#at the corner of chaos and ninth

[chairofchaos]

With This Ring

Brought to you by Corner Productions: @ninthcircleofprythian and I are back at it again! For @erisweekofficial Day 7: Free Day.

In special recognition and honor of Ninth's 10th wedding anniversary. Pure domestic Azris fluff. Pinky promise.

Eris Vanserra had always been known for his immaculate fashion sense with his perfectly tailored suits and bold choices of color. But it is of the belief of these authors that it was his choice of jewelry that really stood out the most. What follows are the headcanons of Chaos and Ninth in regards to Eris’ hands (yum (extra yum! Love, Chaos)) and their ever changing adornments, especially after the appearance of a certain Shadowsinger in his life. 

Eris cares about his jewelry, especially his rings

He’s meticulous with which pieces he chooses to buy

Mostly he sticks to dainty stackable pieces so that he can have many rings on at once

There is the occasional statement piece– usually for special occasions

He is very intentional, even ritualistic, with setting the vibe of the day every morning with what he chooses

Azriel expects this to carry over into his treatment of the rings when they aren’t being worn, and finds himself amazed at the lack of care Eris seems to have at the end of the day

However, Az can always tell how Eris’ day has gone based on where he finds the discarded rings in the house

By the front door? Terrible, awful, no-good day. Eris is likely in the bath cooling off his temper and his body

In the kitchen? Decent day. Eris probably decided to make a cup of tea and wanted to hold his cup without his rings in the way

In the library? Eris still has work on the brain, and is probably working somewhere in the house

If Azriel comes home and he can’t find rings anywhere, one of two things is likely:

Either Eris isn’t home (boooo) or Eris is home, and he’s still wearing them, and they’ll end up piled on Eris’ bedside table at the end of the night

No matter where he leaves them, Eris always seems to know where they are

This drives Azriel bonkers because there is no pattern or reason behind it besides Eris’ whims

Azriel has bought him numerous ring holders and dishes in the attempt to condense them into little areas so they won’t be lost

Eris uses them for a few days, but even if the ring holders are in the places with the most frequent use, Eris still doesn’t use them consistently

When brainstorming for an anniversary early on in their relationship Azriel decides they need a more permanent solution and scours Prythian for some option that will work. He doesn’t like any of the options and decides to come up with his own

He describes the design to a carpenter, who creates the holder. It is a series of dowels laid horizontally in a wall-mounted holder, carved with notches to hold each dowel. It’s easy to add spaces for new dowels, and Eris can see his whole collection instead of storing them in jewelry boxes all over his dresser top or scattered around the whole house like little dragon hoards 

Eris loves the rack. It’s easier to see them all, and he can display his rings like trophies (ooo shiny) (crow behavior)

Azriel loves buying Eris jewelry as well

Azriel is especially attentive to how the rings sound

Azriel has noticed Eris tapping his fingers on tables, chairs and cups - so he purposely chooses rings that have good pitch

When he gifted rings, he used to give them directly to Eris, but when Eris starts using the display, Azriel starts sneaking the jewelry he brings home onto the display instead

Eris is so attentive to it that he always notices within a day

They still have to add dowels frequently. After all, over 500 years of life gives you the chance to collect a lot of jewelry

Now, Eris and Azriel find themselves the owners of an incredible collection of jewelry, a beautiful display rack for them, and many, many empty boxes and dishes. Eris is disappointed at their lack of use but can’t bring himself to just get rid of them, especially since some of them are family antiques and many of the dishes were gifts from Azriel

Azriel takes it upon himself to give the boxes and dishes new uses

He begins bringing home trinkets and souvenirs to fill them, usually with some sensory gain: the items are shiny, or they make nice sounds when you fidget with them

Eris teasingly calls Azriel a “more of a crow than a bat”, and a new name for the collection is born

The ‘crow boxes’ slowly accumulate enjoyable objects to the point where there are tiny collections everywhere around the house

A few years later, Azriel proposed

He slipped the jeweled engagement ring onto a dowel - thinking Eris would acknowledge it once he saw it

Eris just placed it on his hand and carried on with his day, not saying a word

Azriel spotted it at breakfast - “Do you understand what that means?”

Eris - “I wouldn’t be wearing it if I didn’t.” 

Eris doesn’t wear any other rings on that finger with his engagement ring

It is the only finger that he doesn’t add stacks to because his love for Az forsakes all others

In acknowledgement of their mating ceremony, Azriel gives Eris a new addition to the ring display: a new bracket with a shorter dowel, engraved with the date of their mating ceremony

They both keep their mating rings there, and that is the only jewelry Azriel keeps on the display

It is also the only bar on the display that is ever completely empty. It becomes a new ritual at the end of their days for Eris to put away all his rings, and last, for them to both slide their mating rings on the dowel and return it to its place

As they have children, Azriel gives Eris a ring for each child, and those rings join their mating rings on the dowel

Eris wears those rings amidst all the others, in stacks which remind him of each of the children

When their oldest children are still young, Eris decides to start a tradition of giving away the filled boxes of treasures to them at Solstice

It becomes the most anticipated part of the holiday - the kids sifting through the objects and exclaiming their excitement over their “crow presents"

They begin to trade things, each child keeping their designated box filled with its objects but trading with the others for things that better suit their interests

In the end, Azriel jokes that he might be a crow, but with the fire powers and as protective as the children are of their crow boxes and Eris is of his rings, they might just be dragons after all

Taglists: xx @mybestfriendmademe @lilah-asteria @pit-and-the-pen @prythianpages @chunkypossum xx @dusk-muse @unanswered-stars @c-starstuff-man0

P.S. If you're seeing this you need to go read the title and header of Ninth's blog bc if nobody notices before I go on hiatus I'm gonna be sad. That is all. Thank you. Love, Chaos

[ninthcircleofprythian]

The Big Reveal

(a not quite a fic but more of a silly little something for the one and only @chairofchaos)

“Thanks for your help boys. It’s much appreciated,” Ninth said cooly as she leaned against the structure behind her. 

“I still don’t understand why we had to meet here of all places,” Eris sneered. 

“I’m meeting someone. Anyway, you should probably go now. Thanks again, really.” Pulling her hand from her coat pocket, she thrust it forward towards the High Lord and waited.

Eris gazed down at the offered appendage, calculating what tricks this female probably had up her sleeve. “Why exactly was our presence requested anyway?”

“Ah, well,” Ninth started as she shoved her hand back into her pocket. “I just wanted to thank you in person for allowing me to install this gift here in your court. And I needed Azriel’s help winnowing here.”

Standing slightly back from the duo, Azriel dropped his gaze from the installation she spoke of, nodding once amiably with a graciously shy smile. 

“A gift you say?” Eris peered up once more at the structure, narrowing his eyes at the letters emblazoned there. “Wait a second,” he jolted as the realization hit him. “You never said anything about this being a gift for Chaos!”

“Huh,” Ninth shrugged casually. “I guess I didn’t.”

Azriel snickered softly, ducking his head to hide his face. Eris whirled around staring daggers straight into the Illyrians eyes. “Did you know about this?”

Az’s hands shot up in defense, palms facing outward in surrender. “I plead the fifth.”

Eris growled low in his chest. “The fifth of what? What is going on here?” Frustration building, he whipped back around to face that infuriating female once more. “Who are you anyway?”

Inspecting her manicure with the utmost attention, she didn’t even raise her chin as she pointed upward. Looking once more, Eris read the other word. “Ninth? As in - one that is number nine in a series?” 

“Bingo,” she pointed her index finger at him in a mocking gesture. 

Seeing the flaming color rise to Eris’ pale cheeks, Azriel reached forward and grabbed him by his shoulders, forcibly turning him towards the direction of home. “I think our business here is done. We should head out now,” he stated as he held back his laughter. 

“Oh wait,” Ninth called as she shoved upright. “Before you go, would you be a dear and light this for me?” Digging into her pocket once more, she procured a tiny object. A small, striped candle barely bigger than a matchstick. 

Eris glared first at the object and then at her face. “Is that – a birthday candle?” 

Looking at him like he was at least marginally insane, Ninth quirked her brow. “Yeeeaaah,” she said slowly. “Can you light it or not?” 

Seething with anger and confusion, Eris stood stock still. It was a gentle nudge from his companion that finally urged him into action. “Come on Eris, where is your sense of whimsy?” Az spoke softly.

“Whimsy,” Eris muttered under his breath. “Fifths and ninths and Chaos. Whimsy my a–” with a sharp snap of his uplifted fingers, the small candle burst to life with an equally small flame. 

“Thanks,” Ninth nodded sincerely. 

“You know –” Eris started as Az tucked his arm into his own in an effort to keep him moving in the preferred direction. “I have a few choice words for Chaos.”

Tugging harder and forcing him into step at his side, Az patted along Eris’ shoulder. “I know you do, sweetheart. Another time.”

Left standing all alone, Ninth scuffed her shoe along the cobblestones at her feet and leaned back against the gift and did the only thing left to do — wait.

Well, you made it Chaos. You followed the signs and the coordinated clues and here you are. So without further ado - I present you - your surprise.

A SIGN.

Thank you so very much to the wonderful and talented @dawneternal for taking on this silly little commission. You were a joy to work with and the result is perfection! Also a big shout to the coordinated chaos committee of @secret-third-thing, @daycourtofficial, @stt-secretest-santa for their help in making sure this was as silly as possible in the lead up to the big reveal.

Candle divider by @firefly-graphics

[chairofchaos]

Ninth, I dug this out for a reminder lmao. We're menaces. And I'm proud of us. @ninthcircleofprythian

Right when I was about to click post my mouse/touchpad stopped working. Like God was placing his hand gently on mine to say "My child, I can't let you post this." Unfortunately I have a phone too.

[lieslab]

No wisdom, just teeth

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

Pairing: og8 X gn reader

Summary: A tooth infection leads to a dentist trip and some chaos.

Genre: 9th member AU

Word Count: 3.6k

A/N: Lab rats, do we like 9th member AUs? I'm testing this out and working on another 9th member AU request. Consider this a brief test run.

_ _ _

The pain radiating throughout your jaw, when your eyes opened to the sound of your alarm clock, blinded you. You gently cupped the side of your aching jaw, moaned in pain, and blindly reached over to quiet your alarm clock. 

Three days ago, it was a minor toothache. All the way in the back left corner of your mouth, you assumed it was a pesky wisdom tooth. Why on earth humans grew more teeth as they aged? You didn’t know. All you knew was that it was hell on earth.

The aching gums, the discomfort of chewing, the tiny morsels of growth that left you feeling exhausted and defeated. It became more and more clear why babies cried and gnawed on everything when growing in their own teeth. 

You took the proper steps yesterday, when nothing seemed to work. The pain killers didn’t help the pain and neither did the gel you applied to numb the pain. Briefly, you were freed from the ache with the gel, but the pain came back much worse. The next opening for your dentist was next week. You thought you could manage, but clearly your tooth had other ideas. 

Out in the kitchen, plastic coffee cups clattered. Chan pressed buttons on the fancy espresso machine and tapped his fingers awaiting a third espresso shot. A triple shot americano wasn’t needed at seven in the morning, but something had to cut through his groggy haze. A cup full of ice sat waiting. 

In the distance, Jeongin struggled to open his eyes in the bathroom. His hair stuck out in multiple directions. Their morning routine didn’t change, but he still struggled to pull himself from sleep, too. A sigh escaped his lips, he forced his eyes open, and reached for the hairbrush. 

Mid-brush, he paused when he heard you calling for Chan. It wasn’t unusual for the ninth member to want Chan. You found comfort in Chan and often seeked him out for guidance. Being the leader of the group, you often admired him and trusted his advice. 

“Chan?” You grumbled again as you patted into the kitchen. 

“I’m here, what’s up?” His silhouette appeared around the corner. “Do you want a morning coff- oh?” He frowned. Your eyes were still barely open. An unsteady gait in your walk. With cheeks flushed of color and something obviously wrong, he walked to meet you. “What’s wrong?” 

“I think my tooth is infected. I feel like shit and my tooth has been hurting.” 

“Uh-oh.” 

“What’s going on?” Jeongin appeared with a toothbrush full of toothpaste. “Did you lose something again?” 

“Even worse, they might have a tooth infection.” 

Jeongin’s face contorted into an instant grimace. “That’s not good.” 

“Did you call your dentist?” 

“Booked out until next week.” 

“Are we sure it’s an infected tooth and not the flu or something?” Jeongin asked. 

Chan’s eyes wandered back to you and you shook your head. “I have a pounding headache and was fine last night. My tooth hurts worse and my head feels like it’s on fire. Even just accidentally touching my face hurts my jaw.” 

His face quickly mirrored Jeongin’s. “There’s no way you can work like this. Why don’t you settle back into bed and I’ll make some calls? I’ll call my dentist and if I can’t find someone willing to work something out, I’ll call another dentist.” 

“I can call people, I just-” 

“Your focus right now should be on resting. Take some painkillers, drink some water, and I’ve got this, okay? Let me do this for you. You’re in pain and I don’t want you to stress yourself out more.” 

“Thank you.” 

“Innie, are you still-” 

“Going to the company building? Yeah, unless you want me to stick around here and help you.” 

“I’ve got it. Tell the guys that I’ll be there a little later. I’m going to get this worked out first.” 

“Aye, aye, captain.” He saluted, patted you on the shoulder, and disappeared back in the bathroom to brush his teeth. 

“Try not to worry too much, we’ll figure it out.” Chan flashed you a dimpled reassuring smile, but it didn’t feel very reassuring to your aching jaw. 

~ ~ ~ 

The bright blue eyes of the dentist peeking over your face didn’t make you feel better. After a quick phone call to his dentist, Chan’s dentist agreed to meet you immediately. If a tooth infection created the root of the problem, the infection could turn much more dire than expected. 

So you laid with your mouth cranked open. Silver dental tools poked and prodded the back of your mouth. Tender and sore gums bled at the touch. Your nose scrunched from the pain. Tools scraped. The dentist mumbled to the assistant and you hated all of it. 

Getting x-rays sucked. Biting down on two pieces of plastic nearly made you vomit in your unwell state. Even the basic exam made tears prick in your eyes. Chan’s dentist was nice. She didn’t mean to make you feel worse, but your feelings were in shambles. 

All you could focus on was your aching jaw. Across the pale blue room, Chan’s knee bounced. He could have stayed in the waiting room, but he wanted to be here with you to make sure you were okay. You were grateful, despite the awkwardness, you didn’t want to be alone. 

He texted the group chat with frequent updates to keep the rest of the members informed, but all he could really do was wait for the dentist’s diagnosis. Nervous for you, his knee never stopped bouncing. He winced at every sound of a tool clanging against your teeth, he knew how it felt from his own time in the dental chair for cleanings. 

After a few more moments, the dentist pulled back. She pulled down her blue surgical mask and sighed. “I have good news and I have bad news. The bad news, it’s an infected wisdom tooth. The good news? It can be fixed with extraction and some antibiotics to make sure the infection is cleared up.” 

Chan’s head perked up at the sound of her voice. He clicked off his phone and looked at you. Your eyes were focused on the ceiling, only half-paying attention. When he called your name, you glanced over. 

“Did you hear that?” 

“Please take it out before it kills me.” 

Unable to hide her amusement, the dentist chuckled softly. “It won’t be a problem.” Her eyes went back to Chan. “It might take a while and since it’s a wisdom tooth, you’ll probably be better to wait in our waiting room.” 

“If I give you my number, can you call me when they’re finished?” He glanced at the dentist and she nodded. He stood up and approached you. “I don’t want to leave you, but the guys are having some issues at the recording booth.” 

“Go ahead and help them. I’ll be here when they finish and after they call. If we’re lucky, I’ll be in a lot less pain.” 

He chuckled, grabbed your hand, and gently squeezed it. “Behave for the dentist, will you?” 

“As long as she frees me of that stupid tooth, we’ll get along just fine.” 

~ ~ ~ 

The lights blinded you. The world blurred and you groaned loudly. Your head jerked back in the wheelchair you were sitting in. People around you turned into silhouettes rather than individuals with clarified features. 

“Hey, easy there, tiger.” A hand gently patted the top of your head. Minho’s voice reassured you, but you couldn’t see him. “Keep your hands and feet inside the ride at all times or the pig-bunny will gnaw them off.” 

“Hey!” Changbin cried out, clearly offended. “That’s not true! I wouldn’t gnaw off your arms.” 

“Guys, stop it. They just came around from having all four wisdom teeth plucked out. They’re probably confused and disoriented, you’ll scare them.” 

Felix’s freckled face appeared right in front of yours. “Hi, there!” He grinned and reached out to lightly poke the tip of your nose. “Can you hear me? Are you okay?” 

All you could muster was another groan. Your cheeks felt like they were bursting at the seams. Packed with bloody gauze, you were a numbed zombie. Your entire body felt off. More than anything, you were confused about the ongoing scenario around you. 

Back in the lobby of the dental office, Chan talked to the dentist and receptionist with slight worry. He didn’t realize after he left, you agreed with the dentist to have all four wisdom teeth pulled, rather than the single infected tooth. It’d save you a second procedure, but the recovery would last a lot longer. 

He flipped through the papers in his hands, trying to understand everything the dentist reminded him. Beside him, Jeongin glanced back outside to you. As both your roommates, they’d get the task of managing the majority of your recovery process. Neither was looking forward to it, nor were they looking forward to informing your manager that you’d have to sit out of the usual schedule for a while. 

Han popped out of an open car door when Minho rolled up with your anesthetic-laced body. Upon seeing the roundness of your cheeks, he burst into a fit of giggles. “Hey! You look just like me! You’ve got my cheeks!” 

Your head slightly shook, which caused him to laugh. He climbed out of the car. Hyunjin glanced up from the driver’s side and looked behind his seat. Bloody gauze could be seen in your slightly opened mouth. His eyes narrowed. “Ew.” 

“Ew?” You mumbled.

“That’s what I said. Ew.”

Your bottom lip trembled and Felix’s face fell. “No, no, no. Sweetheart, don’t cry, he’s just teasing you. He doesn’t think that you’re ew, he’s talking about the bloody gauze in your mouth. He’s just being silly.” 

“He’s ‘urting my ‘eelings!” 

“Well, you look ugly and swollen, so…” Seungmin shrugged and took a sip of his smoothie. Before the guys left the company building to pick you up, they stopped to get drinks. 

Changbin spun around, trying not to laugh. Felix swatted his shoulder. Han forced himself to bite his lip. Behind you, Minho couldn’t stop the grin from appearing. 

By the time Chan and Jeongin came out of the building, a steady stream of tears slipped down your cheeks. The guys tried hard to comfort you, but you weren’t having any of it. Too strung out on the remnants of being under anesthesia, you didn’t realize Seungmin’s words held no truth. 

“What’s going on? Why are they crying?” 

“Because Seungmin was a dickhead,” Minho pointed out. 

“Yeah, he called them ugly and swollen.” 

Jeongin’s hand patted your leg reassuringly. “I’m sure he didn’t mean it. Seungmin’s face looks ugly and swollen all the time.” 

“It does not!” His instant objection brought a pause to your tears. 

Minho realized it instantly and grinned. “Hey, they stopped crying! Keep going! Seungmin is ugly and untalented!” 

“Seungmin smells like beef,” Han continued. A look of Seungmin’s genuine concern shot his way. Han ignored it and went on. “Seungminnie is bad at most video games.” 

“‘Outh ‘urts.” 

“What are they saying?” Changbin asked. 

“Their mouth hurts. I know it hurts, but we’re going to get you home and feel better. When you feel much better, I’ll make you an entire batch of brownies, okay?” 

You wiped away your tears instantly. “Tanks.” 

“You’re welcome.” 

After deciding who was sitting where, a few of the guys sat with you. Others followed Jeongin into his car, so they could be taken home. Hyunjin drove, Chan sat in the passenger’s seat, Minho, and Felix sat on either side of you.

You stayed quiet and let your eyes shut. For the first few minutes, all was fine, until it wasn’t. For whatever reason, you jerked straight upright with wide eyes. Both Felix and Minho glanced over concerned. 

“I’m being kitnapped!” 

“Huh?” 

Your hand went towards your seatbelt. Minho quickly grabbed your hand, trying to prevent you from getting loose. “Woah, there. You can’t unbuckle when the car is moving.” 

“Channie!” You cried out loudly. 

Chan flipped his sun visor down and glanced at you. “What’s wrong? What is it?” 

“He’s kitnapping me!” 

“Who is?” 

Your arm flung toward Hyunjin. Hyunjin glanced in the rearview mirror and rolled his eyes. “If I was kidnapping you, you’d probably have a bag over your head. Why would I kidnap you and put you beside Felix? Being kidnapped with Felix probably wouldn’t even feel like being kidnapped.” 

“Don’t worry, mate. When ‘re outta this, I’m gonna make yer brohwnies.” Hyunjin uttered in a dramatic Australian accent. 

“I do NAUGHT sound like that!” 

“You just did.” 

Felix huffed and tucked his hand around yours. “You’re not being kidnapped. We’re taking you back home, so you can get some rest. You’re safe with us.” 

“Channie!” You uttered again. 

“Hyunjin, can you stop the car, so I can change spots with Minho?” 

“Oh, yeah! Lemme up there, so I can air fry the ferret and stretch my legs.” 

“CHANNIE!” 

“Minho, you’re making them upset. It’s okay, I’m coming back there, don’t worry. Felix isn’t going to let Minho air fry anyone, okay?” 

Hyunjin slowly brought the car to a stop on the side of the road. He turned on his hazard lights, allowing Minho and Chan to swap spots. The moment Chan slipped beside you, you grabbed his hand and refused to let go. Your forehead rested upon his shoulder. The numbness and confusion you felt melted together. Your eyes drooped and you let yourself drift to sleep. 

~ ~ ~ 

In Chan and Jeongin’s dorm, Jeongin already arrived back home with Changbin, Seungmin, and Han. Chan told Jeongin to make sure they had a proper spot for you on the couch and he didn’t know exactly what that meant, so he tried his best. 

After dumping multiple of your blankets and pillows on the couch, he stood back and scratched the back of his neck. “How on earth do you make a cozy spot for someone on the couch? It’s the couch, it’s not meant to sleep on after such an intense procedure.” 

“Oh, this one is.” Han grabbed one of the blankets and wrapped it around his shoulders. “This leather couch is so sleek and nice. I can’t believe I’m saying it, but you both have good taste. This couch is my favorite piece of furniture.” 

“I don’t think they’re going to be real happy knowing you’re stealing their blanket,” Seungmin commented. 

“And I don’t think they’ll be happy seeing your swollen and ugly face,” Changbin shot out in Han’s defense. 

“You wanna go, pig-bunny?” 

“Yeah, come here!” Changbin shot forward and grabbed Seungmin’s throat. 

A grin instantly filled Seungmin’s face. “I didn’t know you were into being an alpha man.” 

“Yah, no! Ew! Stop!” Changbin pulled away and shook his hand. “No more alpha and omega stuff. I don’t wanna hear about it, you pervert.” 

“You grew oddly offended about that.” 

“Shut up!” 

“Shh! They’re back, I can see them coming to the door through the window.” Han shoved himself to his feet, shedding your blanket, and letting it lay on the couch. 

Jeongin hurried to the door and pulled it open. In Chan’s arms, your sleeping body lay bridal style. He carried you inside with ease. “Did you get the couch ready?” 

“I mean, I didn’t know exactly what you wanted, but their stuff is there.” 

“Good enough.” 

The rest of the guys followed behind Chan. He gently placed you on the couch against your pillow, making sure you weren’t lying on either side of your jaw. He quickly grabbed blankets to cover you up and let out a sigh of relief. “That takes care of that for now.” 

Out in the kitchen, Minho flicked through the stack of paperwork from the dental office. “This looks like a huge headache, thank god I’m not playing a part in this.” 

Felix appeared over his shoulder and frowned. “Oh, poor thing. This is certainly going to be a long recovery period. They’ll probably be pretty upset when they wake up.” 

“And in pain. Does anyone want to come with me to go pick up their antibiotics from the pharmacy?” Jeongin pulled out his car keys. 

“Please get me the hell out of here,” Seungmin walked towards him instantly. 

“I guess I’ll go.” 

“Yeah, same.” 

Changbin and Han followed him, but it was Han that spoke up first. “Do you think we should stop at the store and grab some soft snacks, so they have something to eat and drink when they wake up?” 

“That’s a good idea.” 

The guys all conversed and slipped out the door, leaving only a handful behind. Hyunjin observed your peaceful demeanor and sighed. “I think this is the first time they haven’t been stressed in a while.” 

“Anesthesia is just a brief coma,” Felix mumbled beneath his breath. 

Chan came out to look through the papers that were in Minho’s hand. Despite Minho’s previous words, he didn’t mean them. Of course, he’d help with your recovery, he always would. 

~ ~ ~ 

You woke up to the sound of quiet whispers full of affection. 

“They look so cute when they’re relaxed and asleep like this.” 

“I can’t wait until they wake up, I miss them.” 

“I like them when they’re dead to the world. I haven’t heard this kind of silence in so long.” 

“Kim Seungmin, you fucking jackass.” 

“Bite me.” 

“I might.” 

When your eyes opened, you made out the faint illumination of Chan’s yellowed face. The way the lamp positioned, it cast an unnatural tint to his face. He stepped away and walked closer to you. “Hey there, are you awake?” 

You tried to speak, but the gauze stopped your words from coming out clearly. Your eyes widened and Chan stepped forward. “Whoops, I forgot about that. Hold on, stay still, and let me take this out for you.” 

He leaned forward and peeled away the gauze. When he did, you blinked rapidly, trying to wake up. To your surprise, all the guys were scattered throughout the dorm’s living room. 

“You made it through your wisdom teeth extraction.” 

“You’re a total baby when you’re high on anesthesia and you can’t take a joke.” 

“Seungmin made you cry.” 

You tried to speak, but your voice felt hoarse. Jeongin quickly stood up to retrieve a water bottle for you when your words came out cracked. When he came back, he jerked it open, and handed it to you. After a few sips of refreshing cold water, you thanked him. 

“Honestly, I’m really disappointed you didn’t give us more to work with. I was expecting you to turn into a total brat, but you didn’t. You thought I was kidnapping you and cried at Seungmin’s insult, but that was about it.” 

You glanced up at Hyunjin with furrowed eyebrows. He sighed and crossed his arms over his chest. “You don’t remember?” 

“No. I don’t remember a lot of it. I thought they were taking out one tooth.” 

“Yeah, I think you were half unconscious when you agreed to take out all four.” 

“But I don’t think it’s a bad thing,” Felix chimed in. “Now you never have to do that again and that’s pretty cool. Unlike the rest of us…” He frowned thinking about it. 

“Oh, hell no!” Jeongin’s head shook. “They’re not putting dental tools in my mouth.” 

“Yeah, I agree. I’ll continue my regular appointments to keep my mouth cleaned. I’ll be flossing and brushing like usual,” Minho added. “Preventive measures help with tooth infections and cavities.” 

“Thank you, doctor obvious.” 

“Are you sure you’re feeling okay?” Chan questioned with concern. 

“My mouth feels so swollen and I’m tired.” 

“No pain?” 

“Not really, I just feel groggy.” 

“I think this has been the best possible outcome for you.” 

“Wrong. I wanted to see you beat up Changbin,” Seungmin pouted. 

“And I wanted to see them put their foot up your ass, so I guess we’re all disappointed,” Changbin glared. 

The sound of your stomach made everyone pause. Your cheeks flushed red and you grabbed your stomach. “Sorry, I guess I’m hungry. I haven’t had food all day.” 

“Oh!” Felix popped up. “You can pick something off the list of foods that the dentist recommended.” 

“Nothing hard, crunchy, or sticky,” Han clarified. 

“I know it’s not exactly healthy, but a milkshake sounds nice.” 

“You’re not allowed to use a straw, but if you want a milkshake, it can be arranged,” Chan leaned over and patted your head. “What kind?” 

“Can we all have milkshakes for dinner? A big giant chocolate milkshake would hit the spot. Topped with a lot of whipped cream and chocolate syrup and-” 

Jeongin cut off Han’s rambling. “Usually, I’d judge you for that, but that sounds so good.” 

“Sounds pretty official to me.” 

“Come on, Innie.” Changbin stood up and grabbed Jeongin’s arm. “The rest of you can text the group chat with what kind of milkshakes you want. We’re going to go find our sugar rush.” 

Chan sighed and leaned back against the couch. “I can’t believe I’m a full grown man and agreeing to get dessert to replace a balanced dinner.” 

“Live a little, you ancient, old fuck.” 

“Seungmin is right!” 

“Felix, you’re not supposed to agree with him.” 

“Well, he’s acting like he has a stick up his ass.” 

“I am not! I just think that having a milkshake is ironic since our member just got out their-” 

“Hey, what’s the best time to go to the dentist?” Han beamed. 

“Han fucking Jisung, if you say tooth-hurty-” 

“Tooth-hurty!” 

“Come here,” Minho stood up with a fist. “I’ll show you a tooth-hurty.” 

“AH!” He rushed to the opposite side of the couch. 

You sucked in a deep breath and sighed. You might have survived getting your wisdom teeth removed, but now you were tasked with surviving your recovery period with the members of your group; quite a difficult feat when you live with a group of wild animals. 

| ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ |

Taglist: @lia-linny @seungnishi @stellasays45 @emilyywhyy @rockstarkkami @flightlessackerman @inlovewithstraykids @velvetmoonlght @chrizrizz

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Ko-fi

[i-dared-myself]

Need For Nine Leads to Sick

Stray Kids x reader

Requested by anonymous: can you do a ninth member sick fic with skz? and like she physically cannot go on stage but is forced to and collapses?

It’s one of those days. You woke up with a scratchy throat, clammy skin, and a full bladder. The last one was easy to solve, but the first two required a bit more effort.

“Chan,” you whine nasally as you walk down the stairs. A sudden bout of dizziness makes you tumble the rest of the way down, landing in a heap at Chan’s feet.

“What the-“ Chan’s eyes widen in surprise before he kneels next to you. He helps you sit up, eyebrows furrowed. “Are you okay?”

“I’m sick,” you complain, groaning. “I don’t feel good.”

Chan frowns and lifts you to your feet. “How sick are we talking? Because we have a big performance today. For that awards show, remember?”

“No, I’ll be okay,” you tell him. You sniffle. “I’m going to go get some medicine now.”

Chan sighs and squeezes your shoulder before you wander off. You go to the cabinet where it’s stored, rifling through until you find the cold medicine.

“I heard you’re sick,” Hyunjin suddenly says from behind you, startling you. You nearly hit your head on the cabinet door.

“Yeah? And?” You hold the bottle up to see what the dosage is.

“Alright.” Hyunjin rolls up his sleeves. “Bend over.”

“Excuse me?” Your eyebrows shoot up and you take a step away from him. When he slides closer to you, your back hits the wall with the next backwards step you take.

“Gotta take your temperature to make sure you’re not just lying,” Hyunjin tells you with a roll of his eyes, as if it’s obvious. “So bend over. We only have a rectal thermometer.”

“Absolutely not!” you exclaim, darting past him. He tries to grab you before you can escape, but you duck under his arms.

Hyunjin chases you down the halls, effectively waking every other member. They all grumble as they stumble out of their rooms, confused to see you running from Hyunjin.

“Where are you going?” Felix asks as you sprint past him.

You ignore him and hide behind Changbin, dizzy from exertion. “Hide me? Please?”

Changbin throws his arms out protectively, narrowing his eyes at Hyunjin. “What are you doing?”

“Checking her for a fever,” Hyunjin says, holding up the thermometer. His eyes are locked on you.

Changbin shrugs and lifts you to put you down in from of Hyunjin. “Here you go.”

“Betrayal!” you hiss, fighting against his grip. 

Hyunjin cackles, waving the thermometer around like a crazed maniac. He advances closer, but then, your hero arrives.

Jisung lunges in front of you, shielding you with his body. “Go! I’ll hold them off!”

Seungmin scoffs, appearing out of nowhere to press a hand to your forehead. “Wow, that’s a fever. And I didn’t even have to penetrate anyone for it.”

Minho pokes his head around the corner, eyes wide with surprise. “What the hell are you guys doing?”

“Not penetrating people,” Jisung carefully says, nodding confidently to himself.

Minho sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Let’s go. Chan and Jeongin are already waiting in the van.”

“I-“ you say before you’re being rushed to the van, your cold medicine forgotten. But you’re sure it’s fine.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Alright, people,” the stage manager loudly says, clapping his hands. “We have twenty minutes until we’re on!”

It’s a bustle of activity. Last minute changes to makeup and costumes, with chaos rampant as staff rush around. You’re feeling worse now, but know you don’t have a choice.

So why would you bring it up to someone? That would just worry them for no reason.

So you push past your sore throat, your aching head, and your stuffy nose. You sip at your water bottle, watching as Minho glares at his stylist.

“You don’t have to be so grumpy,” Jeongin tells Minho with a smile. “You’re scaring everyone.”

“Good,” Minho shortly says, scowling at everyone in the room. 

“Changbin,” you whine as he passes by. “I don’t feel good.”

“Okay… Well we have to preform. Did the medicine not kick in?” Changbin touches your forehead gently. He hums to himself. “You feel warm still.”

“I forgot to take it,” you mumble.

Changbin winces, eyes flicking to the clock on the wall. “Did you bring it? Or maybe we could find some?”

“No, I’ll be okay,” you tell him. When he gives you an unsure look, you force a smile. “No, really! I was just complaining. I feel good though.”

“Alright.” Changbin pats your shoulder comfortingly before jogging over to Hyunjin.

You feel ill. You’re nauseous, light-headed, and still have a fever. 

You’re slumped in the chair, an arm thrown over your eyes to block the intense light from impacting your headache. You’re dreading having to perform.

It’s getting worse with time. There’s an ache in your chest that’s forming as well, causing you to cough.

“Excuse me,” you say to the stage manager as he hurries by you. “Is there a way for me to not preform? We know the choreography for if someone is-“

“No,” he snaps, whipping his head around to glare at you. “We prepared for nine, and we’re going to get nine. So you’re going to get your ass on that stage, and you’re going to dance.”

You blink in surprise, nodding. “Yeah, okay. Of course. I’m sorry.”

He huffs and stomps away.

“Changbin,” you whine as he passes by. “I don’t feel good.”

“Okay… Well we have to preform. Did the medicine not kick in?” Changbin touches your forehead gently. He hums to himself. “You feel warm still.”

“I forgot to take it,” you mumble.

Changbin winces, eyes flicking to the clock on the wall. “Did you bring it? Or maybe we could find some?”

“No, I’ll be okay,” you tell him. When he gives you an unsure look, you force a smile. “No, really! I was just complaining. I feel good though.”

“Alright.” Changbin pats your shoulder comfortingly before jogging over to Hyunjin.

Eventually the time to file out onto stage comes. You trail after the others, falling into position. The music starts and you follow the choreography exactly.

Well, mostly exactly. You do stumble off to the side halfway through, turning your back to the cameras so they don’t see you dry-heaving. 

Nothing comes up, thankfully, but tears still form as you cough. Your fingers curl around nothing as you try to level your breathing out.

The crowd gasps, all eyes turning to you. Minho slips over his own feet, which you know he’d never do. He practised too hard for this, and he messed up for you.

Seungmin kneels at your side, eyes wide with concern. “You’re okay. Breathe.”

A staff member waves from just offstage, trying to call you over. Seungmin helps you over to them and out of the audience’s view. You slump against the wall, head tipped back as you go through waves of dizziness.

You sit like that for minutes, although they feel like hours. You just want to go home and away from the loud music and bright lights. You want your bed and maybe some cuddles.

Finally, the show ends. Your group runs backstage, peering around for you before Seungmin guides them to where he left you. Jeongin inhales sharply, covering his mouth.

“Wow…” Hyunjin slowly says, taking in your clammy skin and glassy eyes. “You look…”

“Great,” Felix interjects, giving the others a pointed look. “You look fantastic. I can’t even tell that you’re sick.”

“Why are you lying?” Minho asks. “You’re not even good at it. She obviously looks-“ He’s elbowed by Changbin and stops talking.

“Are you ready to go home?” Chan softly asks, forehead creased with worry. When you nod, he waits for you to stand before handing you a water bottle.

Jisung talks as you go to the van. He describes how worried he was when you collapsed, and how much attention the crowd gave to you. You’re not really reassured by that, but it’s nice to know people care. 

As soon as you get home, Felix is grabbing the cold medicine. He pours you the correct dosage and hands it to you.

You cringe at it. “What if… What if I just tough this out? Like, who really needs medicine.”

“Take it,” Seungmin insists.

Chan crosses his arms, raising an eyebrow at you. “Come on. You’ll feel better once it’s in your system.”

You groan, but swallow it down. You pull a face at the taste before you’re being shooed to your room.

Jeongin lays out a set of pyjamas for you, patting them gently. “Let’s get you changed, okay?”

You grumble but go off to the bathroom to change. When you get back, they’re all smushed together on your bed.

There’s really not enough room for all of them, and there’s a lot of pushing and shoving going on. Changbin gets Seungmin in a headlock, much to your amusement.

“Alright, get out of here,” you rasp, clearing your throat with a cough. When they don’t move, you wave your hands at them. “I need rest.”

“Yes, and I need cuddles.” Jisung spreads his arms. “So get over here.”

You crawl into the bed as well, sorting through the writhing mass of bodies to lay your head on your pillow. At least you think it’s your pillow, until it shifts.

“You’re going to make my arm fall asleep,” Minho grumbles, trying to tug his limb away. But your eyes are drooping and you’re comfortable. And because he’s the big softie that he is, he lets you stay like that as you drift to sleep.

Taglist:

@velvetmoonlght @jinnie-ret @hansmic @imeverycliche @iwuberic @strawberryscentedd @mbioooo0000 @lezleeferguson-120

[4linos]

crash and burn.

ot8 x ninth member male reader

synopsis: you thought silence made you strong. but when you collapse mid-song, your members show you what real strength looks like, being cared for.

warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, fainting, malnutrition, burnout.

wc: 2150

The crowd roared like a tidal wave, deafening and unrelenting, but it sounded muffled in your ears.

You stood just offstage, the thick velvet curtain brushing against your shoulder as you waited for the cue. Your heart was hammering, not from nerves, but from sheer exertion. Your limbs felt leaden, your chest rose and fell with shallow breaths, and a faint, persistent buzz echoed in your head. You tilted slightly to one side, catching yourself before you stumbled.

It had been like this for days now. Maybe longer.

You'd chalked it up to the usual: exhaustion, long practices, late-night recordings. It wasn’t like this was new. Every idol lived like this, surviving on little sleep and even less food, constantly chasing perfection under the blinding spotlight. You weren’t special. So, when your stomach grumbled during practice, you told yourself you'd eat later. When your knees buckled slightly in the hallway, you grabbed the wall and laughed it off. And when your vision swam during warmups this morning, you blamed it on the heat and kept going.

Because if you stopped now, just for a break, just to rest, what if they thought you couldn’t handle it?

What if you proved them right?

“Y/N,” Chan’s voice came from your left, firm but kind. “You good?”

You blinked and nodded quickly. Too quickly. “Yeah. Just pumped.”

He held your gaze for a second longer than usual. Like he could see through the cracks. But then the opening VCR ended, and the stage lights flared to life.

And then you were running out into the crowd, smiling wide, waving, getting into position.

You weren’t good. Not even close.

-

The first song was a blur. Your body moved on muscle memory alone. The choreo was aggressive, as always, but tonight it felt like you were dragging your limbs through sludge. Every jump sent a spike of dizziness through your skull, every turn left you gasping for air.

By the second song, sweat poured down your face like rain. It stung your eyes. Your hair clung to your forehead. You bit the inside of your cheek to focus, to stay sharp, but your mind was getting foggy. Like someone was slowly turning the volume down on the world.

You glanced sideways during the bridge and caught Jisung watching you out of the corner of his eye, brows pinched. You forced a smile.

He didn’t smile back.

By the third song, your head was pounding so hard you thought your skull might crack open. The lights above seemed brighter than usual, searing into your eyes. Your ears rang. Your breath came short and fast. Your body was crying for fuel it hadn’t received in too long.

But it didn’t matter.

Because this was your part.

The music dipped into silence as the instrumental faded. The stage dimmed around you, leaving just the spotlight, blinding and white hot, on your figure.

You stepped forward, mic in hand, heart thudding wildly against your ribs.

You opened your mouth.

And nothing came out.

Your throat closed up. The words, lyrics you’d practiced a hundred times, bled over just… vanished. Your mind was blank. A second passed. Then two.

In the crowd, fans stopped waving their lightsticks. Silence rippled like static through the audience. It wasn’t long, but it was long enough, enough for Chan to glance back at you, eyes sharp with concern. Enough for Seungmin to pause mid-step. Enough for Felix to frown.

You stumbled.

Just barely.

But it was enough.

Because the moment you tried to speak again, the world tilted sideways and then everything went black.

You didn’t remember hitting the floor.

Didn’t remember the chaos, the crowd screaming, the music cutting off abruptly, the mics hissing as members rushed to you.

You didn’t remember the way Chan dropped to his knees, calling your name. The way Changbin held your head carefully to the side, checking your pulse with trembling fingers. Or how Jeongin was frozen in place, eyes wide and terrified.

All you knew was darkness.

Silence.

Weightlessness.

-

When you woke, the first thing you felt was cold, an air-conditioned chill brushing across your sweat-soaked skin.

The second was pain. A dull, heavy ache behind your eyes, like someone had cracked your skull open and poured concrete inside.

And then..

Voices.

Muffled at first. Then slowly sharpening.

“—you need to get him fluids immediately. He’s severely dehydrated.”

“Blood sugar’s way too low. Probably hasn’t eaten in. How long has it been?”

“Y/N. Come on, come back to us.”

Your lashes fluttered. You squinted against the harsh white lights overhead. Your vision was blurred, but slowly, faces began to take shape.

Chan hovered above you, his eyes rimmed red, his hands curled tightly around your wrist.

Felix sat just behind him, one hand pressed against his lips, the other curled around your ankle like it grounded him. His face was pale.

Hyunjin crouched nearby, his hands shaking slightly as he ran them over his pants. You could tell he’d been crying, even if he tried to hide it.

The rest of the members were there too, gathered in a semi-circle around the cot you’d been laid on backstage, with your manager and two medics standing nearby. Everyone looked like they’d aged ten years in twenty minutes.

“…Y/N?” Chan whispered again. “You with us?”

You nodded, barely. Your head felt too heavy to lift.

“I—I’m sorry,” you croaked. “I don’t know what happened…”

“You fainted,” Jeongin said, voice cracking. “On stage. In front of everyone.”

“It was like you shut off,” Seungmin added, not unkindly, but with a shake in his voice he couldn’t hide. “One second you were singing, the next, you just…”

“I didn’t mean to,” you whispered, throat tight. “I just… I thought I could push through.”

“You shouldn’t have had to,” Changbin snapped, more emotional than you’d ever seen him. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

You swallowed hard. The room felt smaller now, heavier.

“I didn’t want to be a burden,” you admitted. “I kept saying I’d eat later but then I’d fall asleep after practice, and I’d forget. And then it just… kept happening.”

Chan ran a hand over his face. “God, Y/N…”

“I thought I was just being weak,” you continued, voice raw. “I didn’t want you guys to worry. You’re already under so much pressure, I—”

“Stop,” Hyunjin said suddenly, eyes bright with unshed tears. “Don’t ever say that again.”

“You’re one of us,” Felix added, scooting closer. “That means we carry the weight together. You don’t have to do this alone.”

“I know,” you whispered. “I just… I didn’t want to slow anyone down.”

Chan let out a long, shaky breath and sat back on his heels. “Y/N. We’d rather miss a hundred stages than lose you.”

“You scared the hell out of us,” Minho said from where he stood, arms crossed but face stricken. “You could’ve seriously hurt yourself.”

You turned your head slightly, feeling tears sting your eyes. “I’m sorry.”

There was a long pause.

Then Chan reached out and gripped your hand. “We’re not mad. Just scared. You don’t have to apologize for collapsing when your body couldn’t take it anymore. You just… need to let us help you before it gets to that point.”

“I will,” you promised, voice barely audible. “I swear.”

Felix offered a small, broken smile. “Good. Because we’re not letting you out of our sight now.”

-

You were taken to the hospital shortly after, just to be safe. The diagnosis was no surprise: dehydration, low blood sugar, over-exhaustion. A perfect storm of neglect.

The schedule was adjusted. Your next few events were cancelled, and the company released a statement citing “health precautions.” But behind the scenes, it wasn’t just protocol, it was care.

You weren’t alone for a second.

Changbin started keeping snacks in your bag. Jeongin set phone reminders for your meals. Hyunjin volunteered to split his vitamins with you. Minho started packing bento boxes after late-night practice “just in case.”

But it was Chan who hit the hardest.

It was late.

Past midnight, maybe closer to 2 a.m., when you wandered into the building alone.

The others had gone home hours ago, forced into rest by your manager’s insistence and the very real reminder that everyone was a little too close to the edge lately. But you couldn’t sleep. Not yet. Your body was still too wired, your head too full.

You thought being alone in the practice room might help. Just a few minutes of quiet.

But when you pushed open the door, you weren’t alone.

Chan was sitting on the floor, back against the mirror, hoodie pulled halfway over his face like it might shield him from the weight of the world. The dim overhead lights cast a long shadow behind him, and for a second, you almost didn’t recognize him like that, so still, so quiet.

Then you heard it.

A soft sniff. The sound of someone trying very, very hard to keep it together.

You hesitated. Your instinct told you to leave, to give him space. But another part of you, something deeper, something that knew him said to stay.

“Hyung?” you said quietly.

He jumped slightly, dragging a hand quickly across his face. “Ah, shit,” he muttered, blinking rapidly. “You weren’t supposed to see that.”

You took a slow step forward. “You okay?”

Chan let out a short breath, something between a laugh and a scoff. “Yeah, yeah. I’m fine.” He wiped at his face again, gesturing vaguely to the room. “Just sweating. It’s hot in here.”

You gave him a look. “Sweating. While sitting completely still. In the dark.”

He sniffed again and chuckled weakly, the sound breaking halfway through. “Yep. That’s the story I’m going with.”

You didn’t call him out. You just walked over and sat down beside him, close enough that your arms touched. For a while, neither of you spoke. The silence wasn’t awkward. It was familiar. Grounding.

He exhaled slowly. “You really scared me, you know.”

You nodded. “I know.”

“I saw you go down and my brain just… stopped. I don’t even remember running to you. I just remember the sound. The way everything went quiet. Like the whole world paused.”

His voice cracked at the end, but he cleared his throat quickly and looked away.

“You’re always looking out for us,” you said. “And I get it. That pressure, that responsibility. You carry all of it. And when something slips through the cracks…”

He shook his head. “It shouldn’t have. I should’ve seen it. I should’ve known. You weren’t okay, and I missed it.”

“Because I hid it,” you said firmly. “I’ve had practice. Smiling when I’m falling apart. Telling everyone I’m fine so they won’t worry.”

He was quiet again.

Then he said, softer this time, “But I still should’ve seen it. That’s the part that keeps hitting me. I was so focused on keeping everything running that I didn’t even realize one of my members was running on empty.”

You leaned your head back against the mirror. “You’re not a machine, Chan.”

He let out a weak laugh. “Try telling that to my reflection.”

You turned your head toward him. “You didn’t fail me. You didn’t let me down. I pushed myself too hard because I thought it was what I was supposed to do. I thought being strong meant never asking for help.”

His jaw tightened, but he didn’t argue.

“I get it now,” you said. “And I don’t want to live like that anymore. I want to let you in. Let all of you in. Because if I’d said something earlier, even once…”

“We would’ve caught you,” he finished, voice thick. “Every damn time.”

You nodded. “So no more hiding. From either of us.”

He finally looked at you then, really looked, eyes glassy, tired, but softer now. There was a hint of a smile there, fragile but real.

“You know,” he said, nudging your arm, “I was gonna pretend I came in here to revise the setlist.”

You raised a brow. “With your hoodie over your face and tear streaks on your cheeks?”

He grinned sheepishly. “Sweat streaks.”

“Uh-huh.”

He let out a proper laugh this time. It was quiet, but genuine. Then his expression sobered again.

“Promise me something?” he asked.

“Anything.”

“If it ever starts to feel like too much again, even a little, you’ll tell me. No more toughing it out. No more pretending.”

“I promise,” you said, without hesitation.

“And I’ll do the same,” he added after a beat, voice softer. “Because you’re not the only one who’s been running on empty.”

You reached out and laced your fingers with his, grounding each other in the stillness of the room.

The pressure didn’t go away. The world outside was still spinning fast. But here, in this moment, you weren’t falling behind.

You were just… still.

Together.

//

masterlist.

[for #🐰 anon, sorry this took so long.. i hope u enjoy]

[chairofchaos]

The main battles are usually about tummy hurt but you’d have to ask the actual source of this quote… and I’ll let her voice her thoughts if she wants lol

req'd by @chairofchaos

are the main battles about tummy hurt?

text: Hozier tm gives his strongest battles to his most feral soldiers

[kangaracha]

QUEENMAKER | CHAPTER 28

---

pairing chan x reader

genre ninth member au, angst, fluff, coming of age, social media, cancel culture, anxiety, depression, forbidden love,

summary To JYPE, the solution is simple; take the sole trainee that will not debut with your brand new girl group, and use her to replace the missing vocalist in your male group that insisted on starting as nine.

Unfortunately, to the fans and the members themselves, it isn't that simple.

status ongoing

taglist OPEN

a/n if there's any random typing in here it's because i leant on the keyboard when my internet went out while trying to upload things, which was a harrowing experience when the internet from two seperate providers went out at the same time and considering the state of the world. anyway it's fine, australia is fine, carry on.

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---

Boxing Day dawns bright and cold and clear-headed, exactly the opposite of the sleepy fog that follows you through your morning routine and out the door, into the cars that will take you and every other idol you can think of to the large stadium that you'll perform in today.

"You're puffy," Changbin says as you stare out the window, watching the freeway slide by. You think he's going to pinch your cheek for a moment; but his hovering hand turns to his own hair instead, trying to ruffle the fringe he'd barely bothered to brush into its place. "Did you sleep?"

"A bit," you answer, and rub at your face with your hands even though you know it won't help. "It'll go away by the time we perform. Don't worry about it."

"You should keep it like that," Hyunjin says, twisting in his seat to get a good look at you. "It's cute."

"Cuter than Changbin?" you ask, making a heart next to your cheek. 

The sputtering and uproar from the seat next to you makes you smile, as does Hyunjin's returning nod. "The most cute," he promises in English, one syllable at a time. "I'm obsessed with you."

"But not with me?" Changbin asks, pouting.

Their conversation continues over your head, even when you smile and tune out, turning back to the window to steal a few more moments to wake yourself up. Sleep had eluded you for most of the night. You'd decided several hours ago that it was stupid, lying there and worrying about a single, tiny thing Minseo had said in passing, and in the light of morning your opinion is no different, but that hadn't changed a thing; when your chest locks up and your mind starts to spin, around and around past all of the possibilities it can come up with, there is just no way to sleep, and when you lie there and you realise that you have to get up in four hours, three hours, two-

Stop thinking about it. It wasn't so hard, in a car full of boys in the daytime, when there's so much else to see and do. It's even easier when you arrive and are plunged into the chaos of backstage, passing by dressing rooms and last-minute rehearsals and meetings between friends in the hallways, all around the teams of staff that run back and forth, ensuring that the day really will go on as planned. There's so much else to think about then, so many things lying ahead of you before you even get on stage, that you get caught right up in the whirlwind of it, forgetting that you were ever tired or worried about anything, or even that your body still hurts from the week before.

It feels like you blink and you are walking down a hallway towards the place Skijigi have chosen to film with Midnight; a bright, open atrium, against a temporary wall of black barriers. Nothing to distract viewers from the facing, no chance of accidentally catching another group in the corner of the video. No way to keep the eagle-eyes of fans away from you, whether or not you still remember the choreography you learned all the way back in May.

Chan's fingers squeeze your wrist as you walk together, letting go again just as subtly as he'd picked it up. You look at him questioningly, and find, not for the first time today, yourself wondering how he looks so good when he has slept just as little as you.

"Okay?" he asks, and doesn't elaborate to any of the ears listening around you.

For that, you're grateful, even as you only give him a tight nod and an acerbic reply that is only half as funny as it's supposed to be. He smiles in pity at your bad joke. You step around the corner first to save yourself the embarrassment of it.

"Y/Nnie!" Minseo's smiling face greets you as soon as you step into view, her strong arms dragging you into a hug. Her embrace is warm and welcoming, a familiar presence that you'd once spent every day with, thinking you would spend your life as sisters, of a kind. It's so distracting that for a moment, you didn't even notice Ellie standing by her shoulder. You see her when you draw away from Minseo, greeting Chan like he is an old friend; and it is like you'd summoned her just from the thought of her last night. The bright smile, the bubble of her voice, the slip of her tongue straight into casual Korean, as if she has known him her whole life...

You don't know what to grab onto, in the storm of emotion that starts its uneasy eddy in your chest. You focus instead on Minseo, drowning out the teasing joke that Ellie says to Chan with the sound of her voice instead.

"I really thought you wouldn't listen to me," Minseo is saying, regardless of whether you're listening or not. "Did you practice the dance last night too? Or do you actually trust me?"

"It was Christmas," you answer, examining the flush of her face and the mischief glinting in her eyes instead of anything in the rest of the room. "Of course I didn't practice. Do you think I'm crazy?"

"Yes," Minseo says, deadpan. "I'm glad you care about holidays now though. I still remember at least one Christmas where you wouldn't even come out to eat with me."

"We don't need to talk about that," you say quickly, because out of the corner of your eye, you can see Chan listening. "I've learnt from my mistakes."

"Have you?" Minseo questions teasingly, one arm looping around yours as you turn to join the others' conversation.

Ellie immediately notices your attention, breaking off whatever she was saying to Chan to give you a thousand-watt smile. "Y/N!" she greets you warmly. "It's so nice to see you. I feel like we haven't talked in a million years; I swear, I run into your boys at the company all the time, but you are so hard to find."

It's hard not to believe the knowing affection in her voice and the enthusiasm with which she greets you. Because it is all real, you have to remind yourself, and convince yourself to let go of the smile that she coaxes from you. The apprehension, the green-eyed envy and the missed futures you keep worrying about whenever you look at her...that's all in your head, not hers. "I'm usually there late and leaving late," you answer awkwardly, trying to smooth the tightness of your chest.

"And still locked in a studio all day," Ellie adds for you, as impertinent as ever. "Right?"

"Right," Minseo confirms, her tongue popping on the 'T'.

"We take her out sometimes," Chan puts in from his own corner, just barely glancing at you as he speaks. "We've been on a lot of schedules recently too."

"With your smash hits in Korea and Japan," Minseo says, squeezing your arm. "It's been nearly impossible to get a hold of any of you."

Ellie nods along emphatically. "I loved your performance in Back Door, by the way," she says directly to you, her hands clasped together in front of her. "Your dancing improved so much, and your voice is like, angelic."

You duck your head in thanks - and embarrassment. "Did you hear her solo song too?" Minseo asks, eagerly adding fuel to the fire. "That's my favourite."

"Oh, yeah!" Ellie gushes. "I play it all the time, seriously, it's one of my favourite songs."

"That was all 3racha," you say quickly, waving them towards Chan like you're passing off a crime. "I just sang it. They did all the real work."

Chan's smile is wicked, as he throws it right back to you. "It wouldn't have been the same song without all of your ideas though."

"Like, one…" you say, your voice fading off at the look he gives you. "Thank you, anyway. Shouldn't we be dancing?"

"We are supposed to be on a time limit," Ellie says smoothly. "What do you want to start with?"

For some reason, everyone looks at you. Their sudden attention kind of makes you want to crawl in a hole and die. You stiffen your shoulders and reply, "Midnight's first?"

"You're right, get it out of the way," Minseo jokes, nudging you playfully. She knows you too well; as does Chan, from the look that hides in the corner of his eye. 

"I don't know the choreo, so you'll have to run through it," he says as you break apart, each finding your own space.

"Y/N doesn't remember either." Minseo flashes you a smile designed to rile you up, ignorant of the way that your heart already skips and stutters uneasily in your chest. 

Still, all that comes over your face is the fire she's looking for. "At least I know some of it," you say, one hand tossing your hair over your shoulder. "I know you haven't even bothered to look at any of ours."

The retort delights her. "That's because I kill it in five moves, babe."

"You still can't sing though."

Minseo laughs at you, louder than is polite - and for a moment, you feel a flash of the old times in the JYP practice rooms, when it was just you and her in a corner, working for a dream that looked identical. It's almost a relief, a release of the pressure you've been building in your own chest, until you hear Ellie say, "I don't know whether it's for the better or worse that they were seperated," in an aside to Chan, her smile indulgent. "I don't know if Midnight would have survived this many big personalities. We keep getting in trouble as it is."

"Stray Kids wouldn't be the same without our Y/N," Chan replies evenly, his eyes very deliberately not turning to you. 

You resolve to ignore him in kind, keeping your focus on Minseo. "Show me how to dance then, genius," you say to her alone. She says something smart in reply, but you forget to mark the words, watching instead as Ellie starts to walk Chan through the chorus, one step at a time. It takes a moment for you to drag your eyes away and focus on what you're doing instead of the fears you're making up inside your head; if Minseo notices, she doesn't say anything, just waits for you to find the first position and summon up the scrap of memory you have of the rest of the dance.

You stumble through the first run. It itches at you, the irritation at your limbs for not remembering what they're supposed to do - especially when everyone else around you picks it up so smoothly, their bodies gliding from step to step with that innate skill of adapting and remembering that you just don't seem to possess. The second practice goes smoother, and the third and fourth that you run in the back while they aren't looking. The fifth is the best, shadowing Chan as he perfects it one last time.

He's the first one to mess up a recording, at least, even if you feel like a wooden soldier, hiding in the back. You resolve to loosen up for the next one when you watch it back - even though no one else says a word about it, you stand there, peering over Minseo's shoulder, and you stare at yourself and you think you've never seen something so awkward. It's almost bad enough to make you laugh, except that it's supposed to be posted online for all the vultures to see, and Ellie is right there on your left, every line of her body perfect-

Stop it, you tell yourself firmly, and set yourself to recording until the others decide that it is done. By then, you're just happy to be done with it, to let go of that choreography again and turn back to SKZ, the music that has become your comfort zone.

"You did a great job," Ellie says as you take a sip of water, her weight bouncing on her toes. "Considering how many songs you've learnt since you left us." 

You swallow slowly, stealing time to digest the words. "Thankyou," you say when you are ready. "You guys did a great job with it. I like the changes you've made."

"We couldn't do the kick anymore," she tells you wryly, struggling not to laugh. "I almost kicked Deiji in the face one too many times."

"Are you ready for Back Door?" you ask as a manager takes away your water, fixing your shirt and your hair and glancing around for the others. "I feel like we're running out of time."

"Probably," Ellie sighs, waving her hand in the air. "The time limit is just a suggestion, isn't it?"

"Not when we have soundcheck ten minutes after this," you quip, and watch her freeze mid-action, rethinking her stance.

"Maybe we should hurry," she suggests, making you huff a laugh. "You wouldn't want to miss that." Suddenly, she snaps to attention, standing up tall and straight on her feet. "I'm ready."

"I'm here, I'm here," Minseo puts in from the side, appearing next to her. "Give it to me. Let's go."

You're not really sure, thirty seconds later, how exactly you ended up teaching the steps while Chan stands to the side, offering suggestions. You would rate yourself by far the least qualified to be teaching anything - and yet somehow, you get the job done. The others do the rest, organising the formation and ending poses, and the 'doors' at the beginning, turning you and Chan to block the camera and reveal Midnight as a surprise.

It looks good when it's done. It even almost looks like you're having fun. 

Maybe you do need to relax.

"Thank you so much, guys," Ellie says when it is over, bowing to each of you in turn. "I know you've got to go straight away, but it was so cool to get to dance with you! I can't wait for these to go up."

"No, it's nothing," Chan replies, quicker than she can think of anything else to say. "Thank you for wanting to do a video with us."

"We really have to go," you say to him, unable to ignore the ushering hand of your manager from the sidelines anymore. "See you guys around the company?" 

Your eyes turn straight to Minseo, who is still wearing the biggest, most satisfied grin on her face. "Of course," she answers for both of them. "As if you could get rid of us."

"Good," you say, like you mean it, and wave goodbye as you are near dragged away, down the hall and off towards the stage for the next part in your long day. 

---

TAGLIST

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@keepswingin

[starberry-cupcake]

no preamble because this one's gonna be long

previously, in nona del 9:

this happened

this is the general tag with all of them

CHAPTER 22 (BROKEN NINTHS SKULL, BABY!!!)

camilla is instructing nona on all the things harrowcita nonagesimus wouldn't do

which is a lot of things

there's also a makeover montage, still including indications of all the things to do and not do as harrowcita nonagesimus

they have to dye nona's eyes, in a way that sounds painful at best, to hide their color

which also implies that nona has to act like she's harrow AND blind

we suffer tells camilla that they didn't tell them blindness could be a recourse from varun's effect and camilla says it's only theoretical

nona, at hearing this, thinks she can remember something, but is not sure what

not decided on whether this is a point for the ice cube barbie theory or not

nona is also pretty attracted to tsundere pash

looking at tsundere pash is making her giggle, which is bad for the harrow impression

camolive are switching back and forth to communicate via letter and palmolive gives nona instructions to be more into the nonagesimus vibes

this is kind of the issue we've got going on

camilla also has to take a minute to catch her breath in a corner after all the switching

nona has to get dinner so, after forcing herself to eat some real human fodd, she goes to chew on an eraser

nona would have eaten these like cereal

camilla suggests nona to pretend that she's got the "blue madness" and act like judith if she is asked something difficult

act like judith now, not act like judith would regularly, which would be to call the second and rat people out

I still like you, judith, you wet pathetic mouse

nona is very turned on by tsundere pash handling a knife

tsundere pash is ordered to guard angel teacher because she's the only one left who can, even if she's probably in trouble for all that happened in school

tsundere pash says that angel teacher "shouldn't be near th—" and gets interrupted

we suffer asks camolive if they're certain a simple touch will be enough, to which camolive say yes

I thought this was about gideon but I'm not so sure now

they all get in tsundere pash's uber and angel teacher is also there

nona looks at all the people on the street doing their daily people things and I really like that, because we're reminded again how nona's perspective is always on the people around her

how observant she is of everyone and how she sees everyone, even in moments in which she's in the midst of the most determining thing that will happen in that planet

she's looking at people righting their bins and walking around and it's like

people are always people, even when situations are dire, and there's always going to be humanity, even in the midst of chaos

and nona takes some time to see that, and I think that's wonderful

ANYWAY

angel teacher asks camilla if it really will be so simple, to which camilla says "yes" but idk about that

simple doesn't tend to be the way with lyctors

camilla says their chances are 50/50, with her dying in the bad ending

WHICH I DON'T WANT

and then, camilla proceeds to arm herself

it's all incredibly cool

I love her

she feels relieved when she's armed with all her knives and weapons

me too, babe, give 'em hell

tsundere pash starts being tsundere with camilla and her weapons

she starts telling her things like "die quick, die cold, bring 'em with you" and "I pulled a trigger next to you, that doesn't mean nothing. But it doesn't change who you are."

TSUNDERE PASH STOP FLIRTING WITH CAMILLA WITH YOUR TSUNDERE WAYS

YOU DON'T DESERVE HER

when they get to the building, they are let in without any of the preamble they had gone through with coronabeer

they enter the building, that is filled with rubbish and smells, like someone wants to get rid of stench but can't

and then they reach a scene that's like some jabba the hut situation, with yandere chad, coronabeer and pyrrha

(is pyrrha kinda boba fett coded or is it just me?)

nona takes some time to describe how beautiful coronabeer looks

to continue with the star wars references, yandere chad's got some uniformed corpses standing around like the stormtroopers at the entrance to rise of the resistance

nona (and the audience) is reassured by pyrrha moving in a very pyrrha manner, which means the quadruple crossing allegations are true and she's still on our side

this is some mechamaru level scheming

yandere chad goes "You're nearly a minute late, Harry"

and I'm like

CHAPTER 23 (SIXTH HOUSE SKULL, BABY!!!!!!)

yandere twin is mad and trying to discredit that harrowcita can be in the planet with her own body, while she has to use chad like a power wheels car

she's also mad that coronabeer didn't mention that harrowcita was allegedly blind

she's also having trouble handling two nervous systems at once

yandere twin is also surprised that camilla is allowed to wear gideon's glasses

she's constantly trying to get a rise out of camilla, but camilla doesn't give a fuck

"Who cares what I think? I'm only a Lyctor, a sacred fist and gesture holding the power of life and death, having ascended to the state your pompous moralising blowhard of a necromancer disdained"

nona is giving just "no" answers, and yandere chad is disappointed because she was expecting harrowcita to come in there demanding gideon's body

not like that, you naughties

yandere chad asks nona (as harrow) if she's changed gideon for camilla, who she considers an upgrade, because of the lack of ass jokes

camilla is an upgrade of anything anytime at any occasion

yandere chad says she doesn't care about the sixth house

(and the sixth house doesn't care about you, bitch)

but she wants to take it back to dr reverend emperor john, who does care very much

camolive don't want to tell yandere chad how they managed to get the sixth house across and yandere chad says she'll ask the oversight body, since she doesn't "need all of them"

I'm getting S I C K and T I R E D of people playing 3d chess with the sixth house

yandere chad wants to make dr reverend emperor john use more military brutality

of course she does

camilla is smiling at the whole thing, though, which yandere chad gets mad about

she tells yandere chad that cassiopeia left the sixth instructions to leave a long time ago

"If he hears that yet another of his duplicitous sluts betrayed him, he's never going to come back from it."

coronabeer is trying to convince yandere twin to run with her and leave everyone alone

they have a way of talking to each other that I'm gonna pretend isn't making me uncomfy at times

yandere chad says they're closer to their goal than ever, so she can't

yandere chad makes it clear that "people" are the last thing on her list of priorities

yandere chad asks pyrrha where the few necros who are alive are and they talk about their lack of training

but then yandere chad gets tired of going around in conversations and plain and simply asks nona (who she thinks is harrow) how tf is she alive and why she's there

nona remembers she's supposed to play judith and starts freaking out and crying "help"

at that, everything kind of goes to hell

lights go out, yandere chad drops nona and staggers back, pyrrha is down on her hands and knees, coronabeer is standing, flanked by dead people, zombies (actual zombies, not metaphoric ones) are falling around

yandere chad goes

nona thinks she's fucked up

yandere chad says she's going to leave with her tied and gagged and "not as a sex thing"

not again with the lyctor orgies

so, pyrrha announces that everyone with a necromantic body is down and yandere chad decides to pack their bags and go without the sixth, especially because she doesn't want dr reverend emperor john to find out about cassiopeia spilling beans

and clarifies that she never cared about the people in the planet

yandere twin also holds a grudge because camilla didn't save her arm

yandere chad decides to kill camilla and coronabeer doesn't like that

I DON'T EITHER

yandere chad says she's already saving judith, so she only gets to keep one

camilla, though

camilla brings back the RECEIPTS

remember back in canaan house when everyone was acting like they were better than camilla, so she had to go kick martita's ass in front of everyone and then yandere twin was like "we can challenge you"?

well, camilla is like "we never said no so, you owe us"

she says that if she loses, she dies but, if she wins, she gets to walk

without nona (posing as harrow)

she says she wants to die on her feet

I'm a little nervous ngl, but also, I LOVE HER AND I KNOW SHE'LL KICK ASS SOMEHOW

yandere chad doesn't want to accept because it's all too "storybook-like"

so coronabeer decides to be very dramatic and put a gun on her throat

then they do the most sisterly thing they've ever done in this whole series

"Stop being so fucking dramatic—" "Staaahp being so fucking dramahhhtic"

they argue until yandere chad accepts to fight camilla

coronabeer calls her "my necromancer" which is a lot and I'm not gonna touch it

coronabeer sets a rule for no active necromancy

yandere twin calls camilla a "pea brain" and gives her the advantage of winning if she takes her handkerchief off her

camilla asks if she can keep the handkerchief if she does

I'm out there throwing my handkerchief on the ground for camilla to pick up like lydia bennet

nona is having liquid coming out of her orifices and her head is throbbing and is worried her eye dye must be ruined

nona can't catch a break

coronabeer dictates the rules of combat and the fight begins

camilla blocks all of yandere chad's attacks at first

soon after, though, she is nearly hit and nona gets worried

I'm concerned but also hopeful because I trust her with my life

camilla is moving fast and handling her knives back and forth and flipping them around

she gets behind yandere chad, in a position in which she can't get to camilla so she can stab her

but yandere chad attacks her anyway and ends up stabbing camilla, who holds her wrist, then hand, then sword

camilla, however, says "match to the sixth"

to which yandere chad replies "what?" before falling backwards

MATCH TO THE SIXTH, BITCH

BUT PLEASE GET MY WIFE A NECROMANCER DOCTOR PLEASE AND THANK YOU

CHAPTER 24 (GIDEON SKULL, BABY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)

I should have stopped at the previous chapter but the gideon skull and the uncertain state of my beloved made me continue

once yandere chad is out, all the dead stormtroopers fall, some on top of poor nona, who still can't catch a break

coronabeer runs to camilla and she responds that she's not going anywhere

thank whatever god that isn't the one in these books

yandere chad then springs back to life and is glad to see camilla alive, to which pyrrha says "You fucking legend"

because yandere chad isn't yandere twin or chad anymore, it's palmolive

if you had told me in book one that palmolive was eventually going to be inside chad's body, this is not exactly what I would have thought

camilla wants them to take out the sword from her body, she says she'll be fine

peer reviews are mixed on that

they do it anyway and coronabeer goes to fetch a med kid

something that should have been done before the sword extraction imo, but I'm not a doctor

"I gambled and you covered my bet. You kept the faith, and were the instrument of both my vengance and my grace. And now I have fought through time, and the River, and Ianthe the First —fought and bested Ianthe the First, and I hope I never fight her ever again...Will you not look at me now, Cam, and know me?"

"Yes, Warden, I will always know you."

QUEERPLATONIC RELATIONSHIP GOALS

pyrrha asks palmolive to use his vulcan necro powers to sense where gideon's body is stashed

palmolive literally gives the info like this

pyrrha is like "palm, bud, this is the best intel I've ever gotten of anything ever"

pyrrha has spent eternity doing group projects with the same asshats and finally is paired up with someone who pulls his weight

palmolive assures them that yandere twin is still alive somewhere in there and that, even if it was mere seconds to them, he spent a long time fighting with her for the dominance of chad's body

gideon would make a comment about that

coronabeer is grateful to palmolive for not killing her sister

but nona thinks she's grateful in a way that reminds her of noodle the dog, which is another thing to add to the weirdness of the third

I mean, if you think about it, it's a design problem, the way to become a lyctor was clearly meant for the truly unhinged, so what else can we expect from this casting process dr reverend emperor john was doing

pyrrha and nona go on gideon duty and pyrrha asks nona how she's doing

she's hanging in there, barely, like the rest of us

nona decides to also break the news to pyrrha that she's dying

and pyrrha says she's not gonna die on her watch

they're all making a lot of promises on things they have no idea about

yandere twin has left some wards in a sus door with instructions that go "Don't go through here. I mean it, idiot. You will disintegrate."

reminds me of canaan house

pyrrha says that they're gonna have to use nona to go through, because she has the best regenerative powers this side of the river

she says gideon is the key to the door that's been closed for ten thousand years, the last thing left from a woman she tried to trick into loving her and might be nona

in this moment, I don't think she's nona, there's a lot of book left still

straightforward isn't the way we do it here in tlt

pyrrha helps nona start putting her arm through the ward and then we're immediately in body horror territory

nona is able to pull through, though

claps for nona

pyrrha clips her nails with a pocketknife and she's good to go

she stays behind to clean the ward while nona goes inside to find gideon's body

nona isn't very impressed with gideon's body and she mentions her having redder hair than pyrrha

I was told by someone that pyrrha had red hair and I had never in this whole time caught that fact

sometimes you miss a detail and then it hits you in the face

nona thinks it'd be a downgrade to go from harrow's body to gideon's

which, RUDE

she's ok with the golden eyes, which are like hers

that's another important thing to note

so, after ripping gideon's appearance to shreds, nona decides to kiss her

to which, gideon reacts with shock and disbelief (!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)

and nona says "You looked like you wanted to be kissed, that's all."

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

pyrrha comes back and gideon is again very dead

nona asks pyrrha about commander wake, to which pyrrha says that her and og!gideon punched her through an airlock but she was ready to commit

nona observes that pyrrha looks at gideon like she wants to protect her and own her

and she tells her that she kissed her and woke her up, but gideon doesn't seem to be moving anymore

pyrrha is thankful that nona isn't a puddle on the ground after that

she says it's good that yandere twin couldn't transfer but that she's too dangerous to be running around with lyctor powers

nona also thinks that gideon's clothes are very nice but don't look good on her, which I agree

not butch enough

nona is still a little wobbly but they manage to go back with gideon's body into the jabba the hut dais yandere chad had going on

halfway there, they find coronabeer and pyrrha says that gideon might be a copy and not the real one, because she can't think of why dr reverend emperor john would let her body go around like that

also, the shuttle, according to palmolive, is fucked

AND judith is starting to feel bad and palmolive can't use chad's body to do necromancy the way yandere twin could

coronabeer has to give nona a piggyback ride to the jabba dais

when they get there, the most important news: CAMILLA IS FINE

SHE'S FINE PEOPLE, SHE'S OK, SHE LIVES

coronabeer doesn't think gideon is a copy because yandere twin wasn't acting like she was

palmolive checks her wounds and they are consistent with gideon's

he also can't do necro stuff, not even minor, because of dr reverend emperor john's powers over gideon's body

coronabeer mentions that, while gideon's body was with BOE, they dropped her from places and tried to drown her and other stuff and it never looked more than minutes dead

coronabeer is also reassuring her gf judith who's having a hard time

camilla offers her blood and palmolive says he'd slap her if he didn't find the idea of chad slapping her to be super awful

which, fair

palmolive thinks the way to go is to look for the sixth first because his mom might know how to figure out the suttle situation

palmolive has a whole to do list, actually

I'm already tired and we haven't even started

they decide to take some of gideon's blood to see if it survives outside her body

BUT GIDEON WAKES UP

SHE WAKES UPPPPP

"If that's how you get a lady's pants off, holy shit, no wonder I stole your girl" "Unlike some of us, I've never much seen the allure of an evil cougar"

WE'RE SO BACK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

CHAPTER 25 (BROKEN GIDEON SKULL, BABY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)

"You're the one who bragged about spading my mom."

I missed her so much

(I think gideon would like wynnona earp)

pyrrha doesn't understand how dr reverend emperor john got gideon back if harrow hadn't been able to manage full fusion

gideon says she's a lot of titles (more than yandere twin) and also "mega dead"

she calls nona "fake nonagesimus" and asks, with very little tact, how palmolive is there if he exploded

nona is like "I TOLD YOU SHE WAS AWAKE"

(awake, pun intended)

gideon is not having it with nona and goes "Who is this literal infant?"

gideon, that's a great question

my money right now is on somewhere around amnesiac ice cube barbie with maybe something else going on

nona and gideon are NOT getting along

gideon used to be good with kids but I don't think she appreciates an unknown kid occupying her situationship's body

turns out, gideon hitched a ride with yandere twin because she was bored

she also gives a very cryptic comment about the current state of the river

and says she wants to go with them to the ninth

palmolive asks gideon if she shouldn't be trying to stop them and gideon goes "you wanna fight me?"

palmolive also tells her he considers her a friend, which makes nona angry because she doesn't think gideon deserves it

nona, you missed two books of context, my child

gideon gives excuses that sound very vague and nona clocks that she's lying

which makes gideon very upset and camilla upset at gideon

gideon says she just wants to go to the ninth and people should mind their own business

(translation: "who cares what I do? who cares what I say?", iconic lyrics from an iconic song by alaska y dinarama)

my theory is that maybe harrow is in the tomb? or something? because that's where she was in book two? maybe she wants to find her? maybe the tomb was already opened though not physically? idk, man

DON'T TELL ME ANYTHING PLEASE I BEG YOU

camilla staggers at one point and gideon catches her before remembering she's acting all stoic and indifferent

I see you, gideon

nona sees you too

also, gideon's skin is now impenetrable because dr reverend emperor john turned her into more of an xmen than she already was

she tells pyrrha that the wounds he didn't fix are her "speed holes to go fast" and I'm here like "I've missed this idiot"

she also tells camilla that she's gonna end up like her if she keeps fucking around, which is yet another moment of not being able to pretend she doesn't care about her friends

she explains also that her blood outside of her body turns to ash and gives some necromancy jargon I didn't think gideon would ever learn

nona says that she's never seen anyone so sad in her whole life

:'( poor gideon

hugs to gideon, group hug

AND THAT'S IT!!! SO SORRY IT WAS SO LONG!!! I actually ran out of space for pics and had to delete some T_T I'm falling asleep as I go, so I hope this isn't the messiest recap ever. I'll try to make the next one shorter??? maybe??? it's difficult!!!

[phoenixblaze1412]

Omg now that i read the teenage reader story i got a idea. Imagine the reader getting their first crush and start simping over one of the harbinger (for Example tartaglia or pantalone 👉👈) dottore and his segments would go crazy for sure but who knows if they can stop the reader from daydreaming abt their crush ;)

The pristine halls of the Fatui headquarters echoed with the clicking of heels and the low murmur of passing conversations. You sat at your desk in Dottore’s lab, absently twirling your pen as your thoughts wandered far away. Specifically to a certain Harbinger with an impeccable sense of style and a smile that could charm Mora out of a banker.

Pantalone.

The Ninth Harbinger was everything you weren’t. Cool, composed, utterly graceful. Every time he spoke, it felt like his voice was dipped in honey, and every glance he threw your way left you a stammering mess.

And that was the problem.

“You’re distracted,” Alpha said, his arms crossed as he loomed over your shoulder.

“I’m working,” you lied, snapping your notebook shut before he could see the little hearts you’d doodled next to Pantalone’s name.

Alpha’s crimson gaze narrowed. “You’ve been staring into space for fifteen minutes. What’s on your mind?”

Theta, always the instigator, leaned over the edge of a nearby table with a grin.

“Bet it’s a crush.”

Your face burned. “It’s not!”

“Oh, it definitely is,” Theta teased, grinning like a Cheshire cat. “Come on, who is it? One of the recruits? Or maybe...” He gasped dramatically. “Is it Pantalone?”

Silence fell over the lab like a dropped pin.

Dottore, who had been adjusting a piece of equipment nearby, froze mid-motion, dropping the item to the ground and shattering it. Slowly, he turned to face you, his mask glinting ominously in the lab’s artificial light.

“Pantalone?” he repeated, his voice low and dangerously calm.

You gulped. “It’s not what it sounds like--”

“Oh, it’s exactly what it sounds like,” Theta interrupted, gleefully fanning the flames.

Dottore straightened, his gaze piercing. “Explain yourself.”

From that moment on, your life became a whirlwind of chaos.

Dottore was immediately on high alert, his overprotective instincts kicking in full force. “The Ninth Harbinger is far too old for you,” he declared. “And too manipulative. You will keep your distance.”

“Dad, I just think he’s cool!” you protested.

Alpha stepped in with his usual stern demeanor. “You’re too young to be entertaining such thoughts.”

Theta, however, saw it as prime entertainment. “This is amazing,” he said, grinning. “Our little (Y/N) has a crush on Pantalone of all people. What’s next? A love letter?”

You threw a wrench at him to which he dodged with a laugh.

-----

Dottore decided to take matters into his own hands.

He rearranged your schedule to ensure you were never in the same room as Pantalone.

Any meetings involving the Ninth Harbinger were now “off-limits” for you.

The segments were tasked with monitoring your activities, reporting any suspicious daydreaming or mentions of the Ninth Harbinger.

Theta, of course, was the first to exploit the situation. “Daydreaming about him again?” he’d tease every time he caught you zoning out.

Zeta, ever the quiet one, offered more subtle support. “Perhaps it’s just a phase,” he suggested to Dottore one evening. “Teenagers are prone to such things.”

Dottore was unconvinced. “A phase or not, I won’t have my child distracted by frivolities.”

Unfortunately for Dottore, the situation escalated when Pantalone himself caught wind of your crush.

It happened during a routine encounter in the hall. You were minding your own business, clutching a stack of documents when Pantalone rounded the corner and flashed you one of his signature smiles.

“Ah, (Y/N), always working hard,” he said smoothly. “Such dedication is admirable.”

Your brain short-circuited. “Uh—I—thanks—you—uh—bye!” you stammered, practically running in the opposite direction.

Pantalone raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. Later that day, Theta casually let it slip. “Oh, they’ve got the biggest crush on you.”

Pantalone chuckled. “How… endearing.”

-----

When Dottore found out Pantalone knew, he stormed into the Ninth Harbinger’s office, flanked by Alpha and Zeta.

“My child is off-limits,” he declared, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Pantalone, ever unflappable, simply smiled. “Doctor, I assure you, I’ve done nothing to encourage them.”

“Good,” Dottore said sharply. “Keep it that way.”

"My, aren't you being overprotective? It's only a crush, a puppy love situation."

"I will not let my child fall in love with manipulative businessmen like you, Regrator. I'd rather not let them fall in love with anyone at all."

-----

Despite Dottore’s best efforts, your crush persisted for a while. But over time, you began to see Pantalone in a more realistic light. His charm was undeniable, but you realized that your feelings were more admiration than genuine love.

One evening, as you worked late in the lab, Dottore approached you, a rare softness in his voice. “You’ve been… quieter lately.”

You shrugged. “I guess I realized he’s just… a cool guy. Nothing more.”

Dottore studied you for a moment before nodding. “Good. You deserve better than someone like him.”

You smiled, touched by the rare display of fatherly affection. “Thanks, Dad.”

Theta, of course, ruined the moment by bursting in and declaring, “So, who’s the next lucky Harbinger? Is it Arlecchino? Or maybe Tartaglia? Oh, I know! It's the Jester!"

You threw another wrench at him.

[teddiee]

Nothing But Gravity: Chapter 3

Summary:

Tony lifted his coffee again, a makeshift shield. Bucky noticed how his knuckles had whitened again around the ceramic. “Yeah, well,” Tony said, quiet and terse. “Didn’t exactly get a choice. The old man set the path, and I followed.” He wiped at his nose and turned his gaze toward the nearest window.

The mention of Tony’s father hung in the air like a sour note.

Words: 5,017

They ended up at a small café tucked behind one of the campus buildings, the kind of place most people overlooked in favor of the more popular spots closer to the main quad. It was quiet, save for the soft clatter of mugs and the hum of muted conversation. The air smelled like roasted beans and something faintly sweet, maybe cinnamon.

Bucky had always liked this place; it felt like a pocket of calm amidst the chaos of campus life. There were nicer coffee shops around—fancier ones, the busier chains that Steve usually preferred.

But this place had an undeniable charm with its colorful, mismatched furniture and large collection of secondhand mugs. It was currently bathed in a soft golden glow, the kind of late afternoon sunlight that slanted through the tall windows and painted everything in warm, honeyed tones. Dust motes drifted lazily in the light beams, giving the air a gentle, dreamlike quality.

“Welcome to Ninth Circle Brews,” Bucky announced with mock grandeur, stepping aside to let Tony pass first. “The coffee is fantastic, and the playlist is, uh…” He paused, listening to the faint hum of a tinny indie-rock cover. “Subject to personal taste.”

Tony darted a quick glance around the shop, shoulders still visibly stiff. There were only a few other patrons—a pair of students buried in textbooks at a corner table, a middle-aged woman pecking furiously at a laptop near the window, and a bored-looking barista scrolling on his phone behind the counter. If Tony was relieved by the lack of crowd, he didn’t show it outwardly. But Bucky could sense a slight easing in the tension around Tony’s eyes.

They approached the counter. “Let me grab this one,” Bucky offered easily, tossing Tony a practiced, lopsided grin and pulling out his wallet.

Tony blinked at him, already reaching for his own back pocket. “That’s… you don’t have to.”

“I know. I want to.” Bucky paused, giving Tony a sidelong grin. “Unless you’ve got some moral objection to free coffee.”

Tony sighed, clearly weighing whether to argue, then stepped up to the register. “Just a black coffee. Please,” he told the barista quietly.

Bucky clicked his tongue in mock dismay. “Dude, at least get a cappuccino or something. Live dangerously.” He turned to the barista. “I’ll take a mocha latte, whipped cream, extra chocolate drizzle… and, fuck it, toss an extra shot of espresso in there for good measure.”

Tony shot him a wary look.

Bucky held his hands up in mock surrender. “Hey, man. Don’t knock it ’til you try it. Besides, I’ve got a big appetite, especially when I’m not stuck with frat house swill.”

Tony glanced at his feet with purpose, seeming to backtrack in real-time. “No, I… I mean, I’m used to the stuff at the dining hall at this point.”

Bucky snorted. “Low bar, that. Pretty sure the dining hall stuff doubles as engine degreaser.” He gestured toward an empty table in the corner. “Let’s sit.”

They made their way over and settled opposite each other at a small, round table tucked into the far corner, partially hidden by a shelf filled with worn books and mismatched pottery.

Bucky leaned back in his chair, his legs stretched out comfortably underneath the table as his gaze fixed on the boy across from him.

Tony was a study in contrasts, the sunlight catching in his messy curls, turning the dark strands a rich chestnut. The warm light softened the sharp planes of his face, illuminating the faint freckles scattered across his pale skin like whispered secrets. His eyes were ringed by faint smudges of exhaustion.

He sat perched on the edge of his chair, looking like he was ready to bolt at any second. His hands curled tightly around the arm rests, his thumbs rubbing absentminded circles along the upholstery. He kept his head slightly bowed, his shoulders hunched as though trying to make himself smaller, less noticeable.

But Bucky noticed everything.

The way Tony’s foot tapped an uneven rhythm against the floor. The way his gaze flickered around the café, never settling for too long, as though afraid to linger anywhere—especially on Bucky.

He’s cute, Bucky thought, not for the first or second or even the fifth time, watching the way Tony fiddled with the sleeve of his sweatshirt. Really cute, in a delicate, unguarded way that made Bucky want to reach out and smooth the tension from his brow.

Which was a problem, kind of, because that wasn’t how Bucky usually operated—he liked boldness, confidence—an energy that matched his own.

Tony was clearly the opposite: skittish, reserved, possibly the shyest person Bucky had tried to flirt with in… well, ever.

Not that he was exactly flirting.

Not successfully, anyway. But whatever.

Either way, Bucky found it… incredibly disarming.

“So,” he cleared his throat, shoving the distracting thoughts from his brain. Forced his line of sight away from Tony’s freckle-splattered cheekbones. “Freshman, right?” He kept his tone casual as the barista plunked down two mugs on the table—one black coffee in a slightly chipped ceramic cup, and one mocha latte drowned in whipped cream and an avalanche of chocolate drizzle. Bucky’s, obviously.

Tony muttered a quiet word of thanks before curling his fingers around his mug. He held it so tightly that Bucky wondered if the ceramic might crack under the pressure.

His eyes flickered toward Bucky, tracking the movement of his throat as Bucky took a slow sip of his drink. He then seemed to register the question and froze briefly, his fingers tapping the side of his mug before he shrugged.

“Yeah,” he answered eventually, his voice a little more guarded. “Freshman. First year here.” He took a careful first sip of his own coffee and chased the residue left behind on his lip with his tongue. Bucky’s fingers tightened around his mug. “How’d you know?”

Bucky stabbed his tongue into his cheek and repressed his urge to laugh.

Tony couldn’t have been more than eighteen. Nineteen, max. His youthful boyishness radiated off him like sunlight, all large doe eyes and soft, rounded features that hadn't quite shed the last remnants of childhood.

His expressions flickered like a film reel stuck between frames—sharp but fleeting, raw but quickly masked. Regardless of his noticeable, tangible apprehension, the edges of his face still held vulnerability, too—that impression of someone who hadn't been totally hardened by the world yet.

“Lucky guess,��� Bucky drawled eventually. His tongue felt a little fuzzy in his mouth. Too much whip. “Where y’living? Dorms?”

Tony nodded, a flicker of something—maybe unease, maybe thoughtfulness—passing across his face. “Yeah, the dorms,” he muttered, then paused, glancing at his lap for a second before looking back at Bucky. “It's... not bad.”

“Not bad, huh? You got a roommate, or are you flying solo?”

Tony seemed to hesitate, glancing away briefly. “I’ve got a roommate,” he said, quiet. “Bruce Banner. He’s... pretty cool. Physics major.” His lips quirked into the smallest of smiles, and for the first time all afternoon, Bucky could hear the sincerity in his voice. “He’s been a good friend.”

“That’s good, man. Living situations can be tough. Take it from someone who lives with twelve other idiots who don’t know how to do their own laundry.”

“Yeah,” Tony said, his voice a little warmer now. “Bruce is solid. He keeps me from…” He trailed off, suddenly. Something unreadable passed over his face, fleeting. It disappeared just as quickly. “Anyway, he’s moving into campus housing next year. With other physics majors.”

“And you?” Bucky pressed, treading lightly.

Tony shrugged again, this one tighter. He took another small sip of coffee, shielding his obvious disappointment with his mug, and Bucky’s heart tugged pathetically somewhere behind his ribs. “Still figuring that out. I’ll find something. Wouldn’t be the first time.”

Bucky sat up a little in his chair, curious. “You had a roommate before him?” Tony blinked at him, looking a little bewildered, and then realized his own slip. Heat flooded his face, blooming at his temples.

“No. No, I… uh. I was at MIT for a while. Before this.”

Bucky took a few seconds to process this new piece of intel.

“MIT? No kidding,” he said slowly. “How old are you? You seem—”

Tony exhaled, a short, sharp breath, like he was steeling himself for the usual barrage of questions. “Yeah. I, um… started college really young. At fourteen.” He paused, probably expecting Bucky to erupt into shock or disbelief. “Graduated from MIT at seventeen. I’m nineteen now. It’s… complicated.” His knee started bouncing under the table.

Bucky blinked at him. The confession settled in his chest, quickly morphing into something dark and jagged, but he reeled in his immediate reaction. Flexed his fingers before allowing himself to speak again.

“Fourteen,” Bucky repeated. “Jeez. That’s—holy shit, Tony. That’s impressive.”

Tony ducked his head. “I guess. I don’t know.”

“You don’t—? You literally finished MIT at seventeen.” Bucky leaned forward, unable to keep the reverence from his voice. “That’s… insane. In a good way,” he hurried to add, not wanting Tony to take it the wrong way. Not wanting to spook his date—was this a date?—five minutes into sitting down. “Seriously, you must be, like, a super genius or something.”

Tony’s lips quirked downward, and he stared into his coffee like he might find the right words swirling in the dark liquid. “I just… it’s not that I’m—I mean, I am smart,” he said, stumbling over his own admission, “but it was also about… circumstances. My father wanted it.” The word ‘father’ sounded tight in Tony’s throat, as though it hurt just to say it. “He… pushed for it. Hard.”

Bucky schooled his expression into something neutral.

Retreat. Retreat. “Must’ve been a lot of pressure.”

Tony’s jaw clenched; a flicker of something raw and pained darted across his features. “You could say that.”

A tense hush settled between them. Bucky let the moment linger, waiting to see if Tony would volunteer more.

He didn’t.

Instead, Tony took a measured sip of his black coffee, wincing slightly at the heat. His expression had fallen into something shuttered, his eyes vacant and distant, his hands clenched around his coffee cup like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to the present.

“You, uh, said degrees,” Bucky prompted carefully, setting his mocha down so he could give Tony his full attention. “As in, more than one?”

“Electrical engineering,” Tony mumbled. “And quantum physics.”

Bucky blinked once, slowly. “Both?” he repeated. “At MIT? By seventeen?”

Tony nodded, his expression guarded. “Yeah. My dad—he thought it would be… beneficial for me to explore multiple fields. So I…” His throat worked around a swallow. “I did.”

For a second, Bucky could only stare. He was sure his expression was betraying something like awe, or maybe horror, but he couldn’t quite wrangle it into something more impartial. A kaleidoscope of emotions spun inside his head—admiration, bewilderment, concern.

“Wow,” he breathed, finally. “I mean… wow, Tony. Shit, man.”

Tony lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug, still avoiding Bucky’s gaze. “Wasn’t really my choice,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t… I didn’t exactly want to start college so young.”

And Bucky opened his mouth to respond, but suddenly found that he wasn’t quite able to form words.

He pictured a fourteen-year-old version of the kid sitting in front of him, trudging through MIT’s labyrinthine halls, dwarfed by backpacks twice his size, surrounded by older students who probably didn’t know what to make of him.

The mental image caught in Bucky’s throat. Restricted his breathing, faintly.

“That’s… that’s rough,” Bucky finally managed, stupidly, voice hitching a bit. “I can’t imagine. Most kids are worried about, like, eighth-grade dances at fourteen—not, Christ. College apps.”

Tony lifted his coffee again, a makeshift shield. Bucky noticed how his knuckles had whitened again around the ceramic. “Yeah, well,” Tony said, quiet and terse. “Didn’t exactly get a choice. The old man set the path, and I followed.” He wiped at his nose and turned his gaze toward the nearest window.

The mention of Tony’s father hung in the air like a sour note.

Bucky could see how Tony’s expression turned inward, like he was replaying some private movie reel he’d rather forget. The faint lines of tension around Tony’s mouth, the edge to his posture—everything pointed to a story far uglier than Tony was letting on.

Bucky wanted to ask. He wanted to press: What was he like? Why did you leave MIT? What happened? But a little voice in his head warned him that he’d lose Tony entirely if he pushed too far, too soon. That tension in Tony’s eyes was a flashing caution sign, a sign that said: Stop, you’re not allowed here.

So Bucky swallowed the urge and nodded slowly. “Yeah, I get it,” he lied because, like hell, he did.

Sure, he knew the concept of parental pressure—overbearing coaches, pushy teammates—but nothing like… this.

Still, it felt right to acknowledge Tony’s discomfort rather than forcing him to detail the entire train wreck. “Not easy, having someone else dictate your every move.” Understatement of the century, clearly.

A muscle worked in Tony’s jaw. “It isn’t,” he said, voice tight. Then, as though catching himself, he slid a glance up at Bucky, half-expectant, half-wary. “Sorry. You don’t want to hear me whine.”

Bucky huffed a laugh, hollow though it was. “I’m asking, aren’t I?”

Tony’s lips twitched, something that wasn’t quite a smile but at least looked less grim. He fiddled with his mug again, turning it in small circles on the table. The swirl of coffee inside mirrored the swirl of tension in the air.

Bucky realized he wasn’t sure how to keep going. This conversation—this entire scenario—was so far outside his usual wheelhouse.

He didn’t know what he expected, really—a quick coffee meet-up, some surface-level banter, maybe, and an exchange of phone numbers if everything went well? The usual one-two punch.

Instead, he was currently knee-deep in some freshman boy’s messy backstory—haunted eyes and daddy issues and insane academic brilliance, to boot.

And he was floundering, no doubt about it. Not in a bad way, necessarily—just… unprepared.

He’d never been the type to shy away from spontaneity, or from wading into new territory on a whim. That’s how he ended up living in the frat house, for fuck’s sake. But something about Tony tugged at him more insistently—made him want to linger and pick through the layers carefully.

It wasn’t just physical attraction—though, yeah, that was definitely part of it. Tony was stunning; that much was obvious. In a quiet, unintentional way that left Bucky a bit tongue-tied. But there was also a sorrowful magnetism to Tony, an air of I’ve been through a lot, I’m trying to pretend I haven’t, that Bucky couldn’t ignore.

He’s different, Bucky reminded himself, a little forcefully. Not your usual type at all, Barnes. Yet Bucky found himself drawn in, like he was reading the first few pages of a book he couldn’t put down, even if the subject matter was complicated. Or grim.

A few long seconds of silence hung between them, punctuated by the acoustic indie-rock cover piping through the shop’s speakers. Outside, a stray breeze rattled the windows, and the golden light in the café shifted to a deeper, more subdued amber as the sun sank inch by inch.

Bucky cleared his throat softly, steering the conversation back into calmer waters. “So, I guess that means you’ve done, like, your share of everything—engineering, advanced math, you name it. Is that why you came here? To try something different?”

He half-expected Tony to dodge. Instead, Tony let out a quiet breath, his gaze sliding sideways. “Sort of. I, uh… I had a falling-out with my father.” The muscles in his throat strained around the words. “Stopped talking to him. So I applied here to keep my scholarships going. At least for now.”

“Scholarships?” Bucky asked, because God forbid he took a hint and changed the fucking subject.

Tony grimaced. “You know, the standard. Got to keep a certain GPA, take a certain number of credits, all that crap. The money’s nice—it means I don’t… owe my father anything. But it also means I’m stuck at a place that doesn’t quite know what to do with me academically.”

“And that’s why you’re basically re-doing your undergrad?” Bucky ventured.

Tony’s mouth twisted wryly. “Yeah. I mean, the admissions folks technically recognized my MIT degrees, but I… I was behind on some general requirements. Stuff that didn’t transfer. So they stuck me as a freshman.”

“So you’re sitting in classes with eighteen-year-olds who are fresh out of high school,” Bucky summed up.

“Eighteen-, nineteen-year-olds,” Tony corrected, lips pursed. “Kids my age, for once. But… yeah.”

“That’s got to be weird,” Bucky murmured, imagining Tony in a sea of other first-years discussing dorm pranks and frat parties, while he’d already done years at MIT, had two degrees, and a father complicated enough to drive him away.

Tony shrugged, but there was a heaviness in the gesture. “Weird, yeah. But it’s… better than the alternative.”

Bucky wanted to ask about that alternative—about the father who apparently used Tony’s brilliance as his personal project. But Tony’s expression screamed don’t pry, so Bucky eased off.

Instead, he let his gaze drift to the chipped mug in Tony’s hands, the swirl of coffee, the faint steam rising. He tried to picture how Tony must feel in this new environment, carrying a story no one else had—like he was juggling secrets in plain sight.

A pang of empathy hit Bucky. He was used to being liked—he was easy-going, charismatic, quick to flash a grin. He’d never had to worry about forging connections. Meanwhile, Tony looked like a porcelain figure perched on a shelf of clumsy giants, always on guard, always ready for someone to shove him off.

But he’s here, isn’t he? Bucky reminded himself. Tony had agreed to come with him, to share coffee, to open up about at least some of his backstory. That meant something.

When he finally spoke, he kept his voice low, gentle. “Well, for what it’s worth, I’m glad you ended up here, man. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have met you.”

Tony blinked, as if startled by the admission. A flush rose to his cheeks, faint but there. “Me too,” he said, so quietly Bucky almost didn’t catch it. He shifted in his seat, glancing around as if to ground himself. “Though… it’s been weird. I’m not… used to the ‘college experience,’ you know?”

Bucky snorted. “Yeah, well, if your introduction to the ‘college experience’ was that party at the frat house, I don’t blame you for freaking out. That’s, like, the deep end of the pool.”

A ghost of a smile flickered over Tony’s lips. “Yeah. Not exactly a gentle ramp-up.”

He set his mug down, tapping one fingertip against the little chip in the rim. For a second, his eyes flicked to Bucky’s mocha. “You, on the other hand, seem to thrive in that environment.”

Bucky shrugged, giving a lopsided grin. “I’m a people person. Or maybe I just like chaos. Hard to tell sometimes.”

Tony’s response was an amused snort—soft, but genuine. The tension in his shoulders eased by a fraction. “I couldn’t do it,” he admitted. “Too loud, too many… unknowns. I felt like the walls were closing in.”

“And that’s why you bolted to the roof,” Bucky finished, remembering Tony’s pale, panicked face. “Hey, I get it. Sometimes I need air, too. Just, you know, maybe next time, don’t do it alone?”

Tony’s gaze caught on Bucky’s for a moment before skittering away. A flicker of something that might’ve been gratitude passed through those dark eyes. “I… I’ll keep that in mind.”

Silence briefly returned, but it wasn’t as charged this time. Bucky found himself letting out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. 

He drummed his fingers against the table, searching for a lighter topic. Something that wouldn’t make Tony’s expression shutter up. “So, if you did have free time, in some hypothetical world, what would you do for fun? Don’t say more classes.”

Tony blinked, seeming to consider it. “I guess… I used to like to draw,” he said, sounding almost unsure of himself. “When I was younger, I’d doodle designs for robots and cars, just for fun. Now it’s basically my job whenever I’m in a lab. So I don’t do it much outside of that.”

“Robot doodles,” Bucky said, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “That’s cool. Back in high school, I couldn’t even manage stick figures that looked good.”

Tony’s lips twitched, almost a smile. “I was never good at people,” he admitted quietly. “Just machines.”

Bucky nodded, biting back the urge to make a self-deprecating joke about being a machine on the baseball field. Instead, he tried a new angle. “Well, if you ever want to practice drawing a face, I’d totally pose for you. I’ve been told I’m devilishly handsome from the left side.” He turned his head in an exaggerated profile, fluttering his eyelashes comically.

Tony stared at him, and for one excruciating moment, Bucky thought he’d just made a total fool of himself. But then a tiny, involuntary snicker escaped Tony’s throat. He quickly pressed his lips together to stifle it, cheeks darkening, but Bucky caught it. Savored it.

“You’re ridiculous,” Tony muttered.

“Ridiculously charming,” Bucky corrected, winking. “Not all of us can be mechanical prodigies, Trouble. Some of us just have to rely on wit and good looks.” He sunk back into his chair, unnecessarily smug as he watched a faint splotch of color bleed onto Tony’s cheeks. “What else, Stark? Clubs, sports, some top-secret robotics side project?”

Tony gave a little shrug, taking another sip of his coffee. “I’m not… great at the social stuff. The clubs here…” He wrinkled his nose. “I tried the robotics club once, but it was full of underclassmen who think they invented the concept of building drones. Felt kinda weird being the only one who actually had real lab experience.”

Bucky laughed softly. “So you out-nerded the nerds, basically.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Something like that.” Then he paused, a flicker of hesitation crossing his face. “I, uh… guess I do have a couple of side projects. Nothing major—just tinkering with some designs that might… well, that might go somewhere.”

It was clear Tony was deliberately vague. But Bucky could sense the underlying excitement—a quickening in Tony’s voice that said I care about this more than I want to admit.

“Somehow,” Bucky said, “I’m pretty sure your ‘nothing major’ is beyond anything I can wrap my head around.”

A faint smile curved Tony’s lips. “Maybe,” he allowed. “But… it’s just something to keep me busy.”

They lapsed into another quiet moment, each sipping at their drinks, the ambient noise of the café drifting in and out. Bucky noticed that the golden hour light had deepened into a burnished orange, painting the walls and mismatched chairs with a warm hue. The place felt like a sanctuary apart from the bustle of campus, a small world of chipped mugs and drifting dust motes.

And in this small world, Bucky could feel the subtle tension thrumming in his own chest. Something unfamiliar. Warmer.

Get a grip, Barnes, he chided himself. But he knew it wasn’t so simple. For all his bravado and easy charm, Bucky had a soft streak a mile wide. And Tony, with his shaky boundaries and haunted eyes, was tripping every protective instinct Bucky had.

Eventually, Bucky cleared his throat again, quieter this time. “So, you said your father—”

Tony stiffened immediately, and Bucky kicked himself for not approaching that subject more gently. “Sorry,” he said quickly, palms up in surrender. “I was just… I was gonna ask if you had any siblings or something. But if it’s too personal—”

Tony relaxed a notch, though his brow remained furrowed. “No siblings,” he answered, clipped. “Just… me.”

Bucky nodded, letting the sentence end naturally. “Cool,” he said softly. Then, in an effort to keep the conversation flowing, he added, “I’ve got three sisters. Two older, one younger. Total assholes, but I love ‘em to pieces.”

Something softened in Tony’s eyes, a sort of wistful curiosity. “That must be nice,” he said, voice quiet.

Bucky opened his mouth to ask if Tony ever wished he had siblings, but closed it immediately—he could guess the answer, and pushing further might put Tony on the defensive again. So he simply nodded, acknowledging Tony’s statement without turning it into a question.

They both took the last sips of their respective coffees. Tony’s black coffee was nearly gone, and Bucky’s mocha was now just melted whipped cream at the bottom of the cup. Neither seemed eager to stand.

Bucky tapped the side of his mug absently. He felt… off-balance, in a way he wasn’t used to.

Usually, he led conversations with confidence, banter—flirtation, if it seemed welcome.

Now, the ground felt uneven under his feet—there were so many emotional landmines, so many half-spoken tragedies in Tony’s voice. Yet Bucky couldn’t deny how alive that made him feel, how it fed a part of him he rarely let out: the part that actually wanted more than surface-level fun.

God, he needed a drink. A real one.

“Listen,” he said, adjusting in his seat so he faced Tony more directly, “I don’t want to keep you here forever. But I… I’m glad you came.”

Tony’s gaze flicked up, meeting Bucky’s for a brief, charged moment. “Me too,” he said quietly, his voice almost lost under the café’s music.

Bucky pushed his luck, leaning forward just enough that Tony’s eyes flared with cautious awareness. “I’d like to do this again sometime—hang out, get coffee that’s better than engine degreaser, maybe not talk about your dad unless you like, want to, or… talk about something lighter. But only if that’s, you know, chill with you.”

Tony looked torn. He inhaled, slow and steady, before giving a short nod. “Yeah,” he finally said. “I… that might be nice.”

Bucky felt a grin start at the corners of his mouth, something warm and genuine and relieved. He’d half-expected Tony to freeze up or bolt. “Okay,” Bucky said softly, letting the grin take over. “Cool.”

They exchanged numbers—the actual act a bit awkward because Tony’s phone was hidden in his jacket pocket, and he fumbled it, nearly dropping it in the process. Bucky tried not to tease him about it, though a small chuckle escaped when Tony shot him a halfhearted glare.

Cute. Cute. Cute.

Finally, Bucky handed Tony’s phone back, having typed his name—Bucky Barnes—with a baseball emoji next to it just for the hell of it. Tony stared at the screen, the faintest flicker of bemusement crossing his face.

“You, um… you put an emoji,” Tony said, his tone halfway between amusement and bafflement.

Bucky shrugged, grin turning playful. “Gotta make myself memorable, right?”

Tony rolled his eyes, but the corners of his mouth twitched. “Dork,” he mumbled.

Bucky laughed, a real, full sound that echoed in the quiet café. “I’ve been called worse, believe me.”

Tony made a soft sound—indeterminate, but not hostile. “Yeah, well… I'll keep that in mind.”

He slipped his phone back into his pocket with care, as if it suddenly held something fragile.

They both stood, the scrape of their chairs echoing in the near-empty space. Tony fidgeted with his hoodie sleeves, pulling them down over his hands, while Bucky stretched his arms over his head. The moment felt heavy with significance in a way that made Bucky’s stomach flutter.

“Guess we should get going,” Tony said, eyes flicking to the windows where the light was now more midday sunshine than morning glow.

They stepped out into the crisp air that had gained a slight chill since they first walked in. The wind ruffled Tony’s messy curls, and Bucky found himself wanting to reach out and smooth them down—a fucking ridiculous notion. Instead, he shoved his hands into his jacket pockets.

For a moment, they just hovered outside the café door. Students bustled around them, chattering about dinner plans or library study sessions. The sun was high and bright, casting sharp shadows across the walkway.

“Well,” Bucky said softly, “that was… not exactly what I expected, honestly, but… m’glad we got to do this, Stark.”

Tony seemed to consider that, biting his lower lip before letting it go. “Me too,” he echoed, more certain this time. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, shoulders still a little hunched. “Thanks for… paying. And for… you know. Listening. Sorry, again.”

Bucky reached out, letting his knuckles brush Tony’s forearm in the lightest possible touch—a fleeting contact that made Tony’s eyes widen. “Anytime,” Bucky said, voice steady. “And hey—if you ever need a rooftop buddy again, or just someone to talk about… anything, you’ve got my number.”

Tony nodded, his throat working around a swallow. For a second, it looked like he might say more, but he pressed his lips together instead. Then he dipped his head in a brief, almost shy acknowledgment. “I’ll, um, text you. Maybe.”

God, Bucky hoped. Instead, he just smiled, easily. “Cool. I’ll be waiting.”

Tony made a small, noncommittal noise and started walking off, merging into the flow of students. Bucky watched him go for a few heartbeats, noting the slight slump in Tony’s posture that never quite dissipated.

Then Bucky sighed, digging out his phone. With a quick smirk, he thumbed out a message to Steve—Dude, you won’t believe who I just grabbed coffee with…—and set off across campus, the lingering warmth of Tony’s quiet smile still flickering through his thoughts.

[chairofchaos]

I was told to give this to you with the message - "Await the signal from the crops in the east."

STT, have mercy on me and TELL ME MORE PLEASE 😭😭😭

@ninthcircleofprythian there is still no corn or tobacco here but I will stare ALL THE WAY HOME I GUESS. Also WHAT IS HAPPENING

[ninthcircleofprythian]

So tempted to ask if it’s bigger than a breadbox lol

In theory. Yes.

[kmomof4]

12 (Actually 13) Days of Captain Swan Fic Recs!!!

And now here is Day 6 of my 12 (Actually 13) Days of CS Fic Recs!!! @zaharadessert specializes in turning the angst up to about a 12, but the payoff she gives makes all the pain to get there sooooo worth it!!! So here are my very favorites of her fics!!

Get Your Motor Running - Rated E - Emma Nolan is driving home to Storybrooke having finished college, when her car breaks down. With no cell service the only thing in walking distance is the local biker bar…

Canticum Sanguinis Lux - Rated E - Once, all Emma Nolan wanted was a normal life, but when she had a run in with a vampire as a teenager she realised that she couldn’t escape the life of a hunter. Now all she wants to do is prove herself, and she’s going to end up going above and beyond to be the hunter the world needs her to be.

The Halloween Gambit - Rated M - Bar wench and orphan, Emma Swan is taken captive to lure Captain Hook to the noose. Things don't turn out as her captors expect.

The Heart of the Savior - Rated E -

One night, in every corner of every magical realm, every boy aged nine to seventeen disappeared. Not one remained. That was when Pan made himself known to the realms, and from that night the eve of every boy’s ninth birthday meant their disappearance, until finally the realms demanded to know what he wanted to return their children to them. Pan told them he wanted the saviour, and while most realms were confused Snow and David knew what he meant and confessed the role their daughter was supposed to have played in breaking the curse. The realms voted and agreed to Pan’s terms, and Pan stopped taking the realms sons, holding the children he’d currently taken as insurance of their compliance. 

For the next fifteen years Emma’s birthday wasn’t a celebration, it was another tick on the countdown clock to the end of her freedom. Not that she was ever free in the first place, but to save every male child in the United Realms including her younger brother, Leo… She understood that she had a job to do, and she would do her duty with her head held high. What she didn’t count on was the sparkling blue eyes of the man Pan sends to escort her to Neverland in time for her twenty-first birthday.

A Dream of Home - Rated E - Life with the Gold Pack has never been smooth sailing for Emma Swan, and things are getting worse now the pack leader's son has decided he wants her for his mate. Nothing she says or does seems to deter him, or deter his parents from encouraging the match. Emma's only hope is a promise someone made her seventeen years ago; a promise she's forgotten about in all but the deepest recesses of her dreams.

Fallen Angel - Rated M - Forced into a marriage she didn’t want with a man she didn’t love when her parents died, Emma Nolan did everything she could to make the best of it. But when he died, leaving her with an infant son, she realised the depths of his disregard for her and the sanctity of their marriage. Not only was he a gambler, he spent his winnings on his mistresses and left his young wife and with enough debt that she ended up in a workhouse. A workhouse which, like everything she used to own, has just been sold, and the new owner is coming by to survey his new purchase.

I Did Right series - Rated E -

chaos reigned supreme in Central Park yesterday, when the Mayor’s foster son was kidnapped in broad daylight under the supposedly watchful eye of hired staff. The mayor’s office has yet to make an official statement…

When Henry is kidnapped while Regina should have been taking care of him Emma is furious and resolves to do whatever it takes to get her son back. But will the CARD Agent sent by the FBI to help handle the case be more of a distraction than a help, or can he manage to be just enough of both to make this work?

All of Zahara's fics are fantastic, but these are my personal favorites. I hope you enjoy them as much as I have!! See you tomorrow for Day 7!!!

[oftatteredwings]

[ josh hutcherson, cis man, he/him ] — spotted in the streets of brooklyn, it’s OLIVER ‘OLI’ METCALFE. they have lived in the city for ALL THEIR LIFE, working as an ARTIST. the 32 year old will probably be seen around BROOKLYN HEIGHTS a lot, seeing as that’s where they live. people say they can be a bit WITHDRAWN and MESSY, but friends know them to be SELF-AWARE and CREATIVE. you know for sure you’ve found them when you’ve come across SCUFFED UP CONVERSE, WEARING YOUR HEART ON YOUR SLEEVE, HIDING AWAY IN A QUIET CORNER WITH A SKETCH PAD. welcome to brooklyn, it’s been waiting for you!

IN A NUTSHELL; wearing his heart on his sleeve, hiding away in a quiet corner with a sketch pad, the sleeves of his hoodie covering his paint-stained hands, scuffed & untied converse, fiercely protective, a confidence that's hidden deep within.

tw: parental death, severe depression, anxiety

Name: Oliver Metcalfe Nicknames: Oli Age: Thirty-two Date of birth: 3rd December 1992 Birth place: Manhattan, New York Occupation: Artist Romantic/sexual orientation: Homoromantic/homosexual

IMMEDIATE FAMILY.

Pets: One border terrier named Claude Monet ( 9 months old )

ABOUT.

Oliver’s family had always been well known, his father owning a successful chain of luxury hotels, but it was apparent from an early age that the youngest of the Metcalfe’s had no interest in the family business.

He was the quiet one, the one who was happy to sit back while his older sisters caused chaos around the city. To some he came across as boring; for him, all he wanted was solitude.

When his father passed away suddenly, Oliver only seven at the time, he quickly realised he couldn’t hide away forever. He was thrust into the spotlight, now the man of the house, and conversations quickly turned to him inheriting the hotel business when he turned eighteen. It was too much for a young boy and before long he withdrew further into himself.

Family gatherings were something he avoided like the plague, and school too, to a certain extent. He did all he could to keep away from the place, cutting classes and hiding out at home, only attending when he really felt like it.

By the age of fourteen, he was diagnosed with depression, forced into an intervention by his family, and then marched off to see a doctor. Given a concoction of meds and locked away in his room, it worked for a time, his family content that he was working on getting better. But Oliver didn’t care, didn’t want to spend the rest of his life reliant on a bunch of pills, so he began hoarding them. His mother was convinced he was still taking them, too consumed with what was going on with his older sisters, and so he was able to slip out and toss them in the trash on collection days unnoticed.

A year later, things changed. No one really expected it, least of all him. He was fifteen and he fell in love with his best friend. But the problem was that his friend definitely didn’t feel the same way. In fact, his friend seemed disgusted when Oliver finally found the courage to say something to him, pushing him away in every sense of the word. He didn’t take it well; fell back into the abyss, shutting himself away from everyone and everything. They never spoke again, mostly Oliver's fault as he refused to listen to reason.

He did his best to keep up pretenses around his family, though, knowing how much they’d worry about him and take away from their own lives. That was the last thing he ever wanted, for them to start putting him above what they wanted and needed. If there was one thing he’d never wanted to be to anyone, it was a burden, and as time went on, he couldn’t help the way those feelings developed and deepened. He was getting in the way.

On the ninth anniversary of his father’s death things reached an all time low for him. He was writing letters for all of his family members and hoarding painkillers by the hundred. In the end it was a mere idea and nothing more, instead he was found sobbing on the floor of his bedroom by one of his sisters and he told her everything that day.

For the first time he let people in and let them help him. He was able to finish school without any problem and made a move across to Paris for a couple of years for art school, needing to take a break and take time for himself.  No one was particularly happy about him moving away after everything that had happened, but he assured them all that he could take care of himself and they relented.

And Paris treated him well, he made friends, fell in love, actually began to live his life and become who he wanted to be. Art had been something he’d enjoyed from an early age, sketching and painting, and with the guidance of the right people, he flourished. He surrounded himself with other artistic people, would spend weekends away with his boyfriend just indulging completely in art. It was just what he'd been needing.

Five years later and he returned to the city he grew up in, hesitant about how he left things with some people, but safe in the knowledge that he did the right thing.

Now he’s been back for eight years, he’s made a real life for himself. He worksas an artist, occasionally helping out at galleries around the borough. He lives in a small apartment with a good friend ( and his newly acquired puppy ) and feels settled, like nothing can go wrong. It's a far cry from the person he was in his teens.

TLDR; Oliver grew up in New York's Upper East Side and his family own a luxury chain of hotels that span the States ( and parts of Europe ), something he was set to inherit, but had little interest in. He's quiet and likes to keep to himself, only letting those he knows well get to know the real him. Following the death of his father and a struggle with his mental health, he moved to France for five years to attend art school and 'find himself' again. One of his older sisters inherited the family business and he focused on his art instead, which he still does today, working as a freelance artist and occasionally helping out at local galleries. He enjoys being surrounded by the art and showing others a passion for it.

[memoryprompts]

THE NINTH HOUR SENTENCE STARTERS / PART 1

( * a series of prompts taken from shayfer james and kate douglas' rock-noir reimagining of the epic poem beowulf. feel free to adjust as needed. / PART 2

Prologue.

"Listen."

"Listen to the sea."

"Feel the water at your feet."

"This is how the tide behaves."

"We're swept along an open sea."

"We are drifting endlessly."

"The tide will rise, the tide will fall."

"And in the end it takes us all."

"We try again to tell the story."

"Cities built will fall to flood."

"And we will scrape them from the mud."

"The victors write our history by conjuring the enemy."

"We're at the mercy of the swell."

"It beckons us, and bids farewell."

"We build a cradle from our grave."

"Ebb and flow."

"The villains go."

"The heroes go."

Pile of Bones.

"I watch them through their windows."

"I stalk them in the street."

"They don't see me."

"They keep me company."

"I would rather be a monster than a fool."

"I'm hungry, and I've come for you."

"There's a pile of bones in the corner."

"They built these brittle walls in vain."

"They know my name."

"There's a pile of bones in the corner that I call friends."

"They satisfy my hunger."

"I wait 'till they're asleep."

"I call this chaos order."

"I call this carnage peace."

"I'm gonna grab them by their fragile throats."

"They cower at my feet."

"I will never have enough."

"I will drink of this destruction."

"I am summoning the flood."

"They scream my name."

I Believe in Peace.

"They call my name."

"Do they know what it means?"

"They ask for blood like they're dying of thirst."

"I'm a one - woman church."

"They want a savior."

"I'll be their savior."

"Give me your poor, your weak, your lost, your hopelessness."

"Don't worry, I'm here."

"I believe in peace."

"But I'll go to war for you."

"I believe in truth."

"But I would lie for you."

"I know how to cure devastation."

"See, I am salvation."

"I know how to calm a commotion."

"See, I am the chosen."

"I am a marvel."

"Carve me in marble."

"Enemies cower when I come around."

"I'm elemental, build me a temple."

"'Gonna light the way."

Family.

"You never disappoint."

"You keep us fed."

"You keep them wounded."

"But I can smell it on the wind."

"Another heathen they've recruited."

"This one is different from the rest."

"She comes in war, she comes like thunder."

"We'll lose whatever we have left."

"You must do this for your mother."

"They're hateful, they're heartless."

"They say we're the enemy."

"I'm all that you've got."

"We are blood, we are family."

"If you don't strike first, she'll take you away from me."

"I will keep you safe."

"I will be your eyes."

"I'll be your protector."

"They have no business in this place."

"And no, I will not be afraid."

"You always do as you say."

"I'll ruin all they've created."

"I will take it all away."

"No one is going to take you away from me."

"I feel it swelling like a storm."

"It's eye for eye, and limb for limb."

"It's time to end this."

Song of Praise.

"Our hero has arrived."

"I humbly submit myself at this soldier's feet."

"To sing of soldier's feats."

"Can I ask you, please."

"Do I have the blessing of addressing the one and only?"

"I'm truly at a loss."

"We must sing praises."

"We must keep her legacy alive."

"Our hero will never die."

"My clever words could never paint the picture that your name creates."

"The gory glory, the body count."

"The color of blood upon your blade."

"You put other men to shame."

"I couldn't possibly explain."

"Should I sing of monsters slain?"

"Of those you saved from certain death?"

"Let this be the day you came to fight for us and win again."

"I may run out of breath."

What They Want.

"Pivot, smile, stop."

"Make them laugh and give them what they want."

"Raise a glass."

"Praise the names of those who came before."

"Tell them fate is waiting at the door."

"This is what they want."

"This is what you're here for."

"This is who you are are."

"This is what you came for."

"Make a promise."

"Keep it modest."

"Tell them there is nothing left to fear."

"Say a changing of the tide is near."

The Flood.

"They sing their songs by firelight."

"I watch them dull their minds."

"These foolish drunks and diplomats."

"Lies and empty promises give hopeless men relief."

"Is ignorance their innocence?"

"Do they walk the world asleep?"

"I am cunning."

"They're complicit."

"I am coming."

"They dismiss it."

"Let their comforts blind them."

"I have come here to remind them."

"I am wakeful."

"I am watchful."

"I am unafraid to fight."

"I will stir you from your slumber."

"I will never say goodnight."

"I will tear you from your treasure."

"We're all guilty of something."

"For every gift, there is a sin."

"It depends on where you're standing."

"Cutting corners, casting stones."

"We are, none of us, immortal."

"We are, all of us, alone."

"For every give there is a take."

"We pretend to love the victims of the choices that we make."

"Who will save you from your shadow?"

"Who will come to your defense?"

"For every wrong, there is a right."

"We'll make any lie a lullaby."

"Every day is quiet war."

"I am here to wake you up."

"I am opening that door."