#saw so much cool art of her performance

[delborovic]

I am not immune to Knight Chappell Roan❤️‍🔥

[awhoreintheory]

Circus Boy

Directly inspired by @erinwantstowrite 's art!!! post

Request from awesome amazing cool Anon

Over the years, circuses have lost their spark.

Dick would know— he’d literally grown up in one. Back then, the circus was a symphony of effort and artistry. Weeks, sometimes months, were spent perfecting routines. Performances were designed to dazzle, to inspire awe, no matter the country or culture of the audience. The comedy sketches weren’t just filler— they were genuinely funny, capable of drawing laughter even from the most reluctant parent dragged along by an excited child. Every act had a rhythm, a purpose, and above all, passion. The performers took pride in their craft, and the audience responded in kind, feeding off the energy, cheering and clapping until their hands were raw and their throats sore. 

Now? Now they were dull. Predictable routines recycled ad nauseam. Costumes that looked like they were bought in bulk from a clearance rack. Tents and stages slapped together with the barest effort to resemble grandeur. The magic, the joy—the soul of it all—had been replaced with a singular, glaring goal: profit. No one cared if the audience laughed, gasped, or even paid attention, so long as they paid their entrance fees.

But recently, whispers of something different had started making waves in Gotham: a circus gaining a reputation for being... well, different.

Dick’s curiosity was piqued. He hadn’t planned to go, at first. But the memories of his youth, of what the circus used to mean, stirred within him. Before he knew it, he’d wrangled (read: blackmailed) together as much of the family as he could to go see it. Which, wasn’t a whole lot considering quite a few were out of state currently, but it was enough to make him smile.

“Why must I come along? I do not see the point,” Damian groused, arms folded tightly across his chest as the group approached the circus grounds. Despite his protests, he made no move to make a stealthy exit.

“You’re coming because it’ll be good for you,” Dick said, ruffling Damian’s hair just to annoy him. Damian promptly swatted his hand away, glaring daggers at his adoptive brother.

“You don’t even know if it’ll be good,” Tim chimed in, hands shoved into his jacket pockets. “What if this thing is as boring as all the other ones you’ve complained about?”

“Then we’ll all get funnel cake and call it a night,” Stephanie said brightly, making it clear where her true excitement lay. “I’m in it for the food, anyway.”

Dick pouted. “You didn’t have to say the quiet part out loud!” 

“Don’t underestimate funnel cake,” Duke added with a smirk. “It might be the only thing saving this trip if the show’s a flop.”

Dick rolled his eyes, but his grin didn’t waver. “You’re all so cynical. Just... trust me, okay? I have a feeling about this one.”

Sure, a lot of the decorations seemed cheap thus far, but Dick can’t blame them. They’re clearly low budget, with only two shows a week, versus the seven to ten a week Dick was used to. The difference was the genuine passion and excitement in the eyes of the performers. And they were just doing pre-show stunts on the street to rouse excitement! 

Tim hummed thoughtfully. “This place has been gaining rapid popularity,” he said, the subtle edge in his tone making it clear he was already analyzing every detail. Dick saw his fingers twitch as if to take a picture. 

Dick glanced over at him but didn’t comment. He recognized that tone— Tim was in detective mode, quietly piecing together threads no one else could see yet. He did, however, take the opportunity at his siblings' distraction to subtly herd them in the direction of the tents, eager to get a good front-row seat. Damian noticed, but he didn’t do much more than roll his eyes.

Steph, however, rolled her eyes dramatically. At Tim, not Dick. “Can you just enjoy one thing without looking for a criminal conspiracy, Tim?”

Tim matched her with a roll of his own eyes, the two slipping into a bickering match that’d put an old married couple to shame if they weren’t so aggressively gay. Meanwhile, Dick let his attention wander to the stage, studying the equipment with the practiced eye of someone who’d lived this life.

Suspended high above was the trapeze rig, its bars wrapped in worn leather, the steel cables taut and secured to thick iron frames. The safety net below, while a little faded, looked sturdy enough to do its job. Not brand-new, but serviceable.

To one side, a highwire stretched across a dizzying height, its slim cable shimmering faintly under the tent lights. The rigging showed some signs of age— slightly dulled bolts and scuffed counterweights—but nothing that made Dick worry. It would hold, even if the daredevil walking it would need nerves of steel.

A teeterboard sat center stage on the ground, its spring mechanism ready to launch performers into flips and vaults. Nearby, a stack of brightly painted crates and barrels hinted at comedic skits. Clowns would probably tumble over them with exaggerated flair, while a sturdy seesaw-like prop suggested slapstick gags involving plenty of unintentional (and intentional) falls.

The whole setup had a charming scrappiness to it. The equipment could use a little TLC, sure, but Dick had no doubt it would hold up under pressure. He could tell the performers had put their trust in it, and that meant something.

For a moment, Dick felt a flicker of nostalgia. The way the crew moved, the crisp efficiency with which they handled the gear— it reminded him of home, of the way his parents had always treated the stage with reverence, as though it were sacred ground.

“Do you see how high that wire is?” Duke muttered, his voice tinged with a mix of awe and apprehension as he followed Dick’s gaze.

“I see it,” Dick replied softly, his heart tightening. He couldn’t help but wonder who had the guts to walk that cable, let alone pull off any stunts on it. He’d definitely have to stick around and chat them up, maybe have a little friendly competition. 

“Awe, man,” Duke sighed, visibly disappointed. “Guess we weren’t excited enough.”

Turns out “early” wasn’t early enough because the seating area was packed. The whole first three rows were aggressively claimed, forcing the group to settle for seats in the middle of the fourth row.

Steph and Duke promptly excused themselves to grab popcorn—or, more accurately, for Steph to scout for funnel cake. Dick had to respect the consistency.

Damian glanced at Dick, then at Tim with a withering look. “Drake, cease your ramblings. They sour my mood.”

Tim blinked, clearly taken aback. “Wait, just me? Steph was talking way more!”

Steph, who had been halfway out of earshot, whirled around with mock offense. “Excuse me? I wasn’t the one turning this into an episode of ‘True Crime: Circus Edition.’” 

“Yeah, because you’re too busy planning how to steal funnel cake from children,” Tim shot back, crossing his arms. Damian’s eyebrow twitched. Dick wondered why peace was but a mere illusion. 

“Oh, please,” Steph quipped. “You’d be the kid I steal it from, Drake.”

Before Tim could come up with a retort, and Damian became a convicted felon, the lights dimmed, cutting their bickering short. A hush fell over the crowd as the familiar low hum of a drumroll began to build.

The ringmaster strode into the center of the stage, clad in a dazzling coat of crimson and gold that shimmered under the spotlight. If you looked any closer than that, you’d see how tacky and cheap it was. His booming voice carried effortlessly across the tent.

“Ladies and gentlemen! Boys and girls! Welcome to a night of wonder, daring, and delight!” the ringmaster announced, his voice ringing through the tent as the steady drumroll built the tension. “Prepare yourselves for the extraordinary, the astonishing, the absolutely unbelievable! The show begins... now!”

The drumroll reached its peak, and with a dramatic flourish, the spotlight swept upward to reveal the first performer perched high above the stage. A man in a sparkling gold costume waved grandly to the crowd before swinging onto the trapeze. The audience clapped politely as he performed a few rudimentary tricks— basic flips and graceful swings that showcased control but lacked flair.

Two more performers joined him, each clad in similar glittering costumes. They moved with confidence, transitioning through formations and passing between trapezes, but the moves were predictable and lacked the edge Dick was hoping to see. Certainly, nothing that would make this rinky-dink circus as popular as it got so quickly. 

Tim leaned toward Dick, his tone flat. “You dragged us here for this?”

“Underwhelming,” Damian muttered, his expression neutral but his tone sharp.

Dick didn’t respond immediately, though he couldn’t disagree. The tricks were technically fine— safe, practiced, polished— but there was no spark, no passion. No magic. He resigned to going home disappointed and also to the inevitable flaming via siblings. 

But then, just as one of the performers finished an awkward landing on the platform, the ringmaster’s voice boomed again.

“And now, prepare yourselves for the prodigy of the skies, the one and only Amazing Arach-Kid!”

The spotlight shifted upward again, revealing a much smaller figure poised on a separate platform, high above the others. It was a boy— young and wiry, dressed in sleek crimson and black, his face obscured by a half-mask (not dissimilar to their domino masks, actually) that glimmered faintly in the light. For a moment, the crowd was silent, uncertain what to expect.

Without warning, the boy leaped.

The gasp from the audience was audible as the kid— Arach-Kid?— launched himself into a dramatic triple flip, his body twisting gracefully through the air before he caught the trapeze with flawless precision. The crowd erupted into applause, the energy in the tent shifting instantly.

He didn’t stop there. Swinging with a force that sent his trapeze soaring higher than any of the others had dared, he released at the peak of his arc and spun into a double somersault. Instead of catching the next trapeze, he landed neatly in the arms of one of the adult performers, who looked genuinely startled by the boy’s precision. He grinned, waving excitedly at the audience as they roared with applause. 

From there, the routine transformed. Arach-Kid became the centerpiece of the act, seamlessly incorporating daring flips, twists, and transitions between trapezes. He was passed between the adults with perfect timing, their previous mediocrity eclipsed by his sheer skill and energy.

“Whoa,” Duke murmured, leaning forward in his seat. “He’s... good.”

“Who is that kid?” Tim asked, his voice tinged with disbelief.

“Better than the rest of them combined,” Damian said bluntly, though his tone carried the faintest hint of approval.

The boy ended his routine with a jaw-dropping quadruple somersault, catching the final trapeze one-handed and hanging upside down with effortless control. Gasps and cheers erupted from the audience, their applause thunderous as he let himself swing for a moment, letting the crowd bask in his daring. Then, with a fluid motion, he swung back, releasing the trapeze bar for one final flourish.

Dick leaned forward, his breath catching as the kid’s body twisted into the unmistakable maneuver— the signature move of the Flying Graysons.

The crowd roared as he executed the technique perfectly, his form flawless, his timing impeccable. He landed with a clean dismount, arms raised triumphantly, and offered the crowd a playful bow before darting off to the wings. Even with the stage empty, shouts and applause echoed for a long time after the boy left. 

For a moment, Dick couldn’t move. His stomach churned as memories of his parents on that same trapeze flooded his mind. No one else knew that move. No one could. His parents had created it, and Dick had learned it from them. It was their legacy— his legacy.

So how, in the name of all that made sense, did this random kid just pull it off perfectly?

The lights shifted again, smoothly transitioning to the next act: a somewhat clumsy but undeniably entertaining tightrope routine. One performer started with a wobbling walk, arms flailing for comedic effect. Another joined, balancing precariously with a broomstick for support. The final performer added a unicycle to the mix, pedaling shakily across the thin wire as the audience laughed and clapped in delight.

It was… objectively funny.

But Dick barely noticed. His good mood had evaporated, replaced by a heavy knot of unease in his chest. At this point, they must have a hive mind with how they immediately filed out of the tent without a single word exchanged. 

“That was—” Tim started, breaking the tense silence.

“Dick,” Steph interrupted, her voice low, “did he just—?”

“That was your move,” Tim finished firmly, his eyes locked on Dick’s.

“It’s not possible,” Duke added, glancing at the now-empty trapeze rig. “Right? It’s your family’s thing. There’s no way some random kid from Gotham knows it.”

“I am more concerned with how he knows it,” Damian said, his voice cutting. His eyes darted to Dick. “This is your domain, Richard. You must have answers.”

Dick didn’t respond right away. He couldn’t. His hands were clenched into fists at his sides, his breathing shallow. In disbelief, he muttered, “I don’t.”

Steph frowned. “Okay, well... what do we do? Do we just ignore the fact that some kid pulled off your impossible secret family move?”

“No,” Dick said sharply, his voice colder than any of them expected. “We don’t ignore it. We find out who he is, how he learned it, and what the hell is going on.”

Tim’s brow furrowed. “Do you think someone’s trying to get your attention? Like, deliberately?”

Dick shook his head, though his face betrayed his uncertainty. “I don’t know. Maybe. I mean, it’s... it’s possible, but...” He exhaled through his nose, frustrated. “I need answers. This isn’t something you just pick up on YouTube.”

The group left the small but packed circus, their earlier excitement replaced by a shared tension. The cool night air did little to clear their heads as they walked in a tight huddle, glancing over their shoulders as if the boy would materialize out of the crowd.

“Something’s not right,” Tim said, breaking the silence.

“Obviously,” Damian muttered.

“I mean it,” Tim snapped. “Moves like that— you don’t just do them. It takes years to learn without a teacher.” He glanced at Dick. “You’re sure no one outside your family knew it? Like, absolutely sure?”

“Positive,” Dick said firmly. “The only people who knew it are gone. Except me.” His voice dropped as he added, “Or at least, they’re supposed to be.”

The group exchanged uneasy looks, about both the situation and Dick’s reaction to it. It takes quite a bit to rattle him, so to see him, well, rattled was weird. Beyond weird. It was downright wrong. 

“Either way,” Duke said cautiously, “we’re going to figure this out. Right?”

“Oh, we will,” Dick said, his voice grim. “We don’t leave things like this unanswered.”

As they disappeared into the Gotham night, paranoia settled over them like a second skin. Whatever was going on, it wasn’t going to stay a mystery for long. 

[solxamber]

Hello! I saw that you said it was fine to request still, so if it's alright I'll give you my thoughts/promt if it's fine by you.

Also wanted to say i love you're fanfics! Super entertaining and well written so i was wondering if you could write one that's Vil x mermaid! Reader (romantic) the prompt is-

Vil has been slowly falling in love with the reader; not just by her beauty but her personality the two have these little meet ups where she sings/the two talk endlessly and just enjoy eachothers company, but what I'm getting with this,is that Vil would take time to process his feelings but eventually he gets there and confesses. Maybe it could be a friends x lovers?

whatever you want to do with this idea is cool beans, I just really want to see what you come up with!! Alright,that's all much love ♡♡

Vil Schoenheit x Mermaid! Reader

the idea is so big brained!!! I hope you like it <3

Vil has always appreciated beauty. He lives and breathes it—the art of refinement, the craft of elegance. But lately, beauty has taken on a new form for him, and it looks suspiciously like you. He can’t pinpoint exactly when it started, but he knows it’s tied to those secret meetups you two share by the shoreline.

You’re a mermaid, and you make a point to remind him of that every time he mentions something about the "unbearable" human world. You always roll your eyes dramatically, your tail shimmering in the moonlight as you laugh at his over-the-top complaints about fashion disasters, inferior skincare routines, or the latest scandal in the entertainment industry.

"You humans are so fragile," you often tease, resting your chin on your hand as you float lazily in the water. "Honestly, Vil, it’s a wonder you haven’t all crumbled under the weight of your own drama."

He gives you a sharp look every time, but there’s always a trace of a smile pulling at the corner of his lips. "And yet, here you are, meeting up with one of these fragile humans every week."

"I didn’t say you weren’t entertaining," you retort with a sly grin. "It’s like watching a soap opera, except with more skincare tips."

Vil chuckles, running a hand through his perfectly styled hair, which somehow manages to stay flawless even in the salty sea breeze. "You’d be lost without my advice. I’ve seen your seaweed face masks."

You pretend to gasp, putting a hand to your chest. "Seaweed is a perfectly valid skincare ingredient! In fact, it’s far superior to that toxic concoction you call moisturizer."

"Seaweed smells like the bottom of the ocean."

"And you don’t?"

That’s how it always goes—banter, teasing, comfortable silences filled with the soft crashing of waves, and eventually, music. You sing sometimes, when the mood strikes you. It’s never anything planned; it just happens. Vil always listens, captivated, because your voice is something he can't quite describe. It's raw, but pure, untouched by the expectations of the stage or the pressures of fame.

Sometimes he sings back, though he pretends he’s only doing it because you insist. "Come on, Vil. Just a few bars. You know you want to."

"I am a professional," he says, crossing his arms. "I don’t perform on a whim."

But you know how to coax him, and soon enough, he’s harmonizing with your lilting melody, his smooth, controlled voice intertwining with yours in a way that makes the night feel magical.

It’s been months of these little meetings, and Vil has never been quite sure what to make of you. You’re beautiful, of course—stunning, really—but that’s not what has him coming back to the shore every week.

It’s the way you make him feel completely at ease, the way you challenge him without being mean-spirited, the way you listen to him vent about things you couldn’t care less about yet still offer thoughtful responses.

And then there’s that laugh of yours—sharp, like the crack of a wave against the rocks, but warm enough to make him feel lighter every time he hears it.

He’s always valued control—over his image, his career, his emotions—but with you, he’s found himself slipping. He realizes, with some discomfort, that he’s been looking forward to these meetings a little too much. It’s not just the singing or the banter anymore. It’s... you.

That thought bothers him, because Vil Schoenheit does not get "distracted." He doesn’t fall for anyone. At least, not like this.

But here he is, walking down to the beach again, heart beating faster than usual as he anticipates seeing you. Tonight, though, something feels different. Maybe it’s the way the moon is hanging lower than usual, casting everything in a silvery glow, or maybe it’s the fact that Vil can’t deny his feelings anymore.

You’re already waiting for him when he arrives, sitting on a rock with your tail swishing lazily in the water. "Late again, Mr. Superstar?" you call out teasingly.

"I’m fashionably late, thank you," Vil replies, though there’s a softness in his voice. He takes a seat on the sand, smoothing out his coat with practiced precision before looking at you.

"You’re slipping," you say, eyeing him critically. "Usually, you’d have a comeback ready. What’s the matter? One of your beauty products finally backfired?"

Vil snorts softly, shaking his head. "No, though if it did, you’d be the first to hear about it." He looks out at the horizon, his expression thoughtful. "I’ve just been... thinking."

"Uh-oh," you say, folding your arms over your chest. "That sounds dangerous. What about?"

He hesitates for a moment, unsure of how to approach this. Vil has always been calculated, measured in everything he does. Confessing his feelings, though? That’s not something he’s prepared for. He glances at you, and suddenly, the words start spilling out before he can stop them.

"You know, for someone who claims not to care about humans, you certainly seem to enjoy spending time with me."

You raise an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by the shift in tone. "Are you fishing for compliments, Vil? Because I don’t need to stroke your ego any more than it already is."

He chuckles, shaking his head. "No, it’s just... You’re always teasing me about humans, about my world, but you keep coming back. Why?"

You tilt your head, considering his question for a moment before replying. "Because you’re interesting, Vil. You’re not like the others I’ve met. Most humans get caught up in themselves, but you... you’ve got a spark. You’re genuine, even when you’re being all high-and-mighty. And, well, it’s not like I’ve got a lot of options for good conversation under the sea."

Vil’s heart skips a beat at your words, and he finds himself smiling despite the nerves building up inside him. "I see. So I’m just your entertainment, then?"

"Oh, definitely," you say, grinning. "But you’re also... more than that."

Vil blinks, his breath catching slightly. "More?"

You nod, your expression softening. "You’re someone I look forward to seeing. I like being around you, Vil. You make me feel... seen. And I’m not just talking about my looks. It’s like you actually care about me as a person, not just a pretty face."

He swallows, his chest tightening as he listens to your words. This is it. He can’t hold it in any longer. "I do care," he says quietly, his voice trembling ever so slightly. "More than you know."

You look at him, your teasing expression fading as you sense the weight behind his words. "Vil...?"

He takes a deep breath, steeling himself. "I think... I think I’m falling for you."

There. He said it. And now his heart is racing, his palms are sweating, and for the first time in what feels like forever, Vil Schoenheit is unsure of himself. He braces for your reaction, half expecting you to laugh it off or tease him like you always do.

But you don’t. Instead, you blink at him, your mouth opening and closing as you process his confession. "You... what?"

Vil clears his throat, forcing himself to meet your gaze. "I’m in love with you," he repeats, more confidently this time. "I’ve been falling for you for a while now, and I didn’t want to admit it, but... I can’t keep it to myself anymore."

There’s a moment of stunned silence before you break into a wide smile. "Vil, you absolute idiot."

He recoils slightly. "I beg your pardon?"

You laugh, shaking your head in disbelief. "I’ve been waiting for you to say something for months now! I thought I was going to have to spell it out for you."

Vil blinks, taken aback. "You... you knew?"

"I didn’t know know," you admit, "but I had a feeling. You’re not exactly subtle, Vil."

He stares at you, a mixture of relief and embarrassment flooding his system. "Why didn’t you say anything, then?"

"Because I wanted to see how long it would take for you to figure it out yourself," you say with a smirk, leaning forward slightly. "I didn’t think it’d take this long, though."

Vil narrows his eyes, though there’s no malice in his expression. "You’re insufferable."

"And yet, you love me," you tease, reaching out to cup his cheek gently. "What does that say about you?"

He huffs, though his heart is fluttering in his chest at your touch. "That I have terrible taste."

You laugh again, the sound bright and infectious, and before Vil can say anything else, you pull him in for a kiss. It’s soft, gentle, and Vil feels like his entire world is melting away in that moment. The taste of saltwater lingers on your lips, and for the first time in a long time, Vil isn’t worried about appearances or perfection. He’s just... happy.

When you finally pull away, both of you are smiling like fools. "So," you say, your voice teasing, "does this mean we’re a thing now?"

Vil rolls his eyes, though he can’t stop the grin spreading across his face. "I suppose it does."

"Good," you say, leaning in to kiss him again. "Because I’m not letting you back out of this one, Mr. Superstar."

Vil chuckles against your lips, his hand sliding to the back of your neck to pull you even closer. "Oh, trust me," he murmurs, his voice low and smooth, "I have no intention of backing out. But I do expect you to stop wearing those dreadful seaweed masks."

You gasp dramatically, pulling back just far enough to look him in the eye. "Excuse you! Seaweed is nature’s skincare miracle, Vil. Just because it’s not wrapped in fancy packaging doesn’t mean it’s ineffective."

He raises a perfectly sculpted eyebrow, his lips curling into a playful smirk. "Perhaps, but you’ll have to let me introduce you to something a little more refined. If we’re going to be a couple, I simply can’t allow my significant other to use subpar beauty products."

"Oh, is that so?" you ask, amusement twinkling in your eyes. "I didn’t realize I was dating a beauty tyrant."

"It’s for your own good," he says with mock seriousness, though there’s a warmth behind his gaze that betrays his affection. "Think of it as part of your glow-up. You’ll thank me later."

You can’t help but laugh, your heart swelling with affection for the man in front of you. It’s strange, really—how quickly this has all come together, yet how natural it feels. You never would’ve guessed that your casual banter and late-night talks would lead to this, but now that it’s happening, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Vil reaches out and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch gentle but purposeful. "You know," he says softly, his usual sharp tone melting into something softer, "I’ve never met anyone quite like you."

You smile at him, feeling the warmth of his words settle into your chest. "I could say the same about you, Vil. You’re not as scary as people think, you know."

He chuckles, shaking his head slightly. "That’s a well-maintained persona, I’ll have you know. Can’t let people think I’m soft."

"Oh, but you are," you tease, poking him lightly in the chest. "At least with me."

He scoffs lightly, though there’s no real bite behind it. "I’ll deny it if you tell anyone."

You laugh, resting your forehead against his as you savor the closeness between you. For the first time in what feels like forever, you feel completely at peace, as if everything has fallen into place. Vil, with all his elegance, wit, and sharpness, has somehow become the person you’ve come to care about more than you ever thought possible. And now, as he holds you close, you know that you wouldn’t trade this for the world.

"I’m glad it’s you," you whisper, pressing a light kiss to his cheek. "I never thought I’d fall for a perfectionist with an ego the size of the sun, but here we are."

He lets out a soft, genuine laugh, his arms wrapping around you more securely. "I never thought I’d fall for someone who argues with me over skincare, but I suppose life has a sense of humor."

"Looks like we’re both in for a wild ride, then," you say with a grin.

Vil hums in agreement, his hand gently stroking your hair. "As long as it’s with you, I think I can handle it."

You smile, feeling your heart soar at his words. There’s a certain magic to this moment—a kind of fairy tale that feels like it’s been written just for the two of you. And as you sit there, wrapped up in each other’s warmth, you can’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, this is the start of something truly beautiful.

"Well then," you say, pulling back slightly to look him in the eye, "looks like you’re stuck with me, Schoenheit."

"Forever, I hope," he says softly, before pulling you in for another kiss—this one longer, deeper, filled with the promise of something lasting.

And in that moment, with the moon shining overhead and the waves lapping gently against the shore, you know that whatever comes next, you’ll face it together..

Masterlist

[dr-spectre]

I wanna say one final thing about the Marina stuff that went down.

Seeing all the cool fan art that has sprouted due to what has been going on and people sharing their love and passion for Marina is absolutely incredible and reminds me of the importance of the character.

Marina as a character speaks to such a wide range of people and i think it's incredibly sweet and powerful stuff. This character and the culture she embodies is important to a ton of people and as a community, we should NEVER... EVERRRRR forget that!!!!

Marina is my second favourite Idol, i find a lot of relatablity in her despite my appearance looking absolutely NOTHING like her. It feels amazing to know that there is a HEAVILY autistic coded character out there who i can find some comfort in. Not the same kind of comfort as Callie, but different.

I really do love Marina, and I wish my brain would hyper focus on her instead of the magenta squid woman...

I hope we can move past this and learn how to treat people who look different from you much MUCH better. Although the Splatoon community can be very accepting of others and is genuinely one of the more kinder communities out there, it still has a really awful and down right racist side to it, that makes me sick to my stomach.

The stuff i saw about the situation involving Marina and her VA really pissed me off, and i felt so incredibly disappointed. I want this community to do better, and i want minorities to feel safe and comfortable here. It's not fucking fair man.

It's insane to me that the series that's an allegory for racism is full of racist individuals who freak out over seeing a person that isn't white and straight... UGHHHH! It makes so angry, SO. ANGRY. God forbid a woman has a darker tone of skin...

We got 4 idols based on Japanese culture and its different aspects in terms of Idol popstars, a Brazilian singer, an Indian performer, and a black octopus woman. Being racist and defending the act of white washing in a series full of diversity and representation is such vile shit and there is no place for you here, or anywhere else for that matter.

Im not even talking about the person who made that pale skin Marina art, they have said sorry and will focus on improving themselves, only time will tell if they do. But, the people who defended them and then got mad at others who crictised something as important as a character's skin tone... Fucking despicable behaviour.

I really wanna believe in good and hope that the Splatoon community can really grow from this and actually fully embody the messages the games have shown us. But so far, it seems like some of y'all haven't got the message drilled in your fucking heads.

If you freak out over two dark skinned fictional women like these girls right here, then I'm genuinely worried about how you act towards real-life women of colour.

Do better. Seriously. Get better at how you perceive others and really reflect on yourself and what you say towards people who look different than you.

[le-fruit-de-la-passion]

I ran here after your response to that musical!reader headcanon and the mention of Jekyll and Hyde has me SWOONING.

I saw a local production where the woman playing Lucy went out into the audience during "Bring On The Men" and flirted with people, she even sat down on her friend's lap!

What if musical!reader did that to Viktor 🤭

OH MY G O D THATS SO COOL???

Viktor would DIE. Like actually just pass way. Stop breathing and ascend to the next plane of existence. Glorious Evolution TM.

Viktor is usually very appreciative of music. It's similar to mathematics, in many ways, equations of numbers and notes put together for a new and unique sounding result. He does enjoy theater as well from time to time: it requires a lot of practice, experience, trial and error... by that logic, musical theater should be an art form just as objectively interesting in his eyes.

If what you're doing on stage right now is musical theater, though, he's having a VERY hard time staying objective about it.

It's nothing short of dirty. From the corset that hugs your waist and reveals way too much of your generous chest, to the way you're spreading your legs invitingly for the entire audience to see, everything about you screams sex. He's absolutely transfixed, incapable of looking away from the way your hands touch your own body to the beat of the invisible orchestra.

He's only pulled away from the moment when some students a few seats away start loudly whistling and whooping for your attention, like this is a strip club and not a college play.

THAT'S when he starts to get mad.

He's suddenly very aware of the fact that there's about a hundred other people in the room, students and faculty members, watching the same performance he is. How many of them will imagine you in their bed tonight? How many of them are imagining you in their lap right now?

The smile on your lips speak louder than a thousand words: you're enjoying this, the thrill of the stage, the eyes undressing you while you sing your pretty little song about getting fucked by nameless strangers. Even worse, he's certain you're taking pleasure in knowing he's got front row seats for it, that you've effectively got him powerless and chained down while you're giving a show he should be the only one witnessing.

You've flipped over your roles as student and teacher, and now, he's the one who has to sit silently and drink every word from your lips. It's devilishly clever.

He would be genuinely impressed if he wasn't burying his nails into his cane with one hand and trying to cover the tent in his dress pants with the other.

The projector suddenly moves; it follows you as you're going down the few stairs from the stage to the floor, heels sharp against the concrete floor.

So lets bring on the men

And let the fun begin

Your eyes finally meet his. They're filled with bright sparkles from the stage lights, teasing and provoking. Tauntingly asking if he's ready for what's next, when you both know he doesn't have a say in the matter. The show must go on.

'Ah, shit' is the only thing that comes across his mind before you sit on his lap, the spotlight blinding him.

A little touch of sin

Why wait another minute?

Your movements are calculated and precise, applying just enough pressure on his clothed cock for you to feel how hard he is, without granting him any relief. The audience cheers; he thinks he's having an aneurism.

You bat your mascara heavy eyelashes at him, abandoning the play for a triumphant instant. 'See?' he can almost hear you say. 'I knew I'd get your attention eventually. What's your next move, professor?'

Oh, he is going to make you regret this.

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Gale Sondergaard (The Cat and the Canary, The Mark of Zorro)—She is so deliciously sinister in the Cat and the Canary it’s hilarious and ridiculous and she’s so gorgeous too! Incredible performance

Joan Crawford (Dancing Lady, Mildred Pierce, The Women)— God, where do I start!!! Her face is so UNIQUE and compelling and stands out so much. I love her thick brows and high cheekbones. She has a school-marmy hardness too her that makes her a little scary and therefore sexy. Her low thick voice also does it for me. Despite being an unusual looking woman with an unusual face, she never loses her glamour. Just a gorgeous talented actress, AND she was some sort of gay!!!

This is round 1 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Joan Crawford propaganda:

I just love women that are very mean.

she was a smoke show in every decade, from the 20s to the 60s.

The classic matronly beauty with amazing eyebrows

of course there's a space for MILF joan but i want to just take a second and say she was so cute in her early movies (like grand hotel and the women)! those parts often get forgotten but her stardom shines in them just as much as in her older #queen #icon roles

Misremembered for wire hanger hatred, this original screen queen mastered the art of the comeback and refused to let Hollywood toss her aside as she aged. The term “auteur” is usually revered for directors or writer-directors, but most critics have one actor they’ll give that title to as well: Crawford—anyone who knows classic movies already has a “Crawford picture” in their head. She knew how to style herself and promote herself. She made herself a star and kept herself fixated in the Hollywood firmament. What’s hotter than knowing just how hot you are?

(don’t think about Mommie Dearest right now) Joan was known for being super nice to all the like crew of the movies she worked on and she’d get everyone gifts. Joan would hold movie nights at her house and knit at the back of her home theater. Joan was sooo obsessed with other women including Greta Garbo, whos dressing room she would obsessively and purposefully walk by. She said that while working on Grand Hotel, Garbo grabbed her face and “if there ever was a time in my life where I would’ve been a lesbian, that was it.” But like Joan also probably did sleep with women including Barbara Stanwyck. Joan was so obsessed with Bette Davis, screening multiple movies of hers in a day at her watch party, constantly trying to spend time with her or do a movie together, insisting on the dressing room next to hers at Warners and sending her daily gifts… etc. Once Bette said that sex was gods joke to humanity and Joan said “I think the joke is on her.” Joan fucked a lot. Joan got caught publicly fucking a man and sent a letter to the woman who saw them basically saying “I bet it excited you” and the woman was like you know what. It did. Joan was best friends with a gay man. Joan was an actually genuinely good actress even though people mocked her a lot for being like cheap and stupid (partially because she never finished school because her family was broke). Joan was so insane and so cool that’s all.

[silver-hwaberry]

ONE: i can see you...

Warnings: bullying, implied eating disorder and mentions of controlled eating but no details

Word count: 4.6k

⭑2016⭑

Yeonghwa let out a heavy sigh as she plopped into her usual seat at the back of the classroom. The School of Performing Arts Seoul was both a blessing and a curse for Yeonghwa, being the youngest member of the popular 5 member K-pop girl group Moonlight. Not only was she the maknae of the group, she was also the main dancer and lead rapper but also a vocalist too, and had been dubbed ‘Koreas princess’ by the media too.

As she gazes around the room, she could feel the weight of the judgemental stares and hushed whispers following her every move. Despite her fame, high school was still a daily struggle for Yeonghwa. Even though she had debuted two years earlier and found success, she was still only 17 years old and had to attend high school in Korea. Her hectic schedule often kept her from attending class on a regular basis and made it difficult for her to keep up with her studies compared to her peers. She was also the only member of her group who was still in school.

The pressure of being a popular idol while also trying to maintain her education was overwhelming. However, it was a requirement set by her parents when they allowed her to move from Yeosu-si to Seoul at the age of 13 to become a trainee. "Don't forget about your education," they told her, and she was determined to make them proud by excelling in both areas.

As she pulls out her textbooks, she feels the weight of dozens of eyes on her.

"Did you see her performance last night?"

“What was she even wearing? It was hideous!”

“Her ass is way too big to be wearing that skirt last night! It would have looked much better on Jinni instead.”

“No way, Haneul would have rocked that outfit! Don’t know why they give it to her!”

“Probably because she would have had a tantrum at someone else being centre of attention. Little Miss Attention Seeking once again!”

"They need to kick her out of the band, Areum is a much better dancer and she can actually rap too.”

The murmurs swirl around her, a constant reminder that she didn't belong here. Her phone buzzes, and she discreetly checks it under her desk. It was a message from Haneul, their leader:

"Meeting with the manager after school. New variety show opportunity for you."

Yeonghwa's stomach clenches. Another commitment to juggle. Another reason she'll fall behind in class. But she knew better than to complain. This was the life she'd chosen, the dream she'd fought so hard for. She'd make it work somehow. She always did.

Yeonghwa puts her phone away and keeps her head down, trying to focus on the lesson ahead. Just as the teacher was about to begin, the classroom door slides open suddenly causing everyone to look over.

"Sorry I'm late!" A tall boy with a kind smile rushes in, bowing apologetically to the teacher.

"You must be the new student transferring into my class," the teacher responds.

"That's me!" The boy grins, clearly excited to be joining the class.

The teacher awkwardly turns to address the class, struggling to remember the boy's name. "This young man will now be joining our class. Let's all make sure to give him a warm welcome."

"He's so good-looking!" Yeonghwa hears from the girl sitting in front of her.

“You can sit over there, beside Aria!” the teacher points at the empty seat beside her

Yeonghwa feels her chest tighten as some quiet laughs are heard around the room. She hated people calling her by her stage name. As he makes his way to his seat, his eyes meet Yeonghwas. Instead of the usual judgement or disdain she was used to, she saw warmth.

The boy slides into the empty desk beside her. "Hi," he whispers, offering a friendly grin. "You're Yeonghwa, right?"

Yeonghwa nods cautiously, waiting for the other shoe to drop. But his smile only widens. "Cool! It is nice to meet you! I’m Yunho!"

She blinks, caught off guard by Yunho's friendly demeanour. She opens her mouth to respond, but the teacher's sharp voice cuts through the air.

"Yunho, Aria, is there something you'd like to share with the class?"

"No, sir," Yunho replies smoothly. "Just introducing myself to Yeonghwa."

The teacher narrows his eyes. "Well, do it on your own time. Now, if everyone can get their textbooks out we will begin with..."

“Oh I don’t have a book for this class yet.” Yunho whisper quietly.

Yeonghwa slowly slides her textbook towards the centre of their shared desks, allowing Yunho to read from it as he thanks her. As the lesson continues, Yeonghwa can't help but glance over at Yunho every now and then. She is both curious about him and apprehensive, wondering if he will make a snide comment or try to take a covert photo of her like everyone else does.

In the middle of class, a wadded up paper lands on her desk. She carefully unfolds it, fully anticipating yet another mean joke directed at her. It had become commonplace for notes to be tossed onto her desk, teasing and mocking her. However, when she opened this one, she was surprised to find a drawing of their teacher with exaggeratedly large ears and the caption: "Do you think he could pick up satellite signals with those? Or is it just me?"

Yeonghwa tries to suppress a giggle as the teacher gives her a stern glance. Yunho shoots her a sly wink, and she feels a flutter in her heart. As the class progresses, Yeonghwa finds herself surprisingly interested and engaged. Having Yunho by her side seems to protect her from the usual judgemental whispers and glares of her classmates.

While the teacher has his back turned, Yunho leans in closer to Yeonghwa. "Do you think his ears are more like a satellite dish or an elephant's?" he whispers.

Yeonghwa stifles a laughter and responds, "Definitely a satellite. I bet he can pick up signals from other planets."

Yunho feigns seriousness as his eyes widen. "That would explain a lot." before laughing lightly.

Just then, the teacher spun around, eyeing them suspiciously. Yeonghwa quickly pretends to be engrossed in her textbook, while Yunho adopts an expression of angelic innocence that was so over-the-top it nearly made her snort.

As soon as the coast was clear, Yunho scribbles another note and slides it her way. This time, it was a rough sketch of the teacher with antennae sprouting from his ears, captioned: "Houston, we have a problem."

Yeonghwa couldn't help it - a giggle escapes before she could clamp her hand over her mouth. The teacher's head snaps up, his gaze zeroing in on her like a heat-seeking missile.

"Aria, is there something amusing about the Pythagorean theorem?"

Yunho jumps in before she could stammer out a response. "Actually, sir, I was just asking Yeonghwa if she could explain it to me later. Math isn't my strong suit."

The teacher's eyebrows shot up. "Well, that's... commendable. But please save your study plans for after class."

As he turns back to the board, Yeonghwa shot Yunho a grateful look. He winks back, then mouths, "Nice save, right?"

She rolls her eyes, but couldn't quite hide her smile. For the first time in ages, she actually felt like a normal high school student. It was... nice.

As the lunch bell rang, the two girls sitting in front of him immediately turned to face him. Their curious gazes were met with a polite smile from Yunho.

"So Yunho, how are you finding SOPA?" one of them asked, leaning in with a smile.

"It's only my first day, but I'm enjoying it so far," he responded confidently. Beside him, Yeonghwa hurriedly gathered her belongings, her head bent low.

“Some students are more skilled than others,” the other girl remarks. Yunho picks up on her tone and notices the glance she directs towards Yeonghwa. “We can show you who they are.”

Yunho's eyes shift towards Yeonghwa, noticing her tense posture and how she has pulled her long hair to cover her face as she looks down. She seems to have retreated within herself, just as she was when he first joined her this morning. Gone is the playful and open demeanour she had displayed with him moments ago. He couldn't help but notice the looks their classmates had been giving her during their lessons as well and it dawned on him that this was a regular occurrence for her.

Yunho responds firmly, "Thank you for the offer, but I think I can manage on my own. Actually, I've already made up my mind about 2 of them." His eyes narrow slightly as he looks at them

The two girls exchange glances, visibly surprised by Yunho's response.

"Oh really?" the first girl asks with a sugary smile, though her eyes betray her true feelings. "And what have you decided?"

"That they're exactly the type of people I avoid," Yunho says cheerfully as he gathers his books. "You know the kind - they think they're better than everyone else because they talk behind people's backs. Jealousy really is an ugly thing."

Yeonghwa's head snaps up, her eyes wide. A few students nearby, who were clearly listening in, suddenly find something else to focus on.

"Excuse me?" the second girl splutters, her cheeks turning red. "You can't just say that! We don't even know you!"

"And thank god for that," Yunho retorts, getting to his feet. He turns to Yeonghwa. "Come on, let's get out of here."

The two girls storm off in a huff as Yeonghwa stares at Yunho, trying to process what just happened as all the students begin filtering out the classroom, Yunho and Yeonghwa gather their things and are the last to leave.

“Are you alright?” Yunho asks, his tone filled with concern as he worries that he may have crossed a line.

“You didn’t have to do that,” she says, grateful but also feeling guilty.

“I did it because I can’t stand people who act like they’re better than others when they really aren’t,” he replies with sincerity. “And because I really did not like the way they were speaking to you and looking at you.” he adds feeling a slight blush creep on his cheeks

“Thank you for standing up for me,” Yeonghwa says shyly. “And for not calling me Aria either.”

"Well, Aria is just your stage name, right? Here at school, I figured it was better to use your real name, Yeonghwa."

Yeonghwa nods gratefully, glad that he understands the difference. “Yes, I prefer Yeonghwa, especially in this setting. But most people keep calling me Aria and it drives me crazy!” Which Yeonghwa knew was exactly their intentions when they call her it.

Yunho nods in understanding and leans in, speaking quietly. "Can I ask a question? Does the teacher always look like he's sucking on a lemon, or is that just for my benefit?"

Yeonghwa lets out a loud laugh and tries to hide her amusement behind her hand. "No, that's just his normal expression. I don't think he knows how to smile."

Yunho grins and adds, "I'll remember to include that in my 'SOPA Survival Guide.' Right after 'Avoid the cafeteria food at all costs.'"

"That's not even the worst part," Yeonghwa groans. "Trust me, bring your own lunch if you don't want to glow in the dark."

“Well, that works out perfectly because I have no intention of having lunch here anyway,” he chuckles.

“Why’s that?” Yeonghwa asks with curiosity

"My friend attends a nearby school and I prefer to join him for lunch." he explains as they descend the stairs. "He's a slow eater and feels self-conscious about it, so I like to keep him company."

"Oh," Yeonghwa smiles, "That's really kind of you."

“And what about yourself? What do you usually do for lunch?” he asks.

Yeonghwa shifts her gaze towards the floor. "Um.. I actually don't eat lunch at the moment."

Yunho stops in his tracks and turns to face Yeonghwa. "Why?" he asks, furrowing his brow.

“Comeback is in 3 weeks so.. you know, need to make sure everything fits and looks good.” she replies with a small shrug.

Yunho's expression changes to one of disbelief as he processes her words. "Let me get this straight. You're starving yourself just to fit into some ridiculous outfit?"

Yeonghwa fidgets with the strap of her bag. "It's not like that. It's just... you know, part of the job."

"That's bullshit," Yunho says firmly, his voice low but full of conviction. "No job description should require you to harm your own body."

Yeonghwa raises her head, surprised by his bluntness. "You don't get it. In this industry-"

"In this industry, they see you as a commodity instead of a person," Yunho interrupts. He runs a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated. "I understand the pressure and expectations. But starving yourself? That's fucked up."

Yeonghwa bites her lip, unsure of how to respond. Part of her wants to defend herself, but another part is relieved that someone is acknowledging the truth. "I do eat, just not as much as most people. And it is only for comeback season, after that I go back to eating normally!"

Yunho rolls his eyes. "That's not healthy! As a trainee, I know my company makes sure we are well-fed and taken care of. Yours should be doing the same for you too!”

Yeonghwa is surprised. "You're a trainee?"

Yunho nods, his expression softening. "Yes, at KQ," he confirms. "Okay, new plan. You're coming to lunch with me and my friend."

"What? No, I couldn't possibly-" Yeonghwa starts to protest.

"Yes, you can," he insists firmly. "I won't make you eat if you don't want to. But just come hang out with us for a bit and get away from this place. And I think you'll really like my friend Mingi too!"

“Yunho, I am not allowed to leave the building until my manager picks me up.” she anxiously bites her lower lip, “Or go anywhere without him either.”

Yunho's eyebrows raise in surprise. "Seriously? Are you Rapunzel or something? This is a school, not a prison."

Yeonghwa sighs. "More like a gilded cage."

"Well, consider me your dashing rescuer," Yunho grins, then immediately winces. "Shit, that sounded way less cheesy in my head."

"My knight in shining armour," Yeonghwa deadpans, though there's a small smile on her face.

Yunho leans in and looks around secretively. "Okay, here's the plan. We create a diversion. Smoke bombs might work, or maybe we could train a monkey—"

"A monkey?" Yeonghwa laughs and shakes her head. "As tempting as your primate-powered jailbreak sounds, I really can't risk it. My company would flip their shit if they found out, not to mention Haneul would probably have an a stroke!"

"Yeah, my leader would probably do the same. Hongjoong's head always looks like it's about to pop off, and there aren't many of us training," Yunho chuckles.

“How many is there so far?” she asks with curiosity

“Only four - Hongjoong, Mingi, San, and myself. San joined us fairly recently.” Yunho answers. “There is someone we are trying to poach from another company as well that others are wanting. Hongjoong wants him badly so hopefully we will have a new person soon too.”

“Mingi? The friend you’re meeting for lunch?” Yeonghwa clarifies.

"That's him! We met years ago at a dance academy, and then we both ended up auditioning for the same company without even knowing it. It was fate," he laughs before frowning and tapping his chin thoughtfully. "Okay, new plan 2.0. We'll bring lunch to you. I'll text Mingi and-"

"No!" Yeonghwa's eyes widen in panic. "You can't do that. If anyone sees..."

"Don't worry," Yunho reassures her, holding up his hands. "We'll be stealthy. Like ninjas. Or really clumsy spies."

Yeonghwa hesitates, her lips caught between a smile and worry. "I don't know..."

"Come on," Yunho nudged her playfully. "Live a little. What's the worst that could happen?"

"You want me to give you a list of all the worst things that could happen with that plan?" Yeonghwa arches an eyebrow.

"Point taken," Yunho concedes. "But consider this: free food."

“I honestly can’t anyway because of last nights performance I wasn’t able to finish my homework for our next class so I am on my way to the library.” she says, “But go have lunch with your friend and we can maybe have a ninja picnic another day.”

Yunho sighs dramatically causing Yeonghwa to giggle lightly. "Well, if you change your mind about our super-secret ninja lunch, just give me the signal."

"The signal?" Yeonghwa raises an eyebrow.

"You know, like..." Yunho proceeds to do an elaborate series of hand gestures that look more like a drunk person swatting at invisible flies than any sort of coherent communication.

Yeonghwa bursts out laughing. "What the hell was that supposed to be?"

"Ninja sign language, obviously," Yunho replies with a perfectly straight face. "Don't tell me they didn't teach you that in idol school."

Yeonghwa lets out a scoffing laugh. "I must have skipped that class," she remarks. "I was most likely occupied with perfecting my polite smile and wave, trying not to look like I'm having a fit."

"Ah, crucial life skills," Yunho nods sagely. "Well, I'd better go before I'm late. Can't have my friend thinking I've been abducted by the SOPA aliens."

As he turns to leave, Yeonghwa is hit with a pang of emotion. Is it regret? Longing? She pushes the feeling aside. "Hey, Yunho?"

Yunho stops and turns back with a dramatic flair. "Yes, Yeonghwa the Magnificent?"

She can't help but giggle at his silliness. "You're such a goofball!"

"It's part of my charm," Yunho grins. "But seriously, what's on your mind?"

Yeonghwa hesitates, fidgeting with the strap of her bag. "I just wanted to say thank you. You’ve treated me like a normal person instead of some alien life form or a walking photo op."

"I can see you,” Yunho's face softens into a genuine smile. “…for you! No one else.” Yeonghwa feels her stomach flip lightly at his words, “Beside, I’m pretty sure you’re way too short to be an alien!” and a cheeky grin emerges

"Excuse me?" Yeonghwa gasps in mock offence. "I'll have you know I'm perfectly average height."

"For a hobbit, maybe," Yunho teases.

"Oh, that's rich coming from you, Godzilla," Yeonghwa retorts, surprising herself with how easy this banter feels.

Yunho clutches his chest dramatically. "Ouch! Wounded by the tiny terror!"

"Keep it up and I'll aim lower next time," Yeonghwa threatens, but there's no heat in it.

"Noted," Yunho chuckles. “I’ll see you back in class after lunch and I’ll bring you a little something too!” With a final wave, he disappears down the hallway, leaving Yeonghwa with an unfamiliar feeling of warmth in her chest. She shook her head, trying to clear it. She had homework to do, after all. No time for... whatever this was.

But as she made her way to the library, she couldn't help wonder what it might be like to have a friend like Yunho. Someone who saw her as Kim Yeonghwa, not Aria from Moonlight. Someone who made her laugh instead of want to disappear.

She sighs, pushing the thought away. It was a nice fantasy, but that's all it was. Fantasy. Reality was school, homework, diets, gruelling rehearsals, performing and the constant pressure to be perfect 24/7. That was her world, and no amount of ninja sign language was going to change that.

Right?

But… for the first time in months, Yeonghwa felt a glimmer of hope. Maybe, just maybe, she had found a friend in this sea of isolation.

⭑2020⭑

Yeonghwa quickly scans the audience and her fellow idols sitting beside her. The award show is in full swing now, with some awards already handed out and performances from various bands. Moonlight is scheduled to perform second to last, so she and her four bandmates - Jinni, Areum, Misty, and their leader Haneul - have some time to enjoy the show before preparing for their performance. She notices numerous fans filming with their phones focused on her and her fellow idols. Making sure to acknowledge as many as she can, Yeonghwa waves at the cameras, particularly those with her name or the group's name on banners.

She turns her head to the right and locks eyes with someone. Her gaze immediately drops, avoiding those all-too-familiar big brown eyes that have been making her heart flutter since she first saw them four years ago - Yunho.

She knew he would be here with his band Ateez; it was announced weeks ago when the lineup was revealed. But she never expected to end up sitting next to him with only Hongjoong and Haneul between them.

It had been 4 years since that day in the school hallway, when they shared ninja sign language and laughter that brightened her world. But so much had changed since then. They both graduated, Yunho debuted with Ateez, and their careers took them in different directions. What followed that first day was a beautiful friendship that blossomed into something deeper - but now, Yeonghwa is to blame for the fact that there is nothing left between them.

Nearly 2 years has passed since the last time she saw him face to face, the last time she ever spoke to him and it was bad. She said hurtful things, trying to push him away and protect him as he prepared for his debut. Though they never officially labelled themselves as a couple, their feelings for each other were undeniable. Walking away from him was one of the most difficult choices Yeonghwa ever made, but deep down she knew it was for the best for both of them

She can't resist stealing another glance at him. He's focused on the stage now, but when Seonghwa leans over and whispers something in his ear, he bursts out laughing. He looks even more handsome than before, with his boyish features now fully matured into those of a man. Yeonghwa liked how their stylist had picked each of their outfits, but Yunhos was perfect for him. They all looked so much more grown up since the last time she saw them all face to face.

A tap on her shoulder startles her from her thoughts. It's Misty, her best friend in the group. "Your staring is going to be trending on SNS if you don’t stop," she whispers with a smirk.

Yeonghwa feels her face heat up. "I wasn't staring."

Misty rolls her eyes. "Just like you weren't staring at MAMA, or KBS Song Festival, or-"

"I get it," Yeonghwa hisses, sinking lower in her seat. “It is just weird being THIS close to him. At least at the other award shows he was sat at the opposite side, far away from me!”

Misty was well aware of the past between Yunho and Yeonghwa; after all, it was Misty who had Yeonghwa had confided in her about it all at the time. She could only imagine how difficult this must have been for Yeonghwa.

Misty's expression softens. "Have you ever thought about talking to him? Clearing the air? I think if he knew the real reason you did what you did, he would understand."

Yeonghwa shakes her head firmly. "No, that's out of the question. It's been two years, Misty. He's probably moved on by now. And after what I said to him, I'm sure he hates me. As he should."

"You don't know that," Misty argues gently. "Maybe he-"

"Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome to the stage, ATEEZ!"

The announcement cuts through their conversation, and Yeonghwa's head snaps up. She watches, heart pounding, as Yunho and his group take the stage. Their performance is electric, full of the passion and energy that has made them one of the hottest new groups in K-pop. But Yeonghwa can't take her eyes off Yunho.

In high school, she had always been impressed by his innate dancing skills. He had taught her so much about it back then, but now he moves with a newfound confidence and fluidity that leaves her speechless. His voice, deeper and more mature than it was in their school days, sends tingles down her spine. For a fleeting moment, their gazes lock across the bustling venue, and Yeonghwa is completely captivated, unable to catch her breath.

The performance ends, and ATEEZ heads back to their seats. Yeonghwa avoids looking at Yunho as he walks by, but she can sense his presence like a magnetic force. Memories of their time together flood her mind - the laughter, the secret moments, the way he made her feel alive and real beyond her stage persona - it all rushes back with intense clarity, as if it just happened yesterday.

She remembers the last day she ever spoke to him, the way his face crumpled when she told him she didn't love him. It was the biggest lie she'd ever told, but she convinced herself it was for the best. They had just graduated from SOPA by weeks, Moonlight were about to embark on another world tour, one that would take her away from Korea for 4 months, he was deep into preparations for his debut which included a one month trip to LA to do in depth training in dance and vocals, and she couldn't bear the thought of holding him back or being a scandal that could ruin his career before it even began.

So she walked away, ignoring the shattering of her own heart with each step. She threw herself into her work, into being the perfect idol, the perfect Aria. But late at night, when the stage lights dimmed and the screams of the fans faded, she allowed herself to remember. To miss him.

Now, standing face to face with him again, it's like a wound she thought had healed has been torn open once more. His voice echoes in her mind from that fateful day, loud and clear over the blaring music in the arena.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

"Yeonghwa, please. I love you!"

"I don't love you. So just leave me alone." With those words, Yeonghwa turns and walks out of Yunho's dorm room, startled when she sees Mingi's cold stare from the hallway. He had overheard their conversation.

“When did you become such a cold heartless bitch?” he asks

Yeonghwa takes a deep breath, his words cutting her deep but she knows she deserves him for the hurt she’s just inflicted on his best friend.

“Maybe it is who I’ve always been.” she says, she knows she needs to keep up the cold facade with Mingi too to make sure none of them come to her again

“I warned him not to trust an idol when he told me about you. Told him they were mostly selfish and out for themselves but he insisted you were different,” Mingi says, walking closer to her. “Then I met you and thought the same. You seemed genuine - funny, kind, and genuinely cared for him. Well, it turns out you were just a gifted manipulator. You fooled all of us.”

Yeonghwa remains silent, her heart heavy with guilty and regret. Mingi’s words sting, but she knows she can’t defend herself right now. She needs to let him believe the words he is saying about her.

"It's probably best if you leave now," Hongjoong's harsh voice comes from behind Mingi as the sound of Yunho's sobs grows louder.

Yeonghwa grabs her bag and walks out their dorm. Her heart shattering into a million pieces with every step.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Yeonghwa glances over at him, and catches him laughing with his other members. She starts to look away, but then their eyes meet and she sees the warmth and familiarity that was once there years ago. Everything seems to blur out around the both of them, they may as well be the only two people in this large arena as they look at one another.

But then reality hits her - they are not alone. Yeonghwa snaps out of her daze, remembering that they are surrounded by thousands of fans and cameras that could capture this moment. As she looks away, Yunho gives her a subtle nod and slight smile, causing her heart to race with emotion.

Yunho tries to suppress a wide smile as she looks away shyly from him, the same way she always did when he made her flustered. Even after all this time, the words that had been said, the heartbreak he endured in the aftermath - he can still see her.

[blackghostm2o]

New "Phantom Ramblings" post (oh wow!)

I'VE FINALLY WATCHED PHANTOM OF THE PARADISE!!!

The soundtrack is really good, i really enjoyed its songs (listening to the soundtrack rn, haha)

It is really fast paced and chaotic (especially when Winslow hasn't become the Phantom yet), not a bad thing I just wasn't expecting it, but it works well.

This version is really distant from it's original, however its aim is not being a PotO adaptation, but more of a critique towards the music business while using the PotO story to convey its message.

Yk... With predatory contracts, getting to perform only because you sold your body to a powerful mf, the unhealthy relationship between the performers and the public, the constant search for sensationalism (like when Swan wanted to kill Phoenix, or when no one batted an eye when Beef died), prioritising everything else but music (with greedy execs that change the whole soul of a song to make easy money), etc...

Leaving all of this sad stuff behind, heh... Spoilers ahead.

I ABSOLUTELY LOVE WINSLOW!!!! (Already on the 15 min mark I was "I love him sm") SWAN DID HIM SO SO DIRTY!!! NOOOOOOO!!!! Not only he took his music, but then he got also HIS VOICE (thus taking his soul, even tho he literally takes his soul with a contract, but I digress). Swan being: "Plugged here you can sing" while giving him a robotic voice to talk was really cruel >:(. Here idk if we can say that he is in love with Phoenix... He did want her to sing... Ok, now that i think about it he rewrote his songs with her in mind and was destroyed when he saw her sleeping with Swan... Yeah he loved her, but in a totally different way from the original. The way he got his music stolen and got disfigured while trying to destroy copies of his work (here Faust iirc) is really similar to what happened in the '62 PotO movie. The Phantom's design here is really cool, I like it (but also so fucking hard to draw rhaaaaa). Also him tryng to stop Phoenix for going to Swan's house T.T THE WAY HE DIES!!!! NOOOOO!!!! *sobs and cries*

FUCK SWAN that mf sold his soul to remain always young (obviously takes inspo from Faust, but made me also think of Dorian Gray, especially because of the whole tape thing and eternal beauty). Acting a lot like your typical phantom, talking from behind mirrors, having hidden passages, asking for THE VOICE of Chr- ahem Phoenix.

Ngl I loved Beef, he didn't really deserve to die, he just did what he was asked to do, he even wanted to go away... Ohh! I just realised that he is this movie's version of LaCarlotta (sorry guys, I'm dumb). He was such a DIVA, haha.

Loved Phoenix's singing, such a beautiful voice <333. A bit sad to see her being lured by Swan, but I don't really blame her... Imagine receiving so much praise and attention for the first time... Obviously you will want more. Fortunately she ended up unscathed from this whole deal (thanks to Winslow).

Btw the movie is really fun, I highly suggest watching it :)<3

I'll try to draw THE SILLY, wish me luck. We need more potp art around here, ngl.

[saebeau]

Perfect Marriage Revenge is already my comfort drama and will be put on repeat frequently. These 2 virgins made my 2023!

As a person who finished the novel and, currently, is reading the webtoon, i aprecciate that they didn't change much of the story while doing the drama, honestly i'm even in awe that they put many interesting details that make the scenes more rich.

To me, all of this helped a lot for the better understanding and enjoyment of the drama, and of course, filled many non answered in-between parts left open in the novel and it's sooo refreshing to see, honestly!

I'm here today just give some facts till' today's episode, from the novel and the webtoon, that yall might find cool. I'm going to try to put in order ok?! NO SPOILERS AHEAD!

1 - Yi Joo dies hit by a car right after hearing a very "heartfelt" conversation between her husband and sister on their 1st wedding aniversary. She even buy a cake for that piece of shit! I liked that they put the detail of her husband covering her sister eyes on her dying spot.

2 - Yi Joo's paintings and art are pretty much on the drama, either the novel or the webtoon, they don't pay much attention to it. Yi Joo mostly wants just WJ Retail from her family in the story, period. Personally all the thing around her art gives her way more motives to get revenge and i love it!

3 - Se Hyeok is pretty much annoying both the novel e webtoon but is getting more lines on the drama. His motives are pretty much the same. Yoo Ra.

Se Hyeok is a "long time friend" of Yi Joo (everything being set by her stepmother). Yi Joo marries him not because of a "affection" like in the drama, it's much more like he is her safe haven, a person she trusts and can live peacefully (even at the cost of being in-laws with his shitty family). There is no love, romance or anything. They just live together living their lifes apart, interacting as friends. Her life with Se Hyeok looks a lot like the beginning of her life with Do Guk, no eating, sleeping or doing things together. In the drama looks like that too but with Yi Joo pinning over him a little bit but he doesn't care. Yi Joo romantic life does not exist before Do Guk.

4 - As Yi Joo dies by an accident, she does not know much about her stepmothers plans so, her rage is much more driven by the betrayal of Yoo Ra, Se Hyeok and all the lies and manipulations around her life, of course, things escalate as she keeps discovering everything. But the part of her stepmother unpluging her support machine is *chiefs kiss* and confessing everything was well made and put, and i give that a applause because makes Yi Joo more hurtless.

5 - I just wanted to point that this is Yi Joo's first kiss, maybe Do Guks too, i'm not sure, i'm gonna search it. In the novel and webtoon, if i'm correct, there's is a whole conversation about kissing on the altar on their wedding day, which they do and that's Yi Joo first kiss. Saying that pretty much explains her whole relationship with Se Hyeok.

6 - For Yoo Ra, some of you could have a glimpse of her future until now. She is much more driven by her mother ideas, plans, feelings and her own obsession on being better than her sister in everything, as Do Guk pointed out, which worked until now. But well, you all saw the ridicule she passes when she makes her own decisions and is driven by her envy and hatred for Yi Joo. Man, it will get worse, just wait and see.

7 - SHOUT OUT to pretty much everything else being as much alike as the novel and even the webtoon than i thought it would. The actors and actresses and doing a fantastic job, much love to SUNG HOON AND JUNG YOO MIN for their amazing performances that bought to life life the perfect Do Guk and Yi Joo that i was expecting.

Much love guys!

[candiedspit]

Silly Bastard of The North Wang

The sun goes down like a slurring basketball through a slow hoop and is replaced by a sliver of fingernail.

I retire my coat on the floor; someone will pick it up got me. Whatever I want, people do it. I head to my booth where the hooligans await with their pink, fat smiles and cigars and tales of the market. How the market roared this morning. How the market quivers beneath my influence. How my influence glitters across the numbers.

Michigan greets me and orders me a martini as I sit down. He tells me about the girl he’s seeing. Some young, elastic twenty one year old studying tactical art at one of the local colleges.

Now, what is tactical art? He asks with a laugh.

I shake my head and laugh.

Must be some sort of gimmick.

Oh, but she’s wonderful. So curious about everything, poor thing. She asks me these questions at night when we’re laying down, right as I’m on the cusp of sleep. She goes, Daddy what do you love me for? And Daddy, how do you spell protection? I rub her head until she nods off.

Gotta get me a girl like that, Robert chimes in.

We talk and smoke throughout the night as the cabaret singers trail off into operatic blues and fall into ballads.

Saturday morning, the next morning. I like to sleep in and eat cherry tarts in bed and lean against the morning broadcast, minting for anything important I ought to know. In the afternoon, I eat rabbit and take a couple of pills and in the evening, I ease downtown where the kids only get smarter and smarter and the lights are all neon. I slip into a lounge and order something orange. As the night goes on, I go to the Club Fantastical, a smaller venue for smaller acts that might not get on the bill at other places. The freaks of song. One singer entrances me. It is not often I get entranced. But this little blue boy with a magnificent, scratched voice gets on stage and lets out this mournful love song. I keep my applause small and a couple hours later at the midnight intermission, I go backstage and look for him. Among the paper wings and dark glitters. One of the girls tries to get my attention but I dismiss her signals. I find him at the back, getting changed out of his outfit. He looks up at me.

Do I know you? He asks.

I saw your performance, I tell him. And I wanted to tell you I liked it very much. You were beautiful out there.

He looks at me again.

You’re not my crowd, he says.

I like to come here on the weekends.

I watch him put on a sweatshirt.

What’s your name? I ask.

Sam, he says.

Well, Sam. Do you want to have dinner with me?

He laughs again as if in disbelief and nods.

Sure. But take me somewhere nice.

I take him back to my apartment and have the cool make us a couple of lobsters and bring us out some wine.

What do you do? He asks, running his fingers over the painting in my bedroom.

Something hard to describe.

We eat in the dining room and I ask Sam what his life is like. He is twenty six and lives with his cousin in Harlem and works at a grocery store and sings on the side. As the sun comes back up like a bloodied maestro, Sam and I fuck in my bed. This is rare and I surprise myself. In the morning, I call Sam a cab and give him my number.

If you’re going to call during the week, call after five, I tell him.

A couple of weeks pass. Sam lives in my head like an insistent moth. He calls me at exactly five on a Friday afternoon. I tell him I was waiting for him to call. I’d like to see you again. Sam comes over that night and we fuck and I love him more than I did the first time. And again, a couple of weeks later until we’ve got a routine going; every couple of weeks, we spend the weekend together in my apartment like two blasted agoraphobes.

That winter I take him to Coney Island on his insistence. He wants to walk the boardwalk with me; we hold hands and it is thirty seven degrees. Sam never asks me anything about work. Instead, he asks about my childhood.

I could have stayed there in that grime and grossness, I tell him. Saving up for a nice drink. But by some lucky star I was able to meet the right people and make the right moves.

I want to give you a beautiful life, I tell Sam as we ride the cab back to Midtown. Anything you want for the rest of your life.

He thinks for a while as the city passes us in cold, whisked blurs.

All I want to do is sing, he says. I don’t mind the shit staircase and the weed smoke but if you want to do anything for me, I’d like to sing.

I keep this in mind. In the meantime, we spend our nights inside, fucking and falling asleep and watching television and eating well and sleeping again. Sometimes, Sam stomps into the penthouse screaming about his cousin. The fool. The fool. Sometimes, we don’t speak. And go straight for skin.

As summertime approaches in her hot veils, I meet my men again at the same booth as the other times before and order a drink. I listen to Michigan complain about his tax cut. All blabbermouths. And before long, there he is. Sam comes onstage and sings the song I picked out for him. That’s my tenderness. That’s my boy; my boy is a dove, a harp, an oasis for my tired, oil slick soul, my unhappiness, my grout.

And he takes the loving so well.

[radianceholy]

Owlcatober 2024 - Invisible

Arueshalae and Sosiel having a chat about art and love. No cws to speak of this time!

“It’s like a game, then, isn’t it?”

“…Some have made the comparison, yes.”

“Then… It's really only a step removed from a lie. Or, at best, another kind of performance… it's something that's real, but only as long as the performance goes on.”

“That is one of the conundrums at the heart of Shelyn’s faith, it’s true. Love is to be celebrated as a liberatory force. The ultimate expression of the beauty our hearts can conjure,” his voice rang out with a clipped grandeur. He’d heard those words hundreds of times too many, perhaps, and the meaning had long since drained away. “But it is a feeling ruled over by transient emotions, and but for the blessings of the gods, there are more tragedies than triumphs. Poetry and song work to conjure an image of the world far sweeter than we will ever know.”

Arueshalae’s lips twitched. She had to suppress the urge deep in her belly to pry her claws into a gap in his armor he’d so foolishly exposed, as a different kind of despair washed over her in its place. The walls of Drezen Citadel were damp and cool, and the cloud cover was thick enough that sunlight didn’t pierce through. She had come up here for the same reason he had: it is quiet, it is far from others, and it is easy to see everyone down below. He was avoiding the distraction and she was avoiding the very same, but nonetheless, she’d found it. She let out a sigh. “It’s no different, then. It’s just a comforting lie…”

Drezen was a rather cold and gray place. She often took comfort in the high stone walls and indifferent cobbled streets, the certainty of knowing where each road led and what each building held. She’d acquainted herself with every stray cat and memorized the routines of the soldiers in the barracks and she even knew a few of the faces personally– or as close to it as she let herself get with anyone, outside of the privileged few within the Knight Commander’s trusted inner circle. Anevia always seemed to spot her in her lonesome rooftop wanderings, catching her eyes with a sly, knowing grin, and she could sit in comfortable silence beside Arsinoe. Those two were rare exceptions.

Sosiel’s paintbrush was as much of a liar as she was, she thought, though it was hard to call it singularly ‘beautiful’ in the manner of the Silken Shadow. His artwork depicted things that were all rather common and plain. Ten-to-a-copper mortal lives, going about their business in a street whose colors seemed all the more vibrant than they had any right to be. She peered down from the parapets, and what she saw certainly didn’t live up to the brushstrokes. He cared to show a bit of green growing between the cobbles, or an unusually fancy brooch on a woman wearing rags. He saw so many more details than she, beneath a bright blue sky that they rarely ever enjoyed so near to the Worldwound.

“I’m not quite wise enough to have pierced through one of the oldest and most contentious riddles at the core of my faith,” he chuckled, a good natured smile on his lips, “that alone has caused schisms, even leaving aside the heretical cults and apostatic movements.”

She frowned, her tail lashing sharply.

“…What I mean to say,” he continued, noticing her impatience, “is that it’s an act of faith.”

“Of course. That kind of faith is a weakness all mortals share,” she murmured sadly. “Why would they believe in the promises of a demon, if not out of blind hope?”

His brow knitted, and he shook his head. “…The act of love itself is an act of faith in itself, I mean to say.”

“So it’s an act, a game, it comprises faith itself, and it’s a series of fickle emotions…?”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” she could hear the finger-wagging in his tone. “That’s probably only scratching the surface. Shelynites have spilled gallons of ink contemplating the nature of beauty and love.”

“And the poetry? The declarations of love? The… courtly romance, with all of those grand gestures and heroic feats?”

“We exist apart from one another,” a stroke of his brush. She crept closer, moving on her toes silently as though her footsteps might break the spell of his inspiration. “Our hearts are hidden to one another. You said once that you felt like you understood mortals, as a succubus, but no longer.”

He seemed to follow her gaze, stepping aside and gesturing her closer to look. A little wave of his hand, in that flourishing, graceful way he tended to move. His brushstrokes were deliberate, and she could identify each and every one, now that she was standing before his canvas. From far away, it was a delusion. Up close, it was an act of careful construction. She wasn’t certain what it meant, even knowing that much. Their hearts must be quite well hidden, indeed. “You rarely seem like you’re lying.”

“…It’s not a virtue in the eyes of the Eternal Rose, to blind ourselves to the truth, nor to disguise it from another. I’ve failed her and myself both, but I’m not proud of those lapses. I wish to stay true to myself.”

Her shoulders sank. She wanted to see. She wanted to see it. Why wasn’t it there, yet? No matter how she stared, the Drezen he saw and the Drezen she saw were irreconcilable. “It’s not as though I don’t understand. You’re grasping blindly at something you know to exist, yet can’t describe. Poetry, art, music, dance… you pull them out of your heart, and you hope that they’re seen.” She felt herself reaching towards the painting, as though she might sink right into it. Even as she said it, she could feel her own skepticism in her voice. How can you do it? How can you trust them to see it?

“It’s alright, you know. Art isn’t meant to be understood immediately.”

She closed her eyes, letting the city as she knew it disappear. If it was like a dream… if Desna and Shelyn truly lay together as lovers… maybe she could have this, too. A bright, beautiful, lively Drezen. Full of life, and the chaos that follows life. Stray seeds pack into the cobblestones and grow into flowers, and anywhere else in the world, they’d be weeds. Here, they’re a welcome spot of color and beauty, like each mortal life that found itself at the edge of the Abyss by circumstance…

She sighed, opening her eyes. The sky was still gray.

She’d hoped to see something different, but at least she could see it wasn’t a lie. Maybe that’s all she could hope for, right now.

[fuckjohncalvin]

Because of some cool art you made I want to dip my toe into the Mechanisms.

where do I find the story?

So I don't know how much you know about them, but the basics are:

The Mechanisms is a band in which each member has a persona. They are a crew of immortal space pirates, roaming the galaxy in search of violence, fun, and stories to tell. Each persona character can be referred to as a mechanism, as in a member of the crew, but they each also have a mechanism, a clockwork prosthetic of some sort that was installed after they each had their own tragic story and made them immortal.

When they find a good, long, juicy tragedy, they turn it into an album. They also have two anthology albums, with some songs connecting to the wider stories and some completely independent of them, and a couple containing mechanisms lore. Their last album is from the live show of their final performance.

All of these albums stand on their own, and there is no particular order you need to listen to them in. They each contain characters and places from classic stories, putting unique sci-fi spins on them all and following queer narratives. I'd say bury your gays, but honestly, it's more like bury your gays and the entire planet they lived on, along with everything they ever held dear.

here's a summary of each, stolen from the mechs blurbs themselves:

Once Upon a Time (In Space)-

This tale tells of those embroiled in the rebellion against the tyrant of New Constantinople, Old King Cole. It tells of the love of Cinders for her captured Rose, of the treatment of Rose at the hands of Cole's genetic scientists, and of the bold but savage leadership of the rebel General Snow. And it tells of the final fates of all of these.

fairy tale but make it a rebellion. their first album, contains many of their most popular songs. solid. not personally one of my favorites, but the one I'm most likely to be listening to a song from on any given day. our boy jack and pump shanty are excellent.

High Noon Over Camelot-

A tale of hope and despair aboard the Fort Galfridian, long lost to the outside world, where the chaos of centuries of solitude has been brought in check at last by the guns of the Pendragon Gang. But the visions of the mad prophet Galahad, and the schemes of the Pendragons' lieutenants Mordred and Gawain, threaten to cast the station back into anarchy. And all the while, the Sun grows hotter...

arthurian legend has just become a space westerner in which everyone rides motorcycles and a fiery death threatens them all. haven't listened to it yet, but I've heard great things. Blood and Whiskey is a banger, and Arthur, Lancelot, and Guinevere are in a polycule, something I didn't know I needed until I heard it suggested.

Ulysses Dies At Dawn-

Ulysses Dies at Dawn. That's the word on the street, at any rate, if you talk to anyone who saw what went down at Calypso's Bar the other night. Who is behind the thuggish band known as the Suits - Heracles, Ariadne and the others? What is Ulysses's secret? And what is hidden within the security of the Vault?

I'm going to be completely honest with you. I think this is no-contest their best album. It's greek mythology in noir film style, with heavy usage of blues and rock. I don't even like blues, but I love each and every song. This one is also a little easier to follow than the others. I'd recommend starting here.

The Bifrost Incident-

The Bifrost Incident. Any schoolchild could tell you about it. The fall of the old order; two hundred years of Asgardian hubris come together in a single epoch-defining event. The maiden voyage of a train through the stars, vanished without a trace...

Remember how I think the last one was the best one? Well, this is still my favorite. Norse mythology framed as a mystery on a train, with a twist completely out of left field that leaves you reeling. Thus, it is probably the most difficult to follow, or at least, it was for me. The art you liked-which wasn't mine, unfortunately, credit to the artists is on the post if you want to check those blogs out-featured variations of the narrator from this album. let's just say I'm. not so normal about them.

well. ANYWAYS. this was...probably longer than what you wanted. Or than what I should have given. I don't get asks a lot and an excuse to talk about the mechanisms is always something I am willing to abuse.

If you do end up listening to any of their music, please tell me what you think! I'd love to hear it, and it's always nice to talk about them with someone else :)

[cmdrfupa]

Happy Birthday, @courtneedsleep 🫐🫐 This is a Gojo certified fic so I'm hoping its to your liking. You're the best and I hope your day is filled with love!!

an: This is just straight up crack 😮‍💨

Satoru Gojo wasn’t used to struggling. He was the strongest and made sure that rang true with every move he made. But when it came to winning over Courtney, the talented pianist and math wizard, his usual charm wasn’t quite enough.

He first saw her during one of her piano performances in a quiet café, her fingers dancing over the keys with such grace that he couldn’t tear his eyes away. Like watching live art as her concentration on the melody made him swoon.

Gojo being Gojo, he figured his usual grin and confident attitude would do the trick. But Courtney? She didn’t bat an eyelash. She hooked arms with her friend and walked out of the cafe, completely focused on her agenda for the day.

That’s when Gojo realized he had a challenge on his hands. “Guess it’s time to consult the experts,” he said with a grin, determined as ever. ‘Something has to work.”

Step One: Seek Advice

Megumi

Gojo’s first stop was, naturally, Megumi Fushiguro. It was always fun to pester the kid, and Gojo was convinced that Megumi secretly knew more about romance than he let on.

“Megumi!” Gojo called, draping an arm over his protege's shoulder. Megumi didn’t even flinch, used to this kind of behavior by now. “I need some advice.”

Megumi’s brows knitted together in a frown as he looked up from his book. “If this is about how to avoid paperwork, I’m not helping.”

“No, no, it’s much more important than that.” Gojo grinned, stepping in front of Megumi and blocking his path. “I need to know how to impress Courtney.”

Megumi paused, looking mildly confused. “Why would you need to impress her? You’re Gojo Satoru. Isn’t that usually enough?”

“That’s the thing! My charm isn’t enough for someone so cool, so demuretsy,” Gojo said, waving his hands dramatically. “So, I need a plan—a real plan.”

Megumi closed his book with a sigh. “Why don’t you just ask her what she likes?”

Gojo’s face fell flat. “Ask her? Megumi, where’s the fun in that?”

“Maybe ‘fun’ isn’t the point. You’re trying to court her. You’re showing her that you are a gentleman.” Megumi muttered, moving to walk around Gojo. “Right now, it sounds like you’re over-complicating things. Again.”

“I am not over-complicating anything!” Gojo protested, trailing after him. “I’m making things better.”

“Uh-huh,” Megumi said dryly, clearly uninterested in Gojo’s theatrics. “Here’s a tip: don’t be strange.”

Gojo gasped. “I am not strange!” He then blinked as Megumi shot him a look. “Okay, maybe a little, but I’m endearing, right?”

Megumi didn’t respond, opting to bury himself in his book again. “She mentioned the chamber music society having a recital later this week. Maybe take her.” he repeated. “Or; Ask her what she likes.”

Gojo huffed, brushing off the lackluster advice. “Fine. I’ll just ask someone who knows what they’re talking about.”

Megumi didn’t even bother looking up. “Good luck with that.”

Shoko

Next, Gojo headed to the infirmary where Shoko was finishing up her rounds. If anyone could give him good advice on wooing someone smart, it had to be Shoko, right? She had brains, after all.

He burst through the door, all energy and smiles. “Shoko! You’ve gotta help me!”

Shoko looked up from her clipboard, raising an eyebrow. “Gojo, I’m busy. What is it this time?”

“It’s important!” Gojo exclaimed, running behind Shoko as if he were a puppy needing instruction. “I need advice on how to impress Courtney.”

Shoko exhaled slowly, setting her clipboard aside. “You want advice from me? Are you sure about that?”

“Absolutely! You’re smart, she’s smart, it’s a perfect match.” Gojo flashed a toothy grin.

“Uh-huh,” Shoko muttered, walking out to the courtyard as she took a drag from her cigarette. “And why exactly do you think I’d know how to help you court someone?”

“Because you’re a genius!” Gojo leaned forward, eyes sparkling with hope. “Come on, I need something good.”

Shoko studied him for a long moment, amusement tugging at the corners of her mouth. “You could always impress her with math.”

Gojo blinked. “Math? Why math?”

“She’s good at it, right? And you’re essentially a walking TI-84 plus,” Shoko said dryly. “You might win her over with just how smart you can be.”

Gojo looked confused for a moment before brightening. “That’s genius! I’ll show off the mathematician-level math equations and blow her mind.”

Shoko couldn’t help but laugh, shaking her head. “Yeah, sure. Knock yourself out.”

As Gojo prepared to charge off on his new mission, Shoko called after him, “Oh, and Gojo?”

He turned back. “Yeah?”

“Don’t mix up your math and your sorcery,” she smirked. “We don’t need you accidentally summoning something or blowing a hole through someone’s chest while trying to impress her.”

Gojo winked. “No promises.”

Nanamin

After his interesting conversation with Shoko, Gojo’s last stop was Nanami Kento. Convincing the ever-serious sorcerer to help with romance advice was going to be a challenge, but Gojo was never one to back down from a challenge.

“Nanamin!” Gojo sang as he appeared beside Nanami during his lunch break.

Nanami sighed, barely glancing at Gojo as he sat his sandwich down. “I told you not to call me that.”

“But Nanamin,” Gojo grinned, leaning against the wall, “I need your help. This is an emergency.”

“If it’s an emergency, it’s probably because of something you did,” Nanami muttered, not looking up from his newspaper.

Gojo waved him off. “No, no, this time it’s serious. I’m trying to impress Courtney.”

Nanami’s eyebrow twitched. “Why are you asking me for advice?”

“Because you’re reliable!” Gojo said, plopping into the chair across from him. “And Courtney likes smart, down-to-earth people. And I know you used to be pretty close, So, I figured you’d know what to do.”

Nanami set his newspaper down, staring at Gojo like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “If she likes smart people, I’m not sure why you’re involved.”

Gojo gasped dramatically. “Rude! I’m smart in my own way.”

Nanami adjusted his glasses and sighed. “Fine. If you want my advice, Courtney appreciates nature. She tends to go on walks for mental clarity and stimulation. Why don’t you take her somewhere peaceful? Somewhere quiet.”

Gojo’s eyes lit up. “A nature date! Perfect! Thanks, Nanamin, I knew I could count on you.”

Nanami raised a hand. “Don’t… call me that.”

But Gojo was already gone, darting out of the room with his newfound “brilliant” idea. Nanami pinched the bridge of his nose, already regretting that he had offered any advice at all.

Step Two: Execute Plan… Poorly

After talking to Shoko, Gojo decided that math could be his way in—but not by showing off. No, this time, he’d pretend to be a bit clueless, all to get Courtney’s help. It was a foolproof plan.

Later that afternoon, Gojo found Courtney sitting in a secluded part of the library. A short stack of books on one side as she seemed to be mentally dissecting an equation. Her focus was intense, her brow furrowed as she tapped away at the numbers, slouched with no regard to anything outside of her studies.

“Hey, Courtney!” Gojo greeted, sliding into the chair beside her. “Whatcha doing?”

Courtney looked up, offering him a polite smile. “Just working through my study guide... Why?”

Gojo fidgeted for a moment, trying to appear just a little less confident than usual. “Funny you should mention math. I’ve been having a bit of trouble with…uh…differential equations.”

Courtney raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. “You? Trouble with math? You’re like a calculator on legs.”

Gojo chuckled sheepishly. “Yeah, I know, hard to believe, right? But it’s true! This calculator is showing an error. I could really use some help. Could you explain it to me?”

Her expression softened, and she nodded, already reaching for her calculator. “Of course. What are you stuck on?”

Gojo slid a piece of paper toward her with a complex problem he’d scribbled down earlier—something he could solve in his sleep, but that wasn’t the point. The point was watching Courtney as she worked, seeing her in her element. She took the paper, her fingers tapping away at the calculator with practiced ease.

“So, let y= mx +c be the equation of all the straight lines touching the circle…” she began, her voice taking on that thoughtful, problem-solving tone Gojo found oddly captivating.

As Courtney leaned in to explain the math problem, Gojo found himself momentarily distracted—not by the numbers, but by her. Something was mesmerizing about the way she moved, the focus in her eyes when she was solving a problem. She had this quiet confidence, not the flashy kind like his, but the kind that came from truly knowing who she was.

She was so damn smart. Smarter than him, even—not that he’d ever admit that out loud. It was the way her mind worked, the way she saw the world, always curious, always asking the right questions. And, of course, she had this incredible talent with the piano, her fingers dancing over the keys as effortlessly as she worked through equations.

But it wasn’t just her intelligence or talent that made her amazing. It was her kindness. The way she was always so patient, even when she knew she was miles ahead of everyone else. She never made him feel stupid, even when he was faking it just to spend time with her. Instead, she made him want to be better—not because he had to, but because he wanted to deserve the way she looked at him.

She wasn’t afraid to call him out, either, her sense of humor sharp but never cruel. She could tease him, and roll her eyes at his antics, but there was always this warmth behind it, like she saw through all his nonsense and still liked him anyway.

He had been with plenty of people before—admired, even loved by many—but Courtney was different. There was no pretense with her. She didn’t care about his title or his power; she cared about the person beneath all of that. And that scared him a little, because, for the first time, it felt like someone saw him. Saw all of him.

And damn, he liked that. He liked her.

Gojo leaned in closer, feigning confusion. “Wait, wait. Can you go over that part again? I’m not sure I follow.”

Courtney glanced at him, her expression patient, though her lips quirked slightly in amusement. “Alright, Differentiating wrt x we gets you dy/dx – m = 0. Here, let me show you.” She tapped a few more buttons on the calculator and handed it over to him, the screen flashing the results.

Gojo stared at the numbers for a second, pretending to concentrate, though in reality, he was more interested in how focused and serious Courtney looked when explaining something. He handed the calculator back. “Wow, you’re really good at this. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Courtney smiled, shaking her head. “You’re exaggerating. It’s not that hard once you get the hang of it.”

Gojo tilted his head, his grin softening. “Maybe, but it’s more fun when you explain it.”

Courtney paused, her eyes meeting his. “Are you really having trouble with this, or…?”

Gojo blinked innocently, placing a hand over his heart. “Me? Having trouble with math? Of course not! I just, uh, like spending time with you.”

Courtney stared at him for a moment, then let out a small laugh, realizing what he’d been up to. “So you tricked me into a math lesson just to hang out?”

Gojo leaned back, grinning widely. “Guilty as charged.”

Courtney shook her head, amusement dancing in her eyes. “You’re unbelievable, Satoru.”

“Yeah, but you like me anyway,” Gojo teased, his voice warm and playful.

Courtney smiled, unable to argue with that.

While Courtney doodled, Gojo pulled out a small portable keyboard from behind the bench, much to Courtney’s confusion. He set it up quickly, brushing invisible dust off the keys.

“I figured,” Gojo began confidently, “that we could have a little duet since you love music and need could use a little background noise with your drawing! You know, a Toru-Court jam session.”

Courtney tilted her head, both intrigued and concerned. “You… play piano?”

“Of course!” Gojo said, with all the confidence of someone who definitely didn’t know what he was doing. “I’ve got a natural talent for it.”

Courtney sat back, interested to see where this was going. Gojo hit a few keys with gusto, producing a jarring cacophony of sounds that could only be described as an assault on the ears. He attempted a scale, but it sounded more like he was mashing the keys randomly.

Courtney winced, but the look on Gojo’s face—so proud and unaware of how terrible he sounded—made it hard to be mad. He was trying.

“Satoru…” Courtney said, biting back a smile. “Maybe you should stick to your day job.”

Gojo looked up at her, confused for a moment, before laughing sheepishly. “Yeah, okay, fair enough. Music isn’t for everyone.”

Courtney raised an eyebrow. “Or maybe it’s not for you.”

Gojo pouted but shrugged off the failure. “Alright, alright, I’ll admit defeat… for now, pretty.”

After failing at both math and music, Gojo was determined to make the nature date his big win. Nanami had suggested something peaceful and quiet, and while Gojo wasn’t sure how to do “quiet,” he figured being in nature would impress Courtney. She loved spending a bit of time outside to clear her mind so this should be perfect.

Gojo planned a late afternoon nature walk. He led her to a beautiful nature reserve just outside the city. The trees were ablaze with autumn colors, and the air was crisp, filled with the scent of pine and earth. For the first time this week, Gojo felt like maybe—just maybe—this would go according to plan.

Courtney seemed genuinely relaxed as they strolled through the woods, her eyes scanning the treetops and the sunlight filtering through the leaves. Gojo, for once, managed to keep his mouth shut, enjoying the moment as Courtney spoke softly about the current Sonata she was sight reading for.

But, of course, it didn’t last long.

As they walked, Gojo’s attention was suddenly caught by a bird flitting from branch to branch overhead. His eyes sparkled with excitement.

“Hey, look at that!” he exclaimed, pointing at the bird. “I bet I can catch it.”

Courtney barely had time to process what he said before Gojo was off, leaping into the air as he displayed his athletic abilities, bounding from tree to tree in pursuit of the bird. Leaves fluttered to the ground as Gojo darted through the canopy, his laughter echoing in the otherwise quiet forest.

Courtney stood still, a mixture of confusion and amusement crossing her face. She watched as Gojo, in all his infinite energy, chased after the poor creature like a kid trying to catch fireflies.

Moments later, Gojo reappeared, not with the bird, but holding a very unimpressed-looking squirrel in his hands.

“I got something even better!” Gojo beamed, holding up the squirrel triumphantly as if it were a grand prize.

Courtney’s eyes widened in disbelief before she burst out laughing, covering her mouth with her hand. “Toru, put the squirrel down.”

Gojo blinked, looking at the squirrel, who glared back at him with the kind of judgment only a small, furry animal could manage. “Oh, right.” He set the squirrel gently on the ground, and it scurried off without a second glance.

“Why did you…?” Courtney started, still laughing.

Gojo scratched the back of his head, his grin sheepish. “I don’t know. It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

Despite the silliness of it all, Courtney couldn’t help but smile. His efforts, while completely ridiculous, were oddly endearing.

Step Three: Courtship Achieved

As the sun began to set, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink, Gojo and Court found themselves lying in the grass by the peaceful riverside. The water reflected the warm glow of the sunset, and for once, Gojo wasn’t trying to show off or do anything outrageous. He just sat there, quietly watching the river flow by.

Courtney glanced at him, a soft smile on her lips. “You know,” she said after a moment, “you don’t have to try so hard.”

Gojo looked at her, genuinely confused. “Huh?”

Courtney laughed lightly. “I like spending time with you. You don’t need to impress me with math, music, or…” She trailed off, smirking. “Squirrels.”

Gojo’s face lit up in realization. “Really? So, you mean I don’t have to catch a deer or something next time?”

Courtney rolled her eyes playfully. “No, definitely not. Just… being here is enough.”

Gojo stared at her for a long moment, his usually carefree expression softening into something more sincere. “Well, that’s easy. I can do that.” He wiggled to lie his head in her lap, grabbing her hand and placing it in his hair. “If you don’t mind.”

For the first time in the entire day, Gojo felt content just being still. As they sat side by side, watching the sun dip below the horizon, he realized that maybe he didn’t need to be the strongest or the most impressive when it came to Courtney. He saw Courtney and Courtney saw him. The strongest and the smartest enjoying the smallest moments in the biggest moments.

“So for your birthday, I was thinking something small, intimate.”

“Wait, huh?”

“Wanna get ice cream later? I think there’s a new shop on the way back to mine. We could also look at an ice cream cake for your birthday!”

She looked down for a moment, “ Satoru, you’re going too go overboard.”

“No such thing.” Satoru yawned out-loud, stretching up to expose his midriff. “I’m Satoru Gojo and you’re Courtney. Overboard is simply the bare minimum when it comes to you.”

Dividers by @/thecutestgrotto!

[collapsedglasshouses]

An Angel For Noah || Noah Sebastian x OC [Part 7]

DIVIDER ART WORK BY @cafekitsune

PAIRING: Noah Sebastian x Jules [she/her]

MASTERPOST

SUMMARY: Right when Noah thought there was no way back to sanity, it got even crazier.

WARNINGS: angst, tiny bit of tension, ...

A/N: Hello my lovely little people... Sometimes I struggle to find words for the authors note and it gives me anxiety so imma just tell you the same thing as always... Thank you for every single notification I get on this series... I love it so much and am glad that you do it too. Enjoy reading the new chapter!

TAGLIST: @trvshdxddy @blackveilomens @crimson-calligraphyx @measuredingold @cncohshit @signs-of-ill-portent @hi-fancy-seeing-you-here @ada-clarence @wild-child-7747

If you wanna be added to the taglist of this story, please DM me or let me know in the comments!

Keep in mind, this takes place in an alternative universe. Even though I write about real people, the way I write them has nothing to do with how they are in real life.

The coffee shop, nestled in a quiet corner of the city the band currently stayed at, radiated a warm and cozy atmosphere. It was a strong contrast to the cool early fall weather outside. The large bay windows were slightly fogged up. Soft music played in the background, setting the perfect ambiance for a quiet and relaxed afternoon coffee.

The scent of freshly brewed coffee wafted through the air, mingling with the aroma of freshly baked pastries. People huddled over steaming cups, their conversations hushed and punctuated by the gentle clinking of porcelain. Each table was decorated with a flickering candle, casting dancing shadows across the room.

In the corner, bathed in the soft glow of a table lamp, sat Noah. His gaze was fixed on the raindrops, from the rain that had just stopped, racing each other down the glass. He was lost in his world of thoughts. The lines on his face hinted at the weight of his concerns, and the gentle sigh that escaped his lips carried the weight of a thousand unsolved mysteries.

Noah's mind was racing. Thoughts swirled like a turbulent storm, and he couldn't find a moment of respite. The constant barrage of worries, doubts, and how he felt when he saw that girl filled every what so little place of his consciousness, leaving him in a state of unrest. Every time he tried to focus on a single idea or find a fleeting moment of peace, it slipped through his grasp like sand running through his fingers.

Noah was so frustrated with himself. He wasn't performing as he wanted to and all because of a ghost hunting his mind. Not even the freshly brewed coffee in front of him made him feel better.

When Noah let his gaze wander off in the café again, he nearly choked on his coffee, his heart racing as he spotted her. At the counter stood a woman, her silhouette graceful and mysterious. Her long, flowing black hair laid perfectly on her shoulders, framing a face that had haunted his dreams for so long. Her deep eyes, held a hidden universe of emotions, mirroring the turmoil in his own heart.

As he observed her from afar, she fidgeted nervously with her fingers, a charming yet anxious gesture that made her seem more real than any dream. He couldn't help but wonder if this was another vivid hallucination. But her presence in the café, her tangible form, left him utterly shocked. How the hell could she be here?

The world around him seemed to blur as she slowly made her way to his table, each step bringing her closer to him. His heart pounded in his chest, and he questioned the reality of the moment. It was as if the boundaries between dream and waking life had become indistinct, and he couldn't be sure if this was a fantasy or a genuine encounter.

Noah's mind raced with a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. He wanted to reach out, to touch her and make sure she was real, to unravel the mystery that surrounded her. Yet, his uncertainty held him back, as if he feared the moment might shatter like fragile glass.

The woman finally reached his table, her eyes locking onto his with a mix of hesitation and longing. The air between them crackled with unspoken words, with weeks of yearning and unfulfilled desire to know the truth.

Noah's voice trembled as he whispered her name, a mixture of awe and disbelief in his words. "Jules."

She gazed into his eyes, a complex mix of angst and confusion flickering across her face. Her voice was barely more than a breath as she replied, "Noah."

In that moment, they were no longer bound by his dreams. He was sure he wasn't turning insane. He knew he hadn't just imagined her. They were two individuals, sharing the same space and time, their connection more reachable than ever before. Noah couldn't help but feel that their destinies were intertwined in a way he had never imagined or even believed in before.

"We need to talk." Was all Jules needed to say as Noah's words broke out of him. He instantly told her everything, no matter how insane he sounded in that moment.

He told her of his strange feelings, he couldn't shake. He told her about his dreams. He told her about his feeling that even his best friend didn't quite understand how he felt. He told her everything even though he felt like he was crazy, while she set there and listened. She listened like she always did while her heart ached. She couldn't quite comprehend how hard she had messed up Noah's life with her doings.

The atmosphere of the coffee shop had changed as Noah and Jules faced each other, the air thick with tension. Noah had just shared the details of a dream where he saw a glimpse of Jules' past life. Jules looked both curious and bewildered, unsure of how to respond to what Noah was saying. When she was being honest with herself, she didn't even know what she wanted to say to Noah when she first set down.

"You dreamed about me?" Jules asked, her voice filled with uncertainty.

Noah nodded, a mixture of determination and frustration in his tone. "Yes, and it's not just that. I've been dreaming about you even before you saved me from that car. You appear in so many of my dreams, and it's really confusing."

Jules leaned in, her forehead wrinkling in thought. She sighed at the bizarre situation that formed between them. They were talking as if they had known each other for years while she was as dead as it gets and he hadn't known a thing about her just months before.

"Noah, I wish I could help you get the truth you deserve. But- I don't fully understand it myself." She tried to explain.

Noah's frustration grew as he grappled with the mystery surrounding Jules. He needed answers and was beginning to doubt the entire situation. "I need to know, Jules. Who the fuck are you, really? I don't want to think you're some kind of strange stalker or... I don't know, but this is all so weird. I can't explain it."

The words hung in the air as Jules tried to find the right words, and he wished he could take his back. He had no right to be aggressive. It was more than clear that she had no clue either and they needed to get over what ever kind of magic this was.

Jules reached out but last minute decided against grabbing his hand. She cleared her throat before trying to reassure him. "I don't have all the answers, Noah, and this situation is as confusing for me as it is for you. I'm here to protect you, to watch over you, and I promise I'm not a stalker or anything like that and you know that too. Our connection is beyond what you... or we can understand, and I'm still trying to get clarity in this confusing mess myself."

Noah gazed into her eyes, searching for the truth. He knew there was something extraordinary about their bond, something that defied logic known to humans. Even though he felt silly, his heart and instincts told him to trust Jules, even though his rational mind struggled to make sense of it all.

With a sigh, he relented, his voice softer as he admitted, "I may not understand it, Jules, but I can't help that I feel safe with you. It's just... all of this is so overwhelming. I can't concentrated. It's like this whole thing corrupted my mind. You know?"

Jules nodded, her understanding gaze unwavering. "I know it's overwhelming, Noah, and I promise I'll do my best to understand this all. But there is something we both need to do for our own good"

Noah looked confused.

"This." Jules waved between them. "Can never happen again."

Noah's heart instantly started to race when he thought about what her sentence meant. He knew it would be best but he couldn't let this happen. Almost as if she would leave any moment, he grabbed her hand.

As soon as they touched, a powerful yet unexplainable sensation washed over both of them, leaving them momentarily breathless. From Noah's perspective, it felt as if an electric current rushed through him, and he couldn't help but feel drawn to the mysterious woman before him. It was as if their souls had recognized each other, and the connection they shared became even more profound. It felt like in all those corny rom-com movies that he despiced.

Jules, on the other hand, experienced a shock of emotions and memories flooding back to her. She couldn't fully comprehend what was happening, but she felt a profound sense of familiarity and comfort when her hand connected with Noah's. If she didn't know better, she would have said she felt alive. It was as if their souls were intertwined, and the connection felt almost addictive.

Noah and Jules locked eyes, a shared understanding passing between them.

"Don't leave." Noah almost whimpered out, causing Jules to feel another rush through her body. Her mind was hazed with the emotions breathing life in her body. She knew she needed to get away from him. Lurk in his shadow again. Never show herself again. She knew this would end in total chaos. Not a single time was ever reported where a guardian angel just hung out with their person.

Right as she was about to decline his begging words, he squeezed her hand again, making her whole body tingle with sensation she never felt before. "Please, Jules. Just one day. I beg you."

Noah didn't even know what has gotten into him. All he could think about was how good he felt. He hadn't felt this good for months if not years. His mind was hazed with the thought of her. How he instantly got lost in her eyes. How he was intrigued to know everything about this mysterious woman. How he couldn't lose her.

Jules looked in his undeniable beautiful dark eyes as she swallowed hard. She had fucked up bad but when she looked at him like that she knew she couldn't go back. She didn't want to go back. She needed him just as much as he needed her.

"One day. After that we'll never see each other again." Right as the words slipped over her lips, she knew she lied.

She couldn't deny Noah anything, even if she tried.

PART EIGHT COMING SOON

[omegasmileyface]

The Foleys' Incredible Crisis

Chapter 1: Call It Stormy Monday

Call It Stormy Monday (But Tuesday Is Just as Bad) was written and performed in 1947 by T-Bone Walker. It is one of the most popular Blues songs ever, and has been performed and reiterated by countless other musicians. It has been credited with inspiring B.B. King to take up electric guitar, and it is included in the Library of Congress.

Happy Invisobang!!! This should have been posted earlier in the week but I couldn't make myself get to the computer to finalize/format it. Hehe. This year I had the INCREDIBLE experience of working with Shadow and Sharks, who were such wonderful artists— they have a whole smörgåsbord of art to please your eyes in this story! They have kept me on my toes— as I write this, the final, collaborated illustration is still a secret to me 👀 Lola is an OC I named once I realized Tucker absolutely feels like he has a little sister. Since then she's been in my heart and I can't let her go. My wonderful girl Lola. It's a treat whenever I get to see her in the wild— I almost had a heart attack when she appeared in Lex Luthor's Ascent from Supervillainy to Fatherhood by halfagone!

For a directory of all currently posted chapters and related content, check out the Table of Contents!

fic summary: After a whole week of vacation stuck together, the Foleys were more than happy to have some time apart. So when they each found themselves caught up in ghost business, that meant handling it alone. Angela wasn't planning on improvising a ghost conspiracy, Maurice was hoping to avoid working IT, Lola didn't think playing a hero would take her out of school, and Tucker would really have liked to focus on his own problems. But, really, what else did they expect from Amity Park? Home, sweet home.

words: 2269

AO3 link

next chapter [pending]

Tucker dropped his bag with a thunk. He was far beyond caring to be delicate, despite the electronics inside— he just wanted to shed his shoes and jacket and maybe the memories of the trip along with them.

"Ohhhh-kay," said his mom, grimacing at the trash can. Nobody had thought to empty it before they left. "What a vacation!" She laughed emptily. "I'm going to bed. You can fend for yourselves for dinner."

Tucker's dad popped back out from behind the bathroom door. "Before you go," he called over the rush of the faucet, "can we all just agree? Real quick, get in the den and then we can all ignore each other."

Lola sighed loudly and gave up untying her shoe, just kicking it off. Tucker agreed. He couldn't wait to wash his hands after the long trip.

His dad dried off his hands and joined them in the den, looking each of his family members in the eyes one by one. "I propose we never talk about this trip unless we have to."

Everyone agreed with as much fervor as they could muster after the fraught day.

"Also," said Lola, "I think we should try not to talk to each other for a whole day."

"Works for me," said Tucker.

His mom yawned. "Much as I love you all, I'm good with a day pretending you don't exist. Tucker, can you walk with Lola to and from school tomorrow?"

He looked at his little sister. She shrugged.

"As long as she plays nice, yeah."

His dad clapped. "Cool. Alright. So, unless one of us needs something, we all mind our own business tomorrow? Okay. I'm gonna order a pizza, and... I'll sleep in the guest room tonight. Pleasure doin' business with you all."

Tucker closed his eyes and sighed, pleased at imagining taking a shower and sleeping in his own bed in a few hours.

They had just wanted to see family in Chicago. What a disaster.

The library was quiet when Angela Foley came in. That made sense, she worked weekday mornings, so they usually only saw adults and the rare preschooler. As much as she liked helping the spread of knowledge, it was nice not to have too much to do at the front desk. Maybe she could get a crossword puzzle or two done.

She had made it about halfway through the puzzle (Angela knew a lot of things, but wordplay was never her specialty. What on Earth was she supposed to get from "gift for a blue lady"?) before someone walked in, paused, and went straight for the front desk.

She put on her smile. "Hi! Can I help ya with anything?"

The man was tall, wearing a clean white button-up shirt and jeans. His brassy skin and black hair caught strangely in the fluorescent lights, turning almost orange at their edges. She was pretty sure he was a ghost in disguise, but she had helped ghosts before. Usually, if one was asking for help using a library, they weren't intent on doing anything violent.

Usually. She still reserved a little caution.

"Yes, I'm looking for information on a very distant place. Where might I find something like that?"

"Well, what place is it?"

"It's called An Aghaidh Mhòr."

Angela blinked at the unfamiliar sounds. "I'm not familiar. Is that... Gaelic?"

The man fiddled with his sleeves. "Scottish, I believe, yes."

"Alright." Angela stood up and moved toward the computer monitor at the desk by the door. "I'm going to check in our catalog for books on Scotland."

The man watched silently as she searched. Angela hummed. "It looks like, in house, the only books we have on Scotland are travel guides covering the whole of the UK or Europe. I don't expect they'd have many details on smaller places— well, I'm assuming An Aghaidh Mhòr is small, since I haven't heard of it. If you'd like, you can check anyway, or I can contact another library in the system, and they can send over some more specialized books, but that might take a few days."

The man said nothing, but his eyebrows furrowed in thought. Angela recognized the face of a person with a wide, potent array of bad options.

"Or, if you're more pressed for time, we do have a few computers and Internet access here. I can help you find some web sites that might have what you're looking for."

"And this wouldn't take any longer than looking through a book?"

Angela smiled and headed toward the public computers. "Faster, even, if you know what you're doing. I can help you if you've never done it before."

They began their search, and the man caught on quickly to what Angela was doing and how. She helped him for a while, long enough to find out that An Aghaidh Mhòr was a place in the woody North of Scotland, usually called Aviemore, and was something of a tourist destination. Beyond that, she left him to do his own research and went back to her crossword.

She just had a pesky few clues left when the man started muttering curses in another language and walked back over to her desk.

With panicked eyes, he said "I have to be honest. What I'm looking for is, ah… evidence that An Aghaidh Mhòr has an open community of ghosts alongside its humans. I'm certain that it once did, and I know that it still must. But I have chased every tail of information I could find that led to pages on the computer, and none of them, regardless of detail or experience with the town, has mentioned it."

He looked down and seemed to weigh something in his head. "It must be some sort of secret. Whether to protect the ghosts or to protect themselves from ridicule, the living people of An Aghaidh Mhòr have hidden their ghost society. You have to help me find it."

The little hairs on Angela's body all stood up. Warning bells were going off in her head. There was nothing to do but remain calm. "If that's the case, I don't know about anything like that. I can send out a question to my colleagues to see if they know anything, but I'm afraid I can't–"

"No!" The man swung out a hand, and the inner doors swung shut, silvery light weaving across them like fishing nets to keep them in place. The lights dimmed and his skin faded to a deep, fiery orange, layered and complex like agate. His eyes glowed like the moon. The few library guests gasped and looked at him in shock.

"You are a keeper of information, from a city with a striking connection to ghosts. I need to know the truth about ghostly An Aghaidh Mhòr, and you must help me find it." His silver eyes were full of fear, but Angela couldn't bring herself to care how the ghost who just trapped and threatened her was feeling.

She had to think fast to get out of this safely. Something to keep his hopes up…

"Fine. Fine." Angela held up her hands. "I'm not confident in my own grasp of the situation, but I do know of some secrets like the one you're talking about. It'll take some time– say, a couple hours– to put together anything meaningful, and I'll need to call in an expert, but I can do it. I will do it."

She could only hope her friends were any good at improv.

Maurice was never one for early mornings, but he always made the best of his hour alone after the kids went off to school and Angela's shift started. That was his time to make coffee and goof around. He could prance around the kitchen in ways that would make Tucker gag if he were there, and as long as he couldn't see his neighbors, he could put them out of mind enough to sing as loud as he wanted.

Before work was the blues hour. Today he put on Lucille. Whole album, on tape, from the top.

If anybody asked why he started his days with the blues, he'd probably say something about the sad lyrics reminding him how lucky he was. How no matter how embarrassing the family vacations or boring the work or sleazy the boss, he still had a clean house around him and a faithful wife beside him.

In reality, though, he mostly just liked the beat.

Once he got into work, it was just the same as ever. Double-entries and journalizing. He didn't even get to mix up which accounts he dealt with. VLADCO was too big for that. It was Accounts Receivable, 140-180, day after day.

But at least it wasn't IT.

Then, after almost an hour of swimming through "Axiom Labs, Ltd. $1,300 Debit" and "Hey, Maurice, how was the weekend?" and "Nugreen Ectosuppliers, LLC $400 Credit" and "You get that last letter? Crazy what Masters is trying these days, yeah?", everything went dark.

(Or, at least darker than usual. The grainy white of every surface in the office never lent itself to anything deeper than a cloudy grey.)

After a few seconds of quiet shock, the lights came back. Now, however, there was a ghost floating in front of the door connecting the Finances and Supplies department to the rest of the facility.

He seemed to be well-muscled and of average height, though it was hard to tell exactly what a ghost looked like when they were putting off that much of an aura. His skin was dark green and rough-looking, like bark, and there was a reddish halo around his head like some sort of spectral hair. His blood-moon eyes looked over everyone in the room individually before anyone dared speak. Finally, he opened his mouth.

"This is the center of a company that arms humans againsts ghosts and similar threats. Yes?"

Shocked, a few people nodded.

"And you are all from the department keeping stock of supplies. I do not know where your weapons are kept, but I know that you do. Someone in here will retrieve them for me. I need them, if I am to bring my people, ghosts and humans, together again."

The tension finally broke the membrane freezing time, and several office workers started to move for phones.

"Don't bother trying to get help. I have severed all the lines of communication between you and the world outside this office. I will leave you alone, as soon as someone leads me to the armory."

Maurice glanced at the little LCD display on the phone on his desk. No signal. His computer, too, had nothing when he clicked over to the Internet settings.

No one said anything. Some kept trying with their phones, but not a single person offered to explain how scant and useless the actual in-house ecto-equipment supply was or show the path to it. Maurice imagined they were all thinking the same thing he was; yes, complying was generally the way to stay safe in a hostage situation, and panic was strong, but a ghost coming into town and getting their hands on even just half-assembled ecto-equipment never went well. And, maybe even more importantly, VLADCO had terrifyingly strict regulations on safe ecto-tech policy. Unless the immediate threat of being personally hurt for information increased, the consequences in the long run were the biggest monster here.

The ghost crossed his arms. "Fine. You have one hour to bring me to the weapons. I can wait. I have waited this long. If you take any longer, or if you attempt any trickery, then I will start going through with threats. Until then, you may have your time to panic and fantasize about ways out that don't involve giving up company supply. I will be standing here."

He leaned against the door, and his gaze stayed rock-hard on the workers and their cubicles.

Maurice caught the eye of his most tolerable coworker Jacob. Jacob widened his eyes in some silent look of panicked questioning. Maurice shrugged. He was scared out of his mind, but what was there to do? Freaking out wouldn't do anybody any good. He could wait here and see if any ghost hunter showed up, and once they got closer to the end of the hour, everybody could meet up and decide if it was worth giving up the ecto-tech.

For now... well, he certainly wasn't going to do more accounting. This was as good an excuse for a break as any.

He toyed around on his computer for a bit, fidgeting with whatever programs he had. Maybe if the ghost noticed him, he could say he was looking for office schematics explaining where the ecto-tech was held. Really, he couldn't think to do anything but let off stress.

He played around in the rudimentary E-mail client for a bit. Mimed sending goofy messages to his coworkers while he knew he couldn't accidentally send them. But there, at the top of his inbox, was the automated morning office update. It had just come in four minutes ago... after the communications were shut off.

Was there some kind of hole in the ghost's anti-communication measure? The intercoms weren't working, and normal E-mails weren't going through, even within just Finances & Supplies. But the daily updates worked on a different system than the normal E-mails, so nobody had to send them at a consistent time each day, just queue them up.

...Was there something about the different setup that made it immune to the ghost's blackout?

Maurice got to investigating.

[sungbeam]

𝐎𝐅𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐃 — teaser!

nonidol!ji changmin x fem!reader

everyone thinks changmin is cute and harmless, but you know that's not who he really is.

▷ genre, teaser warnings. e2l, childhood friends gone bad, slow burn, fluff, angst, no specific warnings for the teaser itself

▷ projected release date. friday, april 14th (i'm,,, going to try really hard 🤡 it'll be this month for sure tho) I LIED ITS COMING OUT THIS THURS, APRIL 6TH (PDT) !! lol i forgot to update this but it's here !!

▷ estimated wc. 30-32k

▷ taglist. open!

this is the third installment of the love in unity series! it can be read as a standalone, but i do encourage u checking out cobie's storyline and eric's storyline :]

TEASER BELOW THE CUT (APPROX. 600 WORDS)

Changmin liked to think that he became nosy, and that he wasn't born this way. But ever since he overheard that Kun guy asking about Ten wanting to walk you home, he couldn't help but wonder…

He shook his head, brushing his hair out of his eyes and off his forehead, before those same bangs flopped back into their place. He walked back onto the main stage of the performing arts hall to the soundtrack of a hype playlist blasting from the ears of his headphones. As he made his way past groups and individuals doing their own thing, he absentmindedly searched for one person in particular.

Conveniently, he found Ten setting himself up right by Changmin's things. He was shouldering off his black puffer jacket, rolling the material up into a manageable ball to shove into his duffle bag.

"Hey," Changmin greeted, bending down slightly to grab his water bottle.

Ten straightened and flashed him a smile. "Hey."

It wouldn't be awkward would it? Probably not. Just be cool about it, Changmin. He smiled slightly, the dimples in his cheeks disarming his acquaintance. "I didn't know you and Yn were close."

Your name felt so… foreign, yet familiar, on his tongue. It was like tasting déjà vu, like eating a treat from childhood that had been associated with good feelings, but he couldn't decide if it was still as good as he remembered or a trick of his mind.

The mention of your name brought a jolt of energy to Ten's body and Changmin saw the man lean into the conversation. Curious… "Oh? Well, I mean—" he gave a shrug, "—she's really cool. She just seems like a good person to get to know, y'know? Why do you ask?"

Changmin couldn't tell how much he trusted the slight narrowing of Ten's feline eyes. There was no way you hadn't mentioned him to Ten at some point or another. To be honest, he didn't like the feeling of you still lingering in his head if he didn't linger in yours. It meant a myriad of things that he loathed to admit.

He let the feeling slide away, let his mouth tilt upward like his eyes to the spotlights in the ceiling. "Just be…" He shook his head. "Nothing. It's nothing." He flicked his wrist, as he spun his water bottle cap on tight. "You can forget about it."

Ten sent him a look that Changmin pointedly ignored.

Somewhere within the depths of the performing arts center, Changmin could hear the howling laughter of his friend Hyunjae as he most likely bugged his best friend out of her mind, both to her chagrin and her delight. That was another can of worms entirely.

Ten piped up as he settled onto the backstage floor while Changmin mentally went through some of the problem sets he had to review today. "If you don't mind me asking, why are you and Yn on such… uneven ground with each other?"

There it was. Changmin snorted. "Uneven ground? I don't even know if we're on the same ground."

"You're both really friendly people," Ten added, "so it just doesn't make sense to me."

Changmin pursed his lips. He never felt the need to divulge this stuff to anyone but his friends, but he didn't know what Ten already knew. He didn't know what you told him, but based on the fact that Ten wasn't looking at him the same way you did… Changmin scratched the back of his head and leaned his side against the wall to face him. "Something happened a long time ago. I guess we just both hold a grudge well."

Ten huffed a laugh in response. "Remind me never to get on your bad side then," he joked.

tbz m.list

permanent taglist: @tayunji @im-a-big-mess @honeyhuii @crazywittysassy @seomisaho @stopeatread @enhacolor @rnjfy @jaehunnyy @kpopjackie @spiderrenjunfics @soobin-chois @ethereal-engene @mingiholic @ja4hyvn @vatterie @yogurteume @justalildumpling @hyunjaespresent-deobi @hongyangi @pxppxrminty @nerdypastacalzonespy @jcmdoll

off the record taglist: @oi-miya @loveliestfelix @sickvision @jaerisdiction @stealanity @magnificentjudementmoneyhands @inthesunnn @igotkpoopsss @letsnotdoanything @starryjww @sodafy @rreneeeeee @dajanxekiwi @sseastar-main @jenowithjaem @moonyswolf @sleepymoon27 @floatingpluto @fictionlover100