#will we ever get an update

[hyvneluv]

I don’t usually post reblog comments under fics but my friend recently recommended this to me and it might just be one of my favourite portrayals of Hyunjin and one of the best writings that have ever blessed my eyes and brain… but I saw the last update was in 2022 so I don’t know if we’ll ever get an update for the last part but it’s so good and I feel like everyone needs to read it…

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞, 𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐞.

part one of the velvet opiate series— part two.

pairing: rockstar! hyunjin x reader (+ minho, felix, chan)

genre: visual gothic rock band, manipulation, dark smut, hurt/comfort, toxic skz, set in the late 90’s-early 00’s.

word count: 3.6k

warnings: profanity, sexual themes, unprotected intercourse, drug & alcohol abuse, violence, self hate, mentioned self harm, mentioned bdsm, dark! members.

a/n: this is a dark fic. i do not condone the actions of the characters, nor do i associate the guys with this behavior. this is entirely fictional. lmk what you think! 🤭

The newspaper wrote ‘Yokohama Arena: the horrors of Velvet Opiate’s destructive nature,’ in bold letters.

Felix read the article animatedly, emphasizing how ��scandalous’ this band was, how ‘corrupting young girls, and brainwashing teenagers should and would not be encouraged.’ That societal rules are there to be followed, and ‘these barbaric acts of animalistic chaos have to stop’, it ‘cannot on any level be considered music, when the frontman is half naked in front of high school girls.’

“Fucking gorgeous, frontman,” Felix coughed, smirking. “They got it all wrong.”

Their agency had been getting calls all morning; parents complaining, endorsers pulling out, others paying double to have the band advertise their products. Magazines wanting to set up interviews—one thing was certain.

Everyone was talking about Velvet Opiate—everyone wanted a piece of them. Good, or bad, or both. As long as they were paying.

Their manager had them turn on the TV—channel 7 was reporting on yesterday’s concert, broadcasting the band across the nation. If anything, their little scheme had worked. What would a rock band be, after all, without bad publicity?

Chan pulled his cap further down, hiding his face from view. “We’re gonna have to go into hiding for a while,” he crossed his arms.

“Lockdown, huh?” Minho looked bored. Hyunjin could almost see the gears in his mind, already working out ways to sneak out.

“Just for a couple weeks,” their manager promised. “You’ll be staying at the same hotel, as usual. And Minho, for fuck’s sake, don’t even think about it this time.”

Minho met Hyunjin’s eyes—smug bastard. Knew it.

“Got it, boss,” he replied, fake defeat in his stance.

“Wardrobe is ready for you. This will be the last interview for a while. Remember to not mention yesterday, the interviewer has been made aware.”

All of it was an act—a costume that they had to wear. Felix had become the ‘it’ boy of the scene, Vivienne Westwood had wanted an exclusive contract with them, because of him—he was destined to lead a band, and he carried it well with his deep voice, and unique features.

Chan was the heart and soul of their music. Without him, they’d be nothing. His ability to produce and oversee everything, his patience with the members, his cool demeanor and critical thinking—it’s helped them out of difficult-to-navigate situations.

Like Hyunjin’s drug scandal. Like Minho’s mystery pregnant girl.

They survived those things, because the label believes in Chan’s song making; because Chan fought for them—because what they have, has been Chan’s dream since he was a little boy, watching Led Zeppelin on TV, swearing to himself he’d be just like them when he grew up. What a fucking dream.

The rest of them? They’re just there for the ride. They’re there, because they’re handsome, and because they can play an instrument. Trouble always finds them, they attract chaos.

Hyunjin had always been a quiet boy, a reserved artist. He picked up painting as a hobby when he was a teenager, and now cannot, for the life of him, find where he ends and color begins. It always has to be obsession with him—heart attack, on the floor bleeding, if you take something that’s his.

He has trouble quitting—like Minho. But where Minho can be cold, and detached, Hyunjin would rather bury himself alive.

It started with cutting when he was nine; his mother abandoned him for a month, and his father, the rich asshole, was never there for a day in his life—Hyunjin struggled with loneliness from a young age. He would accept anyone that gave him a little love, would split himself open for them, and would ultimately fall into the deepest fits of depression after they left him.

He got used a lot. Sometimes it’d be older women, sometimes classmates, wanting his money. He gave, and gave, and believed all of them. Then the alcohol came, and it numbed the pain so good. A false sense of confidence.

That’s when he picked up the electric guitar. The loudness of it, could drown him whole. An artist through and through, alone in the world, with money to burn. A cliché fucking tragedy.

Heroin didn’t come ‘till later, but no one wants to hear about that. All of it was an act—a costume they had to wear.

As for Minho—a total mystery. A question mark. He appeared like God one day, when they were looking for a bassist, and since then he’s given them some of the best bass lines there are out there. A womanizer, good at getting his way, secretive when it comes to his personal life.

Hyunjin knows he grew up in an orphanage. The media has attempted to dig deeper, find out more, but the agency pays them good money to stop trying.

For the past two years, since he’s joined them, they’ve become like brothers. Felix hates his guts sometimes, but Hyunjin has seen the way Minho gently guides him, has seen how protective he is over the youngest and the most important.

For Hyunjin, Felix is his twin. The public sees it that way, and the label sells them like that. Every photo shoot, every album jacket, Felix is Hyunjin’s mirror. The light to his dark, the sun to his moon. In a way, they attract each other.

The interviewer asks all this, and all of them try to paint an interesting personality. All an act, all a costume. No one ever truly knows, and that’s fine, as long as that blinding, glamour like limelight falls on them every night. As long as they get to play, and be together.

“Lastly, the fans would like to know—do any of you have girlfriends?”

Wouldn’t you like to know? Chan glanced at Minho. He had intently been staring at this woman, and she had noticed, how could she have not?

“Are you interested?” Minho asked, half teasing, half joking. Legs crossed, arms crossed over each other, that simple, that easy.

Minho had found his girl for the night.

“We’re all single, ma’am. Are we done here?” Chan, ever the politest individual, all business.

“Yes, I think so. Thank you so much!”

The members got up, and bowed. Countless autographs, and pictures later, Velvet Opiate was back in the van, ready for some well deserved privacy. Except for Minho.

Minho was waiting in the hall, a dark angel dressed in an all black private school uniform, with numerous silver, safety pins all over, a slightly oversized leather jacket draped on his shoulders.

Inky mid length purple hair, and glittery dark brown eyes. He will devour that girl whole, Felix said, looking between them. He wasn’t wrong.

Their manager entered the SUV, doing a head count.

“Goddamnit, Lee!”

Chan snorted. “Did you really expect him to behave?”

Hyunjin had been silent, looking out the window, cigarette in mouth. He was itching for something more, the hole in his heart growing larger.

“Speaking of,” he started, “could you drop me off at the Red Light?”

“Hyunjin,” Chan warned.

He knew. No matter how many times Minho broke the rules, he would always get a slap in the knee. Because he can contain himself—because he knows what too much is, knows how to get himself out.

Hyunjin would never be Minho. Hyunjin would be his own demise.

“I really need this, man.”

“What you need is sleep—”

“You guys have no idea how much shit you’re in. There are mosquitos out there, waiting, dying to bite you. You’re killing yourselves here,” their manager was getting progressively angrier.

“I’m not always gonna be there to pick you up.”

Chan rested his hand on Hyunjin’s shoulder. Hyunjin shrugged it off, sharply. Felix sighed.

“I’ll go with you,” he said. “He’s not gonna do anything with me there.”

Hyunjin hated Felix then. Hated him, because he was right. He respected the boy too much to invite him into the horrible fucking shitshow his personal life was. With that being said, the itch was becoming a pain, and it wouldn’t be long now.

“You’re going for her, aren’t you?” Felix whispered, once the car was on the road.

Hyunjin’s face was half hidden behind long blonde hair. Exhaling smoke, he looked at his better twin. Shorter, platinum hair on top of a cute, kind face. So many piercings adorning his ears, a single stud on his nose. Plaid suit, with combat boots.

Picture perfect rockstar, coming to the rescue. Hyunjin smiled, throwing his cigarette out the window.

“She doesn’t mean anything, honey.”

Felix scowled. “Fuck you, Hwang.”

“Say when.”

“Ladies,” Chan reasoned from the back seat.

Hyunjin laughed a full laugh, putting his arm around Felix’s shoulders, pulling him in. Felix fought, but to no avail. Hyunjin grinned down at the younger boy.

“Maybe,” he replied honestly. “I want to see her.”

He’d seen you serving there. A vision to his drunken self, you appeared an angel to him. He’d had no voice to ask for your name, no way to bring you closer.

This time he was completely sober, much to his dismay. But he had to be—he had to know you. You’d been haunting his dreams for a month now. All his highs, you were there extending your hand to him, pulling him out the shadows, kickstarting his heart.

“I’ll have the driver pick you both up,” Joon, their manager, said. “No later than two o’clock, and no fucking drugs, Hyunjin. I mean it.”

“I wouldn’t dare.”

“I wish that was true.”

Hyunjin’s long, black trench coat was moving against the wind, making him look quite unreal. Felix followed behind him, looking out for any person recognizing them. If word got out, they could get in big trouble.

“Don’t worry too much, hm?” Another cigarette had found its way to the elder’s mouth. “You’ll forget about everything in there.”

One look at the bouncer, and the door was open, no questions asked. Hyunjin seemed well known around this place. Of course, it could be the name of the band he was in, that gave him such power, or simply the fact that he was Hwang Hyunjin. He could bewitch anyone. If only he realized that.

The bar’s name rang true, as a red neon light bled throughout the whole establishment. Black leather couches, and a never ending bar was the main point. Girls dressed in bondage served, while hypnotic, dark music played. There were no windows, just one single erotic dream, on replay.

Felix had never been there. He wondered why. Hyunjin was greeting some people behind the counter, a sinner dressed in all black, pale hair acting like a halo, enveloped in smoke.

His band mate fit right in. Felix hoped that didn’t mean he was too far gone.

Hyunjin was in agony. He needed a fix, and he needed it before Felix could sense how fucked up his friend truly was. Cigarettes did shit all for him, and he’d already went through a full pack of them.

He downed his drink, and ordered another one for Felix.

You were across the room, tiniest fucking skirt barely covering your ass. Fuck him, a hundred times. What took over him was primal, the need to see you naked making him dizzy.

What were you doing to him? His itch went away as soon as his cock got hard. He needed you. He needed you like heroin.

A flash of a black coat towards you, and you were taken away from the crowd, backed into a wall next to the bathrooms. Your heart had leapt out your chest, your breath stolen.

Who was this angel man staring into your soul?

“You have cursed me, sweetheart. I can’t see anything but you.”

Those lips, those eyes… You’d seen them before. On TV. Long black coat, angel hair, long fingers playing the guitar…

Your mouth fell open. This was the lead guitarist of Velvet Opiate. He felt so strangely familiar to you, yet you cross your heart and hope to die, you’ve never been this close to him before.

There was a cigarette in his right hand, and it was burning your eyes. You were completely trapped between the wall and his chest. It was the way he was staring down at you, like you were the last thing holding him on planet Earth.

“I’ve been waiting for you for so long,” he muttered, leaning above your lips, his tobacco breath fanning your face.

“I have to go back to work, sir, please—”

“May I kiss you?”

He looked so starved, how could you refuse? This tall, broad, shell of a man was asking you to save him, how could you ever say no?

“Yes,” a breath.

His mouth devoured yours, his non dominant hand roughly grabbing your chin. This was what hunger felt like, this kiss, the way his tongue moved with yours, searching, ravaging. You moaned, and he growled, cigarette long forgotten, now burning his hand. He felt nothing of it. Your mouth was paradise.

His hand travelled down, scratching your waist, over your hips, in between your legs, yes, yes—you were burning, scorching hot, and sweating. You wanted more, more of what he offered, all of it, whatever he would give you—

He’d give everything. You could take it all.

“Fuck, angel. You’re gonna be the death of me,” his lips got lost on your neck, sucking and biting and killing you.

Oh, you were dying too. You were gonna die with him. Your heart was beating in your ears, your blood rushing. This was what it felt like—to be wanted. Entirely.

His palm was rubbing against your aching, wet cunt, his mouth kissing you raw once again.

You would die the necessary death. As long as he never stopped kissing you, you would.

He picked you up, and walked you underneath the staircase, the darkest place of the bar. You could feel it, feel him, his want for you, what it meant. He held you against him so tight, like he was afraid you’d disappear.

He wanted you. Out of everyone, silly, old you.

“I need to be inside you, sweetheart.”

You were already nodding, already in a hurry to unzip his pants—you were going to cum on his fingers, before you could even have the real thing. You needed him inside you, too. He had started a fire, and he was the only one who could put it out, before you burned alive.

“I’m not like this,” you rasped, voice gone, tears streaming down your face. “I’m not anything like this, I swear—”

Hyunjin wiped your eyes, kissing down your cheeks, as you grabbed his cock. He faltered, taking a sharp intake, eyes squeezing shut.

“Tiny fucking skirt, an angel just for me,” Hyunjin words were feverish, all in your mercy. You guided him in your cunt, and he cursed. “You’re just for me, baby.”

He entered you in one fluid movement, and you both groaned. Your arms hugged his neck tighter, as he started fucking you brutally. Your back was hitting the wall with every thrust, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You were so wet, so incredibly wet for him, and aching—an ache so strong, you’d let him fuck you in front of everyone, if that’s what he wanted.

You should’ve known he’d be bad for you, then. Instead, you didn’t. You let yourself be fucked senseless, and you came hard, over and over, as Hyunjin whispered sweet nothings in your ear.

Letting a stranger have his way with you like this—what were you thinking?

You weren’t. You’d do it again, in a heartbeat.

“Your dick feels so good, fuck…” You had been reduced to whimpers, and tears. “Please…please…”

“What do you need, sweetheart? I wanna fucking cum in you, angel. My perfect girl. That’s right, baby, fuck on me, get whatever you need…take it all…”

When he came in you, you realized this man had destroyed himself for you. A dark angel, his seed deep within you, his breath stolen by you. Your taste all over his fingers. This man would have to leave with your scent all over him.

When you came for him, Hyunjin knew he would never leave you alone. His perfect angel, draped in red, fucked out, holding onto him. That’s what all his dreams were about.

You, naked, being taken—being consumed by him. There was nothing stronger than you, then. Nothing he craved more.

A terrifying panic set in him. Being addicted to a person was so much worse than being addicted to a needle. He was getting buried again, like every time before.

One look at you in his arms, and he couldn’t give a damn about himself. Cursed, and alone. He was dead already, he had died a long time ago.

Setting you down, he helped you with your skirt, making sure to memorize your skin, kneeling on one knee for you to hold onto, while his mind was taken over by shadows again.

He would have to leave you, with no way to see you again. Damn him to Hell.

He needed a drink, and a fucking cigarette. He was not good at leaving—was never the one to go. But there was no choice—Joon would agree.

Better it being a person, than a drug. Even if the person can be so much more deadly.

You crouched down with him, holding his bicep, trying to get a look on his face. You saw the flame of the cigarette, but his eyes were covered by silky hair. Your heart skipped a beat—this man was breathtakingly beautiful, and he had wanted you, but he didn’t belong anywhere near you. How, then, was this going to end up in anything other than heartbreak?

You were prepared. All rockstars fuck girls, and never speak to them again. You weren’t stupid, but you were naive. You did fall for the oldest trick, after all.

Love. Pretend.

What you weren’t prepared for, though, was seeing tears trickle down his porcelain face after he turned your way. Dark eyes, taking in your face, his hand reaching for your neck.

When it wrapped around you like a vine, it felt like you deserved it. A punishment for falling into a trap. He stared at you like this, grip never tightening, no matter how much you wanted it to.

He smiled at you then; through tears, through angel hair; picture perfect—your broken rockstar.

“My girl,” he murmured. You went to reach for his face, but he shook his head. Your hand dropped like dead weight.

Your heart dropped with it.

His fingers moved, down to your collarbones, making way up your neck again, grasping a fistful of hair, pulling lightly, and then finally resting on the back of your neck. He looked like he wanted to kiss you, but made no move to do so.

You waited, like a beggar, like a little girl waiting for Christmas. You waited for the present, you waited for the crumbs.

“I won’t see you for a while,” his hand moved away, and he got up, leaving you down.

Missing him already.

“Tell me I wasn’t stupid to do this, and I’ll believe you,” you said, looking up at him.

Your broad angel of death, in all his ruin.

He took a long puff of his cigarette, considering your words. No matter what he said, it would sound like a lie. You held too much over him, to be betrayed.

You held his sanity, now.

“You’re my lifeline, now, angel.”

You had no idea what that meant, how much it entailed. But you’d learn, later, and wish you never did. He will ignore this, and love you dead.

Because this is what he does. Because this is a very old story, and there is no other version to it. It has to be this, always.

When he left you, his black coat swung behind him, halo on his head. You had been sure he’d been a dream.

How to meet a dream again? How to wait for it?

Hyunjin found Felix making out with, what he assumed was, a waitress. The music had changed into something with more bass. He grabbed Felix’s half empty drink, and downed it.

Then he knocked on the table loudly. Felix groaned, and looked at his direction.

“You’re back,” he commented, a devilish grin spreading across his face.

“Should I leave you here?”

Felix considered it. The waitress on him giggled, and the choice was made.

“You’ll be okay on your own? Promise me,” Felix’s features sobered immediately.

Hyunjin nodded. “Always.”

Later, when he couldn’t move his body, the abandoned house burning a slow, blue fire, he thought promises meant nothing.

No one ever kept them.

[sweeneydino]

Spikeangelo, Reference sheet... again, I think

Yes, this is a hint...maybe

[satans-knitwear]

I put the fan on for her and she is absoloutly thrilled and obsessed. Can cuddle without overheating now! A win for puppies everywhere.

[fallstaticexit]

Chapter Seven Adie (Fate pt 1) - Previous // Next // Beginning // Werewolf Lore

Transcript Coming Soon

[ikiprian]

Tim Drake’s got a history with cloning. So does Vlad Masters.

Tim is past his “cloning-deceased-best-friends-in-the-basement” phase. Really, he is. But back when he wasn’t, he’d had all sorts of research compiled, on every type of cloning tech ever recorded.

One company, VladCo, had negotiated itself an amount of Cadmus’ exclusive resources to study the interactions between cloned tissue and recently-discovered ectoplasm. The quasi-sentient abilities of ectoplasm, in theory, might help fill a host body with a real soul.

The contract Tim had dug up is frankly insane. VladCo is in no way beholden to share the results of its study, nor does it need to return any of the equipment, and VladCo’s relationship with Cadmus is under a strictly worded gag order. Nobody in their right mind would’ve signed it. Cadmus did, and aside from a few million dollars, Vlad Masters got his machines gratis.

And now, a couple years after the contract was signed, fulfilled, and buried away, VladCo has done a grand total of nothing with it.

The guy’s rich. And a genius. There’s no way all that tech’s been left to collect dust in storage with how aggressively it was acquired. Masters was going to do something with it, and it was going to be revolutionary. (Tim had actually planned to steal into VladCo for notes, before the thing with the Brain, and Cassie finding out, and the intervention that followed… yeah. He’s over it.)

It’s suspicious as all get out. Eventually, though, the whole Masters deal took a back burner to a crisis (followed by a crisis… followed by a crisis).

But now with Kon and Bart back, and a few less things on his plate, Tim thinks the responsible thing to do is finally head a classic Team investigation to Master’s Manor, Wisconsin.

[ancha-aus]

RealAgeAU Drabble - Birthday Planning

SO! Fun fact. I was kinda running out of ideas.

Then I had THIS idea.

And well. After the last ride? We deserve cuteness don't we? ;)

First Drabble Prev Drabble Next Drabble

No edits we diving right in! (pppst. @spotaus I got the new installment get in here ;) )

*---------------------*

"Horror! Wait up!"

Horror blinks as he turns back around and searches the crowd. It only takes him a moment to spot the excited bunny monster. He tries to give a smile while he waits for a moment for the other to catch up.

Ellie stops before him panting harshly as she leans against him "Oh god." more pants and weezes.

Horror tilts his skull as he keeps the other steady "Hello Ellie... something wrong?" Maybe she needed help or something?

Ellie manages to pull herself upright again adn smiles brightly "Nothing is wrong! It is just I had something very important to ask you guys and saw you so i sprinted all the way over here."

Horror nods and gives her a look "What did you want to ask?"

Ellie grins widely "When is Nightmare's birthday? Like. No worries! I get that you guys havent been here for quite a year yet and with everything going on especially the whole kidnaping thing. we get you guys want the first birthday to just be you guys but Dani realised we still had some of our better quality cherry jams left over and I got the amazing idea to use those in a birthdya cake but! Well.. you know... gotta know when the birthday is. and we both figured it hadn't happened yet as you guys hadn't mentioned yet... so... When is it? And all you guys birthdays for that matter."

horror needs a moment to process all the information she just dropped on him. When he realised what she was asking he realised a tiny problem.

They all come from different universes and the calanders were not the same.

Worse.

Horror isn't even sure if Nightmare even has a birthday he celebrates. They never celebrated it as the castle.

Horror looks down at the groceries in his arms before looking at Ellie "Is it... okay I give an answer later?"

Ellie frowns before her eyes shoot up to his skull and hole and she cringes and rubs her neck as she looks abcka t his face. sheepish smile on her face "Right... sorry. That... that was a lot at once wasn't it? Just... think about it okay? And you guys got our number!" she takes a few steps backwards, almost bumping into someone before she disappears into the crowd again.

Horror sighs in relievve, crisis averted. Now.

When the fuck are their birthdays in this world anyway?

--

Horror returned home to his datemates and their kid. Horror still feels his soul pulse happily even at just the thought.

They sit together in the nest while their dinner cooks slowly in their oven. It is an old stone oven and Horror loves it. it is sturdy and takes up a lot of space but he love using it.

Killer frowns as he is still staring at his phone "I mean... We can just pick dates and call it a day? It isn't like I was still celebrating my own birthday back in my universe anyway. I only started that up again with you guys in the castle."

Dust hums his agreement and Cross nods too "True! XTale also wasn't big on birthdays unless it were the once which marked important ages. I am down to just pick one and call it."

Nightmare frowns as he looks between them before pushing closer to Dust "Not like it matters. It isn't like i am growing and stuff."

Dust nudges Nightmare's skull with his own and mutters softly "Hey... what did Fauna say?"

Ngihtmare doesn't say anything and just pushes clsoer to Dust.

Dust doesn't look like he is bothered by this at all as he just nudges Nightmare gently again "Come on... what did the nice deer doctor lady say?"

Ngihtmare grumbles but actually answers this time "That I won't grow until i am healed."

Dust nods "exactly. As long as you are healing you won't grow. Which, she told us is a normal response for children to have as their bodies and magic are much more fragile." he bonks their skulls together softly "Which means. You will stay our adorable six year old until you are healed fullly. Including physical, mental and magic health."

Nightmare looks down embarresed and mutters "should be healed by now... I am a god..."

Dust looks unimpressed "You are also a six year old who lived his whole life being abused and hurt and when you finally had the power to defend yourself you had to do an adult god's duty." he nuzzles him "Take your time. We aren't in a hurry and any monster knows what it means if a child isn't growing."

Nightmare relaxes a bit and nods. accepting Dusts words.

Dust looks content as he glances up before looking slightyl embarresed as he tubs his hood closer around his skull "what?"

Horror then realises he is staring and a glacne confirms to are Cros and Killer. Cross looks completely enchanted and Killer is straight up cooing. Yeah no wonder Dust is getting shy. He was the same when the four of them spoke about dating.

Horror smiles at Dust before taking his chance to say something "Well. We better pick a birthday for him." Horror smiles at Nightmare "Or do you have one we don't know about Night?"

Ngihtmare shrugs and mutters "Dream and I were born on the longest day of the year... I don't know which date it was in our universe and when it is in other universes."

Killer groans "Of course it was on the sunniest day of the universe- ugh." Killer shoots Cross a glare but Cross jsut sends him a warning look back.

Horror agrees. Killer would have no doubt said something about either Dream or Nim and neither of them matter. At all. Not when they have a babybones that probably never even had anyone celebrate his birthday.

Dust stays on task as he hums in thought "Well... we could figure out when the longest day is here... and say that is your birthday? usually those fall in summer."

Killer shoots upright "or! We can pick the day when the longest night happens! Go right to the other side of it all!"

Horror watches Dust and Killer debate the options while he watches their tiny charge think. and that is why he sees Nightmare blink and looks up a bit as he no doubt gets an idea. Then the doubt sets in wihtout him saying anyhting.

Horror speaks gently "Did you have an idea?" luckily Killer and Dsut shut up right away.

Nightmare shrugs and mutters "maybe... I thought... you know... I became six again... and you guys picked me up so second chance and stuff... so shouldn't that count as the day? Because it is the day this whole thing started?" he tugs himself clsoer to Dust.

Dust hums as he rubs his spine oh so gently "I think it is a great idea." he glances at Killer "Kills?"

Killer grins as he taps away on his phone "already on it! lets see..."

Horror smiles at Nightmare "I think we all agree it is a great idea."

Nightmare smiles a tiny bit and Horror sees a tine glimps of that confident monster Nightmare had been with his powers. Which is good. This means they are guiding him alright towards a future where he is confident in himself, and hopefully happy and healthy.

Killer sits up and holds up his phone in triumph "Figured it out! We got here near mid summer and we had Ngihtmare for two months at that point. Ngihtmare become his true self a month before we got him. meaning!" Killer grins at Nightmare "You are a spring baby!" Killer shows the date to them all.

Ngihtmare looks away embarresed and Dust nods "Sounds good."

Nightmare however looks a bit anxious "But that is so soon already?"

Dust nuzzles him "That is okay. We will just do a small party with us five. Well and Crop and Straw if they want to come."

Horror sees Nightmare looks surprised and just chuckles "It will be nice. Something nice to focus on and enjoy together." he rubs the tiny cheek and Nightmare closes his sockets to lean into the touch.

The five of them relax and eat dinner soon after that as they casually discuss when everyone wants their own birthdays. Horror makes a point of picking up their housephone and calling Dani and Ellie to give them an update on the birthday situation and to invite them the party if they want to and have time. Horror also gives Crop the same update and invitation.

They are together. They are healing. The are happy.

And they have a party to prepare. They have to make sure Nightmare enjoys his very first birthday party after all.

*---------------------*

First Drabble Prev Drabble Next Drabble

[too-many-lavellans]

Drew up this Wes with his revamped adventuring gear to give Myre so he could move forward with designing his timeskip look.

[friendrat]

On April 10th!

[shitty-proendo-blackout-posts]

blocking feels so good...

[cubbihue]

AGONIZING AGONIZING AGONIZINGGGGGGGGG

[daily-xisuma]

[057] I am going to play among us with friends today :-D

[tyrian-command-center]

Hey there Commanders!

Tyria needs your NA commanders yet again, at 16-18 GMT on Saturday, and/or 18-20 GMT on Sunday (not the day this was posted—next Sunday).

EU Commanders, be ready to report at 19-21 GMT on Saturday and/or 21-23 GMT on Sunday!

We'll be meeting at Hrothbeir's Rest (the island in the frozen lake) in Hoelbrak to celebrate Nornvember, so bring your norn if you need help deciding a character ^^

[omgcatboi]

I don't often post my non kink related art but I'm tryna get the attention of someone else in the community and am too shy and cringe to reach out so. Here, have this portrait I did of Hanzo Shimada. With my finger. On ibis paint. This took me four hours. Progress for proof below.

[vhstown]

reminder that ppl who make stuff on the internet for free don't actually owe you anything at all like ... as sad as it is that ur fav comic / fanfic hasn't updated in god knows how long that person has a life 😭 can we not harass people and be compassionate and patient and understanding thanx

[polysyndetonaddictsupportgroup]

Just want to say: a, I admire very much that you've figured out a healthy way to work on your fics that allows you to have fun with it. And also b, am very excited to hear that you are getting there with pez! It has fully given me brain rot ever since I read it last year, there is just such a lack of content for the highly specific trope of using time travel as a device to explore extremely unhealthy levels of self loathing.

I just adore everything you're doing in it. Neither midoriya is anywhere approaching okay for any portion of the fic and I love rereading and mining into all the subtle characterization pointing to that. It's a bit like nhtycth in that some really goofy funny stuff is often hiding some really fucking worrying things, but the fact that characters DO do that stuff—that todoroki uses his teaspoon's worth of extremely stunted social skills to bludgeon his friend's door open and help him, that a rpf shipping war is an actual source of drama despite how goofy the sentiment seems on the surface, that about half of what jon says is deeply worrying and the other half is extremely funny and there's a lot of overlap between the two—really lifts the tension and brightens the universe. It's sort of similar to what you did with gerry, in that endless misery isn't nearly as painful as the ups and downs of a life that, when you step back and zoom out, has something deeply and horribly wrong with it.

(jon sort of reminds me of spider-man in that he uses human to deal with trauma and stress, except I don't think he at any point realizes how fucking funny he is. He's just there, in a home depot, gnashing his teeth because he's got so many bodies to dispose of and this cashier sure is taking her time.)

I really, really, really have had trouble finding fics that take everything midoriya has dealt with to task. It's a hell of a thing to live 14 years as a disabled minority, have it heavily shape your existence, and then one day you wake up and you realize you're...not that, or at least, nobody will ever acknowledge you as that again. You've lost all claim to it. Those experiences that shaped who you are? Dust in the wind. 14 years of pain and life might as well be buried in the ground for all the good they do you. Nobody's going to cut you any slack or quarter, you've gotta simply work harder, be better. And now when you do that you get the results you wanted, so that's fine, then. That's good. There was something wrong with the you before, and there's something right with the you now, and if the transition is a little rough, well that doesn't matter, you're the same as everyone else now, so it's your own job to fill in whatever gaps you need to.

I really can't get over how mentally fucked it must be for midoriya to run into quirkless people, run across quirkless issues, and be silently caught between, incapable of speaking his mind and too scared to do so anyway around those he can trust.

Also I should mention, I'm just very excited for bakugou to get back from the gym. He's been there like a year I hope he's getting a good workout in.

Me realizing that it’s been a year since pez dispenser debris:

I feel like there’s just this very specific type of grief that Izuku has to grapple with in the span of pez dispenser debris that I’m just obsessed with. He’s sort of silently mourning who he could have been, when 1) he has to present like there’s nothing lost to maintain his secret and 2) the entire world is constantly inundating him with the message that there was nothing lost.

Like. I don’t want to get too deep into it because it risks spoiling things and I do have major plans to continue it (I’ve loved this story for so many years before I ever even hit publish), but the emotion that Izuku’s feeling right now is so much more complex than “I hate who I used to be and want him to stop existing” or “I just want to keep my secrets.” And I think the way he interacts with Mirio is the biggest evidence of that.

Izuku’s placed himself at the very center of the Quirklessness debate with his support of Mirio. He fights for Quirkless heroes, very publicly, to the point where he’s not even graduated yet but considered to be one of the most prominent voices on the matter. If you took a poll of Quirkless people as to which hero would be most supportive of them pursing their own career in heroics, Izuku would be right at the top of the list. When it comes to Quirklessness itself, he’s nothing but supportive.

But he didn’t tell Mirio the truth of his own Quirklessness.

Out of everyone, Mirio’s the one everyone expects to know, despite him being a relatively newer relationship compared to someone like Iida or Uraraka or Todoroki. And I tried to imply that he’s sort of the one who knows the most about Izuku out of everyone save All Might.

Like, we’ll get into how much exactly Mirio knows soon, so I won’t divulge what, if anything, Izuku has told him. But we know that Mirio knows, weirdly enough, that Izuku is deeply fucking haunted. He knows that boy has many violent ghosts in his bones. He finds it hilarious and will tell their realtor about it. Izuku told him about the discontent spirits who died in a violent passion and live on inside of him before he told him about his Quirklessness.

And I just feel like one of those things is a little bit easier to discuss than the other.

Izuku has decided to keep his own Quirklessness quiet in a way that surpasses secrecy about One for All. If it was just about OfA, he could tell people he didn’t get his quirk until the entrance exam, and it wouldn’t even be a lie. He’s purposefully obscuring his own past as Quirkless even as he takes a forefront of the Quirkless hero debate with his open support of Mirio.

And the fact that he’s at the forefront of this debate in and of itself requires a difficult dichotomy. He is the world’s most vocal proponent for the first Quirkless hero. He is a known figure in the Quirkless community now.

He isn’t considered one of them anymore. He’s an outsider coming in.

It must be such a strange, odd sort of grief to come to the people you were home amongst for most of your life and be greeted as a stranger. To return home, and to be welcomed in for the first time, and to not even be able to tell people that you’ve lived here all your life and don’t need a tour.

It’s a sort of death of self, I think. And I think Izuku never expected to have to grapple with his own ghost.

[chryblossomjjk]

imagine seokjin comes back and is serious