#city of ghosts icons

[amarastock]

"dad says that the world is always changing, every second of every day, and so is everything in it, which means that the you you are right now is different from the you you were when you started reading this sentence. crazy, right? and your memories change, too. (for instance, i swear the teddy bear i had growing up was green, but according to my parents it was orange.) but when you take a photograph, things stay still. the way that they were, is the way that they are, is the way that they will always be."

psd by @harupsds

[niteromantic]

💙✨Some Issay appreciation here✨💙

[triple-pupil]

YES

Y E S

GIVE LOVE TO THIS MOVIE, THIS PIECE OF ANIMATED HORROR IS PERFECT FOR A CHRISTMAS NIGHT OF SCAWY.

FUCK YOU ALL/j, I LOVE THIS MOVIE, GIVE THIS MOVIE SOME LOVE NOW.

[glizzyzpicz]

JIN SAKAI ICONSS pt 2

Armor: Samurai Clan Armor

Mask: Sakai Mask (I forgot that other one)

Hat/Headband: White headband, Straw Hat

[impoliticwestie]

One Flight Up: Fame

[anthonyspage]

👻👺🔪😱🔆

[nightingale-prompts]

Sparing Batboy

First | Previous | Next

"You need to sleep." Bruce put his hand on Dick's shoulder.

Dick ran a hand through his disheveled hair. His eyes were dark from lack of rest.

It had been two days. Two days without a sign of Danny. Not even a glimpse on a street camera or his phone or clothes going missing. He's just gone. Evaporating into thin air.

"I need to find him," Dick said resolutely.

Bruce shook his head and opened his mouth to protest.

"Don't say anything," Dick said through clenched teeth. "You don't get to say anything about what I'm doing. You have done the same thing."

"Dick this is not the time to-"

"I said shut up! If you want to be helpful then go back to looking for him. Otherwise, leave." Dick said before jumping to another rooftop.

Dick knew at the end of the day he knew very little about Danny. He never asked because he knew it clearly hurt him to talk about it. All he needed to know was that Danny needed him. From the moment he first saw that watery smile on that kids face on his face when he invited Danny to eat with him.

Bruce definitely knew by this point that Danny and Batboy were the same. Especially when he asked where his grandson was while they searched. He hadn't said anything else about it. Dick didn't care at this point. I wouldn't change anything.

Part of Dick hated it. He has spent so many years comparing himself to Bruce. Trying not to become him yet still stuck in his shadow. To not repeat his mistakes.

Dick had made his fair share of mistakes and had paid for each one. He had lost so many people either from his own actions or not acting at all.

But what can he do now?

He just wanted to find his son.

He just didn't want to hear what came next. Commissioner Gordon called in with a clue…no it was a message.

A pair of wings splayed to mimic the iconic bat signal on a rooftop. The bloodied wings were severed at the base of the bone.

There were very few villains in Gotham that would do something so violent, fewer that would show off their act so brazenly. This kind of of senseless violence just to anger Batman was the mark of none other than Joker.

Joker had gotten his hands on another member of Dick's family. Flashbacks of Jason and Tim filled his mind.

And something just snapped.

In another part of the city, a certain clown glared at the limp body of the teen.

He had hoped the kid would at least wake up after having his wings cut off but despite his body state he slept soundly. He even had goons try to beat the kid awake but while the blood stayed any injuries disappeared instantly. Metas were a pain in the ass.

In the realm of dreams, Danny was comforted in the arms of the Nocturne. He got to visit his sister and friends in their dreams.

Jazz squeezed the life out of him as she asked him every question she could. Danny tried his best to answer each of them.

"Relax Jazz, I'm fine. I just can't come back. You know how it is. A grand destiny and all that." Danny said.

"But you're still just a kid Danny. You have school and-and-" Jazz said frantically trying to find the words.

"And I'm still going. Clockwork and Nocturne are teaching me everything I need to know until I take the throne." Danny wasn't ready to tell her about his new life.

She didn't need to know that he had a new family. Not when she was what he had to leave behind despite how much it kills him. There wasn't a day he didn't miss her or think of her. Nothing could replace her.

Unaware of this Nocturne and Clockwork watched as Danny dreamed within a dream.

"We should just kill the clown," Nocturne said resolutely as he peered into the material realm.

"You swore not to interfere with the mortals anymore," Clockwork warned.

"I'm not like you, Kronos. I can't sit idly by and watch this happen. I actually care." Nocturne said leveling a glare at the time ghost, his eyes blazing.

"So you care for the boy now? I thought you said you couldn't stand children?" Clockwork smirked his eyebrow raised.

Nocturne huffed shifting the blanket he had laid on Danny to cover him properly.

"I am close to mortals. It is what I am. Children tend to have the most innocent dreams. They have nightmares they don't know how to handle. They are fitful sleepers and cry before they wake. They can't parse dreams from reality. So much care goes into forming their dreams but at the same time, I must scare them. To remind them they should be afraid of the dark. I just can't stand to make them cry and lose those sweet little dreams." Nocturne brushed his clawed hand against Clock's cheek. "I don't understand how you do it. You let them hurt. You know what will happen yet you do nothing."

"It is my purpose. I care but all actions have consequences. I can't weigh the lives of a few for all. I asked you to put the boy to sleep to spare him the pain, at least for now. Had I not, I fear his fate would be darker." Clockwork sighed leaning into Nox's hand.

"Then let's kill that man. I know you want to my love." Nocturne's smiled wickedly eager to return to the living world.

"That is not our role. No, there is another who will come soon." Clockwork said pushing his malicious lover away. "Besides if the boy wakes you know he will undoubtedly cause untold damage. You know how much he hates clowns as is. There will be no coming back from that."

"You say that like it's a bad thing. I would be very proud." Nocturne hummed in delight.

(Am I ever going to run out of bat pics/gifs? Let's hope not.)

(Also gay ghosts dads. You're welcome.)

[call-me-strega]

Dc x Dp Prompt #24: The Midwest Prince(ss)

Danny is a Singer/Siren/Banshee au where he’s basically a Chappel Roan-type figure.( Also, I'm Dead on Main trash so Strangers-to-Friends-to-Lovers, Celebrity x Civilian romance for two of my favorite boys)

Danny’s Ghostly Wail develops into vocal manipulation bc he’s a siren or banshee. Ember teaches him to sing and control the power. He finds music is a good outlet for his emotions and decides to pursue music as Danny. It takes him a few years but he develops a style and brand that he bases off the Realms. However, he doesn’t anyone to connect him to Phantom so he uses parts of his ancestors’ names to become “Walker Gale”(shout out to my beautiful mutual @mirigold-mayflowers for helping me pick that name), ordinary small-town midwestern boy turned Music Icon. He hires Val as his personal bodyguard, Sam as his manager, and Tucker as his head stage tech.

He dresses in really campy clothes the low-key mimic his ghost form as well as other ghosts he’s met. The outfits change to match the vibe of the song. So a rock ballad with an outfit inspired by Ember, Show Tunes-Murder Mystery-type-beat with a costume for Amorpho, EDM-techno-hyperpop themed song styled after Technus or Skulker, etc. He just has a lot of fun experimenting with his appearance and he’s an icon for it. He even makes friends with Star and Paulina through this and they give him feedback and help with new looks. The eventually join the team as his PR and Styling team.

Since he’s a banshee/siren all his songs have this underlying despair/sadness even if they have a fun and bubbly beat. He also references his feelings about being/hiding as Phantom and being partially dead and shit but vaguely so no one actually knows or assumes it’s a metaphor. Many of the themes are actually things lgbtq people identify with, specifically trans and bi fans. He also references battles he’s fought and ppl assumes he’s talking about mental illness or abuse which attracts another category of fans altogether. Again inspired by Chappel Roan his first album his called "The Ascent and Downfall of a Midwest Prince" gaining him the nickname the "Midwest Prince".

He’s weird and unfiltered and full of emotion and he gains a few fans in the hero community too. Raven and Zatanna start a fan club for him, well aware he’s some type of banshee/siren but knowing that the extent of his powers are being used to deliver beautiful performances. The are staunch supporters of him and his music and spread it to their friends. The current fan club is Co-Presidents Zatanna + Raven, VP Greta(Secret, a.k.a: a ghost hero), Starfire, Bart, Cassie, Tim, Kon + Jon, Steph, Cass, and Billy.

His identifying features are a signature make-up look and white underdye (when the color is on the underside of the hair). He’s grown his hair longer so it’s not super visible when he has it down and not styled. He also looks different without make-up so he can totally go unrecognized in public and live life semi-normal (as normal as a half-ghost vigilante powerhouse superstar can be). He actually planned it to be that way so that he could still go to college and stuff even though he’s doing it mostly online. All this to say that Danny has low-key got a Hannah Montana thing going on. Also, let's mix it up a bit and say he's based in Star City.

One day Danny goes to a second-hand book store because he's looking for a cheap textbook when he bumps into an absolute hunk of a man who doesn't seem to recognize him. Jason had been in Star City to visit Roy and Lian. He stopped at a second-hand bookstore to see if he look for some older editions of books (one time he found a second edition copy of Persuasion so he likes to peruse) and ran into a super pretty boy who made his chest feel funny and doesn't realize he's a Wayne. They got to talking about started really connecting. They decided to exchange numbers and kept in touch, meeting up every now and then when they had the chance. Danny gave him his private social media accounts so Jason never learned much more beyond that Danny worked in the music industry but not his exact role in it.

Eventually Danny moves to Gotham, either bc he switched labels or to be closer to Jazz whose doing her doctorate thesis on reforms that need to be made in Arkham. He and Jason begin meeting up in person more frequently and start catching feelings. Danny really wants to ask him out but feels sleazy doing it without telling Jason about his past and superstar alter ego. However, he also doesn't want to lose the mostly normal friendship they have. On the flipside Jason wants to date Danny but doesn't want to drag him into the life of a vigilante or the life of a Wayne. Both of them Pine and Agonize over this. In the end Danny decides to bite the bullet and tell Jason who he is, every part of who he is. He invites Jason over for a movie night and tells him he's got something important to tell Jason.

That same day Starfire decides to introduce Walker Gale's work to the other Outlaws and Jason really resonates with his work. He identifies with the lyrics on a literal and physical level and recognizes the underlying emotions that usually only other ghosts or liminals can. Starfire overjoyed that her friend likes his music decides to show Jason some of his music videos and photos. Jason, not being blind or an idiot, recognizes not only the props and costumes but his crushes face under that (very well done) make-up.

Jason is stunned and conflicted: it’s not like Danny lied to him about who he was, but he was entirely truthful either. Did he assume Jason knew? Or did he just not trust Jason? Why did he even bother with Jason, a seemingly regular guy, if he had such a claim to fame? And Jason keeps listening to his music and it’s speaks to him the same way hanging out with Danny does, making him feel seen and connected. It makes him all the more sure that someone incredible as Danny doesn’t need someone like Jason. He heads to Danny’s place that night very subdued.

He gets to Danny’s place and the smile that greets him twists him up inside. He puts on a mask and tries to act normal but Danny can tell somethings up but persists as he has made up his mind to be clear with Jason. He sits him down and tells him there is something important he wants to tell Jason. He starts by letting Jason know that he cares about him very much and appreciates the normality and closeness of their friendship. He confesses that he doesn't normally get that bc well, he's the superstar "Walker Gale". Danny goes onto say that the reason he didn't say anything earlier was because he treasures the simplicity of what he had with Jason and the reason he's telling him now is because he couldn't continue a relationship that he wants more from without being completely honest.

Jason's heart thunders in his chest and he stares at Danny with a slightly constipated look. Danny asks Jason what's wrong and on an impulse Jason word vomits his feelings. That he actually found out through a friend earlier today, that he really connected to his music the same way he did with Danny, that he's never felt seen the way Danny sees through him, that he's never felt the same way as deeply before, that he's completely and utterly in love with Danny but was scared to say anything and get him involved with his crazy life and the Waynes. And Danny sits and listens shellshocked.

And the only thing Danny can think to do is kiss this incredible boy senseless and tell him that if he likes him back then they can figure it out.

[fran-valz]

Some highlights from the slop that is the AI Worm audiobook on YouTube Music.

Ai Taylor confronts lung, who has just transformed into a giant evil spiderman with bug wings.

Taylor shows that the bug antennas are a canon part of the costume, she might be changing race every other chapter.

Brian flexes on the dogs and a 10 year old Rachel (This is the only time Brian is portrayed as black)

Wasp skitter fights the ghost rider gang.

White Brian gives Taylor or Lisa a bug inside of a giant amber, while the rest of the Undersiders watch, including their latest recruit, a disembodied leg.

Canary is on space trial being represented by a robot lawyer.

DC fans execute nightwing cosplayer.

Taylor or Faultline single handedly take down the merchants in their sci-fi military base.

Superman checks his emails in a dark room.

Skitter comes back to her modest cabin after a long day working in the mines, her wife is preparing some horrific looking food.

The PRT council discusses a derpy-looking photo of Taylor.

????

Theo fights Taylor using his iconic venom suit in front of the spider mastermind.

Wasp Skitter and Mecha Weaver save the city once again

[mistydeyes]

hiiiii I LOVE YOUR WORK!!!!!!!! Can you please do 141 with a model reader who does Chanel,Versace etc and she gets an invite to do Victoria’s Secret runway and they see her down the runway how would they react

she’s not any model shes and icon,sex symbol,brains,she is the moment

big inspo for me ( I want to become a model)

AHHH I LOVE THIS! anon i feel you tho, every time i look on pinterest i just want to be a model! thank you for requesting <3

┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊

summary: The 141 has always had an odd connection of friends, allies, and connections. However, they can't deny that they don't enjoy your luxurious life as a model and the perks that come along with attending one of your shows.

pairing: Taskforce 141 x fem!reader

warnings: swearing

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A series of events in Milan allowed the 141 to cross paths with you. Staying in a lavish French penthouse was far from what they had expected on a mission dictated by Laswell but her connections with your retired INTERPOL mother had brought them the extravagance of your home and lifestyle. Laswell had to threaten to have their court marshaled if they delayed their arrival home any longer. You thought of that brief moment in summer fondly as you left Gaz a voicemail. "I have a runway in New York coming up, let me know if you'll be on leave," you spoke on the phone, examining your manicured nails, "accommodations and champagne are on me." 

"This is nice," Price said, dropping his duffle onto the marbled tile of their hotel room. "Are you kidding, Cap?" Gaz said as he opened every door into the massive suite, "This is fucking amazing." When they got off the plane at JFK, they had not expected a private driver who brought them to the ornate hotel. The room itself had four separate bedrooms with two bathrooms filled with the best amenities. Soap had taken the opportunity to run over and open a bottle of champagne while Ghost pilfered the small shampoo and conditioner bottles. While the men explored the vast rooms and fought over the beds, there was a knock at the door. Price opened it to reveal a well-dressed bell-hop boy, holding a tray with an envelope. "Four tickets sent by one of the models," he spoke and Price handled the black envelope with embossed pink lettering. "Hell of invitation," he muttered before he looked at the runway time and shared the details with his team. "Wonder what she'll be wearing," Soap mused as he turned to take over one of the bathrooms.

Behind the stage, there was organized chaos with models running around in their silk robes in between the stations. The chatter roared as they chatted with the various hair stylists and makeup artists. "First VS show?" your makeup artist asked as she applied glitter delicately to your primed lids. "Yes, but not my first modeling gig," you smiled as you felt the pressure on your closed eyes, "Versace was beyond a mess compared to this." The artist laughed as she continued to prep your look. You could see mixes of pink and gold applied to your lips and the apples of your cheeks. "We think an olive green liner would look stunning on you," she said before holding a green eyeliner pencil in hand. You nodded in response as you shifted a bit in your robe. You gently closed your eyes again as you envisioned your latest outfit for the night.

Weeks prior you had visited the city to see your outfit for the night. A sage green bra and panty set decorated with pink and glittery flowers to resemble a meadow. Your wings were made of a delicate rose pink chiffon that was reminiscent of a fairy. "Do you like?" the designer asked as you walked around the stand and examined every stitch and detail. You smiled as you nodded happily, feeling the soft fabric under your fingertips. "Any particular inspiration?" you questioned as you made sure to feel the weight of the wings. "The newest line of Victoria's Secret," she spoke dreamily, "the delicacy of nature."

With your makeup and hair done, you walked over to change and receive the final touches from the design team. The group walked rapidly around your figure, assuring every detail would shine when the lights hit your walk. "Have anyone special here tonight?" one of the designers asked as he cut a few loose stitches. "Just a few friends from Europe," you spoke, hoping you didn't sound too entitled. You wanted to talk more but your odd friendship with a small special forces group would definitely reach some tabloids. "You look perfect darling," another designer spoke and you nodded before beginning to walk in your heels. "You can mingle with the others. Your collection is after the classics set," she reminded. You took a deep breath and made some facetious conversation with the other women. They were in awe at your previous shows but you just simply talked as if each was a mediocre experience. "Alright ladies, walk begins in five," a voice called over the comms and you lined up accordingly. As you watched the excited group in front of you, you wondered what you would treat the 141 to for dinner. You were sure if someone knew this is what you thought of before a show, they would laugh.

"Move up, Y/N," the stage manager directed, pulling you out of your food-related musings, "almost time for you to go on." You moved forward, getting into the comfort of your model walk you had done so many times before. You took a deep breath as you heard the live music stream through the curtains and the ethereal light peek through. You looked down at your attire one last time before the model ahead of you returned and it was your turn to awe the show. "Go, go, go," you could hear the stage manager command as the bright lights and menagerie of faces met your gaze.

"I think this is her!" Gaz commented, leaning forward in his chair. "You've been saying that for the past four models," Ghost corrected before he turned to see who was coming out next. As the men directed their gaze to the stage, you confidently strutted onto the platform. They were glued to your figure, perfectly accentuated by the flirtatious lingerie set. The details were delicate and encapsulated your aura. "Fuck." Soap whispered under his breath as the glitter and flower additions to your ensemble shimmered underneath the light. Your wings bounced and looked like they flittered in the air as you made your way in front of the watching crowd. "She's a natural at this," Price commented as he watched the way you walked in a straight line with an air of elegance in each step. He also couldn't deny the way you shined on stage and how the cameras clicked in rapid succession. As you reached the end of the runway, you took an opportunity to look over at the seats you had picked for the 141. You gave a small wink before blowing a kiss in their direction. 

Upon your exiting, there was a clamor amongst the group as to who the kiss was directed to. Primarily, Soap and Gaz were at odds thinking you made eye contact with them as you puckered your glossed lips. Price attempted to put a stop to them before Ghost spoke up. "I'm sure that was for me," he spoke quietly, leaving everyone to shelf the conversation and bring it up later over dinner.

[niteromantic]

❤️✨HAPPY 62ND BIRTHDAY ISSAY✨❤️

🖤HAPPY HEAVENLY BIRTHDAY ISSAY🖤

A pioneer of the j-rock industry, one of the fathers of visual kei and also one of the best artists of his generation. It's the first year you celebrate this special day up there. I hope you are happy and having a great time wherever you are.

Thank you for everything Issay. You are incredibly missed💙💫

6/7/1962

[thetravelingtyper]

Our Shattered Heart (Part 1) (GN! 'Heart' Reader x Taskforce 141)

After an injury and recovery, the men of the force find themselves acting a little differently towards you.

Inspired by the Smiths and Cage the Elephant.

Warnings: a building falls, use of song lyrics, protective 141

Part 2, Part 2.25, Part 2.50, Masterlist

SO I POPPED OFF at like 1 am with three shots of brandy lmao

The strings of a bass echoed into the open night. Electric steps, iron bridges, the river. Central town spinning away into the flurry of the night. You were running from phantoms, what had you done but cried into the night? Your phone long since turned off you were afraid to return to the safe house. Made up as a civilian you blend smoothly in, but the oppressive nature of their stares made your eyes water so you took your chance and bailed. 

Even in your distress, you admired London proper. You wipe your tears and stop your swift walk. You could hear music? There was a well-lit area a dozen or so yards, (Metric Sergaent) You frown as your Lieutenant’s voice echos in your head naturally. You grit your teeth. Nothing you did was right. In training he’d catch every little mistake, poking out your weaknesses without telling you how to better your stance.

What of Soap and Gaz? Your fellow Sargents and supposed friends. One moment they had your back then after your injury they joined Ghost. Soap would pull you aside and scold you for using your ‘bad leg’ or your hits were too low or high. Gaz just commented after you healed up against you even serving. It took three weeks for you to have enough.

You turn on your phone to check the time, and it rings with a skull icon, you answer it as you can pick up the music. 

“Fucking hell Sergeant where are you.”

“Doesn't matter Ghost, Fuck off”.

“Wait, Lo-”

You hang out and toss your phone into the river. You smirk, a sense of relief flooding your tense body. What had your valiant captain done about your concerns? Immediate relocation to a safe house for surveillance, with said team. Nothing of “I’ll talk with Simon” No you got the “You could be a liability so let us have three grown-ass men babysit you in the middle of the city.” You went to protest but he shushed you with a disappointed look that made you reel back. 

You weren't British, maybe you didn't meet his standards. He's the one who requested an outside operative all those months ago. You performed top of your class and threw your body and heart into the job working your way into being the face of the team. It was you whom they sent to comfort those who lost loved ones as collateral. Everything changed when you broke orders to save a child.

--

“Heart, Ghost, Soap Clear Out Now! That is a direct order!”

The building rumbled and air support had’nt arrived. You had about a minute until the whole place collapsed. 

“Affirmiative, Sergeants move out!” 

Ghost ushered you in front of him and Soap was already running through the dust to get out. But as you turned to run you caught movement.

“Ghost there is someone in there!” You try to trace the movement but Ghosts gloved hand yanked you back as he started towards the entrance. 

“No Heart-”

You gasped, there was a girl pinned under rumble! Your instincts take over and you shove out of his gasp with more strength then you ever though you could muster, Ghost stumbles and you book it back as he yells after you.

“GHOST, HEART OUT NOW THE BUILDING IS COMING DOWN!”

He had no choice but to leave you as you threw yourself over the girl. There was a loud rumble then black. 

You huff, odviously you had survived and the little girl you pulled out from the rubble survived as well. After the dust cleared the next day, you had lugged a beam off her and you and hobbled her out to seek medical attention. Once the mission had finished Price and the others had rushed back to find empty rubble, it was a joyous mother who led the foreigners back to their Heart. And there you were, in some small village a hero treated to the best they could. All you could offer despite the pain of your leg was a small smile towards to girl who clung to you like a baby. 

Soap had about given out before he rushed you with curses, poking and prodding like a mother hen. Gaz laughed, a wholehearted sound like melted caramel and quipped about surviving the sky falling. It was Price and Ghost who were not too keen, but you had a back up. The leaders of the village, who’s daughter and grandaughter you had saved, had what turned out to be excellent intel that you handed to Price with a smirk on your face. 

“Fucking Hell.” Was all you gotten from Ghost and his head in his hands with a deep sigh. 

--

What you didn't realize was how big of a deal it was to the Captain and Ghost. Once you got back to base and were put on a 3 month leave was when things soured. You were able to use connections in the village to work intel, something Laswell was grateful for, But Ghost  took this personally, giving you almost a disapproving sneer when he would see you out of bed. Price was silent. No yelling, no scolding just silent. Some storm brewed and once you fully healed and went back to training it seemed Ghost tainted Soap. The Scot became overbearing, making less hurtful comments. A Gaz, once level headed, turned into Price’s little shadow, you could tell from their glances they were communicating. 

After  three weeks of being stationed with them, fully healed mind you, you had enough of walking on egg shells, being the subject of Ghost’s anger and Gaz’s twists and turns. You didn’t snap until Soap had risen his voice after your pacing. 

“ENOUGH HEART.”

It caught Ghost and Gaz off guard in the small apartment as you turned wide-eyed. His eyes were stormy, set off by something you couldn’t identify.

“Johnny-”

“No LT. They need to learn their place”

Your hackles rose, you tried to calm the rage, how dare he?

“And whats that MacTavish? You four have been acting like I’ve been a virus since the day I came back! I worked my ass off to help you and this is how you asses repay me? Im not a fucking toddler you can drag around.”

Gaz went to speak but the glare you shoot him is venemous,

“No you don’t get say anything Kyle. You’ll  just go running back to Price and prolong this little ‘vacation’ Im sick of being treated like a child.”

“Sergeant” 

“Oh rich from you LT” You feel your nerves bristle as Ghost steps forward in challenge. Despite him towering over you, you bite back 

“You can take your Sergeant and Stuff it. You have acted like an asshole through these past 4 months and I’m sick of it! You three are grown ass men acting like children. Run back to Price and bully someone else I'm sick of this shit.”

And with that you grabbed your bag and stormed off, disappearing into streets of London the three men stunned at your outburst.

---

You enter the lit area to find a band and civilians listening to, was that the Smith’s? You relax to the familiar music. The main singer is a handsome man, dark eyes raking the crown with a calm smile before you lock eyes and he winks. Unexpecting, you blush and turn into the crowd. He begins to sing with a voice of silver and honey.

Take me out tonight

Where there's music and there's people

And they're young and alive

Driving in your car

I never, never want to go home

Because I haven't got one

Anymore

There is a little irony as you take a seat at the bar. Over the past two years, before your four odd months the taskforce had become home to you. You settled in quite fine, either bickering along side Soap, joining with Ghost or helping Price and Gaz with their reports. Seeing your personal skills Laswell insisted on you staying.

She smiles when you enter in under the arms of Gaz and Soap. 

“Hey kid, good to see you. 

You nod at here before Price enters, he passes you three a look before ushering the three of you out of the office.

“Come on you two, the parents gotta meet now.”

You giggle as Price rolls his eye as you turn you catch a knowing look from Laswell to Price and as you head out the door, but being dragged to lunch, you miss the fond look he shoots you. 

You order a bourbon neat, as you take a sip the chill of the night hits a little deeper and you frown behind your glass watching couples get up to dance. You remember that mission with a fond sigh, the bourbon reminding you of your tall and often mysterious Lieutenant.

Take me out tonight

Because I want to see people 

And I want to see life

Driving in your car

Oh, please don't drop me home

Because it's not my home, it's their home

And I'm welcome no more

You tilt your head down, that mission oh. Something in your chest ached.

You entered the room in a shuffle, the trails of your outfit not what you were used to, but a mission like this called for finery. You stumble but pale hand’s catch your arm and tucks it in under his. You turn to the perpetrator but find dark eyes quietly regarding yours and you jump.

“Ghost!”

“Call me Simon at this point Heart”

You manage a quiet yes sir. He watches you with softer eyes before there is laughing down the hallway. 

“He’s a lucky bastard is what he is, getting to take Heart all dolled up.”

Johnny’s voice has your eyes rolling. After a few months of your service the Scot had accepted you with open arms, and the flirting, my god the pick up lines. You sigh fondly into your drink.

“I mean you could just ask them-Lt! You’re early.”

Simon doesn’t offer more then a raised brow as he and Soap meet eyes and Soap turns away. 

“Kyle please can you help me with this,” You lift the tails of your outfit in a huff. 

The man chuckles and nods, it was his idea anyway. His dark eyes meet yours with soft smile that makes you swoon. He offer you a hand and you go to take it but find resistance. 

“Simon?”

“Hurry Love. We ship out in 10.” And with that he lets you go. Kyle’s hand is warm and rough and he twirls you to adjust the back of your outfit. Soap turns to Simon, 

“The mask?” 

And to your surprise, Simon looks to you and nods before slowly removing the balaclava. Soap and Gaz seemed unfazed but you were surprised. A year in you had yet to see more then his lips from a smoke or a drink, but the soft blond hair and scars found you staring at him. He watches you but when you meet his eyes you give him a soft encouraging smile. And his lips quirk up as Soap fusses with his mic and collar. Simon just grumbles at him and you laugh, a chiming sound that has all the men smiling. 

You peer back through the crowd, how long had it been since you’d been out? You tip back the the rest of your bourbon and set the glass down feeling the sting. Fuck it. You drop your back and relax into the seat, the singer’s eyes meeting your with a smile as he continues to sing. You sway in your seat to the music. 

And if a double-decker bus

Crashes into us

To die by your side

Is such a heavenly way to die

And if a ten ton truck

Kills the both of us

To die by your side

Well, the pleasure, the privilege is mine

You and Soap tumble together, hitting the ground before rolling. The impact steals the breath from your lungs as you grasp at him making sure he was alive.

“Never though i’d get ye like this Heart.”

You sigh, he was fine, despite just saving his ass. He rolls over so his weight isn’t on you more then it needed to be. You are sitting almost on his hips, he grins at you cockily with a raised brow.

“Stuff it Johnny, I just saved your ass.”

“Aye and I gotta thank you for it.”

And in a sudden sweep he pulled himself up and presses a soft kiss to the side of your lips.

“Thank you Love.”

Your face lifts a little at the memory and your heart skips a beat. Your eyes close an you bask in the warmth of the crowd. Following that moment the taskforce changed.

Take me out tonight

Take me anywhere, I don't care

I don't care, I don't care

And in the darkened underpass

I thought, "Oh God, my chance has come at last"

But then a strange fear gripped me 

And I just couldn't ask

You hop off the stool and head into the crowd, heart aching for comfort and the hands of others. 

First it was soap, falling into your shadow, after the kiss your heightened senses saw his eyes on you everywhere. With other soldiers? One of the members of 141 was there, or he was, hands across his chest, standing guard. 

You were training with members of KorTac. The largest fellow, König had taken a keen interest in you due to your language skills and you found a calming friend in the man. Masked like your Simon you felt more comfortable with him. So when he had you pinned you squirmed and broke free. 

“Good”

His voice is soft, pale eyes meeting yours as you roll up onto your feet. You run at him before he can get up, but he shoots up and grabs you with a little yelp escaping from your mouth as you are then thrown a few feet onto the soft mat. You roll onto your back, the breath knocked out of you and the ceiling spinning slightly. 

“That’s enough!” 

Garrick’s sharp voice surprises you as his form appears in your settling vision. He’s quick to kneel down and check you out.

“I’m fine Kyle, just a bit of the rough and tumble.”

His soft lips frown disapprovingly,

“I don’t like you wrestling with him.”

He helps you up and you see König’s form looking out for you. You give him a small wave.

“Sorry Schatz” The nickname pauses you as you stand, Kyle’s arm around you guarding. 

You blush a little and smile at the tall man before a gruff ‘Sergeant’ calls from the edge of the room. You find Ghost leaning against the wall, arms crossed, glaring at König before he calls you to him. You nod a little dumbfounded and before you can pull out of Kyle’s grasp the man presses a kiss to the side of your head. Then lets you stumble into the waiting grasp of the Lieutenant. 

You shake off the memory and your heart murmurs, but you ignore the hurt. For one night you were free from the confusion and rejection from your team. The crowd, seemingly sensing this welcomed you into their sway. A few single ladies sidled up you with wide smiles and pulled you into their group. You knew how to dance, you learned young, this skill pulled you into some interesting missions. As you sway with the ladies you recollect as the singer watches you. 

Take me out tonight

Oh, take me anywhere, I don't care

I don't care, I don't care

Driving in your car

I never, never want to go home

Because I haven't got one, la-di-dum

Oh, I haven't got one

Oh, oh

Simon’s arms were steady around you, Price’s voice in your ear letting you know about the target. You had gone undercover as a couple to infiltrate a drug smugging ring. The leader was hosting a gala at a large mansion in the mountains. And seeing as Kyle and Johnny were on a mission that left you three on your own. You nod silently to Price. Simon pulls you closer and then spins you out on your heels. 

“Who knew you could dance?” 

You quip up at him, but he only nods, umber eyes taking in your form. You looked breathtaking and it stole the words from his lips.

FIrst Johnny then Kyle. You wondered as you looked up at Simon, handsome as ever in a dark black suit. 

“Are you ok Simon?”

He hums, the sound deep in his chest, then in a moment he pulls you flush against him.

“Target on the move lovebirds.”

Price’s voice sound in your ears in a chuckle. 

“RIght Captain.”

You sigh but Simon pauses in his movement, and you look up at him in confusion, you call his name but he just stares at you. 

“We need to move Lt.”

Nothing, but his hand raising from your side to your face as he leans down and kisses you. After a few seconds he pulls a way and finishes with a 

“Affirmative.”

Before leading your frozen self away. 

You lose yourself in the music for a moment, rotating partners in innocent sways, just treasuring being lost in the moment, But this song of course must end.

And if a double-decker bus

Crashes into us

To die by your side

Is such a heavenly way to die

And if a ten ton truck

Kills the both of us

To die by your side

Well, the pleasure, the privilege is mine

The voice is much closer and you soon find yourself face to face with the mysterious singer. He smiles as he sings and it reminds you of the final piece of the puzzle.

Price had fallen asleep at his desk, again. You sigh fondly and set a cup of warm lady earl grey aside. You move over to him as he mutters something in his sleep. You felt bad waking him but you knew you needed to before he slumped over.

“Captain”

Nothing, even as you call it 3 times. Finally desperate,

“Johnathan Price!”

He shoots awake, eyes darting around tensely before he finds you and softened immediately.

“You can’t be doing that to a man love.”

“You were falling asleep again, how many times do I need to get on you about that Cap? “

The man regards you and chuckles before he sees the tea. You notice this and turn to grab and hand it to him. When you you turn back around the man is standing regarding you. The moment then feels intimate and you flush a little, stepping back.

“Sorry I’ll just leav-”

“No love it's fine, and please if it's just us call me John.” 

He reaches for the tea taking a sip while his ocean eyes watch you. There is something there and you can sense it. After nearly two years of serving under him you grew to know him pretty well, there was fondness in his gaze for all his soldiers. But this was something softer.

“John, I…”

He finishes the cup and sets it down, listening wholly to you and you find the attention has your heart stammering.

“The others have-”

“I know love.”

There it is again and you find yourself pausing as John leans forward, taking your hand in his, rubbing comforting circles into.

“What do I do?”

“Up to you love. I am here for you regardless. You need to get some sleep.”

With this he presses a soft kiss to the palm of your hand and lets you go.

The next day your deployed to the small village and the following four months are hell. 

You shake off the feeling. After your injury they treated you like a child, like a burden to be kept locked away. You sigh, pausing, feeling alone in the middle of everybody again. 

Oh, there is a light and it never goes out

There is a light and it never goes out

There is a light and it never goes out

There is a light and it never goes out

There is a light and it never goes out

There is a light and it never goes out

There is a light and it never goes out

There is a light and it never goes out

The singer finishes with a frown. The crowd cheers then standard music plays and the moment is broken. The singer passes the mic to his member then turns to your pondering self. 

“Are you alright Love?”

His voice is soft and he stands a respectable distance away. One of the members of his band takes the mic and begins with Heaven knows I'm miserable now, continuing the Smiths theme. You almost want to laugh a smile lighting up your face at past (bad very bad) Karaoke attempts with Soap and Gaz. 

“There’s a smile.” He smile down at you and offers a hand, you take it introducing yourself. He raises a hand to the crowd and your new girl friends cheer you on as you allow the stranger to pull you into a dance. 

The next hour passes with another drink with your new friends and opening up about yourself. Nothing about missions nor sensitive information, but finding yourself in a strange position with the four men of the 141. A little looser you describe them all with a few giggles in response as you recount their crazy tactics. It was nice and you settled into the easy arm of the singer. His arm laid only on the back of your chair but under the watchful eyes of the girl group you got comfortable. At the end of the hour, approaching 3 in the morning the singer was called back on to stage. 

A new base line and you swooned as something a bit more American played. The singer nodded his acceptance to the bassist and began to sing. 

Sun went down, sun went down over Pompeii

On both sides, the vow was broken

Oh my my, I'm the one, tryin' to hide this damage done

One day, all our secrets will be spoken

He looked at you and gave a wink and the girls cheered as you threw back a beer. Fuck it. You allowed them to pull you into the ever thriving crowd. Your group drew into the heart of the crowd right up in front of the stage.

As we slow danced, I became your statue frozen

Times I wonder, are we just a puff of smoke? Yeah

Underneath this bed of ashes, still withholding everything

Like we were never close

The singer surprised you and under a breath he hopped down from the stage to join the crowd. He approached you with a sway and a open offered hand. You looked into his eyes with a twinkle in yours. The girls cheering you on, you took his hand and swung into the music.

Don't you worry, baby, no sense tryin' to change it

I'ma strike these matches, never had control

I'm ready to let go, no, was I foolin' myself?

I'ma spread these ashes, never had control

I'm ready, I'm ready

I'm ready to let go

Here you were free to experience life, a break from the bullets, free from the heated stares of the 141. Well, at least for a while. You would go back eventually, you bag had enough supplies for a few days. As you spun in the singers free arms flashes of green, blue and brown spun through your vision. You were a little under but still alert, but with the music you let it all go. 

Sun went down, sun went down over Pompeii

On holy ground, our vows were broken

We met up, we broke bread, I was blue, your dress was red

Ain't it strange? We both knew this day was comin'

As we slow danced, I became your statue frozen

Times I wonder, are we just a puff of smoke? Yeah

Underneath this bed of ashes, still withholding everything

Like we were never close

He pulled you closer in then, even if for a fleeting moment you felt your heart skip a beat. His eyes were obsidian, reflecting the lights like stars and he sings until he’s breathless. You wondered for a moment what could happen. 

Don't you worry, baby, no sense tryin' to change it

I'ma strike these matches, never had control

I'm ready to let go, no, was I foolin' myself?

I'ma spread these ashes, never had control

I'm ready, I'm ready

I'm ready to let go

But as you dance the more of alert of the ladies elbows another, her head tilting subtly towards the entrance of the outdoor bar, where a familiar new set of men appeared. The girl went towards getting you but her friend stopped her as four sets of eyes found you then split up. She sent the girls a look.

Let’s see what happens.

Meanwhile you know the song is finishing and you find yourself taking the hand of the singer and he pulled you into a light embrace and spun you out as he finished breathlessly

Don't you worry, baby, no sense tryin' to change it

I'ma strike these matches, never had control

I'm ready to let go, no, was I foolin' myself?

I'ma spread these ashes, never had control

I'm ready, I'm ready

I'm ready to let go

He stops with a hum as the music continues for a few paces then goes out with the cheering of the crowd. You spin on the pads of your feet with a whooping feeling light in your chest, but you then bump into someone. But before you can apologize you are turned around in their arms and your breath hitches as Simon is staring down at you with dark eyes. It is then you sense another presence behind you and between you and the singer (whose hands are up in surrender) is Johnny.

The sounds of the band drown out with the depths of Simon’s eyes. There is too much there for you to comprehend. His sudden appearance breaks up the alcohol burning in your system and you stand up straighter. Emotions swirl underneath his balaclava, that alone a straight giveaway to his identity. There is anger yes, that much is evident, but you see the stinging presence of worry and something much deeper you dare not name. You turn your head away, the weight of the emotion pulling your heart back from the sky.

The singer shifted looking a little concerned, but Soap was a wide wall of muscle and kept himself close enough to brush your back from within Simon’s arms. The girls however outnumbered the men and give you a knowing look, you nod and they pull the singer away as he nods. You see Soap loosen immediately before turning and forcing your eyes into his.

Stormy blue oceans, the depth of which scare you as he nods to Simon towards the empty bar. You sigh and force yourself to loosen in Simon’s arms. He passes you to Soap and the men pull you gently to the bar where you are especially ashamed to see not only Kyle with your stuff, but a in the corner of the venue, out of noting eyes was John. Gaz with your bag, drew towards you and the four of you reached the awaiting Captain.  

Johnny stood at your right, Kyle moving to your left and Simon towering over you like a vengeful wraith, and Johnny still had not let you go. You move to pull your arm from his, but he gives you a stern look, something of a overprotective mastiff. 

“MacTavish”

“Captain-”

“Johnny.”

Simon’s deep voice rumbles from behind. Johnny hands trace down yours slowly before he takes your hand with a sigh, the tension finally releasing as his pinky takes yours in a final embrace before he finally lets go of you. He huffs and turns away in a slight pout that warms your heart and you find yourself taking his pinky back with yours. It’s a small show but the way his eyes light up behind the worry makes your heart melt. The other men trace the action, Kyle’s eyes meeting Price’s in silent communication. You all stand for a moment longer, not daring to speak, but when the wind causes you to shiver, alcohol in your system reddening your cheeks, its the weight of Simon against your back that surprises you, his arms, minding Soap’s hand, come under yours and wrap around you, his warmth melting into yours.

“‘Were worried Dove.” He leans down over you until his chin rests in top of your head and you can feel the rumble of his voice in your soul. It’s Kyle that speaks next.

“That was one of the stupidest things you’ve ever done Love.” The man frowns, but his eyes move back to the singer and the group of girls, then he eyes you again sharply.

“What if something had happened?”

Its hard to move with Simon's weight on you but you shot Kyle a withering look.

“Nothing happened, I happened to be having fun.”

“But he had his arms-”

“Kyle”

John’s voice finally speaks up and the man turns away to glower at the crowd, then he reaches a hand for your free one and meets your eyes. There you see a storm of concern, a deep fondness and a bit of protectiveness. 

“We need to talk Love, about the past months.” John takes command again, something deep in his soul calm again seeing his team together. But there was time in the morning to talk. He could see the exhaustion of the day creeping into as did the other men.

“In the morning, John” SImon’s voice rumbles feeling your form sway.

“Right Simon” he nods but before turning John steps forward and presses a kiss to your forehead. The action jolting your heart awake and leaving you flushed. 

“John?”

“It’s ok sweetheart, sleep, we’ll get you home.”

With that he turns as Kyle and Johnny reluctantly release your hands. This leaves you and Simon as the men wait.

“Si-?” You are suddenly lifted, strong arms finding your back and under your knees to lift you bridal style. You look up at him with wide eyes and he chuckles,

“I think I like the sound of that Love.”

And with a final turn to the crowd you manage a wave to the girls and the singer who shoots you a wink that causes a huff from simon before the man turns to follow the others.

Time to go home and as they walk, joking amongst each other with Simon’s soft voice luring you to sleep, You feel the loving eyes of the four men on you as you fall asleep. 

---- 

End Part One!

Taglist! @ghostlythots

[fortunxa]

The symbol

Jinx x fem!reader

summary: “Piltover saw her as a terrorist, and Zaun’s rhetoric had twisted her into a martyr while she was still alive. She was a ghost haunting two cities, a myth both sides needed alive or dead.” Jinx. The loose cannon. The symbol.

cw: angst, >4k words, buckle up

author’s note: This whole fanfic is based off of ONE (1) clip of Jinx looking sad in the s2 trailer, call me dramatic.

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At first, it was animosity that sparked between Jinx and you—a collision of egos in a city that thrived on confrontation. You weren’t a stranger to her troublemaker reputation, nor were you safe from her seemingly endless pranks. Your every encounter was charged, filled with barbed comments and sharp glances. She reveled in your irritation, finding joy in ruffling your feathers.

Yet each time you clashed, you also learned a little more about each other. Your differences started sparking curiosity instead of just annoyance, and beneath the surface, something began to shift. There were moments when you caught a glimpse of the vulnerability that lurked behind Jinx’s bravado—a fleeting expression that hinted at a deeper story.

As the weeks turned into months, the sharp edges of your relationship began to soften. Your bickering became more playful, the insults laced with laughter rather than anger. Slowly, what had once been hatred turned into friendship. You became an unlikely duo, navigating the mayhem of Zaun side by side. Jinx introduced you to a world of spontaneity and mischief. She taught you how to embrace the chaos rather than fear it. In return, you grounded her, offering a safe space amidst the storms of her life—a place where she could let her guard down. Where she was wild, you were steady; and together, you balanced each other out.

It was only a matter of time before your friendship gave way to something more complex, of course. You spent countless nights together, talking until dawn, revealing pieces of yourselves you had long kept hidden, and sharing dreams that stretched beyond the gritty streets of Zaun.

Jinx carried a lot of scars, some visible, most hidden. You never pushed, never demanded to know the whole story, never made her relive it, never asked for more than she was ready to give. You had a quiet understanding of her, a patience that she found both infuriating and comforting. She wasn’t used to people sticking around, and she didn’t think she could care about someone like that again. But you made her believe, if only for a moment, that there was something more to life than just survival. You would sit beside her, stitching up wounds in silence, your touch gentle and reassuring. You knew how to handle her moods, the unpredictable bursts of frustration. You never tried to fix it. You just were. And somehow, that was enough.

But that was before Jinx blew up half the council, and everything went to shit.

“You have the chance to rally the undercity together.” You can still recall Sevika’s words. “You’re a symbol.” And you almost scoffed at the idea. Your Jinx becoming a symbol for the city that villainized her to no end? They didn’t deserve that. How could they, after already dooming her once before? But sticking inaccurate labels was their forte. In the end, this one stuck, too.

And so Jinx disappeared beneath the weight of their faith.

For Zaunites, she had become more than just a rogue with a penchant for destruction—she really was a symbol, a rallying cry against the oppression of Piltover. They thought she fought for them, for a cause bigger than herself.

But she never asked for any of it. She never wanted to be anyone’s icon. You knew that better than anyone.

To her, it was just noise.

Your Jinx never cared about the revolution—not in the way people expected her to, anyway. She wasn’t in it for justice or freedom. Her motives were rooted in something far more personal: revenge. She had no grand vision, no dreams of liberation. All she had was the cold satisfaction of making Piltover suffer the way it made her suffer. She wanted to tear apart the illusion of perfection that cloaked the grand City of Progress, to make its citizens feel the same fear and destruction that had once consumed her. It was the only time she felt in control. In the chaos, she could forget the nightmares, the past, and even herself for a while. She could become the whirlwind, unstoppable and feared, rather than the broken girl who used to beg for things to make sense.

Yet now, Zaun saw her as its hero. Its champion. And Jinx couldn’t stand it. The citizens looked to her like she had some grand plan, like she would lead them to independence. The weight of their expectations pressed down on her, suffocating her more than any chain or cell ever could.

On the flip side, the enforcers wanted her dead. Posters with her face plastered the city, patrols hunted her down relentlessly, and there was nowhere left to hide. She was clever and cunning, but there were only so many laps she could run around them before her lungs would give out.

So, you did your best to push Jinx to stay one step ahead of everyone trying to either kill her or claim her. You dealt with the little things—finding safehouses when it was too dangerous to stay in one place, gathering supplies, and making sure she had somewhere to disappear when things got too heated. You were resourceful, calm under pressure, and always thinking ahead. But how could you be anything else in those dire times? You couldn’t afford to falter. Not now. Not when Jinx needed you to stay afloat. You had unwavering loyalty despite the harsh words that slipped past her lips when her emotions overflowed. Beneath it all, she was still the same girl—the one who still dreamed of something better, who still laughed with you in the quiet moments, who still loved you.

You could see her exhaustion, the way her mask would crack just a little when she came back home bruised from another close call with the enforcers. And you’d hold her during those times, let her cry and sob and shake in your arms. It was just the two of you—she was safe. But no matter how real and vulnerable she was in the small hours of the night, the morning always came, and with it, the chaos behind Jinx’s name.

And in that chaos, she would live. And in that chaos, she would die, little by little.

Piltover saw her as a terrorist, and Zaun’s rhetoric had twisted her into a martyr while she was still alive. She was a ghost haunting two cities, a myth both sides needed alive or dead.

And in all of it, Jinx wanted nothing more than to disappear—to vanish from the world she had once desperately tried to belong to. She wasn’t anyone’s leader or scapegoat—she didn’t even want to be remembered. She was just tired. Tired of running, tired of being the person they all demanded her to be. You could see it in the way she looked at you sometimes, like she wanted to say something, like she was planning a way out that didn’t involve pulling you down with her. But you had made your choice a long time ago. You weren’t going anywhere, you wouldn’t walk away from her.

“Whatever happens, I’m here,” you’d tell her when the world outside felt too loud. “I’m not leaving.” And the tension in Jinx’s body unwinded, even if just a little, as if those simple words were the only thing keeping her grounded. It was in those moments that you knew you were doing something right, even if you couldn’t fight her battles for her.

At night, when the adrenaline of violence faded, she was haunted by the memories—ghosts of those she’d lost, faces of the people she had once loved, and the echoes of a life she could never return to. The nightmares were relentless, dragging her back to the moment when everything fell apart. She would wake drenched in sweat, hands shaking, reaching for a gun or a bomb that wasn’t there. No amount of chaos in the streets could drown out the chaos in her own mind. The terror that gripped her in her dreams was not something she could outrun or fight. It clung to her like a second skin, a constant reminder that no matter how much destruction she caused, it would never be enough. She was still the broken girl beneath the explosions and the mayhem. Or that’s what she thought of herself, at least.

And there was no way out. Not anymore.

“It almost feels like the only way for you to find peace is through death,” you worriedly whispered once as you cradled her in your arms. “And I can’t have that,” you added, but Jinx’s mind was already reeling. Unbeknownst to you, she had thought about it more than once. Ending it all in one final explosion, letting the flames consume her just like they had consumed her heart so long ago. It would be easy. One pull of the trigger, one detonation, and it would all be over.

But even death had a bitter edge, and the question that haunted her, night after night, was whether even death would be enough to set her free. Or would they find a way to twist that, too, turning her final act into another legend for the revolution? Paint her as the glorious martyr who died for Zaun’s freedom?

Jinx didn’t know.

And that uncertainty kept her alive, if only for a little while longer, though she didn’t know why—she couldn’t even die on her own terms. The irony made her laugh sometimes, in the moments when the absurdity of it all was too much to bear.

If she was going to die, she would make sure they all remembered why she had never been their hero, why she had never fought for anyone but herself.

And so it started with a bang—because of course it did.

But this time felt different. There was something almost methodical about the way Jinx moved, the way she set her traps, as if she knew this was the last time she would walk these streets. The last time her bombs would rip through the orderly facade of the City of Progress.

She didn’t laugh as much that day. The usual gleam in her eyes was dimmer, her movements more controlled. The sun was setting, casting a harsh golden glow over Piltover’s spires as Jinx climbed to the top of a high rooftop, overlooking the heart of the city. This is where it will happen, she thought. The grand finale. She had spent weeks preparing. Every bomb was precisely placed, every escape route meticulously planned. The city was on high alert—word had spread that Jinx was planning something big. But no one knew exactly where, or when, the storm would hit.

The first explosion tore through the night just as the clock struck midnight. Fire lit up the streets below, throwing debris into the sky while the enforcers scrambled to contain the damage. Then came the second explosion, larger, closer to the city’s industrial district. Smoke filled the air as panic spread through Piltover like wildfire. The citizens ran in every direction, knowing that when Jinx was involved, no place was safe.

She stood on the rooftop, watching the chaos unfold beneath her. She felt nothing. No excitement, no satisfaction. This wasn’t the same thrill she used to chase. Her fingers hovered over the detonator for the final bomb—the biggest one, the one that would make the others look like fireworks. She had rigged it to collapse an entire section of the city, to leave Piltover scarred in a way it would never forget.

But tonight wasn’t about the explosion. It wasn’t about the destruction.

The enforcers were closing in. She could see them swarming through the streets below, moving toward her position. They had found her. They always did, eventually. Jinx glanced at the timer on the last bomb. She had set it for just long enough to make her escape—or so they would think. But the truth was, there wouldn’t be an escape tonight.

When the enforcers reached the rooftop, they found her standing there, framed against the night sky, the city burning below her. The air was thick with smoke, and in the chaos, they barely noticed the subtle smile that crossed her face.

“Time’s up,” she said softly, her voice lost in the wind.

She pressed the detonator.

The explosion was deafening, a wall of fire and debris engulfing the rooftop in an instant. The force of it sent the enforcers flying, tearing through the structures around them. When the dust settled, the building was gone—obliterated along with everything and everyone on it.

The news spread fast.

Jinx is dead.

There was no body left to recover, no remains to mourn, and no trace of her. Just the rubble of the building she had destroyed and the twisted wreckage of her devices. The enforcers confirmed it—there was no way she could have survived.

“Target neutralized” were the words bitterly spoken through the ranks with a cold efficiency. There was no name attached, but everyone knew who it was about. The official statement came shortly after: “A threat to the city has been eliminated.”

Days passed and Piltover began to rebuild, as it always did after Jinx’s attacks, the destruction slowly being replaced with gleaming new structures. Streets were cleared, debris removed, and life returned to a semblance of normalcy. There were no coffins for the fallen enforcers whose bodies were lost to the fire—only statues erected in their names, cold monuments serving as both tribute and reminder of the price paid for order. The city moved on—or at least tried to. Some celebrated, cautiously, though few were willing to believe the news completely. There had been too many close calls, too many times they thought they had her. But this time, it felt different. This time, the destruction had swallowed her whole, leaving behind an eerie silence where her chaotic laughter once echoed.

Zaun, on the other hand? That was a little bit more complicated. For the people who had seen her as a reckless force that harmed their city as much as Piltover did, her death came as a relief, and her absence promised a fragile peace, however fleeting. But to others, the more sensitive ones, tears had to be shed, heads shaking in disbelief. Candlelit vigils appeared in the undercity, graffiti of her wild grin painted on the walls. People would whisper, looking for the next symbol for their revolution—anything and anyone they could place their hopes on. Amidst this emotional turbulence, a third reaction emerged from the more organized factions who saw it as the opportunity they had been waiting for. With Jinx gone, they could finally rise to the storefront. The power vacuum left in her wake ignited their ambitions, and the streets buzzed with the promise of a new era, one that could either heal the wounds of the past or plunge the city into an even deeper turmoil.

The cities spoke of heroes and villains, grappling with the complexities of Jinx’s legacy—a legacy that blurred the lines between destruction and freedom, chaos and control.

That being said, everything unfolded exactly as she had predicted, but the victory felt almost hollow.

“It almost feels like the only way for you to find peace is through death.” And it really was, so she had faked it perfectly. The plan was reckless, audacious—everything she embodied. The explosion had served as the perfect cover, and in that moment of chaos, she had slipped through the cracks, hidden among the shadows of her own creation.

For Jinx, this was not just an escape; it was a calculated act of liberation. Her liberation. The city that had once been her playground had turned into a gilded cage, and she had grown tired of the endless games of cat and mouse.

Now standing on the edge of the city, Zaun stretches out before her like a memory she can’t quite shake. Her eyes trace the tangled streets below, the dark alleyways, the flickering lights, and the twisted pipes, burning the sight into memory. She inhales deeply, her nostrils filling up with the familiar smell of smoke and oil. A wave of nostalgia washes over her. She can almost hear the echoes of laughter and the distant sounds of explosions that had once filled her days with exhilaration. A tear wells up in her eye, but she blinks it away, wiping at her eyes quickly, almost angrily. Jinx doesn’t cry. Not for anyone. Not for anything.

Not anymore.

With a heavy heart, she grips the railing tighter, her knuckles turning white as the memories swirl like smoke around her before she relaxes—a conscious decision.

“I’ll miss you, you filthy, broken place.” She chuckles dryly. She had spent years running wild here, feeling untouchable. But now, it’s time to go. “You were everything, and yet, you were never enough.” The words hang in the air, a promise to herself that she would carry the spirit of Zaun wherever she went, even as she turns her back on it. Her heart clenches, a strange ache settling in her chest as she realizes this could be the last time she’d see it—the city that had been her home and her battlefield.

“Are you sure you want to do this?" you ask, your voice soft and gentle. “You’d be leaving everyone behind.” The blue-haired girl knows exactly who you mean by that.

Vi.

Jinx could almost see it—her paling face when she heard the news, the way her fists clenched and her heart broke, crumbling beneath the grief, believing that her little sister was gone forever. The thought cut deep, deeper than Jinx was ready to admit. Vi had been her everything once. And after everything they’d been through, after everything they’d lost, Jinx hated herself for causing her more pain, for inflicting yet another wound—and this time, it’s a wound that’ll never quite heal, the cruelest cut of them all. A part of her wanted to run back. To find Vi and tell her the truth. To stay.

But Jinx knew that wasn’t an option.

Not now.

So why does it feel like she’s tearing herself apart?

The soft touch of a hand on her shoulder brings her back to the present. She turns, meeting your gaze. You stand beside her, quiet but steady, the anchor she didn’t know she needed until she had found it. She takes a shuddering breath.

“Are you sure you’re ready?” you ask again, your voice filled with nothing but understanding. You know how hard this is for Jinx, how torn she really feels.

She swallows hard, glancing back at the city one more time. It all feels so distant, yet so close—like she can reach out and touch it, like she can run back and undo it all if she tries hard enough. But she can’t. She pictures Vi again, her strong, fierce sister who had always fought for her, always believed she could be saved. Jinx hated the thought of what this would do to her, of the hole it would leave in her heart. But deep down, she knew she couldn’t be the person Vi wanted her to be. Not yet. She had tried. She had failed. And now, she has to move on, even if it means breaking the last connection she has to her past.

“I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready,” Jinx whispers, her voice catching in her throat. You nod, your expression softening even further as your hand intertwines with hers, and the warmth of your touch reminds her why she’s leaving—for a chance to start over. To be something else, someone else, outside of the chaos and violence that had defined her for so long.

Vi would survive, like she always had. She would grieve, but she would move on. And in time, Jinx hoped that she’d understand why she had to go.

“I just don’t want her to hate me.” Her voice is small, almost fragile as the confession falls from her lips before she can stop it, the rawness of her words cutting through the silence. You frown as you take a step closer, pulling her into a gentle embrace.

“She won’t hate you,” you murmur against her hair. “She’ll hurt, she’ll be angry, but she’ll never hate you. Vi loves you, Jinx.” She leans into you, burying her face in your shoulder for a moment, letting herself feel the comfort she so desperately needs.

“I just wish I could explain.” The angry tears threaten to spill out again. “I wish I could tell her why I had to do this.”

“She knows.” You can only hug her tighter now, hoping it’ll keep her from falling apart.

Slowly, she pulls back, her breath still shaky but steadier now. “I guess it’s too late to change my mind, huh?” she asks with a weak smile, though her heart isn’t in it.

“This doesn’t have to be permanent, you know? We can always come back when the time is ready.” Jinx nods, but the guilt still gnaws at her, sharp and relentless.

Turning fully toward the road ahead, her hand finds yours again as she laces your fingers together like an unspoken promise. “Let’s go,” she says, her voice almost resolute as if she’s still trying to convince herself that this is the right thing to do.

Jinx’s heart aches for what she’s leaving behind as the both of you walk away from Zaun. But then she glances at you, walking calmly by her side, and—albeit briefly—she feels a sense of peace. For the first time in a long time, she isn’t running alone. She isn’t running from something either, despite the way it seems. She’s running toward something—a life she could build, not destroy, with someone who sees her for more than the broken pieces. Someone who’s willing to leave everything behind to be with her.

You give her hand another gentle squeeze, pulling her out of her thoughts. “We’re almost there,” you say softly, gesturing toward the darkened outskirts of the city where the world feels smaller, where the noise of Zaun fades into a distant hum. Beyond it, freedom awaits—freedom from the past, from the wreckage you’re leaving behind.

The night stretches out before you, vast and uncertain. Jinx had never been good with the unknown; she thrived on chaos, on knowing how to manipulate it. But this? Walking away from everything she’d ever known, stepping into a future that isn’t filled with explosions and destruction—it terrifies her.

But it’s also the only thing that makes sense anymore.

You lean closer, your warmth cutting through the chill of the night. “You don’t have to look back if you don’t want to.” She wants to look back. She wants to go back. But she knows it wouldn’t do any good. So she straightens up, fixing her cloak and pulling the hood further over her head.

“I’m not going to,” she replies, her voice firmer now. “I’ve spent enough time looking back.” You nod in understanding. You had talked about this moment for weeks now, about what it would mean for Jinx to truly let go of Zaun, of everything she had once believed she needed to hold on to. It isn’t easy, but it’s necessary.

Finally, you reach the edge, where the lights of the city flicker out entirely, swallowed by the darkness of the wilds beyond.

This is it. The point of no return.

Jinx turns to you, searching your face for strength, for the resolve she so desperately needs. And there it is, shining back at her. She feels the tension in her chest begin to loosen, the weight of her decision finally starting to lift. She can almost taste the adrenaline, the sweet rush of possibility that awaits her beyond the city’s borders—no rules, no limits, and most importantly, no one hunting her down.

The two of you step into the darkness together, the twisted streets and memories of Zaun falling away with each step until all that’s left is the quiet sound of your breathing, the crunch of gravel beneath your feet, and the sense that something new is beginning. She feels something unfamiliar, something almost foreign—hope. It flickers faintly deep inside her, small but real, growing with every step she takes.

Jinx doesn’t look back. She doesn’t need to. She’s finally moving forward.

And as you disappear into the night, a thought echoes in her mind, settling like a truth she can’t ignore.

Nothing ever stays dead.

[topazadine]

How to Kick Ass at Worldbuilding

Worldbuilding. You either love it and spend all your time dreaming up rules rather than writing, or you hate it and try your best to avoid it despite writing fantasy or scifi.

Or you are in the middle, which is where you should be. You have a healthy appreciation for what makes worldbuilding so special, but you also don't obsess over it.

Worldbuilding does not need to be complicated to be effective, as I've harped on a few different times now. So how do you strike the right balance? Let's take a look.

As always, this is just my opinion based on my own efforts creating The Eirenic Verses. You can disagree and that is fine. However, I hope you'll consider thinking about what I offer here as you craft your own world.

A lot of what people focus on when worldbuilding is not what the audience cares about.

Very few people like to read a book littered with random terms they have to keep track of. We want to build a unique world, but we also don't want to throw such an extreme amount of lore at our readers that they tune out.

When worldbuilding, we want to consider the cognitive load on our audience. This is how much information the reader needs to remember throughout your story so that they can follow along.

Cognitive load includes things like:

Character names and appearances

Relationships between characters

Place names, such as cities and countries

Unique mythological creature or fauna

Backstory, including mythology and folklore

Language names

The general plot (who is the protag, who is the enemy, etc)

Magic usage (who has the power, how they acquire it, any conditions it comes with, etc)

Power dynamics between characters, countries, and so on

Political systems, if included

Even in the most barebones fantasy story, this is a lot to remember. As such, we need to consider what is most important for our readers to generally understand the plot and emphasize this, letting the rest serve as background information that is not quite as essential. The more emphasis we put on something, the more we direct a reader's attention.

At the same time, we want to create a world that feels lived-in and interesting so that readers want to know more. How do we do this?

Consider what you think about foreign countries in our world.

Most of us will have a general concept of a country but only will think about the specifics if it is currently relevant.

Let's take Japan for an example. (I'm a bit of a weeabo, okay?) Here is what I personally think about when I imagine Japan, in order of what I consider important.

Japanese cuisine (sushi, ramen, ochazuke, sake, lots of rice dishes, seafood)

What the people are like according to my own stereotypes/cultural perceptions (polite, quiet, respectful, hardworking, punctual)

Climate and geography (temperate, island country, volcanos, mountains, beaches)

Unique flora and fauna (cherry blossoms, flowers, Nara deer, giant salamanders, pretty birds)

General landmarks, but not necessarily specifics (castles, temples, busy cities, red bridges, torii gates)

Clothing styles (kimonos, school uniforms, business suits, kawaii fashion)

Cultural icons (samurai swords, samurai armor, Shinto shrines)

General overview of the history (samurai, daimyo, feudal system, bushido, Meiji restoration)

Language, but not necessarily specifics of the language (Japanese, kanji, hiragana)

Religion (Buddhism and Shintoism)

Folklore (ghosts, kami, tsukumogami, evil spirits)

Any festivals I might know of (cherry blossom festivals, moon viewings, Obon)

Your own list may have these in a slightly different order, but it's probably what you most think about.

Notice that you will likely not think about these things:

Political system

Specifics of the language

Interpersonal hierarchies

International relations

Specific landmarks

Specific historical events

Famous figures

So why do we think like this? Because in real life, we also have a cognitive load that we must balance with things that are more relevant to our everyday lives.

If I tried to memorize specific details of every country in the world, I would go insane. I have better things to do, so I create a general image of a country based on pictures I've seen, people I've met, food I've eaten, and so on. You do the same thing.

To be realistic, you do not need to be specific. You need to approach worldbuilding the same way people generate their world knowledge: basic concepts and visual imagery.

What to emphasize in worldbuilding

So let's break this down on what you want to think about when creating a world.

Food is one of the most accessible elements of a culture.

Food is how many people learn about different cultures for a simple reason: if you have the ingredients, you can cook food from anywhere. You don't need to be introduced to it by a native of that culture.

Plus, humans tend to like food. We kind of need it to exist.

Think about these things when considering national cuisines and eating habits of your fantasy world:

Do they have spicy food? Bland food? Heavy hearty dishes?

Is most food served hot or cold?

What kind of spices and vegetables do they use? Root vegetables, beans, cinnamon? Salt?

What type of meat do people eat (if any)? Seafood, poultry, beef, pork?

How is bread prepared? What is it made of? (Look, nearly every culture has some sort of bread, we love carbs)

What about pasta? Does that exist here?

Are desserts important? What are they made of?

What kinds of drinks do they have? Coffee, tea, milk, lemon water?

Is alcohol a thing? What kind of alcohol? How often do people drink? Are there bars?

How often do people eat, and when? Do they have the typical three square meals, or do people eat kinda whenever they feel like it?

Do people prepare food at home or are there restaurants?

Are communal dinners common?

Cultural stereotypes provide tension and can help craft your characters.

Are people in your culture known for their boldness? Their cunning? Their resilience? Their standoffishness? Their fiery tongues, or their passive-aggressive jabs?

You can play with a lot of this, either confirming or denying the assumptions through your characters.

Landscape gives us an idea of where we are and what to expect.

Landscapes are some of my favorite aspects of worldbuilding rather than intricate magic systems and political concepts. Readers get a good sense of environment when you focus in on landscape and how it impacts the characters. You can also build a culture off your landscape, such as how certain geographic features may influence peoples' attitudes and lifestyles.

For example, a coastal landscape will have beautiful views of the ocean, sparkling beaches, and maybe tall cliffs. Being a fisherman may be seen as an honorable but dangerous profession. People might cliff dive for fun.

Mountainous areas may produce cultural enclaves, especially in a fantasy setting where everyone is more isolated. One mountain town may have a completely different vibe than the town over.

Flat, wide-open plains mean people can spread out, but since moving from one place to another is easier, there may be a more cohesive culture.

An area with caves will have a sense of mystery and fear; there may be a lot of superstitions about the caves.

A swampy area can also be very mysterious as there are so many places to hide out and a lot of dangerous animals.

Climate influences how people behave.

Hot climates make people need to conserve energy, so they may take afternoon naps in the worst of the heat. They might value relaxation and calm over industry and productivity because bro, have you ever tried to even walk outside in the Florida heat? Shut up and get me air conditioning.

Cold climates make people need to stay active to stay warm, but they can also produce a sense of isolation. Think about how outdoorsy the Finnish are but how they looove their personal space.

Temperate climates are probably a bit more even-tempered, but as weather changes get more extreme, people will vary their behaviors based on the seasons: spending more time outdoors during summer but holing up during winter. The culture may emphasize hospitality because people need to rely on one another to survive, and they have time to meet their neighbors during the summer.

I am very partial to temperate climates, being from the American Midwest. We're known for being nice and hardy people. You should come visit.

Flora and fauna help the world feel real.

When I worldbuild, I often base my cultures on a real place and what kinds of animals or plants are there. For example, Breme is based on Mongolia so I have herbivores, big raptors, and a lot of grasses.

A warm climate will have lots of reptiles. Sea life will be important in a coastal area. Swamps might have big predators. Mountains will have hardy creatures that can climb. A savannah area will have huge herbivores and fast, hungry predators.

General cityscapes or villages are great for providing a sense of place.

Do people build low spread-out cities or tall rickety homes? What kinds of building materials do they use? Are there lots of markets, bars, apocetharies, temples or churches? What do homes look like here? What are any unique architectural features?

This gives a sense that we are in a different but specific world that has a rich culture.

Clothing tells us what people prioritize.

Cold places will have lots of layers. Hot places will have soft draping outfits or very skimpy outfits. Natural materials that are easily available will make up the majority of the clothing in a fantasy setting. You wouldn't have people wearing cotton in a place that doesn't grow cotton. If there are lots of sheep, people will wear wool. If there's lots of cattle, people will wear leather.

You can also think about adornment. Is jewelry common? What type? Why is it important? Is it a status symbol, a way to keep wealth, or perhaps ways to honor ancestors?

Cultural icons demonstrate what the society values.

A warlike culture will prioritize weaponry. A pacifist culture will think about art and music. A nomadic culture may have a rich oral tradition. An agrarian society will emphasize farming rituals.

Think of a few things that symbolize your society, whether that's musical instruments, weaponry, textiles, statues, or jewelry. Consider how those traditions could have come about and why.

Folklore and mythology offer an offbeat but important sense of history.

Folklore is often tied up with many other factors of a society, such as their religion, landscape, history, and overall values.

For example, the Japanese believe items survive for over a century gain a kami, or spiritual essence. This shows that the Japanese cherish their long history and their material culture, and it also infuses their Shinto belief into folklore.

You can also think about cryptids or ghost stories. Isolated and difficult terrain often makes people think of monsters lurking in the woods. Areas with lots of caves will have myths about what is down there. Coastal areas develop myths about ghost ships.

Idioms, turns of phrase, and gestural quirks tell us more about the culture without overwhelming readers.

This one can be more challenging (I haven't done much with it) but if you can manage it, you'll have a very rewarding story.

I'm not talking about making a whole new language here, but rather about idioms and turns of phrase. Think about all the fun idioms that English has, like "beating around the bush" or "break a leg." Without cultural context, you can't understand them, so you'll have to incorporate an explanation without actually stating it.

For example, you can have a character say "the horses are running fast" as they look out the window to see a sheet of rain. We can guess from this that the idiom is rain = horses, so lots of rain = fast horses. We'll understand from this that this culture probably loves horses; maybe they're a formerly nomadic race.

Gestures, like whether people give thumbs-up, point with their index, or bow with their hands to their chest all give us a feeling of the culture without being overwhelming.

What not to emphasize

Now that we've gone through some things to focus on, let's talk about what you don't need to make up for your world.

A whole-cloth language

Please, you don't need to create brand new words for things that exist in our world. You can reference a language, but do not make people memorize nouns they don't need.

Don't even make up the language at all. Say there's a language and then write the rest of it in English.

Made-up languages are irritating for readers because they want to focus on the characters and plot, not mysterious words they need to translate.

It's possible to make languages interesting without going into specifics. For example, the Bas-Lag trilogy by China Mieville has a species that communicates in clicks but the species can also learn human languages if necessary. There's a language called Salt that's basically the common tongue blended from everything else.

Do we need to know how Salt works? No. Doesn't matter. We're told someone is talking in Salt, or they're learning it, or they switch to it when meeting someone from a different culture. That's plenty.

Specifics of a magic system

You're not going to instantly summon up all the rules of magical realms when you visit a new country; you might not even know them. And your readers won't be too interested in them either.

For example, in The Eirenic Verses, I have High Poetry. Readers will come to know that this was a magical system where certain people given the power can recite a poem and whatever they speak comes true. Every poem can only be used once.

It was given by the goddess Poesy to a specific woman, Saint Luridalr. It was so successful that the goddess started giving it to more women and a whole religious system arose.

I don't need to explain exactly how it works because no one cares. Someone makes things happen by coming up with a poem: that's about it. We don't need to question whether certain rhyme schemes or meter or punctuation impacts anything. That's too technical.

If you've got pages and pages of notes on all the intricacies of the magical system, you have too much. Pare it down.

Political systems

Unless you're writing a fantasy where politics are absolutely critical to the plot, you can just reference the political system in passing and maybe elucidate a few key elements, like who the leader is, how power is transferred, etc. You don't need to go into all the specifics because most people are not going to care.

Hierarchies

Please don't lay out the entirety of an army's ranking system or how someone is promoted. Make up something consistent and stick with it, but don't go into exhaustive detail. People aren't going to sit and question whether a captain is above a lieutenant or how long it takes to become a general.

We'll know that a general is a big deal if the characters make it a big deal. We'll know who the head of the army is but we don't need to know how they got to that position.

Exact city layouts

You do not need to tell us where everything is in relation to one another. Tell us characters are moving from one landmark to another. You could say "this is across a bridge, this is up in the mountains, these buildings are right next to one another, these two buildings are in opposite ends of the city." That's plenty.

If somewhere is very far away, just show them travelling there and how long it takes. You don't need to measure it in miles or leagues or whatever. We will guess that if it takes them a week to walk there, it's pretty distant.

Economic systems

We just need the basics here: mercantile, capitalist, bartering, etc. We don't need to know if the coinage is pegged to a certain precious metal or if people invest their money or how people are paid. That's boring.

In my world, I have two currencies: quillim for Breme and barnals for Sina. What's the exchange rate? I don't know and don't care. How much is one quillim worth? One quillim is not a lot but 2,500 quillim is. How much is the average person paid? Doesn't matter. Do people keep lots of coins on them? No one is asking that. It's not important.

Transit systems

Tells us if the roads are cramped, spread out, nonexistent, poorly maintained. Tell us if there are road blocks or toll booths. Tell us if there are roving bandits. The more physical and sensory you can get, the more real it feels.

Few people care about the specifics of even their own transportation system. I know highways are fast, I know tollroads are expensive, I know parkways are pretty, I know some cities have weird turnabouts and dead ends. That's exactly what I need and what I care about.

That's what I've got for you today. If you liked this, maybe you'll consider checking out The Eirenic Verses series, which follows most of these principles.

I've been told that my fantasy writing is very approachable, even for those who don't usually like fantasy, specifically because I don't get too insane with my worldbuilding. So maybe you'll enjoy it too!

[lilmisssona]

⋆⁺₊❅ STAYMAS 2K24 ⋆⁺₊❅

˖⋆ ˚❆ Pairing - Reader x Stray Kids

˖⋆ ˚❆ Plot - A collection of holiday-themed short stories, each centered around a different member, with a special OT8 story as the grand finale!

˖⋆ ˚❆ Genre - Romance, Comedy, Fluff, Angst, Supernatural, Crackhead energy!

˖⋆ ˚❆ A/N - Y’all, I’m practically vibrating with excitement!It’s finally time for Staymas! The gifts? Hyunjin's crackhead energy, Lee Know's sarcasm, and the chaos of three chapters a week. Buckle up, because starting the 25th, it’s about to be a holly jolly emotional rollercoaster! (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)

˖⋆ ˚❆ SKZ Masterlist

⋆❅*𖢔𐂂☃︎꙳⋆❅*𖢔𐂂☃︎꙳⋆❅*𖢔𐂂☃︎꙳⋆❅*𖢔𐂂☃︎꙳⋆❅*𖢔𐂂

𐙚 ̊A ' Chris ' Mas Mayhem 𐙚 ̊

𐙚 ̊Pairing - Bang Chan × Fem Reader

𐙚 ̊Plot - YN returns to Seoul after three years, having left behind her boyfriend for a work project, and finally gets transferred back just before Christmas. Excited to reunite, she decides to move into a place just beside her boyfriend’s place, only to discover it isn’t his house at all . To make matters worse, she learns her Christmas gifts have been going to the wrong address all along! Leading to an unexpected twist!

𐙚 ̊Genre - Angst, Hurt, Healing, Comedy, Fluff

⋆❅*𖢔𐂂☃︎꙳⋆❅*𖢔𐂂☃︎꙳⋆❅*𖢔𐂂☃︎꙳⋆❅*𖢔𐂂☃︎꙳⋆❅*𖢔𐂂

꥟˚｡Love Unexpected ꥟˚｡

꥟˚｡Pairing - Lee Know × Fem Reader

꥟˚｡Plot - Two years after a horrible accident, YN is left paralyzed but secretly finds purpose in a quiet job. The stranger who saved her life reappears unexpectedly at her workplace, stirring emotions and memories she thought were buried. Their fateful encounter raises questions about second chances and unspoken connections.

꥟˚｡Genre - Hurt, Trauma, Healing, Fluff

⋆❅*𖢔𐂂☃︎꙳⋆❅*𖢔𐂂☃︎꙳⋆❅*𖢔𐂂☃︎꙳⋆❅*𖢔𐂂☃︎꙳⋆❅*𖢔𐂂

⋆⁺❅ A Second Chance ⋆⁺❅

⋆⁺❅Pairing - Changbin x Fem Reader

⋆⁺❅Plot - Dating Changbin means constantly competing with his busy schedule for time together. However, it pushes you to your limit when he fails to come home on time for Christmas. As frustration builds, you start questioning where you truly stand in his priorities.

⋆⁺❅Genre - Angst, Hurt, Fluff

⋆❅*𖢔𐂂☃︎꙳⋆❅*𖢔𐂂☃︎꙳⋆❅*𖢔𐂂☃︎꙳⋆❅*𖢔𐂂☃︎꙳⋆❅*𖢔𐂂

☃︎♡Dynamic And Vibing ☃︎♡

☃︎♡Pairing - Hyunjin x Fem Reader

☃︎♡Plot - You always thought only women got nervous meeting their boyfriend's family, but your boyfriend proves otherwise. He’s adorably stressed about finding the perfect outfit for Christmas dinner, and a shopping trip leads him to a sparkling pair of iconic boots. Little did you know, those boots would be the start of some unexpected holiday drama.

☃︎♡Genre - Comedy, Crackhead energy, fluff

⋆❅*𖢔𐂂☃︎꙳⋆❅*𖢔𐂂☃︎꙳⋆❅*𖢔𐂂☃︎꙳⋆❅*𖢔𐂂☃︎꙳⋆❅*𖢔𐂂

*ੈ✩ Sorry Bestie, I love you *ੈ✩

*ੈ✩Pairing - Han Jisung x Fem Reader

*ੈ✩Plot - After being stood up for the fifth time this year, you’ve had enough of serial date ghosting. Just as you’re about to leave, your best friend Han,whom you vented to,texts back, saying to wait because he’s coming to meet you. But Han left for another city eight years ago, and when he shows up, you’re shocked to see your quirky best friend has turned into someone undeniably hot

*ੈ✩Genre - Angst, Comedy, Fluff

⋆❅*𖢔𐂂☃︎꙳⋆❅*����𐂂☃︎꙳⋆❅*𖢔𐂂☃︎꙳⋆❅*𖢔𐂂☃︎꙳⋆❅*𖢔𐂂

｡𖦹° Brownie Battle ｡𖦹°

｡𖦹°Pairing - Felix x Fem Reader

｡𖦹°Plot - Felix is running late, leaving the kids quietly waiting for their dad. Deciding to take matters into your own hands, you attempt to bake brownies before he arrives, despite knowing nothing about baking. Chaos ensues as you quickly realize this might not go as planned.

｡𖦹°Genre - Comedy, Hurt, Fluff

⋆❅*𖢔𐂂☃︎꙳⋆❅*𖢔𐂂☃︎꙳⋆❅*𖢔𐂂☃︎꙳⋆❅*𖢔𐂂☃︎꙳⋆❅*𖢔𐂂

࣪ ִֶָ☾. A Knight In Christmas Armor ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

࣪ ִֶָ☾.Pairing - Seungmin x Fem Reader

࣪ ִֶָ☾.Plot - When your aunt leaves for a Christmas trip, she gives you the keys to her house and cats to look after, and you eagerly accept. However, strange and creepy things start happening, culminating in eerie voices echoing through a chilly night. After a scream sends your annoying ex-best friend, Seungmin, to your door, you find yourselves trapped inside with the cats and mysterious voices, as the faulty door won’t lock or open properly.

࣪ ִֶָ☾.Genre - Supernatural, Action, Angst, Comedy, Fluff

⋆❅*𖢔𐂂☃︎꙳⋆❅*𖢔𐂂☃︎꙳⋆❅*𖢔𐂂☃︎꙳⋆❅*𖢔𐂂☃︎꙳⋆❅*𖢔𐂂

𓍢ִ໋❀ Love To Hate You 𓍢ִ໋❀

𓍢ִ໋❀Pairing - Jeongin x Fem Reader

𓍢ִ໋❀Plot - YN and Jeongin are always bickering over the smallest things, but they’re suddenly forced to team up to host the annual Christmas party. As the preparations spiral into chaos and comedy, sparks fly between the two. What starts as a stressful partnership might just turn into the start of a holiday romance.

𓍢ִ໋❀Genre - Angst, Comedy, Fluff

⋆❅*𖢔𐂂☃︎꙳⋆❅*𖢔𐂂☃︎꙳⋆❅*𖢔𐂂☃︎꙳⋆❅*𖢔𐂂☃︎꙳⋆❅*𖢔𐂂

˙⋆✮ A Home Away From Home ✮⋆˙

˙⋆✮Pairing - Reader x Stray Kids

˙⋆✮Plot - YN has been managing Stray Kids for the past four years and has been unable to visit her family due to their upcoming comeback. With no holiday break in sight, the boys decide to take matters into their own hands. They plan to make YN's Christmas unforgettable, showing their appreciation in a heartfelt way.

˙⋆✮Genre - Angst, Hurt, Comedy, Fluff

⋆❅*𖢔𐂂☃︎꙳⋆❅*𖢔𐂂☃︎꙳⋆❅*𖢔𐂂☃︎꙳⋆❅*𖢔𐂂☃︎꙳⋆❅*𖢔𐂂

˖⋆˚❆ Tags - @atinyniki @writingforstraykids @yangbbokari @theo4eve   @livelovelaughmiko @silverstarburst @galaxycatdrawz @skzoologist @shua-f4lmings @iknowyouknowminho @krisstheidiot @hyunjinhoexxx @gho-ster @ezlynkisses @elmoslungcancer @b1nn1e-1s-cut3 @seungseung-minmin @cuddlylonelyperson @jeonginsleftcheek

⋆❅*𖢔𐂂☃︎꙳⋆❅*𖢔𐂂☃︎꙳⋆❅*𖢔𐂂☃︎꙳⋆❅*𖢔𐂂☃︎꙳⋆❅*𖢔𐂂

Comment your @ If you wish to be added or removed from this list ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

˖⋆ ❆ Endnote - Everything Here is a work of fiction and my own imagination. This does not represent the real life characteristics of Stray Kids. Make sure to like, reblog comment, and follow me for new updates!

⋆❅*𖢔𐂂☃︎꙳⋆❅*𖢔𐂂☃︎꙳⋆❅*𐂂☃︎꙳⋆❅*𖢔𐂂☃︎꙳⋆❅*𖢔𐂂

[mothandpidgeon]

P Boy Podcasts

I was swapping podcast recs with @schnarfer and asked her what kind of podcasts would each of the Pedro boys host? (I’m a bit of a podcast junkie. I'm literally listening to one right now.) Well, we were brainstorming and I went and created episode art for each of their shows. Which ones are you subscribing to?

Nic on Nic Get a peek into the brain of legendary talent Nicolas Cage. Cage collaborator (and fanboy) Javi Guttierez is watching everything from Con Air to National Treasure 2. Take a deep dive into the films of Nic Cage and hear exclusive interviews with the man himself.

The Unfortunates There are spies living among us, everyday people living double lives. What makes them do it? And how do they keep their secrets? Each week, Dave York shares a true story from the clandestine world of espionage. 

Foundlings Din Djarin’s parenting journey has never gone to plan because he never planned on becoming a dad! Come along as he navigates the challenges of single parenting a 50 year old son. Each week Din leads insightful discussions with a range of guests— pediatricians, parenting experts, and�� other parents that are just trying to figure it all out.

Declassified Drugs, danger, and dames. The fall of Escobar made way for the Cali Cartel. Hear the story from  Agent Javier Pena as he recalls the hunt for the Cali Cartel and reveals details that have never been heard before. 

Tales from the Green Ezra shares spooky fales of distant worlds on this anthology fiction podcast. All set on the Green Moon, these bizarre and enthralling stories introduce you to a lush world filled with intrigue and danger. 

Heist The Mona Lisa only became a cultural icon after it was stolen in 1911. Learn about the greatest capers in the art world with host Marcus Pike. Hear first hand accounts going undercover during his time in the FBI. 

No Cap 4 best friends chat about anything and everything. Hear Santi, Will, Frankie, and Ben give their takes on dating, travel, and current events. You’ll love listening to them react to r/aita. 

UNKNOWN ZONE Alien encounter? Evidence of the lost city of Atlantis? Ghost fucking? Sometimes the truth is stranger than fiction. Join celebrity host Dieter Bravo for real life brushes with the unknown!

Joel’s Construction Corner Have a burning home improvement question? Or maybe you just like a southern drawl? Host Joel Miller has 30 years of experience in contracting and he’s here to share his advice with you. As soon as he figures out how to use this damn computer. Ellie does the ad reads with a pun for every one. 

Hungry History What does the invention of margarine have to do with Napoleon? Did Marco Polo really introduce pasta to Italy? Which Founding Father had a craving for ice cream? Follow your stomach to discover the origins of your favorite foods as we travel back in time with host Pero Tovar. 

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I might've gone overboard. But I wish these all existed???

If you reblog this please rec me your favorite podcasts in the tags.