#i have to go to school tomorrow | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

idkbutimgabby · 9 months ago

Text

WTF

this is not ok

I'm sobbing rn I have to go to bed

I'm going to be so puffy tomorrow

this was the worst/best way to end a Sunday night

AND AMAZING WRITING BTW WHATTTTT

born to die | minho

all characters depicted in my writing are from my own imagination and do NOT in anyway represent nor reflect the people in real life :)

➩pairing: minho x gn!reader

➩genre(s): ANGST, fluff, smut, non-idol!au, switch!minho

➩warnings: death, smoking, pet names, sexual themes (18+) sex (unprotected- pls use protection!), explicit language, people watching (not sexual!) [anything else i have missed]

➩summary: a story based on the song ‘born to die’ by lana del ray. minho was the chosen victim i’m afraid.

➩wc: 5k (5,046)

➩author’s note: i am so sorry.

don’t make me sad, don’t make me cry.

Cold, wet, miserable. The transition from autumn to winter makes itself known harsher than it has ever done before. As the wind cries, an acrimonious chill soars through the air looking to communicate with the souls that are derived of their light.

Minho walks down the desolate street playing with his lighter. A custom made lighter; a muted grey with the engraving of a peacock feather on it. A gift he got on his birthday from an old friend. It packs quite a punch he must say.

He takes one last long drag from his cigarette, taking back the nicotine to fill his lungs before freeing the smoke to dance through the smog. It feels familiar, the taste of nicotine on his tongue. It has been a while since he has smoked. He didn’t miss it per-say, but fuck did it have its way of ebbing the pain.

A brown weathered bench comes into his line of view. He sits at this bench so much that he has assessed the best and worst parts of it to sit on. He collapses down, slightly off-centre and releases a long sigh.

Dawn is his favourite time of the day. The route he can walk with his eyes closed allows him to pass by the type of people he finds pleasure in watching. Minho was adroit at reading people. He much preferred to observe rather than enter a conversation in which he would need to cue his laughs and pretend to be sympathetic towards people who, he concluded, deserved nothing but to get castrated.

05:29am, right on time. Paul flits around the corner and continues down the path. Minho monitors the morning runner closely, counting his steps. Usually Paul does four hundred down this path before he is out of sight. His strides are longer today, seems he wants to get his run over and done with.

Minho likes Paul, though he’s never interacted with him. He needs not to, him watching from afar every dawn for the past ten months has made Paul the closest person he can refer to as a friend in his life currently.

Sad? Far worse. Depressing.

Things in his life changed drastically when you left him. You…your name leaves a vexatious taste in his mouth. It ire’s him just how easily you ruined him. He didn’t think he could possibly hate anyone on this planet as much as he does you. All because you broke the promises you made him.

He hates you. He doesn’t think he will ever stop hating you. He can’t, he won’t.

The friends he did have, he casted them aside. Dropped them like a tree ridding itself of its leaves. Every now and then one of his old friends, Chris, checks up on him. Whether it be sending him a letter -Minho had blocked his number- or a care package. He can’t deny the fact that it really pisses him off.

There goes Vanessa, or as people formally call her, Miss Phillips. He discovered that she is a teacher who specialises in helping children with special needs. Minho is quite fond of Vanessa. He usually likes to guess what style her hair will be next. She untucks her hair from her coat, braids. He hisses and shakes his head slightly as he guessed wrong again.

Minho reaches for the cold flip lighter and runs his thumb over the engraving. Never one to believe in superstitions, he thinks about the argument on whether a peacock feather brings good or bad luck.

It attracted the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in this world. For that, he was beyond grateful for this small object. Until the thing that was so beautiful became cold, unknown, and cause him the worst ache of all. Ache from the heart that shattered into many, many minuscule pieces. One that he knows can never be meticulously mended.

He shouldn’t be thinking about that, about you. His therapist strongly advises against such and directs him to remember his two little people he keeps an eye on. ‘Paul and Vanessa, just think about Paul and Vanessa. You have formed some sort of relationship with them in which you have developed a fidelity. They aren’t any the wiser, but they are a reason for you holding on and gravitating your mind to moving forward.’ His therapist had said.

Minho’s hands start to shake and not due to the cold air. He curses to himself as he opens his cigarette box to find it empty. He was perturbed by his thoughts and needed to rid his growing anxiety before he has an attack.

The universe astutely discerns the situation, for a small friendly body rubs against his calf. Purring fills his senses and he looks down to see the stray cat staring up at him.

The cat seems to mimic his every move. He lifts an arm, the cat lifts its paw to touch his leg. He tilts his head, the cat does the same. If Minho clenches his fist tightly in his lap, then the cat rubs on his calf to soothe him.

It doesn’t take long for a decision to be made, for he and the cat coalesce. He gently picks it up and continues his journey home. The cat immediately becoming the third most important thing in his life.

──・──・・✿ ・・──・──

come and take a walk on the wild side. let me kiss you hard in the pouring rain.

“Honey?”

“In here!”

Minho follows the sound of your voice, finding you snuggled up in a blanket snacking on some popcorn and listening to some music. You turn to acknowledge him and he physically feels his heart swell. The way you look at him with such light and love is enough for it to be his main source of oxygen. God he is painfully in love with you.

“Hello my darling, how was work?” You ask with a tilt of your head. His heart skipped a beat.

“It was irritating,” he moves to lay on you, resting his head on your stomach as your hands find their way to his head, “Chris is annoying me again.” He says with a roll of his eyes. You chuckle lightly at that.

“Did he put his lunch in your designated spot in the fridge again? Or was it that he offered you an iced latte instead of an Americano? Oh! Maybe he asked whether you were free this weekend and asked you to hang out? Or-”

You are cut off with a rambunctious groan that makes you erupt in a fit of laughter. Minho goes to roll off you irked by your teasing, but you trap him with your legs and apologise by smothering his face in kisses.

Hearing just some of the things that he relayed to you about his days at work made him sound ridiculous for even being annoyed at such things.

You have an extraordinary way of doing that. Reminding him that he’s being too pessimistic about life without explicitly saying so. He realistically doesn’t need to be pessimistic anymore. Not when he has you in his life, you are warm sun to shine through his cold grey skies.

It’s astounding just how long he was able to survive before you. You have moulded him unknowingly into a man capable of loving someone to an extent which is unearthly. He is your paean to how beautiful love can be and you are his saviour.

“What’s going on in that pretty head?” You ask, rubbing your hands up and down his back. It should not surprise him how well you know him.

“Do you know how much you mean to me? I can’t breathe without you Y/n. That’s frightening. I never thought I could genuinely be so happy. I never knew what love was until you y’know?” Minho says.

He can feel your breath quicken and your heartbeat increase, but you’re silent. So he continues.

“I truly think, no, I know you make me a better man. I don’t know why I am being sentimental right now, I think you have me in a lifelong trance.” He lifts his head up, resting his chin on your chest. He watches a tear fall from your eye. He wishes in that exact moment, that he could read people’s minds. Read your mind.

“Why must you do that to me unprovoked?” You sob. It’s his turn to comfort you as he manoeuvres his way out of the position you both currently hold. He lifts you gently and places you on top of him to which you bury your face in his neck.

The pitter-patter of rain starts to make itself known as the weather mimics your mood. Minho enjoys the rain though, it soothes him. Much like you soothe him. It’s strange, he can see the similarities between you and droplets of rain. Both refresh and cool him down when he’s too hot. Both make sounds that immediately puts him into a tranquil state. Both necessary to the world to make the flowers bloom and the grass look greener.

You are his rain.

He runs his fingers along your spine as you mutter incomprehensible words. If he had to guess you are telling him that he’s a villain for making you feel such a way randomly in the day. You referred to him as such before.

Minho is a prick, albeit a lovable one; a prick nonetheless. He loves the way you react to his spontaneous outbursts of reasons why he loves you. Maybe it’s the way you look so adorable when you cry. Maybe it’s the way you will always cling to him after he does so. Whatever the reason, it only makes his heart grow fonder.

The room is filled with your sniffles here and there, low music, and the sound of heavy rain hitting the window.

Minho lays with you, his eyes closed, swaying you gently.

“Do you want to go and play in the rain?” He says breaking the rhythm of sounds.

“Do I want to go and play in the rain?” You echo, laughing, “No, I don’t want to get my hair wet.”

“You can wear my hoodie and my raincoat?” He suggests. You look up at him, sitting up fully. He just smiles at you, awaiting your response.

“You really are serious…wow.”

“It’ll be fun, come on!” He exclaims picking you up with him as he gets up from the sofa. He goes to grab a hoodie of his, one of your favourite ones to wear. He tucks your hair inside of the hood and pulls the drawstrings to tighten it around your face.

He laces the string with a bow and kisses the tip of your nose. He then runs to get his raincoat and swiftly encloses you inside of it. He laughs at you.

“What?” You say feigning annoyance with a tilt of your head.

“Nothing…” He hums with laughter. “You just remind me of an Ewok” He laughs pinching your cheeks. You scrunch your face up due to the attack of his fingers and try to bat him away.

“You basically just called me a tiny bear.” You groan.

“My cute tiny bear. Come.” He grabs your hand and leads you towards the front door so you can both put on your shoes. He glances you way, shooting you an ‘Are you ready?’ look, to which you just roll your eyes at him.

He doesn’t give you another second to change your mind, him basically lifting you off your feet and into the empty street. You squeal as the rain comes down hard, instantaneously soaking both Minho and you.

Minho closes his eyes and raises his head to the sky, letting the rain trickle down his face. He laughs and then looks down at you. Staring up at him, you look at him like he is the only person ever. He scans your face, taking in your beauty. He is too in awe to speak, instead choosing to try and contain his smile by biting his lip. It doesn’t work.

“I’ll love you forever.” You say loudly over the rain. Minho’s heart stops beating for several moments.

“Promise me that, my love.” He says, cupping your face in both of his hands. His thumbs rest just beneath your eyes and he wipes the water away from them.

“I promise.”

He kisses you deeply, lovingly, passionately. And the both of you stand there in the pouring rain, smiling through your kisses and failing to suppress your laughter.

It was in that moment, that you two were the only people in the world. The two brightest of stars, conjoining to rival the sun.

──・──・・✿ ・・──・──

choose your last words, this is the last time

Minho paces back and forth in front of your driveway before approaching your door. He messed up big time, so he keeps being told by your friend Jeongin. He has always found your friends tiresome. Why being sent a paragraph long text of middle finger emoji’s is warranted for his jealousy? He will never know.

He isn’t quite sure how to say he is sorry for what he did. He trusts you. Of course he trusts you, it’s you. You would never do anything to hurt him, let alone in spite of his childish moods.

He musters up enough courage to knock on your front door. Yet as he was about to, he retracts his hand. What if this is something you will never forgive him for? That can’t possibly be an outcome of all this. Can’t it?

He backs away from the door, pacing again. To any of your neighbours, he must look like some creep trying to talk himself into breaking into your house. It’s best he just be brave and-

“Minho?”

He freezes in his tracks as he sees you in your pyjamas, carrying a trash bag. If your face didn’t hold that nasty scowl directed towards him, he would have thought you looked cute in the set he got you for your birthday. You clear your throat. Right, he is here to plead his case.

“Hey…bin collection day tomorrow?”

An awful start.

You brush past him, throwing the bag into the bin. He watches you awkwardly, placing a hand on the back of his neck.

You walk back inside, but open the door wider. Taking that as his cue to go inside, he scurries in, sure to be quick as to keep the warmth inside.

You immediately head to your room and he sheepishly follows, acting as if he doesn’t know the layout of your house by memory.

As you both enter your room, you go off to the bathroom to wash your hands. He sits and waits for you on the bed. His attention momentarily drawn to the window where he sees drops of rain run down the glass. He smiles softly before returning to his solemn state.

The bed dips beside him and he has to force himself not to stare at the side of your head. The remote control to your television gets thrown into his lap. He looks down, then up at you confused.

“Pick something. Give yourself a couple of minutes to calm down and then say what you have to say.” You speak assertively.

He does as you say without question. Even if you are mad at him, you still know that he can struggle with righting his wrongs. Oh how he loves you.

A few minutes pass and Minho does indeed feel calmer. Enough to start the conversation he is still, slightly, scared to have.

“I am sorry. I had no right to tell you what to wear that night. I also acted like a dick to every single person that approached you, even your friends. That was not cool of me. At all.” He starts.

His eyes meet yours and it takes everything in him to not cower away in embarrassment. The reality of his actions settling in.

“You are beautiful. I know that, everyone else knows that. I think I just got annoyed by people gushing to me about you and how they would love to be with you.” He turns to the window again, watching the rain as it gets heavier.

“It triggered a protective side of me, well, a primal one.” He looks towards you now as you sit against the headboard, waiting for him to continue. “You’re mine and I didn’t want people to think they even had a chance with you.”

“Surely you would only think that if you didn’t completely trust me.” You argue, raising an eyebrow.

Minho starts to fiddle with the remote. Casting his eyes away from yours in embarrassment.

“That, would be a viable response to that yes. But I do trust you! I promise. You haven’t given me any reason not to trust you I just-” He cuts himself off, holding back on what he truly wants to say.

He hears you sigh and you move to place your hand on his forearm. You stroke his arm softly with your thumb, letting him take his time. He really appreciates this side of you.

“I haven’t been feeling like I am enough for you. I don’t feel good in my body as of late and I think those insecurities translated through my actions of how I ministered to our relationship,” Minho takes a long, drawn out breath before continuing. “I think I was trying to drag you down with me into the same state of mind. For that, I am sorry Y/n.” He finishes looking up at you as his eyes shimmer from the fresh tears that threaten to fall.

You two stare at each other for a little while longer, the silence making Minho more panicked. You crawl over to him and straddle his lap, taking him by surprise. Your hands finding their rightful place in his hair, stroking softly.

“Thank you for apologising to me. Make sure to also apologise to the many of my friends you rubbed the wrong way,” You chuckle lightly. “But thank you for opening up to me and telling me what has been troubling you.” You take a deep breath and release with a sigh. “It doesn’t mean that I am completely happy with you, but I do want to show you that you are beautiful. You are everything and more to me Min.” You say smiling softly.

Minho swallows, his eyes blinking rapidly as he listens to you. He places his hands on your hips and strokes them softly. He may not be able to respond right now, the words caught in his throat. So he wants to let you know that he hears you.

“This is a conversation that needs to be finished when emotions aren’t as strong. However, I have failed as your lover to not make you feel like you’re enough. To not make you feel as if you are the sexiest man I have ever laid my eyes on.” You tantalisingly move your hips on his crotch.

The way his body responds to you will never cease to amaze him. All it takes is you sitting on top of him, hell, one look when you stare at him with those eyes and he is ready to go.

Gyrating slowly and pressing down on his now evident erection, a small whine escapes his lips. You smile at that and lift your shirt up off your body. Grabbing his hands, you lift them up to your chest for him to pay attention to your nipples.

He immediately began pinching and rolling them between his fingers. Your moans elicits a thrust of his hips up into your heat. Wanting more, you grab his head and he understands what you want of him. His eyes flutter closed and he attaches his soft lips to the bud, sucking and swirling his tongue. Releasing beautiful moans, he gets off to the salacious image of you using him at any given time to make him suck your nipples.

“I love the way you love my nipples Min. Love the little sounds you make.” You throw your head back in pleasure. “All reasons why you are the sexiest man I know.” You mewl softly.

He switches nipples frantically. Always eager to please you. Only you. He craves every little thing about you. The way your lips taste, the way you taste. The way your body shudders around him as he takes you whenever you let him.

He is love drunk off of you. You are like a drug to him and he wishes to consume you ‘til his dying breath.

The way you grind your hips down on him is unholy, it is like you are trying to make him cum in his pants. He is close, so close. His moans turning into desperate high pitched whimpers.

You halt your movements and hover above his lap. Swallowing the noise of disappointment with your mouth on his. Your tongue claiming the entirety of his mouth. You are so filthy and he loves it.

You catch his bottom lip between your teeth, dragging it slightly before gazing up at him with those eyes. You run your hands from his shoulders down his body, painfully slowly.

His head falls back into the pillow as he looks up at the ceiling, fighting the urge to just pull his pants down enough for him to free himself and fuck you senselessly until he is a shaking mess.

He knows better than to do that though. He wants to be good for you. Your good boy.

You pull down his joggers and his underwear and he shivers slightly. You hum in approval and kitten lick the head of his cock.

“Y/n, bunny, please don’t tease me!” He squalls. He thinks maybe he is being punished for his behaviour. It’s the only way to explain the way you stroke him at a leisurely pace.

“Hush, let me appreciate you. M’gonna make you feel good love” You mumble more to yourself than to him.

Before he could protest anymore, he sharply intakes a breath. The way your lips mould around him so deliciously. Taking him down your pretty little throat. How did he get so lucky to find someone that riles him up as much as you do?

His hands reach down to lightly tug your hair, using it as a handle as he guides your head up and down. Your mouth felt so good. It always feels so good.

He simply can’t control the needy whimpers and whines that are released from his throat. The sound doing so much as to turn him on even more. He has to be careful, he doesn’t want to finish like this, not before you anyways. That is just selfish, what man doesn’t let his gorgeous little pet finish before him?

He pulls you off of him, catching you by surprise. His eyes are dark now, as if a switch was flipped. He comes to his senses, his mission to grab back the reigns and take control. He inhibits you wiping the drool from your mouth as he pulls you into him and crashes his lips into yours.

You moan into his mouth and he is sure to swallow every one. He flips you onto your back, lightly pinning your arms in place. You are breathtaking. Just looking at the way your body glistens with sweat in the moonlight. Looks so tempting, so inviting. Like he wants to create a masterpiece with your empty canvas.

He kisses every part of your body, painting a picture with the little marks he leaves in his wake. His mouth hovers over your heat, breathing softly before planting a chaste kiss.

“Oh kitten…you are dripping.” He says with a devilish grin. “Is this all for me?” He asks tilting his head as he now looks up at you. He concludes that your mewling won’t satisfy him with the answer he wants to hear.

He squeezes your thighs roughly, causing you to look down at him. He just looks up at you with those gorgeous black eyes, his smile charming.

“I believe I asked you a question. Is my darling already too fucked out? I haven’t even touched you in the place you so desperately need me yet. Did you have your fun, having the control hm?”

“Yes, yes it’s all for you Min.” You whine attempting to squeeze your thighs together, but he is quicker than you. Spreading them wide his kisses litter just around your centre. His teasing merciless as you writhe beneath him.

“Min please, no more teasing. Need your mouth on me.” You beg, pushing your hips up to meet his face. He moves back, amused by your neediness.

“Well if that’s what my little kitten wants, then it’s what my little kitten should get hm?”

Your body shudders as he goes down on you. Lapping up your juices like a man who has been starved for weeks. He feels your hands in his hair and it turns him on. He can’t help but to rut against the bed to relieve some of the tension. The sounds, the sight, it is all truly so vulgar. Yet he loves nothing more than to please you.

After all, his name does sound prettiest when it is you moaning it in frantic desperation.

He makes you come undone three times and before he could get to four, you had pushed him away. Catching your breath as he knelt beside you and admires you. Admires the way the sweat trickles down the valley of your chest. The marks that colour your skin so deliciously. The way your eyes are closed tightly and your mouth open, no doubt getting a little dry.

He places an open mouthed kiss to your lips, his tongue providing the moisture that was being lost due to your heavy intake of air. He releases your lips and you make a noise of surprise as he opens your legs and situates himself between them, pushing into you slowly.

He has to still himself or else he will quite literally combust. You feel so good wrapped around him. You always feel so good. He opens his eyes to you already staring up at him Your eyes are overflowing with desire and he has to take a mental picture.

“You intoxicate me. How is it I feel such burning passion whenever I am around you?” He starts to move within you, slowly, intimately, as he takes a deep breath. “I belong to you Y/n. I promise that I will never live a day without telling you that.” His strokes get deeper.

You are a babbling mess. He can’t decipher anything you say, so he swallows your attempt with his mouth on yours. It isn’t until he can taste salt that he realises he is crying. So much for keeping the control. He pulls away and places his arms beside your head, his pace still slow and deep.

“Look at me my darling,” He says with a shaky voice. He watches you flutter your eyes open. “Promise, mmh, promise me you will never leave my side.”

“I promise you.” You say, your own voice faltering no doubt being consumed by a ray of emotions. He drops his head into the crook of your neck, his tears now flowing down your neck. He feels your arms tighten around him. One hand on his back, one hand in his hair, stroking softly as you mutter ‘I love you’ over and over again.

He made love to you that night until the sun graced the sky. Never falling short of telling you just how much he adores you.

──・──・・✿ ・・──・──

we were born to die.

It’s been a year now. A year of watching Paul and Vanessa, two months since he brought Dori home. Other than those three main factors in his life now, Minho is still miserable.

Much like the weather this morning as it downpours. He’s learnt to hate the rain since the end of his relationship with you. There isn’t much to like, not anymore.

He walks the same route he always does. His shoes are getting muddy, the path littered in grass clippings collated by the water. It proves to be extremely bothersome to see the grass stick to his shoes. Especially on a day like today, if grass is the thing that sets Minho off into a fit of rage; so help anyone who pisses him off on his way home.

Life is cruel. It will give you one thing you wish to cherish forever, to love until you can’t love no more. Makes you feel found when you were lost for so long. Gives you happiness, makes you feel alive like you can accomplish anything the world throws in your direction.

Then it takes it away. Just like that. The thing you had wished to cherish, perishes. Strips you of your ability to love. When you were finally found, you become lost again. Takes your happiness, makes you feel as if you’re rotting inside like you can’t will yourself to try and overcome the obstacles the world throws in your direction.

Living a life like that is revolting. A life in which you feel your only purpose of being born was to die. Minho laughs bitterly to himself. Born to die. Ironic because no matter what people tell you, that is always going to be the outcome of all life.

As he stands with the flowers in his hand, he isn’t sure whether it’s his tears or the rain. Perhaps both as they start to trickle down the petals and collate in the pistil.

He kneels, unbothered about the grass and mud stains he is to get on the knee caps of his trousers.

Resting the flowers against the polished marble, his fingers journey over the name etched in the stone.

Your name.

His hand falls from the gravestone and situates themselves next to his head that has now pressed itself firmly into the ground. He sobs as he bows over you.

He loves you. He doesn’t think he will ever stop loving you. He can’t, he won’t.

ʚ hope you enjoyed ^.^ you can support me by liking, commenting and reblogging! it is heavily appreciated ᵕ̈ ɞ

i do not permit my work to be translated or reposted in any way, thank you.

#what was that end I'm sobbing #OMG bro this is not cute I'm going to be so puffy tomorrow morning #I HAVE TO GO TO SCHOOL TOMORROW #IM CRYING SO HARD #lee know #lee minho #skz #stray kids

133 notes · View notes

starry-bi-sky · 10 months ago

Text

my body's aching like a knock-down drag-out

and my poor heart is an open wound A Childhood Friends Au snippet that very briefly delves into Danny's life post-accident. CW: Mild Mentions of Blood, Violence, VERY mild gore ig. Danny briefly recalls getting impaled during a fight.

------------

What they don't tell you about being dead is that it hurts. That it can hurt. That it can hurt more than when you were alive. That when you die, the emotions you die with stick with you like a leech that just won't let go. That emotions are ugly little thorns that stick their barbs into you and grow beneath your skin; or, at least, whatever’s left of it.

Danny is familiar with anger. It kept him warm in Gotham, when his parents weren't home from work and he and Jason were crowding Crime Alley with their presence. It kept him warm in Amity, when the fresh sting of moving was still needling into his heart and he wanted nothing more than to rip and tear into the closest person next to him.

He's familiar with violence. With fights. With death. He's seen people die in Crime Alley probably every day. From overdose, from gunshots, from stab wounds; anything that can kill, rest assured he's seen it. He's familiar with getting his own knuckles rough and bloody when other kids turn and bare their teeth at him and Jason; they're all just starving dogs stuck in a fighting pit, primed and ready to rip out each other's throats.

Black eyes, stomped hands, bloody noses. You name it; he’s had it. Gotham is paved with the blood of her children, and Danny likes to imagine that when he was born, the doctors handed his mother a file and told her; “Take it. He’s going to need it for his teeth.”

Danny’s mom (and dad, for that matter) was too busy trying to keep him and Jazz fed, so Danny stole the file from her drawer with Jazz’s help, and did it himself.

He’s familiar with anger, he thought he was getting better at it these days. It doesn’t come to him as easily as it did before. Of course, that was before Jason died.

Danny is less familiar with grief. Caring kills and Gotham kills the caring, so Danny cares very little about other people. Or he tries to. But grief hurts. His grief hurts. It hurts too much. It hurts like a bug trying to crawl out of his chest; like a rat chewing a hole through his heart. Some days he wants to dig his hands into his hair and split himself down the middle. Some days he just wants to scream.

He’s dead. He’s dead. He’s dead.

He wants the whole city to hear him wailing, some days. It sticks itself in the back of his throat like bile, and Danny is one wrong retch away from letting it loose. It sticks in his lungs like all the tar he’s smoked in since he was nine. It pushes and aches at his temples, in his head, like his brain is trying to swell out of his skull. His thoughts becoming so loud they threaten to commandeer his tongue.

He has no mouth, but he must scream.

Something they don’t tell you about being dead is that it hurts. That it hurts more than when you were alive. Something they don’t tell you about being dead is that it’s violent. That it’s bloody. Or as bloody as it can be when everyone has no blood.

Another thing they don’t tell you about being dead, is that it’s a lot like Gotham that way.

With no threat of death, Danny’s enemies forget death itself. Blood comes easy, like water, and teeth are encouraged. Bring your own fangs to the fight. Dying is something you can just walk off.

Danny’s been dead for three months. He can’t say he’s been walking it off easy. He’s perfected the art of turning his nails into claws since his heart was still beating, but he can’t say he’s perfected fighting other ghosts.

Scrappy is just not enough.

He feels like he’s back in Gotham again. Back in her death-shroud alleyways, fighting someone bigger than him. But there’s no Jason to watch his back, and Danny has to get himself out of there alone. Or he might just not get up at all.

Black eyes, busted lips. It’s familiar to him like an old scent, Danny isn’t quite sure that he’s missed it. It’s more familiar than his fights with Dash.

But there’s no one else who can do it but him. Not Sam, not Tucker. He can’t lose them too. He can’t. He can’t. He can’t. His heart can’t take another break, he already feels like he’s going insane.

With no threat of death, Danny’s enemies fight like death themself. He learns why when Technus puts a street sign through his stomach one day. It pins him to the asphalt like a moth pinned by its wings.

Danny claws at the metal like how an animal caught in a trap chews off its leg, and every move is blinding pain. He thinks he was howling, but it’s hard to tell. He couldn’t recognize the sound of his voice.

He bleeds green. It mixes in black with the pitch blackhole in his heart, which throbs and twists and cries in time with his reckless panic. The finger-choking terror of dying again strangles out the air he doesn’t need. His blood evaporates, only to reabsorb into him. It just bleeds out again, cycling like a snake eating its own tail.

Danny breaks his nails clawing at the metal, and eventually gets it in his mind to pull it out. So he does, and the end drips ectoplasm green as he gets to his feet. In red-vision, Danny sends the sign back with snarling, vicious fervor. The pain is irrelevant in his rage.

Only after the fight does the hole the pole left start to close. Danny doesn’t shift human until it’s gone. Unlike other injuries, a scar stays behind. Ugly; mottled, it aches for a week with every twist and stretch his body makes. He hates it.

Being dead is agony.

Every part of him is in pain. Every step, every word he speaks, everything he does, it is prerequisite with pain. The body is temporary, but the soul is forever, and death has carved into it with its freezing green hands and left him with never-ending heartache. It has torn from him and stolen what of him it could, and in return it’s left him with sorrow.

His pain is his grief, and he’s sobbed in the safety of his room more times than he can count. It’s still as fresh as the day he heard the news of Jason’s death. He knows, instinctively, that it will stay fresh forever.

In his room, Danny shoves his hands over his mouth and shrieks in whatever, muffled way he can into his pillow. It’s not enough. It’s never enough. He needs to be louder. He needs to be heard. He refuses to be.

Being dead hurts.

#tw mild gore #cw mild blood #cw mentioned violence #dpxdc #dp x dc #danny fenton is not the ghost king #dpxdc crossover #dpdc #dp x dc crossover #dead on main #dp x dc au #dp x dc fanfic #cfau #cfau danny #obsessed with the fact that danny just has the WORST fucking time after jason dies and baby i can make it worse #*kills you and makes you a banshee and puts you in an irrevocable state of grief*#delicious angst. danny is having the wORSt time ever lol. lmao even #was originally meant to explore the idea that danny can survive lethal injuries as phantom. which briefly got mentioned.#but i got away from myself. leaning reaaal heavy into the fact that danny's a banshee. At 19 he's got a pretty good handle of himself #but imagine being a fresh out the gate banshee. usually they get time to themselves in the zone to cry until their heart's content.#sorry danny. you have school tomorrow and family sleeping in the bedroom next door #kinda proud of myself. you can kinda see how Rath would've occurred here.#danny is going through it rn #was gonna add a snippet about the city's thoughts on phantom but couldnt fit it in

339 notes · View notes

ghostorbz · 8 months ago

Text

I bought nasb today

243 notes · View notes

pluck-heartstrings · 4 months ago

Text

There are so many DCA artists I want to be friends with, or closer friends with.

I want... Draw with friends ✨✨✨✨

#I say this and I have to go out in like 20 minutes #I'm talking like... Later today or tomorrow or during the week #I work from home so I just sigh at my discord throughout the day #Magmas are so much fun because you get to draw next to friends #Watch me do the elementary school trick where I just slide a picture I drew to people I wanna be friends with and hope it works #But also dca fanfic authors fit this category too

104 notes · View notes

jjjacobine · 1 year ago

Text

FUCK JUST NARROWLY MISSED SIGNALIS RELEASE ANNIVERSARY BUT IM POSTING ANYWAY

HAPPY ANNIVERASRY SIGNALIS!!!!!!

#jacoart #SIGNALIS #ariane yeong #elster #lstr 512 #signalis fanart #fuck i can barely render and i have to go to school tomorrow fuckkfkfkffufmkcsjfkajf #ITS SO WORTH IT THO #I STILL HAVE TO WAKE UP AT 4AM BUT FUCK IT WE BALL GAY PPL TIME

560 notes · View notes

demigod-of-the-agni · 2 years ago

Text

some memes to help me cope because i am god's strongest soldier

3K notes · View notes

youreyeson1y · 6 months ago

Text

when no one is around, you'll find me on my tallest tiptoes (shining just for you)

pairing: bang chan x reader (you/your)

title: mirrorball by taylor swift (album: folklore)

cw: swearing, mental health (reader is emotionally drained)

synopsis: sometimes someone just needs to show up for you to realise that maybe even the end of the world doesn't sound so bad if they're with you. or, where chan sends you a text that makes you break down.

tags: comforttt, chan being the absolute sweetheart that he is, reader is the silent type who doesn't prefer talking about their struggles, unedited, lowercase intended, relationship is not defined so can imagine it however y'all want 🤍

author's note: this was heavily self indulgent because sometimes you just need the reassurance that it'll be fine. so to anyone that needs to hear it, whatever you're struggling with now, you'll just look back on it in the long run and be proud of yourself. i love you, and my dms are always open if you wanna talk <3

word count: 0.9k

enjoy !

"did you eat today?"

it was just a text. just a single text.

but you were surprised to see teardrops on your phone screen as you stared at those words for a solid ten minutes.

it was nothing out of the ordinary; chan was always checking up on you, making sure you were hydrated, got home safe, or anything and everything else.

but sitting in the hallway in front of your apartment door, with messy hair and crumpled up pieces of papers in your bag and your glasses resting on the top of your head, covered with dirty fingerprints... you felt pathetic.

chan was the one managing a world famous band, he was the one constantly producing songs or brainstorming ideas or working on their demanding choreography.

as you absent-mindedly scrolled up your chat, it was him who was constantly checking up on you and asking you the simplest things that held the deepest meaning.

and what were you doing?

letting some mundane crisis wear you out and come back to being the person you had tried so hard to escape.

the silent vibration of your phone made you wipe your tears with a shaky breath, and accept the call request with a smile on your face.

"hey man, how was practice toda—"

"i'm coming over with your favourite take-out, and you're gonna shut the fuck up for once and let me treat you."

"chan..." inhale. exhale. you could not allow yourself to cry in front of him.

he already had a lot on his plate with the comeback, he didn't need you to add on to that and ma—

"and if you need to, we can talk about your day, and i can tell you about mine, and we can laugh about the stupid things me and the boys did or how steve has been pissing you off these days, or we can just not say anything and eat and go to bed. how's that sound, love?"

what did you ever do to deserve this man?

"where are you, chan? i miss you."

the elevator dings, making you look up and exhale, your whole body instantly relaxing at the sight of him.

"i'm right where you need me to be." he smiles, his dimples and tiny nose scrunch making your insides ache.

"i'm sorry," you almost felt bad because of how good it felt, having someone you care about meet you halfway. being taken care of. "you're probably so tired after practice, you really didn't have to..."

you didn't want to be a burden, but looking at the way his gaze softened and his shoulders relax as you meet his eyes, you realise...

maybe you could help carry each other's burden; together.

chan placed his bag on the ground and crouched down on the floor beside you, mirroring your position.

he saw your tear streaked face, and you remember telling him once how cringey you found it when male leads would enter like knights in shining armour and save the helpless maidens.

you wish you hadn't, because you really needed the saving right now.

chan smiled.

"you know," he started, taking your glasses from your head and wiping them on his shirt. "i had a pretty shitty day today. i mean, it wasn't that bad, but i feel like i could've done much better, that i couldn't give my best. and maybe we couldn't finish recording today because of my mistakes. but the weird thing is, i realised that i wanted to say that to you. and you know how much i hate letting people know that i messed up." he chuckled.

he gently puts the glasses on your face, making you look at him.

"i wanted to let you know that i didn't do well today because i knew you would not just cheer me up, but tell me to do better next time.

i sent you that text purely out of selfish motives, so that i could get a chance to talk to you. so honestly, you don't have to feel bad."

you hadn't even spoken a word since he'd arrived, but it felt like he understood you better than you could've ever put it into words.

"plus, i was craving some chinese anyway." he stood up, reaching out his hand to you. "so, are you gonna make me wait outside the whole night, or are we gonna get in?"

"chan," you felt... love. adoration. gratitude. he did have a way of making you feel things you didn't know you could feel anymore. "did you get those complimentary starters they give? i will simply not let you in if you haven't."

as you saw him finally flash his biggest smile at you, you knew you would be okay.

"who do you take me for? of course i did! and i was going to wait till desert but they may have given me a little somethin-somethin on the house as they were closing up their shop."

it didn't matter what you both talked about as you sat down to have cold take out food; why you felt like punching steve or how chan was having the time of his life trolling stays on his lives.

at the end of the day, what mattered was you knew he was there, someone to listen to you talk for hours and hours and someone he could fall asleep in the arms of, forgetting for a moment that he had the weight of the world on his shoulders.

and thats how you know it would all be okay.

because even if it felt like the end of the world, there was someone willing to spend it with you.

a/n: comments and reblogs are what keeps me going so they are highly appreciated, thank you !

if you're going through something similar, please feel free to reach out to anyone, remember, there are people out there who love you more than you may realise.

untill next time 💌

bang chan masterlist

#it is literally 2:50 AM #and i have a paper due tomorrow 😁#but priority ig #literally so self indulgent wrote this on a whim in an hour and am sk emotional for some reason #anyway time to go to sleep and wake up in three hours for school 🫡#my fic #bang chan #bang chan x reader #bang chan x you #bang chan x y/n #stray kids #skz #skz bang chan #christopher bang #fanfic #skz fanfic #skz imagines #writers on tumblr #leeb1tm3

130 notes · View notes