Husband Jiang Cheng

He's scared you'll abandon him as well

Keegan

🍁 Keegans mask got pulled off

Konig

🍁 he thinks you're losing interest

Nikto

🍁 Insecure nikto

Husband Jiang Cheng

Cold, insecure, scared that you'll leave him

Nikto

Soulmate Au

Konig

🍁 König thinks you don't like him

Nikto

🍁 His masked got pulled off

Simon Ghost Riley

🍁 Snapping him out of thought

Hoodie

|🍁insecure, low self-esteem, fanon hoodie

II

Warden of Arcadia ᛑᛗᛛ 🥢

II

He’s not supposed to mind it. Soundcheck hums through the empty venue, a low electrical heartbeat crawling along the walls. Cables snake across the stage floor. The air smells like dust, metal, and the ghosts of last night’s sweat. He sits behind the kit. Where he always is. Where he belongs. Or where he’s supposed to belong. Vessel stands at the front, bathed in the soft white of the overheads, voice low as he murmurs something to III. III laughs—bright, loud, alive. IV chimes in, his guitar slung carelessly across his chest as he adds to whatever story they’re telling. They orbit each other easily. Naturally. Like gravity was kinder to them. He watches them through the lattice of cymbals. He’s not— He’s not jealous. That would be ridiculous. He rolls one of his sticks between his fingers. The wood is warm from his hands. Familiar. Obedient. “Vessel, do that part again,” III says, still smiling. Vessel obliges. Of course he does. His voice fills the room. It always does. It settles into bones. Into blood. They all listen. Even him. Especially him. But no one looks back. No one says his name. No one asks if the tempo is comfortable. If the count-in suits him. If his hands are already starting to ache the way they always do before a show. He’s just the drummer. Just. The word sits wrong in his chest. He taps his sticks together. Once. Twice. No one notices. III says something else—something that makes IV snort. Vessel’s shoulders shake with quiet laughter. He’s not funny like them. He doesn’t know how to be. He knows timing. Precision. Control. He knows how to hold them together when they inevitably drift. He knows how to catch them when they fall out of time. He knows how to bleed without anyone seeing. “Alright, from the top,” Vessel finally says. Not to him. Not really. Just… into the air. He straightens anyway. Raises his sticks. Counts them in. One. Two. Three. Four. He brings the song to life. The kick blooms through the floor. The snare cracks sharp and clean. Cymbals shimmer like breaking glass. They follow him. They always follow him. Even if they never look back. Even if they never notice the way his chest tightens when they praise each other between takes. “Sounded good,” IV says. “To you,” III adds. Vessel nods in agreement. He lowers his sticks. Waits. No one says it to him. He’s not— He’s not waiting for it. He tells himself he isn’t. He adjusts his grip. Ignores the small, stupid ache in his chest. He’s just the drummer. Just the heartbeat. Invisible. Essential. And easily forgotten.

Swiss

𖤐 High pitched Noise sensitivity. (WITS inspired)

Echo

He recognises you from afar

Barren King

A cursed sea-king who rules a ghost ship

Dorian

Spotlight

Niko

he's only afraid to lose you, that's all