#can we all just be alive together is it enough. Say it is enough

[tinytinyblogs]

You Don't Need Anyone Else But Me

They wouldn't allow you to think of them as just a friend or let anyone else have you.

Hyung line, Maknae line

💬 First story post of 2025—hoping it’s good enough!

Stray Kids Masterlist 1.0 & 2.0

Your insights and reactions make these posts come alive. Love reblogs, comments, and all the good vibes welcome ✨

Han

Han was always effortlessly charming, the kind of person you couldn’t help but trust. When you began telling him about the person you were texting, he seemed genuinely interested. His questions were casual, his demeanor lighthearted, and his laughter infectious. You felt comfortable sharing everything—it was natural, especially since you were so close. But behind that warm smile and playful laugh, Han’s mind was racing. He hid his panic well, nodding along to your stories while plotting. The more he learned about this person, the more determined he became. Han pretended to care, to empathize, but it was all part of his calculated act. Once he had the information he needed, Han sprang into action. He processed everything meticulously, replaying each detail until he knew how to dismantle your connection with this person. What you didn’t realize was that Han already knew far more about you than you’d ever imagined. Long before you confided in him, he’d been quietly observing you, tracking your habits, your preferences, your vulnerabilities. Stalking wasn’t new to Han.

It was a skill he’d perfected, something he was patient with. He ensured that every step he took went unnoticed. Now, with this person as his target, he worked to disrupt every plan, every meeting between you two. He’d make sure nothing went according to plan. Maybe their car would break down. Maybe they’d suddenly fall ill. Or maybe something urgent would pull them away. Han’s methods were subtle, nearly invisible, but the outcomes were undeniable. Every time something went wrong, he’d be there, appearing just in time, like a knight in shining armor. As time went on, you relied on him more, drawn to his comforting presence, to the way he always seemed to appear when you needed him. “How do you always know when I need you?” you’d ask, half-joking, and he’d laugh it off. “I’m just lucky, I guess,” he’d say, his tone casual, making it seem innocent. But Han wasn’t just lucky. He orchestrated everything. He ensured that you saw him as your hero, and in reality, he was a monster hiding behind a charming mask. He didn’t care what it took to win you over, as long as the end result was you by his side. One evening, after another disrupted plan with that person, Han made his move. You were sitting together, the tension in the air palpable. He turned to you, his expression uncharacteristically serious.

“Can we try to be... more than friends?” he asked, his voice soft, almost vulnerable. “I don’t like the idea of losing you.” You hesitated, caught off guard by his confession. His sincerity, his raw emotion, made it difficult to question him. It felt like something out of a drama—an emotional whirlwind you couldn’t process. What you didn’t know was that Han had planned this moment long before it happened. Every word, every look, every gesture was part of the story he was crafting for you. To him, your life wasn’t yours—it was a play, and he was both the director and the star. Step by step, he guided you along the path he’d designed, ensuring you followed without realizing it. Every coincidence, every twist of fate, was his doing. He played the role of the supportive friend so well that you never suspected him. To you, Han was your confidant, your rock, the one person who was always there when you needed him. But to Han, you were so much more. You were his world, his obsession, and he’d stop at nothing to keep you by his side. As you smiled at him, unknowingly stepping deeper into his web, Han’s heart swelled with satisfaction. This was exactly how he wanted it—how it was always meant to be.

Felix

Betrayed. That was the only word running through Felix’s mind when he discovered you had been meeting someone else. It felt like a knife to the heart to realize that, despite everything he had done for you, all the time you had spent together, you only saw him as a friend. The realization left him feeling crushed, but Felix wasn’t the type to let his pain show—not at first, at least. He tried to hide his turmoil behind his usual sunny demeanor. With his bright smile, he casually asked why you felt the need to meet someone else when he was always there for you. “What’s so special about them?” he joked, though there was an edge to his voice that you couldn’t quite place. But when you gave him the same answer again and again, that you only saw him as a friend, something inside him began to change. You didn’t realize it at the time, but you were pushing him too far. Slowly, the cheerful Felix you thought you knew began to slip away. The radiant warmth he always exuded started to darken. His smile became forced, and his eyes seemed to lose their light. Then one day, without warning, the mask he wore so well crumbled.

His hand shot out, gripping yours firmly—too firmly. It wasn’t playful or gentle like before; it hurt just enough to make you flinch. His grip was like steel, unrelenting. His voice, usually so soft and soothing, came out sharp and biting. “How dare you,” he said, his piercing gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that made your breath catch. “I do everything for you,” he continued, his voice filled with frustration, “everything to make you happy, to see you smile. And yet, you still choose someone else? You think I’ll just let you go like that?” Before you could respond, Felix moved swiftly, shoving you against the nearest wall. The impact wasn’t hard enough to hurt, but it was enough to make your heart race. His presence loomed over you, suffocating and overwhelming. This wasn’t the Felix you thought you knew—the sweet, carefree boy who made you laugh and feel safe. This was someone entirely different, someone whose obsession was beginning to consume him. His voice dropped even lower, each word deliberate and chilling. “Let me make one thing clear,” he said, leaning in close, his breath warm against your skin. “We’re more than just friends. I won’t let you walk away from me and into someone else’s arms.”

Your voice caught in your throat, unable to form a reply. The intensity in his eyes and the darkness in his words left you frozen. He studied your face, as though memorizing every detail, before speaking again in a softer, almost pleading tone. “Don’t make me do something you’ll regret. Because I will. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you with me.” For the first time, you saw a side of Felix you never imagined—a side that was possessive and obsessive, willing to cross any line to keep you by his side. The sweet boy who had once made you feel so special now felt like a stranger, someone you weren’t sure you wanted to know. Felix stepped back slightly, giving you just enough space to breathe, though the tension in the air was suffocating. His expression softened ever so slightly, but the fire in his eyes didn’t waver. “Think about it,” he said, his tone quieter but no less intense. “Why would you need anyone else when you have me?” The room fell into an eerie silence as his words lingered, heavy and unshakable. Deep down, you knew Felix wasn’t bluffing. He was no longer just a friend, and you weren’t sure if you could escape the path he had decided for the both of you.

Seungmin

“Where do you think you’re going?” Seungmin’s voice was calm yet sharp as he stood in front of the door, blocking your path. His figure loomed, his usual gentle demeanor replaced by something unreadable. You froze, your hand still on the doorknob. “I’m just going out,” you said lightly, brushing off the tension. “I’m meeting someone, Min—” Seungmin stepped closer, cutting you off mid-sentence. His eyes flicked to the necklace around your neck—the one he had given you. His lips curled into a humorless smile. “You’re going to meet someone who makes you smile like that? And you’re wearing the necklace I gave you?” His tone was deceptively casual, but there was an edge beneath it that sent a shiver down your spine. You instinctively stepped back, suddenly aware of how different he seemed. This wasn’t the Seungmin you knew—the one who always teased you playfully. This version was colder, his presence heavier, suffocating. “You said it looked pretty on me,” you said hesitantly, trying to defuse the moment. Seungmin let out a low laugh, the sound devoid of warmth. He mirrored your step back, closing the distance. Reaching out, he pushed the door shut behind you. The sound of the lock clicking made your heart race.

“I did say that,” he replied, his tone dark and steady. “But don’t think for a second that I bought it for you to wear on a date with someone else.” His words hung in the air, heavy and charged. Your mind scrambled for something to say, but before you could speak, he took another step forward, his presence consuming every inch of space between you. “Seungmin…” you started, your voice barely above a whisper. He tilted his head, his gaze piercing and unyielding. “Do you have any idea how much I like you? How much I think about you? And yet, here you are, acting like we’re just friends. Like you can just walk out that door and be with someone else.” His hand reached out, gently but firmly grabbing your chin. He tilted your face upward, forcing you to meet his eyes. They burned with intensity, a mixture of frustration and longing. “You’re mine,” he said, his voice low and deliberate, every word hitting you like a weight. “You should’ve figured that out by now.” Your breath hitched as his grip tightened ever so slightly, enough to make you feel his control. “Min, we’re—” “No,” he interrupted sharply. “Don’t say it. Don’t you dare say we’re just friends.”

His gaze softened momentarily, but the intensity of his words was unrelenting. “I don’t want to hear it. Because I’m not giving you a choice.” His words sent a chill down your spine. The Seungmin you thought you knew—the kind-hearted friend—was nowhere to be found. Instead, this version of him stood before you, unrelenting and terrifyingly sure of himself. “You’re not going anywhere,” he continued, his thumb brushing against your cheek in a gesture that might have been tender if it weren’t for the context. “Not to them, not to anyone else. You belong here—with me.” His hand dropped, but the tension in the air remained, so thick it was hard to breathe. He stepped back just enough to give you space, but his presence still loomed large. “You should know by now,” he said, his voice softening, though his words carried the same weight. “I’m not going to let you go. So stop trying.” The room was silent except for the sound of your unsteady breathing. You could see it in his eyes—Seungmin wasn’t bluffing. Whatever version of him you thought you knew was gone, replaced by someone who had no intention of letting you slip away.

Jeongin

As Jeongin watched the man stumble away, his steps unsteady and his face pale with fear, a faint smirk tugged at the corners of his lips. The confrontation had been brief but effective, leaving no room for doubt about Jeongin’s intentions. With a quick glance down, he noticed a small streak of blood staining his knuckles. It wasn’t his. He wiped it off casually, as though it were nothing more than a minor inconvenience, before pulling his phone from his pocket. His thumb hovered over the screen, scrolling through his contacts until it landed on your name. "Friend," the label read. He scoffed, the word feeling like an insult. His grip tightened on the device as he stared at it, his thoughts spiraling. "What should I do to you?" he muttered under his breath, his voice low and tinged with frustration. The mere thought of you calling him just a friend after everything he’d done for you was infuriating. Did you truly not see it? Or were you just pretending, clinging to the safety of that label while unknowingly fueling the fire inside him? Jeongin let out a bitter laugh, shoving the phone back into his pocket. "Friend," he repeated to himself, the word dripping with disdain.

"After all this time, sticking by your side, thinking we’re just friends? How foolish of you." He began walking, his pace steady as he headed down the dimly lit street. The night air was cool, carrying the faint scent of rain. The path was familiar—it always led to the same place: your place. He had walked this route countless times, each step bringing him closer to you, to the one person he had claimed in his mind long ago. His hands slipped into his pockets as he hummed a soft melody, the tune oddly cheerful for someone who had just chased off a rival. His mind, however, was anything but calm. Thoughts of you consumed him, intertwining with the lingering adrenaline from his earlier encounter. "Friendship isn’t in my dictionary," he muttered under his breath, the corners of his mouth twitching into a smile that was a little too wide. The streetlights illuminated his face as he looked up at the starry sky, the expression on his face one of twisted satisfaction. He thought of the man who had dared to text you, dared to think he had a place in your life. That man wouldn’t be bothering you anymore—that much was certain. Jeongin had seen to it personally.

"You won’t be hearing from him again," he said to himself, the words carrying a quiet finality. He chuckled softly, the sound echoing in the empty street. "In the end, the only person you’re going to see is me." As he approached your building, his steps slowed, his mind already crafting the narrative he would present to you. He didn’t need to rush; after all, he had all the time in the world to make you see things his way. Standing in front of your door, Jeongin took a deep breath, schooling his expression into one of boyish charm—the one that always made you laugh, always made you let your guard down. But beneath that smile lay something far more dangerous. To him, this wasn’t just about affection—it was about possession. You were his, whether you realized it yet or not. And Jeongin wasn’t the type to let go. As he raised his hand to knock, his heart pounded with anticipation. He could already picture it: your surprised face when you opened the door, your soft voice greeting him, unaware of the lengths he had gone to ensure you’d stay by his side. "In the end," he whispered to himself, his grin widening, "this story only ends one way—with you and me."

[ssivinee]

➢ 𝙴𝚌𝚕𝚒𝚙𝚜𝚎

IVE! Band! Yujin x Band! F reader: You and Yujin seem to agree on a new chapter in your friendship, but she seems to want more than that. The both of you, confused at what the status of your relationship is, let fate do its work... which seemed to be doing very good at its job with the two of you.

Word Count: 5.9 k

Author's Note: *⚠️Warnings: mentions of substance abuse, heavy use of strong language, violence, and harassment.⚠️* This took so long. IM SO SORRY, but December was a rollercoaster of a month frfr, but IM BACK, AND I WILL POST MORE THIS MONTH, I SWEAR. The song isnt mentioned at all in this fic, but this is essentially the song she writes after all this🙂‍↕️.

⚠︎ Directions ⇒ Main | Previous | Next

“You think if I headbutt her, she’ll wake up?” The older mumbles as she squats down, staring at Yena, who is still knocked out from a failed night of partying. Wonyoung looks at her unnie with a face that just said, ‘tf did you just say?’ “Yes, I’d like to think she’s alive and breathing enough to feel that pain, unnie,” Yujin voices as she prepares two cups of coffee and some tea for Wony.

“She just can’t be calm for one second,” Chaewon grumbles. 

Yujin gave them both the run down of what happened last night, leaving out the significant details of your final words to her. “I just didn’t expect Y/n unnie to be the one to help her, even bring her here,” Wonyoung says as she takes the fresh cup of tea from Yujin’s hands, sipping on the steaming hot liquid. 

“True,” Chaewon answers as she sits down softly beside Yena, who begins to stir out of sleep. Her vision felt blurry, rubbing her eyes to gain her senses as she realized she was in Yujin’s apartment. “How the hell did I get here?” Her voice was hoarse, so Yujin jogged to her fridge, handing her a cold bottle of water. “You partied too hard, and Y/n unnie brought you back to our place,” Yena looked puzzled at Wonyoung’s words. “Y/n brought me here?”

“You were so out of it, unnie. Didn’t we already talk about drinking and drugs as something that shouldn’t be combined?” At Yujin’s worried tone, Yena swiped a finger under her nose, feeling the remains of the lingering powder. They knew this wasn’t exactly the time to be lecturing her, but Chaewon’s motherly instincts kicked in, “Look, you know how we feel about you using those, but we also know you're mature enough to know when and where they can be used. You could've been in danger if Y/n didn’t step in.”

Yena groans, sitting up from her position as she chugs the rest of her water. “I know, I know. It was a mistake. I didn’t expect Hayoung to bring some, but when he did, I just went for it…” The three shake their head simultaneously. “That isn’t the best excuse right now. What if Y/n unnie didn’t find you, and you just kept drinking? Who knows what would have happened, unnie,” Wony says, careful in the way she says it. 

Yena just keeps her head down, her head still pounding, and she is just overall disappointed in her choices last night. “How about you give Y/n a ‘thanks for helping me out’ gift,” Chaewon suggests, and Wonyoung nods excitedly. “She works at Evermore cafe on Mondays, Wednesdays, Fridays, and Sundays, I think. You’ll probably have the best chance of catching her there.” The three now look at Wonyoung, worried about how she knew that information. “What? I like getting my tea and coffee there every day,” She pouts, sipping on her tea again as everyone giggles. “I’ll go with you if you want, unnie?” Yujin says, picking up her car keys to drop Yena off at home and get her bearings together. “We can do that,” She nods, trying to collect herself and put on her sweater that wreaked of alcohol. “God, I need a shower and a change of clothes.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice, girl,” Yujin says with a chuckle, leading her unnie out the door with her wallet, car, and house keys in hand. “What do I even get her as a ‘thank-you’ gift?” Yena asks as she sits on the passenger side, hands clasping her hair as if stressed. “How about some nice set of flowers? That would be a good start.” Yujin says, turning her car on and letting it heat up. Yena nods, agreeing to the idea.

“Why would she help me?” Yujin side eyes the older, as she was trying to focus on the road. “Maybe she just saw a girl in need of help and did it out of the kindness of her heart,” Yujin suggested, and it made Yena think. “Then I should get her some pink roses. That’s a good thank-you gift, right?” She asks, a bit stressed again, but Yujin pats her shoulder to calm her down.

“I’m sure she’ll appreciate it, unnie.” “How are you so sure?!” Yena flails her arms, quickly regretting it as she feels the pulsing headache return. “One thing I won't forget is how appreciative Y/n is. We were friends at one point, you know?” Yena’s eyes glimmer, reminded that you guys knew each other at one point. 

“True!” Yena gets excited, shimmying in the passenger seat, followed by an ‘ouch’ that had Yujin giggling.

You were working an afternoon shift as usual at the cafe and were currently making a few drinks. It was a Sunday afternoon, a little before sundown, so the place wasn’t flooded with customers like every weekday. As you took your time making two drinks, you heard the door ringing, usually correlating to people entering.

“Hello, welcome to Ever—” once you looked up, you couldn’t even finish your sentence. You were stunned to see Yujin and Yena standing in the cafe. The shorter one held pink roses wrapped in pastel yellow paper and a large bouquet of white flowers in the younger’s arm. Meanwhile, Yujin held a large, nice-looking blue paper bag in her hands. “Did you guys want a drink today?” you asked nicely, knowing Yena hadn’t exactly had the best night.

“Well, some kind of herbal tea would be nice, but I wanted to give you these,” Yena said, forwarding the pink flowers across the counter. Just as a thank you for helping me last night.” You waved your hands frantically, “You didn’t have to do that, you know?” You say, but softly take it from her hands; you don’t want to seem rude. “You deserve it. None of us could’ve known what would've happened if you left me there.”

“And uhm,” Yujin spoke, looking down at the bag and flowers, feeling a tad bit nervous. “I wanted to give this to you as a sorry for Yena unnie last night, and… you know… what we talked about last night?” Her wavering voice was noticeable as her eyes met yours. She handed you the larger bouquet and put the bag down on the counter. Yena watched as you took it into your own arms, eyes trailing back to Yujin, who just gave you this look she couldn’t quite point out.

What the hell did the two of you talk about last night?

Yena just stands there, lost, as you give them both a smile, “How about I put these gifts in my locker, and I’ll make you guys your drinks? It’ll be on me for the gifts,” Yena was about to object, but you cut her off, “It’s literally the least I could do.”

You walked to the back room, unlocked your locker, and put the gift in. Knowing that you would probably forget, you decided to remind yourself to put them in water since you wouldn’t be able to for the rest of your shift. As you set the reminder, you began to think, what did the white flowers mean? You weren’t exactly a flower connoisseur to know about these things. All you knew was pink was a sign of thanks.

So you open up the internet really quickly, typing what white flowers mean in Korea. As you read what popped up, hydrangea flowers in white mean an apology. The flowers Yujin gave you specifically, white lilies, roses, and carnations, had you furrowing your brows. Most of them meant sorry and as a sign of respect, but when you read briefly about the carnations, it is said to be a symbol of true love.

Hearing the front door ring again, you couldn’t take the time to look inside the pretty paper bag, just shutting the locker and rushing to the front. “Sorry for the wait. How about I get you some roasted barley tea, Yena? Just to calm you down after everything,” Yena nods appreciatively as you look at Yujin, a brow raised at her. “Want some iced malcha?” You ask, and Yujin’s eyes grow large.

After all these years of not being friends, do you still remember that she liked green tea? Yujin only nods, and you get to work after giving the receipt while Yena looks at her member. “How the fuck did she remember that?” Yujin just shrugs, her eyes never prying off of your figure.

She watched you in your light purple apron, hair tucked into a messy bun, the claw clip struggling to keep your long black hair tamed. You kept your focus on both the drinks, not realizing her strong gaze on your figure. You couldn’t help but smile to yourself; the thought of her giving you such a symbolic gift gave you butterflies in your stomach. 

Despite not being friends for so long, you were, ironically, the friend who never forgot the little things people liked, even if they were your former friends. This may not have been the exact gesture to reconcile your relationship with her, but it was for everyone's peace after all this time.

“Your malcha and tea!” You say a large smile graced your face as they picked up the cups. You see a sense of hesitance in Yujin’s stance, and you look at her, a bit confused, as she stands there awkwardly. “Anything else, Ahn?” Your question snaps her out of her trance, and she shakes her head a bit. “Nope, definitely not! Have a good day!” You stare at them, leaving, your face clearly weirded out. Yena is currently being dragged out the door, and Yujin slaps her forehead with the palm of her hand.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” Yujin kept mumbling as Yena’s tiny body was still behind her, trying to keep up with Yujin’s longer legs as she was being dragged to her car. “Way to give yourself a ‘watch me embarrass myself’ moment,” Yena smiles as the younger side eyes her annoyingly.

They enter the car, still holding their drinks, “Seriously though. what the fuck was that?!” “I don’t know!” Yujin practically yells. She couldn’t answer the question herself. Yujin has never been one to embarrass herself in front of someone, and you being the first person it happened to makes her want to sink into a black hole.

All she wanted to do was ask for your number, which was clearly an epic fail.

By the time they left, several people had come in, and the time passed quickly due to the lack of customers. It was now nearly nine, and you had taken all your belongings and began locking up the store. The night sky was already shining with the moon, and you felt a yawn as you placed the store key in your bag. The walk home was quick, the ten minutes being a breeze, walking into your small apartment that was around five blocks away. 

You slip off your shoes and lay your items on the couch as you walk to the kitchen, immediately trying to heat up some food for yourself. Trying to get the food on the stove faster was the goal as you felt disgustingly drenched in sweat. You jog into your room, get a change of clothes, and decide to take a quick shower. Once you finished, you kept drying your hair with a towel but smelt the food. You take it all in but have a glimpse of the flowers and shopping bag that Yujin and Yena got you.

Looking around your apartment, you take the only vase you own, add some water, and unravel both bouquets to put them in, arranging them to look a bit more appealing. You then remembered you didn’t have the time to check inside the bag yet. After throwing out the papers wrapping paper, you take a seat on the couch, opening it up. You found a dark purple hoodie, an envelope, and a box. 

As you took it out, you realized she had forgotten to take the tag off, and you’re taken aback. “A 150 PRICED HOODIE!” You shriek, looking at it. It seems to be from a smaller brand, and the logo on the front looks unfamiliar to you, but it is still cute. The look of a bunch of vintage-looking flowers, then a statue seemingly stitched heavily into it. You then take a look at the smaller box inside, and it was dark blue with some silver detailing on it.

You open it and gasp, finding a silver bracelet with some aquamarine gemstones around it. ‘My birthstone?’

If only you knew Yujin’s struggle to pick the right one out. Her memory definitely wasn’t as good as yours, but she was in that store, staring at every blue gemstone for an hour straight until she felt sure about your birth month. She finally remembered it was in spring and a month with several exams coming in the months after, so she finally remembered your birthday was in March.

You stared at the bracelet, its colors and shine twinkling in your eyes. Your eyes looked around, but she seemed to remember, at least, to take out the tag for this one. Your hands then rummage in the bag, trying to take out the last item, the envelope. Fingers fumbling to open it, you find a small note inside. The paper had flowers printed on its border, causing you to giggle. ‘What’s up with her and flowers today?’

You begin reading, ‘I don’t want this to be so awkward. I will admit, after all these years, you’re still a good friend. We may not be close at the moment, but I truly appreciate what you’ve done for Yena-unnie and what you told me last night.’

Not close at the moment, huh? That had a tint of blush forming on your face. Was she expecting to get close to you again? You thought it was sweet, and you were both headed in a good direction. You wanted to reminisce more, but the scent of the food seemed to be filling the air. You had to be able to eat so you could work on some music before heading to bed for another shift early in the morning.

You head to your office space, turning on the iridescent lights that glow purple and blue around the room. Your light tap on the mouse automatically turns the monitor of your computer on, showing some notes and photos that have been giving some kind of inspiration. Grabbing the notebook on your desk, you open it to a specific page that lacks writing. 

Your eyes travel all over your space, finding where you last placed your guitar, and you are strumming to try and find the melody that feels right. 

There was slight hope, the interaction with Yujin might’ve given you some inspiration but you were just stuck. The previous songs you created and released were quickly rising in popularity. Your subconscious was not able to keep up with the charts, and it was beginning to weigh on your mind. The pressure to release something better was gut-wrenching and made you want to throw up at the thought of it. 

In two days, you were guesting on a radio station about the group's rising fame, and you couldn’t shake the anxious feeling in the pit of your stomach. The girls seemed to be okay with you going alone; they were busy with other major things in their lives at the moment. 

You were generally good with public speaking and performing, but interviews felt insanely different. It was going to be a constant loop of being aware of your language and the questions being thrown at you, but you didn't want to think about it until the day of.

But thinking that was a big mistake as you sat inside the station, the two hosts sitting in front of you. 

While you were just a ball of anxiety waiting to burst, Yujin listened in, hearing from Yena about the news of you being on the show. 

“Good evening, people of Korea! Welcome back to the Rising Loud Show! We’re your hosts, Lee Jihyun and Kim Hyunju. We actually have a special guest today. From the group rising to fame, Abyss, we have their main vocal, bassist, composer, AND producer of the group, Cha Y/n!”

The two hosts cheer and applaud as you smile from across the table, “Thank you, it’s an honor to be here.

“Oh, ever so humble. You’ve been making waves in the band world, Y/n. I think it’s okay to boast from time to time,” the male host, Hyunju, spoke, causing the ladies to giggle. He continues, “So your group recently hit nine hundred thousand listeners on Spotify last week, and your song Love Me or Leave Me has been used on some large music shows here in Korea! How does it feel?”

“Truth be told, it is a wild roller coaster in the beginning. We got so much support from the get-go that I almost felt a bit frazzled. Now I’m just happy and a little pressured.”

“Pressured? Why is that?”

“When writing both Drowning and lmolm, the writing process came quite easy to me since they were about experiences I’ve had in life. Truthfully, those experiences aren’t many, so now, you could say I’ve hit writer's block.” Jihyun, the female host, perks up, “Well, that's some interesting information there, folks. Would you like to share some of those experiences with the world?” You laugh at the question, knowing that once you aired this out, it would be on the internet forever.

“Well, our latest release was actually about a one-sided relationship I had with a toxic ex. I felt like I was on a leash in the relationship because I was so in love, and then they talked about me behind my back, and it gave me a reality check,” you nod. Yujin, on the opposite end, listened intently, not knowing the back story behind you and Soyeon. “It sucked, but in the end, it got me to where I am today.”

“Drowning, on the other hand, is somewhat misinterpreted as a love song. It’s written in that way, but it's about an old broken friendship I had.” Yujin’s eyes softened at your words, sitting comfortably on her couch as she stared at the ceiling. “I felt bad? I say that as a question because I’m not sure. She may be listening right now.” You giggle.

“As kids, we were best friends. We did everything together, and it was such a fun relationship, but that seemed to also be the downfall of our friendship. Since we were around each other so much, people seemed to pit us against each other, and it worked until we became practically enemies. One was trying to be a thorn in the other side, and sometimes, we just wanted to piss each other off. This year, the bad blood became tiring to bear, so we made up.”

“Do you mind telling us who it is? There are a few speculations, so,” Yujin hears the host have a suspicious voice, but you state no with a chuckle, avoiding the topic quickly.

“So, new music, right? Let’s talk about it!”

“Well… there isn’t really much to say. It's still very much in the early stages of the process, and I’ll need some help with it. I may ask my members,” you say with a smile. Yujin kept listening in; she never heard you talk for such a long time in years, and the radio show made her feel like you were speaking to her while she just listened.

She loved it. Listening to you speak about your love for music, working at your job and enjoying it, speaking about other hobbies and wishes made her feel like you were her best friend all over again. It only made her think deeper. How was she gonna go about this?

Showing up to your job every day would be plain weird. She didn’t want to just make it seem like everything was back to normal because she didn’t want to come off as nonchalant. She also didn’t want to be overbearing and reach out herself.

“Why don’t you just let the world take its course?” Yujin jumps in her spot, hearing Wonyoung, who she finds sitting on the island stool and sipping some tea. “Now, why the hell would you do that to me… AND WHY ARE YOU ALWAYS DRINKING TEA?”

The younger girl shrugs, but her brow is raised, “Stop worrying about how to be close again and just let it take its course.” 

“I know your right, but like I can’t help but-”

“You can’t help but overthink. I know, unnie, I know.” Wonyoung takes a seat, hearing the muffled voices from the radio show.

“Do you like her?” Yujin looks at her in surprise, “W-what? I don’t…”

Wony raises her brow, clearly not believing her, and Yujin sighs, “I’m not sure.” “Wel,l that isn't an acceptable answer,” Yujin’s brows furrowed. “What does that mean?”

“Either you like someone, or you don’t, no in between.” Wonyoung sips on her tea again as Yujin scoffs. “It’s true, though. Even an inkling of liking someone is liking someone.” Yujin lowers her head, knowing she’s right.

“I guess I do.”

“What about your love life right now?” The two of them hear the phone say out loud, one of the hosts asks, and they hear you giggle. “No one is currently in the picture, but who knows? I wouldn’t turn away love.”

“I’m not sure anyone expected you to be a romantic, Miss Cha,” the two hosts laugh as the younger girls listen more intently. “I believe love can equate to a different kind of happiness. One that completes you.” The hosts grow quiet at your words, and Wonyoung smiles, “I didn’t expect unnie to be such a heartthrob.”

“She’s always been that way,” the older smiles a bit, and the maknae stares at her. “It’s why she was loved by everyone. She always returned that same love,” she smiles and looks at the girl next to her, the younger, giving her a mischievous grin. “You're so in love with her.” “I’M NOT IN LOVE!”

“Don’t lie to yourself~”

It had been a few days after your radio guest, and life had been… a bit harder than usual. You had been given many more hours to work the first few days, and you were barely able to hang out with your band. Even now, you are still struggling to write a song.

A few hours after your guest appearance, Ning Ning reached out to you, wanting to help in the process. The two of you began to write it the day after, but since then, it seems like Ning Ning has been ignoring it for some unknown reason.

Your frustrations were beginning to build up. You never wanted to be angered by Ning Ning. Everyone in your group had they’re own lives and jobs to work on. Yet you knew Ning better out of everyone. 

Ning Ning came from a richer family. She didn’t need to work and had lots of spare time on her hands. It was pretty evident in the way she used to nag you about hanging out more since ‘she never had anything to do.’ You also always believed that you were an understanding friend. No matter what it was, you would’ve understood.

Your issue was that she just shouldn’t have offered if it was going to turn out this way. Your expectations were just not met.

So here you were, standing outside Ning Ning's penthouse, sighing as you rang the doorbell and heard muffled, chaotic music bleeding through the walls. The sound was loud enough to make you grit your teeth as you waited.

When the door swung open, her smile faded almost instantly, like she was caught doing something she shouldn't. "Hey, Y/n~," she started, but her voice sounded shaky, barely cutting through the pounding bass behind her.

You peered over her shoulder and immediately spotted a few faces you recognized from her Instagram posts—Ning Ning’s rich friends. You didn’t even bother hiding your irritation as your eyes settled back on her.

“Weren’t we supposed to meet up today at the studio?” Her gaze darted to the floor before she glanced nervously behind her. “I just got caught up in something at the last minute,” she said, trying to sound casual, but the lie was obvious.

“Caught up in something?!” Your voice rose before you could stop it, making her wince. “This is the sixth time you’ve flaked on me this week, Yizhuo!” You didn’t miss the way she flinched at the use of her full name.

“I didn’t mean to,” she muttered, almost too quietly to hear over the music.

“Is it because of some guy?” you snapped, cutting her off when she opened her mouth to reply.

“Oh, please,” she scoffed, rolling her eyes. “You know it’s not—”

“So it’s because of some girl.” Your eyebrows shot up as you interrupted her again. The brief flash of guilt on her face was all the confirmation you needed.

“You have got to be kidding me,” you hissed, and Ning Ning’s expression hardened as frustration crept into her features.

“Is that a crime?!” she fired back, her voice rising to match yours now.

“No, but you had the decency to say you’d help me write another song, yet here we are!” You gestured broadly toward the apartment, your voice cutting through the music like a knife. Ning Ning looked over her shoulder again, as though hoping her friends weren’t listening, but she still didn’t seem to grasp why you were upset.

“You guys aren’t my only friends,” she said defensively, her tone sharp now.

“News flash, Yizhuo!” you snapped, taking a step closer. “We aren’t just your friends. We’re supposed to be like sisters! Coworkers, even! Most of our income comes from our music. The sad reality is we’re not all fed with a silver spoon like you. Some of us actually need this to work. So maybe next time, don’t get my hopes up if you’re just going to let me down.”

Her face twisted, caught somewhere between anger and guilt. “Well, maybe you’re stuck because Yujin has your damn brain fucked into oblivion. Have you thought about that?”

Her words hit you like a slap, sharp and personal in a way you didn’t expect. Your stomach twisted at the accusation, but you refused to let her see it. “We help each other in times of need, Ning,” you said, your voice low but biting. “I’ve always been there for you. Always. And you couldn’t do this one simple thing for me.”

Ning Ning’s mouth opened like she wanted to argue, but you didn’t give her the chance. You stepped back, shaking your head. “Just fuck off, Ning.”

The look on her face stung, but not enough to make you stop. Without another word, you turned and walked away, letting the sound of the door closing behind you seal the argument.

Your chest felt heavy as you made your way down the hall, but you didn’t look back. You couldn’t. 

The two of you had fought several times before but made up instantly. This moment wasn’t like the rest, and it gave you a headache.

Deciding to want to clear your mind, you make your way over to the park near her building. As you got closer and closer, you felt your phone buzzing in your pocket as if there was some crazy news. But you knew all to well that it was just Ning Ning blowing up your messages. 

You make it to the park, sitting down on a nearby bench as you hear the cars pass by late at night. Pulling out your phone, you see the twenty notifications left by your best friend, but you don’t care to read them, not yet, at least. You let out a heavy sigh, stuffing the phone back into your pockets as you keep your eyes on the dark sky.

“I didn’t expect to see you here,” your body jolts up from your seat in surprise at the nearing voice, and you look to your left to find Yujin. She looked more proper than usual in a long-sleeved button with a white collar, some straight jeans, and a pair of simple white sneakers. Her hair was held up with a claw clip, and she wore her glasses. “Oh, uhm, I mean likewise,” you answer.

She tilted her head, sighing as she clutched onto the long strap of her leather satchel. “My car broke down while coming home from work, so I had to walk… this seemed to be the safer option for me to cut through.”

“Seems like we both have bad luck today,” you inquire, and Yujin stands there, a bit struck by what to do. Then she remembers Wonyoung’s words, ‘Stop worrying about how to be close again and just let it take its course.’ 

“Wonyoung, you smart ass,” she mumbles and sits down beside you. “Long day?” You could only scoff at her words. “Not long day, it’s been a long hour.”

“Hour? Well, that doesn’t sound too good.” Your phone buzzes again loudly, interrupting the conversation a bit. You take out your phone, showing it to Yujin as you wave it with the grasp of your two fingers. “Ning and I were supposed to start writing a song this past week, but she bailed on me six times. All because of a girl. I mean, she could’ve just told me that was the case, but instead, she kept making empty promises and giving me bullshit excuses in the end. My mom needed me home for dinner today. My cousin needed a ride out of town. I have to help my grandma tonight. The excuses just wouldn’t end.”

You pause, catching yourself rambling, and find Yujin staring at you with a sympathetic look. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to rant.”

She shakes her head, a small smile tugging at her lips. “No need to say sorry. If it makes you feel better, work was absolute shit for me today. The kids in my class had so much more energy than usual. Some ripped papers, some scribbled all over worksheets I needed to grade by the end of today, two of them kicked me in the shin on purpose, I had a meeting with snobby higher-ups, and my car broke down.”

The image she painted made you chuckle faintly despite yourself. Her smile widened at the sound, and she added, “Teaching assistant life, right?”

“Wait, you’re a teacher now?”

“Correction, teaching assistant,” she clarified, pointing a finger up as the other hand adjusted her glasses. The gesture sent you into a fit of laughter that she quickly joined in on.

“I still love my job, though,” she continued once the laughter faded, her voice soft. “Those kids will always be the highlight of my week. Other than performing, of course.”

“That does sound nice. At least you don’t have to deal with rude customers on a daily basis,” you said, the headache from earlier easing as you spoke.

“Yeah, I can’t even imagine how that is for you,” she said with an exaggerated grimace. “Remember when Bomyuk sat in your chair and told you to buzz off in the third grade? You literally grabbed the chair and yanked it so hard he fell flat on his back. I’m still amazed your temper can handle customer service.”

You couldn’t stop laughing at the memory, shaking your head. “You know he deserved that. Besides, I’ve grown from that.”

“Uh-huh,” she teased, raising an eyebrow.

The light moment was interrupted when a familiar voice cut through the conversation. “I wanna know the joke.”

Both of you turned to see Lee Seoyeon standing nearby, her smirk as irritating as you remembered.

“My day just keeps getting better and better, huh?” you muttered sarcastically. Yujin’s expression immediately darkened at the sight of her.

“Couldn’t have just kept walking, Seoyeon?” Yujin asked, her voice laced with frustration.

“Can’t I greet my dear ex-girlfriend and her ex-best friend? Just a couple of exes chatting, no?” Seoyeon’s smirk grew, her tone dripping with mockery.

“Did you just come over to piss us off?” Yujin stood, her towering figure casting a shadow over the smaller girl.

“It isn’t worth it, Yujin,” you said softly, reaching for her arm to tug her back gently.

Seoyeon ignored you, her gaze fixed on Yujin. “You should listen to my dear Y/n. She always knows better than you, always has.”

Yujin’s jaw tightened, and you could see the fury rising in her. She stepped closer, but you quickly got between them, pushing her back.

“Oh? Did I hit a nerve? The two of you look so friendly now. Guess it’s not an issue anymore,” Seoyeon said smugly, taking a step forward.

“Just leave us alone,” you snapped, your tone sharper than before.

Seoyeon feigned hurt. “Y/n, I’m offended you don’t want me around. Done following me like a sick puppy? Tired of our amazing relationship? I mean, I could still show you a good time, you know?” She stepped closer, but before you could respond, Yujin’s fist collided with her face.

“You disrespectful piece of shit!” Yujin threw another punch before you could stop her, and Seoyeon stumbled back, blood dripping from her nose.

“Enough! Enough!” you yelled, pulling Yujin away as she struggled against your grip.

“We’re in public, Yujin. I don’t need you going to prison,” you said firmly, glancing at the small crowd that had started to gather.

Yujin exhaled sharply, her anger still palpable, but she let you guide her away.

“Rot in hell, Seoyeon,” you spat over your shoulder before pulling Yujin toward your apartment.

Within minutes, you were home. You led Yujin into the living room, gesturing toward the couch. “Take off your bag and get comfy. I’ll grab some water.”

She nodded silently, sinking into the plush cushions. The cozy, rustic vibe of your apartment seemed to ease some of the tension in her shoulders. She glanced around, her gaze lingering on the lavender-scented candle burning on the coffee table.

When you returned, you knelt in front of her, setting down a bowl of cold, soapy water and soaking a rag in it. Taking her hand gently, you began cleaning the blood from her knuckles.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

Yujin stiffened slightly, her jaw clenching. “You think I regret it?”

You looked up, meeting her intense gaze. “That’s not what I meant. I just… I don’t want you getting hurt because of someone like her.”

Her expression softened, and she let out a quiet sigh. “I can take care of myself, but… thanks. For looking out for me.”

You smiled faintly, brushing a thumb over her hand as you finished cleaning her wounds. “Someone has to.”

Yujin leaned back, her lips curving into a small smile. “You’re pretty good at it.”

“Well, don’t make it a habit,” you teased, standing up and placing the bowl aside.

She grabbed your wrist before you could move away, pulling you down onto the couch beside her. The warmth of her hand lingered as she spoke softly, “I’ll try not to, but only if you promise to keep being my favorite nurse.”

You rolled your eyes, but your smile betrayed you. “Deal.”

The tension from earlier seemed to dissipate entirely as you sat there, your laughter filling the room once again.

Taglist: ⟪𝙾𝙿𝙴𝙽⟫

@lorenztired @1luvkarina @yuyuy90 @uchizana

[m4rs-ex3]

the season 7 quotes ever: personal favorites (aka wildcard) edition

“oh? i suppose you’ve seen that written in the stars?” “no, no. i’ve seen it written in his eyes.”

“part of me wishes i hadn’t seen you. but my eyesight is perfect.” “then just look away, Soren.”

"you're stuck with me now."

“you speak the name of a Ghost.” “i speak the name of my daughter.”

“it’s not enough for me to watch the world. i want to make a difference.”

“we’ve been sitting here eating dessert, Rayla. DESSERT.”

“each of us pledged a part of ourselves for that mission. your son pledged his blood for justice. and the thing is, no one should have to spill their blood for justice.”

“now what?” “now, we wait for Callum to catch his breath. and then, he will decide whether you live or die.”

“Runaan, be kind to the boy. it’s not easy getting to know his girlfriend’s parents. he’s nervous.”

“i have to stop you.” “i know you have to try.”

“i never asked for this. i wasn’t ready to be a king, i’m just a kid."

“besides, my home now? it’s wherever you are.”

“what do you think, Callum?” “i think, uh… i think i agree with Barius. pretty sure he had a… a good point. everyone nodded.”

“history has a way of burying the ugly truths of those who write it.”

“you’re ridiculous.” “thanks. i mean, i think thanks. y-you meant that in a nice way, right? ridiculous can be a-a compliment, in certain contexts.”

“the Pearl you brought to the Starscraper… it was made of candy. we ate it.”

“Ghost. i thought you’d run away again.” “i’m here. but not to give you what you want. i’m not going to beg you to forgive me.”

“well, i don’t want you here.” “you mean, you don’t want you here?” “i said that! but not me you. you you!” “me?” “yes.” “me.” “no. oh, what am i doing? i’m talking to myself.” “yes, you am.”

“well, that was salty.” “the tears.” “yeah.”

“feel his hair! it’s… so greasy.” “why does everyone keep saying that? i-i wash it regularly.”

"Rayla loves me. she believes in me. this version of myself.” “it’s not about you, is it? if you love her, you’ll be the you who can save her."

“like the moon itself, all of us may be reborn from darkness.”

"i was trained to accept that i was already dead, so that i might carry out my dark work without fear. but… i am not dead. i am alive! i have a family i love. i have so much to lose, the very things i took from you.”

“i mean, at the end of the day, you’re at the top of the org chart.” “we have an org chart?”

“yes. yes i do. i love her. i love her very much.”

“confirmed. regular sap.”

"i still need you, Ezran. i know it’s been a hard time, but i really hope—” “i need you too.”

“so, how’s your book?”

“the three of us have been through a lot together. we’ll get through this, too. right?”

“the stars have never smiled upon their creations.”

[melyapperofthecentury]

OKAY JUST HEAR ME OUT ON THIS.

No I'm not saying I'd smash (I mean I ain't saying no 🤭🫢) BUT. YOU KNOW ME AS THAT ONE HARDCORE JIYURI SHIPPER AND SO HERE I PRESENT IT.

.........that motherfrikken ring is for Yuri.

HEAR ME OUT. HEAR ME OUT IM NOT FREAKING DELUSIONAL!!!! IM NOT!! I HAVE EXPLANATIONS! I AM SMART BECAUSE I STUDY THEM.

Now I SPECIFICALLY took a picture of the card like that because it shows the name of the card...

Patient Groom

And like ohhh awww it means Jiro would be patient when it comes to proposing aw how cute BUT WAIT A FUCKING MINUTE!!! THIS HAS DOUBLE MEANING.

Patient, as in having patience and waiting for something for a while. In this case would be marriage! Now I think this applies to Yuri because we obviously know that doctor babygirl has trust issues and bad past relations with people he now hates (Jin and Romeo) which is WHY he has trust issues with most people now even now with JIRO! As when Jiro testifies he didn't go Frostheim Yuri thinks otherwise because of the snowflake in his hair. (This is just me explaining why Yuri has Trust Issues but yeah I'm ending it here unless it is requested I yap way more about it... WHICH I ABSOLUTELY CAN DUE TO THE AMAZINGLY LARGE WORD LIMIT BUT let's move on)

Because Yuri has Trust Issues and because Jiro knows Yuri well, Jiro knows that Yuri wouldn't trust Jiro enough to form a romantic relationship or atleast a healthy one. So he waits until Yuri trusts him first so he can make the move.

(before you fricken tell me Jiro doesn't care about Yuri I direct you to Mortkranken episode and if that isn't enough I sentence you to 40 replays.)

That's the explanation for the first meaning of Patient the next is...

Patient as in someone admitted to getting medical treatment this someone is Jiro as he is Yuri's patient. SEE WHERE IM COMING FROM??? Okay so, ever since Jiro has had hazy/vague memories from the clash all he knows begins from being Yuri's patient, Yuri was the ONLY doctor to actually attempt to treat Jiro and that's why he's alive now. Even if he is, his condition isn't perfect so he's still Yuri's patient, always Yuri's patient....

Guess what? IM NOT DONE.

That's right baby.. ITS TIME FOR FLOWER SYMBOLISM!!! But only the lilacs.

The lilac flower has many meanings, but most are related to expressing love or affection:

In Victorian times, giving a lilac meant that that the giver is trying to remind the receiver of a first love. Lilacs can also express confidence that the giver has for the receiver. This makes lilacs a good gift for graduates. A sprig of lilacs, especially white lilacs, symbolizes innocence.

I'm not sure how accurate this is I got them from google BUT What I AM sure of is that purple lilacs mean First Love and maaaybe infatuation and obsessionn oh and that people thought it was magical and it warded off spirits... Funny hehe because that could apply to anomalies here.

It's ESPECIALLY because of its health benefits that I think it's lilacs and it probably is too BECAUSE YOU CAN MAKE TEA WITH IT! And Jiro can make good tea.. FROM WHAT YURI PERSONALLY KNOWS AND EXPERIENCES AND TASTES EVEEERYYY DAY.

BUT WHERE WOULD JIRO EXPERIENCE FIRST LOVE... IF NOT WITH HIS OWN DOCTOR?! Scandalous, I know, shocking even. BUT NOW THEY'RE CLASSMATES I mean they're always been BUT THEYRE BASICALLY ROOMMATES BECAUSE THEY PULL ALL-NIGHTERS TOGETHER AND SLEEP NEXT TO EACHOTHER. WE HAVE SEEN ONCE CONFIRMED IN CANON AND ANOTHER IN WARDING CARDS!! SO YEAH THEY DO BE PRETTY CLOSE, HUH.

Also the only times we've seen Jiro smile and laugh besides laughing at MC for being scared of things IS JIRO SMILING AT YURI. LIKE YOU CANNOT CONVINCE ME EVER That THAT FREAKING SMILE is NOT HOMOSEXUALLY FUELED!

Wakarimashita, Yuri.

YOU FUCKING GAY ASS I KNOW WHAT YOU AREEEE I KNOW WHAT YOU AAAA-

Ahem ahem back to the the theorizing yes....

Sanest JiYuri Fan, I know 🫶

Lilacs also symbolise innocence, as said earlier from sprigs too in which these are sprigs (plant that has the stem and leaves with it) I think that the innocence is representing that Jiro's actions of love are innocent and don't mean harm unlike what Yuri's trust issues may think (Yuri's trust issues, my mental illness opp of tkdb.)

And.. YEAH! That's basically it, THANKS FOR READING MY RAMBLINGS I DOUBT ANYONE BUT BESTIE WILL THANK YOU BESTIE AND OR ANYONE ELSE THAT READS TO THIS POINT MAYBEEE JiYuri is CANON and I am the biggest supporter. I WILL WINGWOMAN THAT WEDDING I BE HELPING THE MALE BRIDE AKA YURI ISAMI, LOOK PRETTY AF FOR HIS HUSBAND JIRO!! I WILL BE THE FLOWER GIRL AND THE PRIEST IF NEED FREAKING BE!!!

[itsquakey]

The really really dumb Kirby weapon theory/prediction plus the ramblings of a crazy person

After putting this aside for a while despite bringing it up a couple times I am finally putting together this stupid theory I've had since Forgotten land came out. The weapons that the mage sisters have always been on my mind thanks to the fact that I personally think they're a very small reveal of what's to come about a tiny detail of the future.

To start-the three mage sisters each have their own weapon they use.

Zan Partizanne has a Partisan, Flamberge has a Flamberge, Francisca has a francisca (actually it's a double headed axe but we will refer to it as both here).

Nothing really special.

Though my interest in these weapons changed with The forgotten land and Elfilis. Elfilis also wields a partisan. This kinda piqued my interest? Out of all weapons they choose one this boss would share with someone else? Knowing how this series (unfortunately) works the similarity is likely on purpose. So basically what I'm saying is the next two final bosses in the next mainline series entries will be wielding a flamberge and a francisca/double headed axe. I also believe that the next two bosses will be of 'different matter' as apposed to void termina's dark matter and whatever you wanna say Elfilis is. I also believe Morpho will be after those fellas as well. Wouldn't make sense for it to stop at Galacta and Elfilis, and since it seems to be...somewhat friendly with Kirby? Enough to allow Kirby to have some of its power with the Morpho upgrades. I doubt it'll be after them anytime soon. If anything I think their relationship with Kirby will be similar to Kirby's relationship with Meta.

I have a few ideas as well but they're kinda just. Theories without substance.

Morpho could be after the four heroes of yore. Taking Galacta (who we know is a hero of yore), Elfilis (A harder thing to prove, we never saw them using heart spears), and wherever the other two are if they're still alive. A better theory would be that Morpho happens to respond to changes in the air when galaxy-threatening level things show their face and deals with them itself. Or maybe Morpho follows Kirby around because it knows trouble is drawn to the kid. I still really like the idea that Morpho IS Galacta. That's why they look similar(ish). Maybe Morpho/Galacta is out for revenge or something. But it's Kirby. We have not idea what is happening anyway.

Another theory is that the three weapons of the mage sister reference the other three weapons used by the heroes of yore. Galacta has his lance, then one would have a partisan, one a flamberge, and one a francisca/double-headed axe....Is what I would say if it wasn't for the concept art book. There's a part in the book that has an unusual emphasis on three weapon designs. I just noticed it as I write this, and it's interesting.

The double-headed axe, the Partisan, and the bow and arrow. No other weapon Void Termia uses gets this treatment. These also could be the weapons the three other heroes used. There's a weird absence of a lance though maybe that's on purpose. I kinda like the idea that we only know Galacta was a hero, and the other three are left unknown with only their weapons proving their existence. I wonder though if there's a reason we only know for sure who one of the heroes was. Either they're just making shit up as it goes or they have an idea of what they want to either.

TLDR: I think the next final bosses will either use the two other weapons of the mage sisters or the two weapons we see Void Termina use. (Elfilis already has the partisan)

Either way HAL please hire me I need that game in the past about the ancients with Galacta as a main character and I can make it for you I swear.

[wickershells]

If i have to see one more “this is so ethel cain core” comment i am gouging out my eyes And offering them to the heavens as penitence for the horrors of the human race. We have failed o lord

[tenwhiteandalusians]

pertaining to the idea of tenax’s band of strays i do think it’s touching that the kids are the ones who saved him and waited outside the door to make sure he’s okay. for all tenax claims to be harsh and cruel it’s a fine indicator of his character that the kids won’t rest without him and are there every time he’s in danger.

[gothsuguru]

5 chapters left hmm…

[secondpersonpoetry]

hi! heard the released “Merry Christmas, Please Don’t Call” (which i’ve seen you’ve heard live, if i’m not mistaken!!) this morning and i don’t know if there’s really a particular vibe/dynamic/ship hrpf-wise (personally haven’t yet been able to put my finger on it) that quite relates but the lyrics have been rotating in my head all day and i was wondering if you had any thoughts? hope you have a good one! <3

OH ANON HAVE I EVER SEEN IT LIVE!!! and the second that song came out i zoomed it straight into my fic playlist and unfortunately there are so many guys this could be. right now the one that's resonating is, of course, the golden boy and his haunted ghost themselves: mcstrome.

i am thinking about connor, specifically, after the stanley cup final. that game seven. how angry he was, how loud the silence when they told him he won the conn smythe. how close he's come before and again and again lost. there's nobody else to blame but himself. he's in the empty room and he knows why (1)

at!! your best!!! you were magic!!! oh, golden boy. connor the anointed, of course. at the very beginning of his career we always knew he was something special and who wouldn't have fallen in love with him? weren't all of us a little bit dylan strome in awe of the generational talent? we were all bathed in radiant light just by being in the vicinity (2)

don't even tell 'em that you know me breaks my heart (3). in terms of building a narrative i think i've said before there is a universe where connor/dylan were together before the draft and to protect both of them, dylan breaks up with him. connor says i love you and dylan says i don't. because he doesn't, you know? he loved connor. he loved davo. he can't be in love with connor mcdavid, first overall pick of the edmonton oilers. i'd rather be hurt forever than have to watch us try to make this work and destroy us.

and after connor mcdavid left the otters, dylan strome captained them to a memorial cup win. what a haunted home, eh? to be captain of the team you and your best friend were on, only now he's left you? don't call me to tell me about your rookie season with the oilers--we both know about your broken collarbone. don't call me to tell about becoming the youngest captain in franchise history when i stepped into the shoes of your captaincy here. don't call me. (4)

narratively: dylan's the one who broke connor's heart and his own but by god it wasn't easy. we both know what happened, you went first overall. please don't make this harder on me. please don't call.

this verse can be about the weight of dylan having to live up to connor's standards and always being measured by him. i would just like to bring up the connor stepping stone chart for absolutely no reason as well (5)

we are, at long last, at the potential future of now: dylan strome, happy, smiling, thriving on the washington capitals. connor, on the oilers. i'm not yours, dylan can say. haven't been for a long time. it took some time but i made this. please don't call and ruin this for me, stay out of my life. i don't want you or need you (6)

[p.s. this took a while because when i received this ask i was a) immediately possessed to write this verse by verse breakdown i had never thought of before and then b) immediately plagued by the idea of making you a little graphic (above the read more) and finally got to do it after banging out all the actual lyric thoughts two (?) weeks ago. emerging two and a half hours later from the fugue state of GIMP with 37 layers in this bad boy hope you enjoy!!!]

[synonymroll648]

IF LORE UPDATES APPLIED TO PEOPLE I WOULDVE JUST GOTTEN ONE OF MY HAPPIEST LORE UPDATES TODAY

[gor3sigil]

Before starting T, when I socially transitionned, I was surrounded by radical feminists who saw masculinity as gross and inherently evil, something to avoid, something to make fun of, something to destroy. The other transmascs in my friend group, sometimes, told me that they didn’t knew if they really were non-binary or if they just were scared shitless of saying “I am a man”. Because they saw this as a betrayal to their younger self who had been SAd and abused.

I saw many of my masc friends and trans men around me hate themselves, not outing themselves as men because it would imply so so much, it was like opening the Pandora Box. Even when we were just together, talking about our masculinity was always coated with bits like “I know we’re the privileged ones but…”, “I don’t want to sound like I have it bad but…”, “Women obviously have it worse, but last time…” and we were talking about terrible traumas we experienced while taking all the precautions in the world in the case the walls were a crowd of people in disguise waiting to get us if we didn’t downplay the violence we faced, or like crying and being upset and being traumatized and afraid and scared and to say it out loud would make us throw up the needles we were forced to swallow every second of every day living in our skin.

Most of us weren’t on T yet, some of us were catcalled every day and harassed in the streets or in abusive relationships nobody seemed to care to help them get out of because they were “strong enough” to do it by themselves.

I was using the gender swap face app and cried for ours when I saw my father looking back at me through the screen. The idea of transforming, of shedding into a body that would deprive me of love, tenderness, and safety, was absolutely terrifying. I knew I couldn’t stay in this body any longer because it wasn’t mine, but I also knew that if I was going to look like my dad, my brother, my abusers, it would be so much worse.

5 years later and I’m almost 2 years on T, and almost 2 months post top surgery.

I ditched my previous group of friends. I was bullied out of my local trans community. But let me tell you how free I am.

I was scared that T would break my singing voice: it made it sound more alive than ever.

I was scared that T would make me less attractive: it made me find myself hot for the first time in my life.

I was scared that T would make me gain weight: it did. But the weight I put on is not the weight I used to put on by binging and eating my body until I forgot that it even existed. It’s the weight of my body belonging to me, little by little. The wolf hunger for life.

I won’t tell you the same story I see everywhere, the one that goes “I started going to the gym 8 times a week, I put on some muscles, I started a diet and now I look like an action film actor”, in fact if you took pictures of me from 5 years ago vs now I’d just have more acne, I’d have longer hair and still look like I don’t know what to do with myself when I take selfies.

But the sparkle in my eyes, my smile, tell the whole story way better than this long ass stream of words could ever.

I want to say some things that I wish someone told me before starting medically transitionning.

It’s okay to take your time. It’s your body, it’s your journey, if you don’t feel comfortable taking full doses and want to go slow, the only voice you need to listen to is your own. Do what feels right.

If you feel overwhelmed, it’s okay to take a break, it’s okay to ask for support.

Trans people are holy. Everyone is. You didn’t lose your angel wings when you came out because you want to be masculine. You are not excluded from the joy of existence, from being proud of yourself, from being sad, from being scared, from being angry. The emotions and feelings you allowed yourself to feel while processing what you experienced when you grew up as a girl and was seen as a woman are still as valid as before. Nobody can take that from you. If someone tries to, don’t let them.

It’s perfectly normal to grieve some things you were and had before you started to transition, like your high soprano voice or even your chest. Hatching is painful. You can find comfort in things that don’t feel right, so making the decision to change can be incredibly scary and weird and you deserve to be heard and supported through this. Wanting top surgery doesn’t make the surgery less intense, less terrifying, less painful to recover from. When it becomes too much you have the right to take a break and take some deep breaths before going on.

You don’t have to have a radical, 180° change for your transition to be acceptable or valid or worthy of praise. Look at how far you’ve come already. It doesn’t have to show, you’re not made to be a spectacle, you’re human and it is your journey.

Oh, and last thing, you know when some people say “Oh this trans person has to grow out of the cringy phase where you think that you can write essays about being trans or transitionning or just their experience because it’s weird” ? If you ever hear this or see this online, remember all the people whose writing you read and, even if they were not professional writers, helped you more than any theorists did ? If you want to write, do it. It won’t be a waste. It can help people. Or it won’t, and even then, if it helped you, that’s enough.

Love every of my trans siblings, take care of yourselves. You deserve the world.

[soft-sunbird]

A post for Hilda

When I was a kid, I had lots of room to run around outside. It was a beautiful place to live. Running from one side of the property to the other would take you probably about a minute. There was plenty of grass, plenty of trees, plenty of wildlife. I couldn't ask for better.

Hilda, pregnant with her firstborn child, has been lying awake all night; fretting over the slow trickle of the donations that just barely keep her alive. Knowing that the water is contaminated and the little food she is lucky enough to eat is insufficient nutrition for the life kindling inside her, no doubt the little one feels her stress already.

When I was a kid, we had a few plastic barrels lying around, and we had enormous fun kicking them down the slope to watch them roll away. We'd chase them all the way down to the bottom of the hill, and then push them back up again. Push, push, push. And then we could do it all over again.

It's a great and daunting thing to ask for help. Yet Hilda has braved this uncomfortable, exhausting charade for days upon days upon months upon months, and is still struggling. She needs to eat! She needs to be warm and healthy and safe! She needs to know that there are good, kind people in the world who care what happens to her. She needs our support. Today, tomorrow, and the day after that. Every day until she can say, "Thank you. I am okay now."

Hilda, sister I didn't know I had, I hope you can rest a little easier soon. I hope these words stir the hearts of our community and they push the barrel with me. Every pair of hands that pushes this barrel moves it a little further up the hill to where it needs to go, and I promise, when we're done, we can admire the view together.

Follow @hildanasr1 and maybe frigidwife and veryveryvomit too (they care about her just as much as I do) Vets: gaza-evacuation-funds #6 | bilal-salah0 | khanger | ana-bananya | a-shade-of-blue | dlxxv-vetted-donations

[creamecafe]

hii could u write something for Dae-ho set in the mingle game and its basically just him protecting reader and always keeping them at his side. 🫶🫶🫶

"As long as I'm here, no one can hurt you"

Summary: What the request says

Pairing: Dae-Ho x GN!Reader (No pronouns used)

Warnings: fluff, comfort, pining

Word Count:

Author's Note: Thank you so much for requesting. I hope you enjoy!

Want a request for a Squid Game character like this one? Check out my latest post, read my request guidelines and send a request!

Read on Wattpad & AO3 here

It's a miracle that you have made it to the third game. You were sure you were going to die in the second game, but thanks to the team you had, you were more than determined to still stay alive

Out of all them, there was one that you kept looking at. Dae-Ho. You couldn't help but find him cute. This certainly wasn't the place to have feelings as you could die before telling him.

It was the same for Dae-Ho, trying to make sure everyone is ok and that the team survives. But it was something with you.

He felt safe with you, and wanted to protect you. Even if it meant giving his life for you.

The announcement for the third game came, you were worried, but wanted it to be over it. Dae-Ho noticed you being anxious and asked if you okay

"Are you okay?"

You stopped zoning out and looked at him with your heart pounding.

"What? Y-yes I'm ok thank you." Nodding trying to reassure yourself.

"I think this might be the last game I play in." You chuckled knowing deep inside you dreaded the idea

"Hey look at me."

You did as he said. "Don't say that, you have us."

He held out your hand to hold it. You looked at it and hesitated putting your hand out but you held it. A tight squeeze was given but not too rough. It was a sign of reassuring.

He gives you a smile and you did too not of full happiness but someone is here to care about you.

All of you guys were called for the game. You got up and stayed close to Dae-Ho. He looked back at you and nodded. You did the same.

It was the same, climbing up those colorful but dreading stairs to the next game. Every minute or two, Dae-Ho made sure you were right behind him.

You finally reached the game and saw a carousel in the middle with horses and so many doors of different bright colors for a Pre-K setting.

"Welcome to your third game." The woman's voice from the previous games you heard came on the speakers.

"The game you will be playing is Mingle. Let me repeat. The game you will be playing is Mingle."

Turning your head to look at Dae-Ho, he's already looking at you.

You quickly look away not to make the situation worse. He didn't want to make you uncomfortable as well.

"All players, please step onto the center platform. When the game starts, the platform will begin to rotate, you will hear a number. You must form groups of that size, go into the rooms, and close the door within 30 seconds."

"Oh this game? We used to play something similar on school trips. We formed groups by hugging." Jung-bae exclaimed.

"Yeah. Instead of hugging, we go into those rooms" Dae-Ho mentioned.

"If the number is bigger than six, we'll get the additional people we need." Gi-Hun

And if it's less than that? You thought in your mind

"But what if it's smaller than five? Like three or four

You turned your head to Dae-Ho. It's like he read your mind exactly.

"No matter what happens, don't panic. Let's stay calm," Young-il nods. "We'll make it out together. Here."

Those words echoing in your mind, there wasn't enough time to doubt if your group would stick with you.

You've seen how quickly people are to turn against each other especially in the Red Light, Green Light.

But you're more than determined to stay alive, just to see Dae-Ho's face every chance you get.

Young-il puts the back side of hand out to form a truce. One by one, everyone is putting their hands on top of each other. You were the last one.

"Y/N. Are you in?" Gi-Hun asks.

Dae-Ho looks at you with worry in his eyes. You had no choice and no knowledge of trusting others in this game, so you put your hand out on top.

Dae-Ho becomes relieved at this.

"One, two, three. Victory at all costs."

Sighing at this with relief, you guys begin to spread out. The carousel is starting to spin

People scream out in fear. Lights go out and the light in the middle where horses out lights ups and music plays.

Children are singing about holding hands and ringing around.

Dae-Ho holds your hand lightly. He grazes your hand with his thumb. You don't look at him, as you fear you'll die doing so.

It suddenly stops. The number is 9. People are running out frantically pairing in groups of 9. Dae-Ho doesn't let go of your hand.

"We need 3 more." You said. Your group ran looking for 3 more.

A old lady, her son and another woman goes up to you guys.

"Are you guys 3?" Young-il asks

"Yes we're." The old lady nods frantically.

"Quickly we got to get into a room" Gi Hun exclaims

Your feet were starting to move, but the grip of Dae-Ho holding your hand made you move even faster.

All of you guys rushed into a room and closed the door. The room was filled with heavy breaths. There was a click on the lock meaning that the room was closed and nobody can get in or out.

Right now, you have never been more grateful to be alive in playing a game

It wasn't long before you heard gunshots, and it was safe to assume it was those who didn't pair up or get into rooms in time.

Now that you're safe, you look at Dae-Ho and he does too.

"Is everyone ok?" Dae-Ho asks

There was a lot of yes. That answer might change throughout the game seeing how long each of us might last.

The door lock clicked and you guys were allowed to come out. There were bodies on the floors and blood splattered. "Take off your mind off those bodies or you'll be one of them" Your mind was telling yourself.

"We got this" Dae-Ho talks to you

"We do" You smiled. Don't know how many smiles it will take to keep going, but you're ready to prove his point.

The game started again and the carousel spins. You hold out to Dae-Ho's hand.

Now the number was 4. Young-il grabs Jung-Bae and goes to find two more people. That's left Gi-Hun, Jun-Hee, Dae-Ho and you left.

There was no time to waste. All four you ran to a room and locked yourself in. Gi-Hun was looking around for Young-il. You pulled him back in.

The gunshots came again. The lesser the number, the more likely people will betray each other.

How long this game will last, you don't know. All you know is that you have people here to help you. Even if it's just one person, it makes all the difference.

The doors clicked and it was time for another round. The panic and adrenaline of it all keeps coming back. But Dae-Ho is making sure you're by his side, even if he may die in the game as well.

Six the group was. Dae-Ho said you and him were going to go and find another group. Luckily you did and you managed to still be alive locked in a room.

Now it all came down to the very last game. There were less people than the game started. You wanted to finish this for once and for all. While the carousel was spinning and music playing, you place yourself in movement ready to run and holding Dae-Ho's hand.

"2" The voice said.

It felt like time was going slow once it announced the number. Everybody is rushing to get into a room. Time's running out.

You felt a hand pull you back and you fell to the ground. Dae-Ho heard your scream and saw someone trying to stop you from going into a room. Someone else was already in the room that you guys were planning to go into.

Dae-Ho could go into the room and that would already make it two. But he's made it too far to leave you.

He ran and punched the guy that pushed you. He put you back on your feet and dragged the other guy out. He slammed the door shut and the timer just came to zero. The guy on the other side begs and bangs on the door.

A pink guard shoots him and the noises stop.

"Are you ok?" Dae-Ho rushes to you.

Still shaken at what happened, at the fact you almost died if it wasn't for him to save you, you nodded.

"Yes I am. Thank you."

There was a moment of silence between you too as you were catching your breaths.

The door clicked and you both came out.

"Y/N! Dae-Ho!" Both of your names were being called

Gi-Hun, Young-il, Jung-Bae and Jun-Hee run up to you guys and you all hug each other.

"I'm so glad you guys are ok." Jun-Hee smiles

You're also relieved that everyone else is fine and made it out alive. You could return back to the dorms.

Walking down back the stairs and into the dorms, everyone was mostly silent but some talked.

You ran up and tapped Dae-Ho on the shoulder.

"Hey Dae-Ho?"

"Yes Y/N?"

"You could have gone into the room where the other guy before you dragged him out, why didn't you?"

Dae-Ho took a pause before responding.

"I have lost many people when I was a marine, seen people get killed in front of me. I can't let it happen to you."

He starts to become close to you but not too close.

"As long as I'm still alive, I'll make sure you're fine. That's a promise I tend to keep Y/N."

Those words stuck with you. You could die in the next game, but right here at this moment is a reason to keep going.

Taglist:

@hobinistaworld

Navigation | Main Masterlist | Squid Game Masterlist | Kang Dae-Ho Masterlist | Join my taglist!

[yameoto]

SUPERNOVA CAITLYN KIRAMMAN

kpop idol caitlyn X her insatiably horny junior

"Noona is so cool!"  You mimic, voice pitching either higher or lower, depending on which of the plethora of comments you pick, at your leisure. "Caitlyn’s a CF goddess. Her talents are seriously wasted. Wah, her visuals are really otherworldly. Unnie looks so good I’m creaming my pants—" Caitlyn fixes you with a flat, unimpressed look, at that last one. “It doesn't say that.” You grin, like the effervescent angel you are. “Yeah. That was just me.”

tw; dom/sub!caitlyn, brat!reader, idolverse, girlcock, semi-public sex, sex in dance practice rooms, mirror sex, handjobs, handjobs during vlives, voyeurism, mild age-gap, age hierarchy dynamics, use of korean honorifics. idol!caitlyn x idol!reader wc; 5.1k. ao3

notes: set in modern day runeterra. ionia encompasses the entire region of asia in league which i personally find stupid but i dont make the rules. fluff/smut/humour. derivative of korean culture (kpop idol au) + pokes a lil fun at stan culture. no prior kpop knowledge is needed (though it would likely help) the sex is filthy regardless. wrote this after finding caitlyn is only a 1/4 white like hallelujah jesus

CAITLYN looks stupidly good. Like stupid, stupidly good. Her grey sweatpants are slung low on her hips, waistband of her briefs peeking out. Sweat-slickened abs glare back at you, from the floor-to-ceiling mirror. The outline of her bulge is visible. These are all observations that you latch into like an IV-drip hooked-up to your wrist, in order to stay alive—lest you die from the fatigue. And boredom.

“Please,” You grumble, head slumped on your knee as your arm drops to the floor, phone abandoned Candy Crush side, up. “Please, please, please, can we go home?” 

“No,” Caitlyn huffs, hands on her hips, looking entirely too good as she takes a momentary (and you mean, momentary) break to swig a sip of water, before she hurls herself right back into it, sweaty and stunning.

The two of you have been trapped in the practice rooms for what feels like eternity. Or, more accurately, Caitlyn has trapped you in the practice rooms for what feels like eternity. You would rather be snuggled up and content in the comfort of your dorms; rather than slogging away in the basement, like you’re still trainees clawing your way up the company ladder inch by inch—rather than the four-time daesang winners, face of Ionia’s girl-groups’, and other innumerable accolades under your belts that seemingly mean nothing to your fearless group leader. At least, at the moment.

You’ve long slunk to the floor, sleepy eyes tracing the way sweat rolls down Caitlyn’s nape as she re-runs the movements for about the zillionth time. Her shoulder-blades flex through the thin fabric of her shirt, sweat dampening into a darkened pool in a way that should be gross, but on her, it just looks sexy. The ache in your muscles has simmered to a low burn, by now. Jeez, your eyelids are slipping. Thank God you have your sweet leader to ogle. The sight of Caitlyn’s bulge peeking through those sweatpants is practically your sole motivator in keeping your eyes open.

“You know,” After what feels like a decade, you pipe up again, because time has begun to melds together. “You’ve got it. Seriously.” The swig of water that sluices down your throat is lukewarm and unsatisfactory. Fuck, you’re thirsty. “The stage is a week away. You’ll be fine.”

Caitlyn’s eyes narrow at you through the mirror, incredulous.

“When in the world has fine ever been good enough?” 

Okay, sure. Caitlyn’s right. But she’s more than fine. Almost-perfect, actually—and come seven days—her dance moves will indubitably be heaven-sent and her ending fairy will probably trend #1 on three different social media platforms, and you will most definitely tug her ear endlessly about it, like the benevolent, supportive junior you are.

Seven days prior, however—and all you are is tired, grouchy, and maybe just a little bit horny. 

“I crave the sanctity of my blankets.” You lament, hand falling over your forehead as you languish on the floor, because the sun has probably set by now and you are seriously contemplating the possibility of dying of old age in this godforsaken practice room. (Not that that would be so bad, if Caitlyn were with you).

“You can go home, you know,” Caitlyn sighs, twisting around to face you, sneakers squeaking on the glossy wooden floors. 

“How am I supposed to sleep without my favourite member as a bolster?”  You pout, snatching on the chance to act a brat, immediately. Caitlyn just rolls her eyes, but her lips twitch upwards, so negligible that if you weren't so tuned in to all-things-Caitlyn, you might’ve missed it.

“Clingy.” She mutters, like she doesn't love it. Loves being your favourite. Not that it matters, because the glimmer of hope that flickers in your chest when Caitlyn crouches down in the direction of her bag—is immediately quashed when she only taps her screen, and the speaker rewinds all the way to the start. 

You’re really starting to hate this song.

“Are you serious? That’s not enough to rouse your cold, dead, heart?” You whine, because usually Caitlyn would've caved to your grabby-hands and doe-eyes by now (especially with the way you look; lips parted and shining with spit, water trickling down your chin down the column of your throat, from the leftover rivulets of your water-bottle.) Not that Caitlyn doesn't notice. She’s just really, really determined to get this right.

Desperate times call for desperate measures.

“You work yourself too hard.”

You stretch to a stand, elongated and cat-like before you slink over and sling yourself dramatically along Caitlyn’s back. Her expression contorts into exasperation. She attempts to turn her head, to face you—to no avail. Not when you’re pushing her up against the mirror and the pinning her down against glass with the power of aggressive spooning on your side. Her hand shoots out to brace against the mirror, as your fingers hook the hem of her sweats, and Caitlyn stiffens under your thumb, lips falling open against her will.

“Darling,” She inhales, in that addictive, throaty accent of hers. Caitlyn sounds almost pained, as she catches your wrists—though she neither takes them in or wrests them away. The both of you have full view of the rising tent in her groin.

“What?” You smirk, teeth grazing the shell of her ear, like the sneaky little bastard you are. “Don’t tell me you’re planning to practice with a boner, unnie. That must hurt.”

Caitlyn’s breath hitches, and her knees almost buckle, if it weren’t for the way your arms tighten around your waist and squeeze the growing problem at her crotch. Your fingers twine with the string of her trackpants, loosening them under slim, deft fingers.

“Honorifics? Really?” Her voice is tight. She’s screwed. You only ever whip those out when you want something, seeing as how you've been speaking informally to your technical senior  since your very first meeting, in trainee days, (an accident she so loves to recount on variety shows. “It’s not my fault you just looked so young and pretty, unnie.” You’d fumble in defense, eyes wide and doling out the extra sparkle for the cameras as they zoomed-in on your frantic apologies, laugh track sure to be edited in. “What was I supposed to think?”

“You’re lucky I was too kind to scold you,” Caitlyn sighs, and—in a dramatic show of theatricality—flips the inky-blue curtains of her hair behind her shoulder, much to the hosts delight. “I can be really mean, baby.” 

That had been a hit. Probably because of the way her drawl had lilted playfully and she’d cupped your jaw in the most egregious display of fan service you’d ever seen. Caitlyn’s always known how to wrap the media around her pretty fingers; and your stammer and ensuing blush had mercilessly crowded your feed for at least two weeks, afterwards.)

That’s in public, though. In private? 

Caitlyn is a puddle to the graze of your fingers along her hipbone, and the glide of your breath up her neck. Dark eyes meet hers, hooded and intent, reflected in the pane of metal in front of you. It’s certainly a sight to behold. The two of you are both dripping in sweat, Caitlyn’s cheeks flushed, bare-faced and glowing—hair tangled up in that loose ponytail that you've always found so much hotter on her, than any amount of hours in the styling chair could ever produce.

“I really need to..” Caitlyn’s protests sound weak even to her own ears. Especially when heat pools in hot, throbbing waves that rush straight to her dick, and she's cut off by her own gasp when you nuzzle in the nook between her shoulder-blades and your hands—beautiful, cunning hands—ghost over her crotch and squeeze. Her entire world lurches into a haze, body spasming upwards.

“Unnie,” You breathe, sweet and soft, like the devil in her ear, “please fuck me.”

Just like that, Caitlyn can’t take it any longer. A low, strangled noise rips from her throat, eyes fogging over and black eclipsing blue. Lithe hands coil around your wrists, and flips your positions entirely—thrusting you right up against the glass.

Her muscles are throbbing, hours of dance practice flaming up her bones; but she pins you down with the strength of a woman possessed, all the same. As far as Caitlyn’s concerned, she’s like a sleeper agent to your bedroom voice, and the fact could never shine with more clarity, than now (other than the time you’d done a Lola Shark impression in an interview and she’d gotten, to her horror, embarrassingly hard underneath the blanket thrown over her lap. She’d had to call in a bathroom break, to take care of it—much to your smug, haunting amusement).

In the mirror, you watch as Caitlyn’s breathing shallows into pants, tongue licking hot up the stretch of your neck to under your jaw. Neither of you miss the brief, smugly satisfied spark to your eyes and glowing hot between your thighs, even as both squeeze shut when you arch up against Caitlyn’s bulge. She grinds down against your ass, and you moan, so brazen she almost can’t believe it.

“Shit. You're so shameless,” Caitlyn mutters, breaths rushing harsh against your shoulder as she fumbles with the knot at your sweats, rutting hopelessly into the coil of your figure. The moment thread slips free, pants pooling to your ankles as you bend over, head thrown back—Caitlyn’s brand-name briefs soak with a splurge of pre so intense she almost thinks she’s come early.

“You want my fingers?” Caitlyn asks, just to be a bitch. Your eyes squint open to glare at her through blurry vision and through an even blurrier visage.

“Don’t joke,” You spit, voice hoarse with want. It's meant to sound demanding, but all it comes out is whiney, and Caitlyn’s laugh sends shivers down your nape.

There’s a millisecond in which your mind empties completely, and it's almost cruel how you can only see the reflection of Caitlyn’s cock curving upwards from her underwear rather than the real deal. 

Caitlyn’s grasp is like steel around your neck. She thrusts you forwards, your flushed cheeks smushing against the cool surface of the mirror as your stuttered breaths puff in grey clouds of condensation. A groan wrangles itself out of your throat from being manhandled like that, knees wobbling the moment you feel something hot, thick and so, so wet press insistently against the backs of your thighs. Arousal has already begun to drip down your legs, running down in rivulets and moistening the floor under your feet. Yours or Caitlyn’s—you don’t have the eyes to know.

“Unnie,” You breathe, shakily, voice raw. Your fingers are slippery against glass, and you whimper when the familiar stretch of two fingers sinks into your cunt. You slide open, just like that, and Caitlyn temporarily wrenches you back so that you can see your fogged-up reflection in all its full, filthy glory. 

“S’not enough,” You pant, back arching and ramming urgently against her digits she’s spreading you wide, with—so eye-wateringly slow. Maybe it’s the fact that you've been working yourself up, blatantly eyeing her down, for hours since your head checked out of training and your brain devolved into its most primitive urges in coping with your mind-numbing boredom. 

“Not enough?” She grins, sharp-toothed and devastating, adoring the upper-hand. “What? You need a third finger, baby?” The noise that tears out of you is almost like a wounded animal, and you'd be embarrassed if you weren't so overcome with need and prolonging this teasing sounds like torture.

So, you answer with the obvious, “Your cock.” You hiss through gritted teeth, because Caitlyn loves it when you beg for her dick and you’re too hare-brained and empty to do anything more than push back, impossibly deeper into her fingers. They sink to her knuckles of entirely your own volition, without her having to do so much as twitch. 

Caitlyn’s laugh is practically a goad in itself. The lush curtain of her lashes are lowered, irises swallowed up by the deep dilation of her pupils. Still, though, she takes her time in playing with you, just a little longer. Revels in the way you thrash around her fingers, fucking yourself back, desperate.

Herself is one thing. Her dick can only take so much, however. The ache becomes too much, too soon, and the second she runs her glossy head against the drenched, hot pulse of your hole—she can’t not shudder, knot in her throat, before her fingers slip out of your pussy and your consequent whimper is interrupted by the plunge of her cock.

“Hah, baby..” Caitlyn whimpers, eyes fluttering back as she fucks you against the mirror, nails dragging up your hips and digging into supple flesh. Never has Caitlyn felt so at home, submerged in the deep, velvet ocean of your cunt.

“Unnie—” You gasp. It’s the one word, echoing over and over, like an all-consuming siren song throughout your head—with each gasp that comes with every thrust of Caitlyn’s hips, motions growing sloppier as the exhaustion of hours of tireless exertion catches up to the both of you. She nips at your ear, then down the curve of your nape, to the unblemished skin of your upper back. Teeth grazing, pads of her fingers leaving scorching trails as she gropes up your body—your mind a jumbled, fuzzy mess. Her cock plunges in and out, still guided, though she never slips out more than mid-way; bodies sticking together like gum. Like she can’t bear to be apart from you for even a moment—even if it is to pummel your cunt until you can hardly take it anymore.

It’s only when the pumps and rolls begin to slow into simple, gentle rocks, to absolutely nothing but a twitch—that your mind clumsily clasps onto a semblance of clarity, hasty and brief, like you know it’ll slip away and out of reach, soon. “Wha..?” You rasp, half-slurred, even if what you really want to whinge is; What’s goin’ on? Why’d you stop? And, please, please, please. Don’t stop. Keep goin’. Fill me up. Please, don’t ever stop— and other half-baked nonsense that you’ll be glad your tongue was too thick and heavy in your mouth to spill.

“I can’t mark you,” Caitlyn grunts, and your eyes sharpen, just a little. Her tongue peeks out from her lips as her expression looks disproportionately distraught, like it’ll be the end of the world if she doesn’t stake some sort of physical claim on you, eyes darting downwards to your unblemished shoulders with a low growl of frustration.

Distantly, that part of you is still clinging onto reality, knows she’s right. That your comeback is in a week’s time and risking a hickey or a bite-mark or worse (because Caitlyn is stronger and sharper and rougher than her delicate figure should ever have been allowed to be), is a bad, bad idea.

But the larger part of you—the part of you that is currently being railed by her unnie’s cock and trying desperately not to squirt cum all over the practice room mirror—rasps out a reckless, ragged, “Who cares?”, and that’s all the permission Caitlyn needs.

Caitlyn pulls out, and slams herself in again, grip on your waist, bruising. Your hands go sliding, uselessly against the steamy surface of the mirror, long fogged-up under the slick tangle of your bodies. She’s mouthing slurred nonsense into your ear, the music speaker knocked over by one of your ankles and emitting distant sounds from where it's rolled, to the other side of the room. Neither of you could give a single fuck. 

Not the least, when Caitlyn’s hand is sliding up your throat and thumbing over your gaping lips. It feels as if a pink-hued fuzziness has descended the room and become a thick veil over everything, and when her fingers slip into the hot, wet gasp of your mouth—it's only right for you to take the digits in your tongue and suck. 

“Ahnngh—Cait—”  

“When did I say you could speak informally to me?” Caitlyn husks, fingers pressing deeper into the roof of your mouth. In your reflection, you can see the razor angle of Caitlyn’s jaw as she nuzzles into your ear. The obscene glisten of your spit, coating her fingers and coasting down your chin as her digits languish between your parted lips. You look every bit like her precious fuckdoll, right now.

“Unnie—”

“Ah-ah.”

“Sunbae.” 

“Mm. That’s better.”

Her free hand skims up your shirt, slipping up the taut lines of your body and flicking idly at one nipple. You whine, garbled around the gag of her hand, and Caitlyn lets out a moan of content when your pussy tightens around her shaft.

“Fuck,” She pants, teeth sinking down into your shoulder and you buck, even though the pain barely registers with how Caitlyn barrels her cock in you, deeper, and your eyes roll back into your skull. Your thighs are shaking. “M’gonna—hfgh—” 

Her hips draw upwards, and Caitlyn cums like a faucet. All of it, inside you. Outside of you. Dripping from your still-leaking cunt and droplets getting fucked out with each, desperate thrust as she moans, guttural. “Take it—fuck—” Caitlyn groans, harsh and insistent as she pounds, your pussy squelching—so wonderfully wet—as your fingers scramble against the glass, her fingers cramming deep inside your mouth.

“Ah-ah—fuck!”

The two of you go crashing down, sliding down against the mirror and onto the floor with a twinning, indecipherable slew of obscenities, a boneless, panting heap, still moving in tandem. 

You both slump, slippery and sticky. The song on the speakers re-starts, yet again, from the other side of the room, though it's the first time it's even pierced your ears in the past forty minutes. Caitlyn groans, pushing her nose into the crook of your neck, arms tightening around your waist. The mirror is splattered in both your cum.

“We’re gonna have to clean this up, aren’t we?”

“..Probably.” You sigh, still leaking around her cock as you angle your head, the two of you slotting together like missing puzzle pieces.

Twenty-four hours and countless Kleenex wipes later (and really, cleaning your own cum from floor-to-ceiling mirrors—with two half-guilty reflections staring right back at you—is an uniquely humbling experience); it was totally worth it to see Caitlyn appropriately red, after the crash of post-nut clarity.

It’s your one, blissfully empty day before comeback promotions launch you all into full-throttle. You intend to enjoy it while it lasts. 

“Your latest Lotte CF went viral,” You pop behind her, totally innocously if weren’t for that familiar, impish glint in your eyes. Caitlyn sighs, not even glancing up from the stove, completely nonplussed. Probably because Caitlyn could record herself taking a piss and it would chart #1 on Melon.

“The seonjiguk is simmering.” She ignores you. You ignore her right back.

“Look at those dimples,” You beam like a little shit as you wave the video in her face. “Maybe you should go into acting. The GP would go crazy.”

“No thanks,” Caitlyn snorts, hand lifting upwards to stifle a brief yawn, sleeves coming up all the way to her knuckles. “been there, done that.” 

“Oh, right. All your Piltovian film connections.” You hum, idly tracing the underneath of Caitlyn’s elbow as you lean over her shoulder to watch her cook. She’s markably improved from her humble beginnings of blackened, bubbling slag (what was once instant Buldak), or the scotchmarks that still hail the kitchen tiles, to this day.

“Mhm. I was almost poached. My mother wanted me to—what was that? Follow in her footsteps.”

“Well, I’m grateful that you didn't,” You hum, into her shoulder. You poke her side, grinning. “Then you wouldn't have met me, and wouldn't that be tragic?”

Caitlyn scoffs, but you feel her sink a little deeper into your embrace, eyes flitting to settle onto the top of your head, as you nudge into her. You both, really are grateful.

You’re pretty sure Ionia is grateful, too. 

Whatever the day, it always feels like Caitlyn’s name has taken up a permanent residence in the nation’s newsites. ICE PRINCESS. AI VISUALS. ATTITUDE PROBLEM. Her quarter Piltovian and subsequent accent injects an ‘attractive exoticism’ (or whatever management had stapled to your files, at the dawn of debut), that had made Caitlyn internationally explosive, too. 

The Kiramman surname certainly helped. Caitlyn’s debut was like, the biggest plot-twist in nepotism, ever. It was like if Nicole Kidman’s kid suddenly became Hatsune Miku. Not to mention the fact the Kirammans are the largest benefactor of Hextech, whose global rollout of leading-edge tech has gone unmatched. Of all careers for the Kiramman’s mysterious, devastatingly attractive daughter to take—this is the one that took the entire globe off-guard. Including the great and glamorous, Cassandra Kiramman.

Of course, the initial shock long lapsed underwater, with the constant roil of the media waves. Caitlyn’s fame, however, has not.

“Noona is so cool!”  You mimic, voice pitching either higher or lower, depending on which of the plethora of comments you pick, at your leisure. “Caitlyn’s a CF goddess. Ah, her talents are seriously wasted. Is she an angel? Her visuals are really otherworldly—”

“Get that away from me.” Caitlyn swats your phone away with a scowl, pretty pink flush glowing on her features.

“Don’t act all coy,” You prod her so-highly-lauded cheekbones as Caitlyn huffs in annoyance, though begrudgingly leans against the touch anyways. You squish. “We all know you’re preening inside.”

“I am not!”

“Ooh, sexy. I love it when your accent comes out like that.”

Caitlyn groans, because you’re impossible, and just twists so that she’s facing you, back against the kitchen counter. You reach behind her to switch off the stove.

She hooks her fingers into the hem of your pyjama shorts, thumbing over familiar cotton. She sighs outwardly, propping her head up on your shoulder and slumping forwards to rest the cold press of her nose into the crook of your shoulder. Her fingers skim up your shirt, absently rubbing circles into the plane of your stomach.

“You know I hate it when you read those.”

“About how you look like an eepy bunny when you’re sleepy? Or that you have moles in the shape of a giraffe on your nape.” You arch a brow, looking past her as you flick through the blurs of text in various degrees of capitalisation, on your phone. A subtle smirk lifts your lips. “Hey. Is that true? Let me check.”

She scowls, and then almost looks offended that you don’t know that already (You do. Caitlyn also has a darkened, heart-shaped birthmark indented in the crook of her inner thigh—but that’s just for you to know, thank you very much).

Your voice raises a pitch. “Unnie looks so good I’m creaming my pants!”

Caitlyn fixes you with a flat, unimpressed look. “It doesn't say that.”

You grin, like the effervescent angel you are. “Yeah. That was just me.”

Oh, now Caitlyn’s cheeks go red. You push valiantly past the triumphant flutter in your heart, in favour of continuing your teasing. Hey—there’s no schedule today, the dorms are all to yourselves—and you’re on a roll. 

“Look. They wanna steal your eyes and put them in a boba drink.”

Thoroughly fed-up with your antics, Caitlyn snatches the phone out of your hand, and you immediately squirm, to lunging for it. Caitlyn’s ridiculous height advantage has the one-up on you, though, and you puff out an aggrieved yelp of protest when she dangles it above your head, like a dickhead.

“Hey, what the fuck?” You complain, like your comeuppance wasn't exactly what you were hoping for. Except you were more aiming for a pin-you-against-the-fridge, fuck-the-insides-out-of-you type of comeuppance. Not a sordid reminder that you need a stool to reach the top of Caitlyn’s head. “Don’t lord your freakish Frankenstein genetics over me!”

Caitlyn laughs, eyes flickering down. “Are you on your tip-toes right now?” 

Your eyes narrow, because you do not appreciate having the tables turned on you. Your hand shoots up to cup her jaw, tilting it upwards. Caitlyn softens, putty in your hands, adorable furrow in her brow melting away along with her pride as she sinks into your palm with a soft sigh, arm falling to her side.

There we go.

“It’s not my fault you avoid socials like the plague. I’m just doing my duty to take care of my leader’s PR. Your fans are starving.”

Caitlyn grumbles, “Well, let them starve.” though it comes out pinched between smushed lips, cheeks squishing like a dumpling. So heartless, like she’s not the industry’s princess and probably makes up a total of 50% of the company’s annual income. You know exactly why, as you cradle her face in her palms and watch as she leans upwards because no matter how disgruntled Caitlyn acts, or how shockingly humble she is under that front of aloof, arrogance–she definitely preens under attention.

Just. Only yours. 

“Hey, you know what? We should go live right now.”

“What—?” Caitlyn stammers, flabbergasted by the sudden change in direction, “Don’t—“

Too late. Within seconds, you’ve swiped your phone back from her limp hands and flipped the vlive on. Recording. Like, now. Damn, you're speedy. 

“Ah..” Caitlyn’s expression smooths over to that charming, impeccably gorgeous grin of hers that shows off the sharp curves of her cheekbones and has won her the hearts of a nation. 

You pull her to the couch, and under the scrutiny of the camera—Caitlyn acquises with little more than a subtle elbow to your ribs, when the both of you go thudding into the cushions with a low oomph.

Then, you flop against her chest, and the stream of hearts that ensue are absolutely incredible, comments rolling in faster than you can read them. There’s a reason why the two of you are the most popular pairing in the group.

“Hm. Is it on?” You muse, faux confusion tugging on your pretty features. Knitted brows and a plush little pout always do the job, especially when you add a sneak of tongue. No doubt to be screenshotted and re-uploaded countless times, within the next hour. “Hello? Can you guys hear us?”

Which is, you know, the perfect time to grab Caitlyn’s dick through her pants.

A choked noise resounds beside you, and you don’t glance over, for you’re too busy fiddling with the phone and the settings and all other kinds of bullshit that is really just an excuse for you to focus your attention on snaking a hand down Caitlyn’s waistband, just out of view of the camera. “Oh! It’s working. Did you miss us?” You beam, as Caitlyn struggles not to either sock you in the stomach or throw her head back and moan.

If anybody notices Caitlyn’s pupils are suspiciously blown, it doesn’t come up. What does come up, is her ever traitorous cock that lilts immediately into your touch. Fuck. Fuck, fuck.

“Aw, little Caity’s missed me, too,” You croon, as your sneaky fucking fingers stroke idly along her girth, underneath the veil of her sweatpants and just over the thin fabric of her underwear. Caitlyn visibly bristles, because, 1. You’re jacking her off. 2. She hates that your coo instigates a flood of love-bombing so intense, that the hearts on the screen almost completely obscure the both of you. 3, and the most important one; you just gave her dick a nickname! 

“Cait.” You tease out, eyes glittering, not even bothering to conceal your amusement as Caitlyn’s hips buck upwards, her fingers pinching against your sides, lips completely shut mum, for fear she’ll let slip a moan on camera. “C’mon. Say something. You missed them too, right?”

Gods. Caitlyn hates you. She really, really hates you. Just—not enough to not shove your hand away when it starts to peel away the waistband of her underwear. If only because the feeling of precum soaking its seat, sticking to her skin, and not because she’s itching for the sweet relief of your hand around her cock.

“..Hi,” Caitlyn forces her winning, boxy grin, and the years of practice make it an admirably unstrained effort. Maybe she really should go into acting. “Mm. Long time no see, hm?” 

“Unnie’s being awkward, today.” You snark, all sly, and Caitlyn shoots you a glare. She’s rewarded by the sudden, fervent warmth of your hand wrapping around her dick, and then the harsh tug of your fist that has her knees jerking upwards and her dastard slit spurting out a shiny, hot glob of precum. She swallows back a low, strangled whine, like a dry pill. Oh, Gods. She’s supposed to say something.

“Ah, just..—we’ve—ah—”

In a rare show of mercy (because apparently, you’re not out to throw both your careers to the dogs), you swipe the phone back with the most cherubic, triumphant grin to adorn your face, literally ever. Catilyn lets slip a barely-audible hiss as your fingers coil, just a little tighter, stroking up and down—thumb running back over the swollen, gloatingly shiny cockhead.

“We just had a long time in the practice rooms for our comeback, yeah? So we’re pretty tired. Right, unnie?” 

Oh, you're really pushing it, now. 

“Mm. We’ve been—working. Really hard.” She has to lean out of the screen to release a silent, desperate gasp, nails digging into the back of the couch as she tries to rut up into your hand in a way that doesn't obviously send the sofa, trembling. You idly thumb over her slit, smearing the thick, embarrassingly copious amounts of pre down her length. It twitches in your palm, as you ramble on about schedules and the comeback and spoilers and other things that have long become white noise in Caitlyn’s ears. Her hips chase your touch, brazenly, now. She barely even realises when you’re calling it quits; early, too. Because obviously, this was all just to fuck with her.

“Caitlyn,” You sing-song—smirking (supremely unsubtly), at the camera. “Say bye-bye.”

She only just registers the comment. Barely. “Bye.” Caitlyn’s voice is a low croak, hips arching upwards off the couch just as you end the live. Just in time, too, because—

“Oh, fuck.” Caitlyn releases the longest moan of her life, cum spilling over your fist, and she collapses back into the couch. Your phone falls from your hand, and you’re practically shaking with laughter. 

(“Little Caitey,” Caitlyn grumbles, after the fact, with your head nestled between her thighs in apology, “That’s preposterous. What’s so little about her?” Nothing. But there’s no fun in that, is there? At the slow, sly smile spreading on your face, Caitlyn groans. “What?”

“You referred to her in third-person.”

“..Please just suck me off already.”)

[supaara]

finishing a series just to look through the tag and find out that a weird ass age gap ship is extremely popular ohnoohnooooooooooo

[rin-may-1103]

The Eyes of Death.

This story is mostly inspired by Jaybirbie's prompt | Master post | Next?

"Hey, sweetheart?" Danny called, quickly jotting down the last sentence for his paper. He'd have to remember to go back and reread it and make sure he didn't trail off into another tangent. He swears he wasn't this bad at managing his ADHD back in Amity...

"Yes, Danny?" Damian asked, turning back from the door to face him as he scrolled further down the story he was reading. The familiar font of Gotham City's gazette blurred as a picture of Mr. Freeze and Penguin finally loaded. So that's what was going on. Danny should have known; the bats already dealt with the other usual rouges, and these two were next on the list.

"Can you walk with me? I just know Nancy and her boyfriend are out there, waiting. I really don't want to deal with them again... We could spend more time at my place? Tucker sent me another movie, and I'm unsure if I should watch it alone after last time." Danny pleaded, quickly shoving all of his papers into his bag. He'd deal with straightening them out later, it wasn't like his professors weren't used to his wrinkled essays at this point.

However, he should probably redo the blueprints for Workshop. Mr. Anthlow was a hardass, but nothing could compare to his anger when a student handed in wrinkled blueprints; he claimed he wasn't going to have another 'Tanner' incident on his watch, whatever the heck that meant.

He was not looking forward to whatever Nancy wanted to talk to him about, she looked excited. Which could only mean bad things for him; considering the last time she was excited, he ended up spending time with Bane of all people. And there was no way her boyfriend was just going to let Danny get away again.

Damian grimaces, finally looking up and away from his phone. "I'm sorry beloved..." he held up the device just in time to show an incoming text from his Father, "I promised Father I'd be home a while ago. And with what's happening down on-"

"It's ok, I'll just head out the back door," Danny cut in, seeing the start of guilt on his boyfriend's face. He knew how much Danny hated having to deal with those two, and the fact Damian hasn't been able to even introduce himself to them hasn't helped. With a smile, Danny scooped up his textbooks and made his way to stand in front of Damian, "They can't bother me if they don't see me!"

Unsurprisingly, Danny could feel the guilt grow and start to float around Damian as the boy glanced at his phone, the message tone sounding out again in warning.

Danny only met Damian's father once; it was just a simple shake of hands and sharing names before the man ran off, but it did leave an impression. The man felt tired and paranoid; like, to the point Danny kind of wanted to drag Jazz over and lock the two of them in a room, paranoid. (Danny wants to say he's never seen someone that paranoid, but he'd be lying. He looks in the mirror after all.)

The point is; Danny's only met the man once, but that was enough for him to know that the man would tear down the world if he thought for even a second that one of his kids was in danger. This meant, that if Damian didn't go and reassure his father that he was alive and safe within the next sixty or so seconds, then there was a possibility that there wouldn't be another date for at least another week.

And considering this "study date" was supposed to make up for the last one Damian had missed because of his Father? Yeah, Danny wasn't going to be happy if Damian got grounded or dragged into another 'surprise' family road trip because his father was convinced his children would be dead before the 'yearly' planned get-together in November.

They had a trip to the zoo planned for tomorrow, and Delilah was supposed to be allowed out with her kids. This would be Delilah's first public outing since her kids' birth. There's no way Danny was going to allow Damian to miss that. (he swears to the ancients, if there was a rouge attack he was going to kill someone, Dark Dan's future be damned.)

Lifting his heels off the ground so he could stand on his tiptoes, Danny snagged Damian's arm and pulled him down so he could kiss his cheek. "I'll get home safe, just focus on keeping your dad from going insane. We've got a date at the zoo tomorrow and we're not missing it even if your father becomes the next city rogue."

Damian wrapped his arms around Danny, trapping him in a hug as he sighed in fond frustration. "I promise I won't miss it, ok? I'll be there."

Danny rolled his eyes and pushed Damian back, dropping back to stand on the ground, "You better, 'cause hell hath no fury like a gorilla denied the chance to meet her human best friend's boyfriend."

Damian snorted, before looking away and pretending to cough. Danny moved his textbooks to rest more securely in one of his arms, so he could point at his boyfriend. "I'm not kidding, if I show up tomorrow and tell her all about my life and you're not there, she will break out and track you down. I won't stop her either, you'd deserve whatever she does to you."

"Alright, alright. I get it, and I already promised I'd be there didn't I?" Damian chuckled, raising his hands up in surrender. Which would have been cute if it wasn't for the fact that his phone went off again, this time in an insistent buzzing. His eldest brother's ringtone; which meant Damian was going to be busy for a while.

Cursing, Damian turned and answered, "I'm in the middle of something, this better be important Grayson," glancing back at Danny, he mouthed for him to wait a moment as his brother started talking.

Smiling, Danny shook his head, snatched Damian's jacket, and started making his way out the door. There was no way Damian would finish this phone call any time soon. Danny's learned not to wait after the last four times this happened. Damian turned back with betrayed eyes, but the urgent voice of his brother buzzing even louder held him back. Waving goodbye with a smile, Danny shut the door and started making his way down the hall.

He'd have to ask Damian what happened tomorrow, Grayson didn't usually call him, especially when he knew Damian was spending time with Danny. He said it had something to do with how it was sacrilege to interrupt time spent with a significant other. Danny had wanted to ask him more about it but hadn't gotten the chance when The Riddler crashed their spontaneous meeting.

Speaking of The Riddler, Danny's social science paper wasn't looking too hot right now. He'd have to block out a time for him to work on that at some point this week. He wasn't doing anything on Friday, well, besides his early morning classes. That should work...

"Hey, Danny!" someone called, pulling him out of his musing. Glancing up, Danny internally groaned when he noticed Nancy waving at him in sheer delight. Giving her a half-hearted wave, Danny sped up and continued making his way to the back of the library. If he was quick enough maybe he could-

To his dismay, Nancy's boyfriend stepped out from behind one of the shelves and latched onto his arm. Tightly.

Just great, this is exactly what he wanted to avoid. Curse his inability to pay attention when he got lost in thought. Damn ADHD. Blasted non-existent spatial awareness. This was what he got for relying on his ghost sense, he just knows it.

"She said hi, kind of rude of you to just keep walking, Kid." Wyatt huffed, roughly dragging Danny back and towards his girlfriend. Nancy smiled brightly as Wyatt let him go, allowing Nancy to weave her arm with Danny's and practically drag him toward the front of the building.

"There's this big party going on tonight, some Jr invited us. He said it was going to be a night to remember! You should totally come with us, Danny! My friend Shela said she was bringing her nerdy freshmen too! I just know you'd fit right in with them!" Nancy squealed excitedly, shaking Danny as they finally made it to the front doors.

One of the desk attendants rolled their eyes at them as Danny glanced over, hoping that Barbara might intervene. No such luck, she was nowhere in sight, probably off somewhere shelving books. So much for that plan.

"uh, thanks, but I already-" Danny tried, stopping when Nancy scoffed and yanked him out the door and into the frosty night. "Damn, it's cold!" Wyatt cursed, taking his jacket off and quickly handing it over to Nancy. She let go of Danny and pulled it on, then stared at Danny for a moment, "Put your coat on Danny, no way in hell am I letting my kid catch a cold!"

Rolling his eyes, Danny wrapped Damian's coat over his shoulders. He was too lazy to actually put it on, not when that meant handing his textbooks over. The last time he did that, Nancy got bored and started doodling all over them. (how she had managed to do that in the little time it took to put a hoodie on, Danny wasn't sure.)

"I just want to go home, Nancy. I'm not really a party person." Danny sighed, allowing Nancy to drag him down the dark streets. His apartment was in this general direction anyway. Nancy turned to her boyfriend with a huff, "Wyatt! make him come with us!"

"Let the nerd do what he wants, it's not like it affects us if he kicks the bucket all alone," Wyatt grumbled, rolling his eyes.

Ouch, but true. Please listen to your grumpy boyfriend, please listen to your grumpy boyfriend, please listen-

"But Shela said she was bringing Carly!" Nancy turned back to Danny, a pout clear on her face, "You two would be so cute together! she's nerdy just like you! And she's totally into all those murder mystery shows you watch!"

Damn it. Not this crap again.

"That's nice, Nancy, but I'm not interested. I already told you guys, I have a boyfriend," Danny sighed, trying to gently extract his arm from hers; for a human, Nancy sure had one heck of a grip.

"Yeah, right," Wyatt snorted, patting Danny's back, completely ignoring the fact that Danny was literally wearing someone else's jacket. "We'll believe you when you introduce us, until then. You're a virgin loser."

And there we go, people; the reason Danny wanted to crawl into the sewer and die whenever he saw these two. They were nice, don't get him wrong, but they were also stubborn idiots.

"Being a virgin has nothing to do with my relationship status, Wyatt. I'm ace. you've known this since the first time we talked." Danny grumbled, allowing Nancy to drag him down another street. He wasn't sure exactly where they were going now, but he was too tired to care at this point.

If these self-claimed 'Parents' of his wanted to drag him to this stupid party, then fine. Whatever. It's not like Danny had any other plans tonight anyway.

"Asexuality isn't a thing man," Wyatt huffed, speeding up so he could guide them in the right direction now that they were heading into a rougher patch of buildings. Danny could see the man was shivering, though trying to act tough in front of Nancy. Smirking, Danny sent a cold breeze his way. The man scowled up at the sky, cursing quietly.

"Yeah!" Nancy agreed, smiling brightly down at Danny without a care in the world. Like they didn't have this conversation every other week. "You just haven't met the right person yet, Danny! And I know how awkward it is to admit that you're staying celibate until marriage, but you don't have to hide it behind being ace."

Taking a deep breath, Danny closed his eyes and focused on not shouting out of frustration. The celibate comment was new, the acephobia, not so much. "Ok, first of all; Asexuality is a thing, which many people ARE. Literally, 1% of the world is ace. That's over 70 million people. Second of all, I'm not celibate, and I'm not sure if you even know what that means, considering you know I was raised Atheist."

"What does being an Atheist have to do with celibacy?" Nancy asked, tilting her head to look at him. Danny groaned, smacking his forehead against his textbooks. He was NOT going to explain this to them tonight.

"You know what, Nancy? It doesn't matter." Danny huffed, trying again to gently pry her hands off. He wanted to go home. He wanted to cuddle with his boyfriend. He wanted to go back to Amity. Maybe go to the realms and play with Cujo. He did NOT want to deal with these idiots.

Wyatt stopped walking and turned to face them, rolling his eyes as Nancy pouted at Danny. "Come on babe, let the loser go. He obviously doesn't appreciate your efforts."

"but who else is going to convince him to live a little? He's just going to go back to his apartment and sulk by himself!" Nancy cried, tightening her grip again.

"Who cares what the kid does, Nancy? let the dude die a virgin loser. Now let's go, we're already late as is."

"But I really want him to-," Nancy tried, cutting herself off, as both she and Danny spotted a cloaked person appear out of the shadows behind Wyatt.

Wyatt lifted his brow before slowly turning to see what the two of them were staring at. The cloaked figure suddenly whacked him over the head with a metal pole before he could fully turn around. Wyatt's body dropped to the ground with a heavy thump, making Nancy scream, "Wyatt!"

Shit, Danny stepped back, trying to pull Nancy with him as the cloak dude tossed the metal pole to the side with a loud clank. Which was confusing, why would he through away his weapon?

"Shut her up!" the cloak dude cried, bending down to grab Wyatt's arms. He better not be telling Danny to do that, because that would just be stupid and- Suddenly, a dozen more cloaked people flooded out of the darkness and surrounded them. That answered Danny's questions at least.

Danny tensed up as a couple of the people tried to grab onto him. Quickly pulling Nancy back, successfully this time, Danny glanced around to try and find an exit. He couldn't do anything crazy right now, not unless he wanted to give away his secret, but some self-defense should be fine.

Nancy suddenly let go of his arm and smacked one of the cloaked people in the face, "Don't you fucking dare touch me! Wyatt! Kid, get out of here!"

Danny turned to her in alarm, eyes wide in horror as she quickly disappeared into the cloaked crowd. Another cloaked person managed to latch onto Danny's shoulder, reminding him to focus on his situation. Quickly stepping back, he slammed into the man grabbing him, knocking his grip loose. Ducking under another attempt, Danny swung out his leg and tripped the dude into two others.

Twisting to try and make his way over to where he figured Nancy was, Danny dropped his textbooks and punched someone in the face. Damian's jacket was yanked off his shoulders, making him turn with a growl. Punching another person in the face, Danny lunged at the group.

"Hurry! before the bats find us!" the supposed leader cried, making even more cloaked people surround Danny. There was no way a normal civilian would be able to fight their way out of this, so Danny would have to allow himself to be caught soon. Only after biting and scratching the fuck out of them though. Just because he had to let them catch him, doesn't mean he has to make it easy.

~30 min later

Danny stared at the leader as the man droned on and on about needing the right sacrifice for the ritual to work. Nancy and Wyatt grumbled behind him, agreements from the other kidnapped victims filling Danny's ears like bees.

"The sacrifice shall be the one who treads the veil between life and death, the one who's beloved by the spirits as their own! He shall be pale as a corpse, his body kissed by death many times throughout his life. His hair as black as the sky on a moonless night, cradled by the moon since birth." Mr. totally-read-one-fake-ritual-book-when-he-was-a-teen-and-now-has-to-make-it-everyone's-problem droned on dramatically, reverently dragging his finger down the old dusty tome's page,

"so Mr. Wayne?" Nancy huffed, pressing her back into Danny's side. Wyatt chuckled, shoving his foot into Danny's knee, "No, it's totally Mr. Drake he's talking about. Have you seen that dude's eyebags? they make him look like a ghost."

One of the strangers leaned over, rolling their eyes, "No, it's got to be Mr. Dent. The dude's literally half living half not."

"No, Two-Face is half insane, half burnt chicken. Ain't nothing about him going to please ghosts. He was a fucking lawyer, for Christ shake." another guy added.

"the dude said 'he' which crossed out half of y'all," Danny added, glancing at the group around him. The women blinked and then rolled their eyes; only in Gotham would they get kidnapped and not actually be needed.

"Assholes," Nancy huffed, she glanced over her shoulder and down at him, her face set into a frown, "You good, kid? you're like freezing cold."

"I'm fine," Danny huffed, focusing back on the leader. He could just feel the old magic rolling off the book; this was something dangerous, especially in this dipshit's hands. Ancients, he was going to have to do everything he could to keep the man from actually doing the ritual or mess it up if the bats didn't get here in time.

One of the cloaked people suddenly dragged a camera out from a side room, grumbling about networks and livestreams being shit. Huh, well that would definitely help provide their location to the bats. They must be really inexperienced cultists then...

"The sacrifice shall fall into our hands by fate's design. The sacrifice is here and waiting for what his whole life was meant for. Now-"

"Elder!" one of the other cloaked figures cried, waving their phone in the air in excitement. Dread quickly filled Danny's stomach.

"All the bats and birds are busy dealing with those scoundrels they call rouges! If we hurry, we can complete the ritual before they can interfere!"

"Perfect!" Mr. 'Elder', cheered, slamming the tome closed and handing it off to one of the others. "So?" Mr. Elder started, turning to face them with a sharp grin, "Who's it going to be?"

Danny glanced at the group behind him, all of them having gone silent as the cloaked group started pulling out their ritual things, one of which was a very blood-stained knife.

Mr. Elder started circling them, humming and hawing as he studied each one of them. He stopped next to Wyatt, studying him intently.

Quickly weighing his options, Danny straightened up and glared at the man, "I'll be your sacrifice."

Immediately Nancy leaned away from him with a gasp, Wyatt's foot dropping to the floor with a thud. "Danny, no!" Nancy hissed, turning her body so she could face him. Danny didn't glance at her, just continued glaring at the cultist. The cult leader laughed, "Well then. So it shall be! You heard the sacrifice, tie him to the chair!"

With everyone watching, all Danny could do was tense as four of the followers walked over and pulled him up. "No!" Nancy shouted, leaning over and grabbing onto him. Wyatt reached out to Nancy, wanting to pull her back. The men tensed up, ready to interfere. Quickly pulling back, Danny frowned at Nancy and Wyatt, "I'll be ok, just don't do anything stupid!"

They harshly pulled him up and away again, before Nancy could reply. And because he was already pissed off, he made it as difficult for them as possible as they dragged him to the wooden chair. The camera person focused the lens on them, recording it as they shoved him down to sit and wrapped a bloody rope around his limbs.

So much for thinking they were inexperienced... They've done this before, he knows now. How many times? He wasn't sure, but if he had any say in it after tonight, they'd never do it again.

Once he was securely tied to the chair and gagged, because Danny couldn't help himself but insult them, the cultist started preparing the ritual. Why they hadn't done so beforehand, Danny wasn't sure; that is until one of them sliced a deep gash into his right arm and collected his blood into a bowl.

With a grimace, Danny watched as they mixed his blood with black paint and started drawing a circle around him. The camera dude stepped closer and practically shoved the camera into his face. leaning back, Danny glanced between the camera and the people drawing with his blood.

Suddenly, his arm tingled with ectoplasm, making him panic for a second. he can't heal the wound! not with all the people around him and being recorded! Shit, what had Vlad done last time?? Uh, right! core smothering. He could just smother his core to stop his body from healing. Man, acting like a civilian was a pain in the ass.

Glaring up at the camera now that he wasn't as panicked, Danny watched as the dude stepped back, pulled out a paper, and started reading out loud. "GOTHAM! tonight you shall join us as we summon the most powerful being in the world!"

Did he seriously need the paper just to remember that?

The leader stepped forward when the circle was complete, "Now!" His voice echoed around the silent warehouse, startling the other kidnapped victims. The cameraman turned and focused on him, stepping out of the circle altogether. Danny watched the kidnapped people out of the corner of his eye, wanting to make sure they weren't hurt during this whole fiasco.

"Let us begin!" the leader cheered, suddenly gripping Danny's shoulders tightly. "Join me as we summon our lord and savior! The great tyrant of the dead! The embodiment of war and bloodshed! The one named PARIAH DARK! THE HORRIFIC GHOST KING!!!!"

Immediately, Danny was both completely terrified and amused. He had been worried that they were going to try and summon some great evil demon, not the fucking old tyrant. He could fight Pariah any day of the week.

No, what terrified him was the fact that because Danny won the right to the crown by defeating Pariah the first time, he had no idea what this summoning was going to do. Was it going to work like they wanted and summon Pariah? cool, great even. He can deal with that, might have to reveal his ghost powers if the fight got dirty, but nothing too bad.

or was it going to summon him because he was the king, and if so? how? Would that even work considering he's the sacrifice? would he just disappear and reappear? This could lead to a lot of questions Danny was NOT ready to answer. Gaslighting everyone here into believing he could fight Pariah as a 'meta' human would be easy, convincing everyone that he's not the ghost king or a ghost AFTER getting summoned; not so easy.

The leader released Danny from his grip as he walked over and snatched the tome from one of his followers. Snapping the book open, the man started chanting without warning, pointing at random people to notify them when it was their turn to start.

It was like watching a school play; all the student's doing as they were taught as their teacher directed from the side. Cultist A slammed the bowl of leftover blood on the ground, splattering the black remnants all over Danny and the circle. Which was gross, Danny was going to have to burn this shirt, because there was no way he was going to get this stain out. Cultist B tossed salt at Danny a few minutes later, smacking him in the face with the small white crystals. Shaking his head, Danny glared at him. Cultist B threw the salt again.

The leader's smile grew as he continued chanting.

Seven other cultists joined in the chanting, waving their hands up and down as their voices echoed around them. Danny glanced nervously around the warehouse, hoping he'd spot one of the bats. This was being broadcast, they should be on their way at the very least.

After another minute of looking, Danny glanced back at the other kidnapped victims. Nancy was balling her eyes out, burying herself into her boyfriend's chest. Wyatt was staring at him with wide eyes, clearly unsure about what to do. Probably feeling guilty because they both knew the leader was going to choose him. A few others were looking away, clearly fearing for his life. The rest watched on, trying to show him through their actions that they were there with him till the end. (whether he 'died' or not)

It was weird, but Danny had to give it to them; Gothmites were badass. He doubted anyone in Amity besides his friends would have been brave enough to watch what was happening. Even if they didn't know if he would live or not.

His core crackled, making him choke a little as he finally felt the pull of the summoning. Well, that's just great. Shaking his head, Danny tried to clear his throat. The summoning was making him feel weird and he did not appreciate it.

The chanting got louder as one of the people walked up to him, holding the knife in a white-knuckled grasp. Danny eyed it wearily, glancing between it and the rafters above. Where the hell were the bats when he needed them???

The cultist kneeled before him and raised the blade, slamming it down into his chest right as the leader stopped chanting; Danny gasped, more out of surprise than pain as he stared at the knife. The dude gave him no warning that he was going to stab him. Usually, cultists slit people's throats, right? What the fuck was up with stabbing him???

His blood slowly bubbled up and around the knife, slowly staining his shirt red. Yeah, there was no way in the realms he was going to be able to save this shirt now. Man, he had liked this one too.

He could hear Nancy's sobs turn to wails as the cultist yanked out the knife and handed it to the leader, who Danny just now noticed had joined them in the circle. His blood started gushing down his chest with every beat of his heart, again he held back his core. (what does he do now??? faint? scream? how do normal people react to getting stabbed?????)

"Take this lowly sacrifice as a sign of our eternal loyalty, and grace us with your presence! Your humble servants plead that your godly ears hear our prayers! Join us in this mortal realm and bequeath us your power and name to rectify the sins of our brethren!"

Ok, first of all Danny was no where near lowly you piece of fuck-

Danny's core pulsed, sending out nauseating pain up and down his spine. Gasping, Danny leaned as far forward as he could, trying in vain to grasp at his chest without using his powers. His core crackled, striking a blinding flash through his brain. The echoes of his death crawled up his left arm, waking the old dead nerves into firing signals at his brain.

Danny couldn't help himself, he screamed as the pain grew worse and worse. His thoughts turned hazy, his body cold as his core pulsed again. His heart stuttered and then froze, his core flooding his body with freezing ecto not a moment later. Absently, he could feel the wash of ectoplasm crawl over his body, changing his body minutely. He didn't transform, but he definitely looked more ghostly than human.

All the pain disappeared a moment later, allowing Danny to slump forward, his head hanging low and blocking his face from view. His chest did not rise in ragged breaths, nor did his fingers twitch with life. His mind was still sluggish and clouded with something, making it nearly impossible to think. Squeezing his eyes shut, Danny tried to focus.

"Your Highness?" someone asked, their voice too loud as it rang in Danny's ears. His core pulsed, another flood of ectoplasm flooding his body. His eyes slid open again, allowing him to see the green glow lighting up his chest and lap as he stared down at them.

Slowly, Danny lifted his head, his bright green gaze locking with the man in front of him.

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