sent him out the door. He didn't want to be in the confined space of what he was supposed to call 'home' anyway. Not after it had nearly been burnt down entirely from a single incident. He held onto his hat slightly against that thrashing winds of the outside. The walk was just going to be so pleasant. Maybe enough that he'd get blown off from his feet? That actually sounded nice to him, but whatever that was wanted would never come. Needs, needs, needs...

"Tch."