#cache money!

[elizabethswitch]

Will-o'-the-wisp are bluey greeney glowing flames that bob around fuel free and there's lots of stories about folks following them into the mucky woods and having a real bad time.

They have another name, Corpse Lights, and in those stories people who follow them into the mucky woods find treasure in the ground.

So the woods around Cstle Dracula are chock full of unhallowed graves of people with all their money still in their pockets.

Which is not at all weird and surely casts no shadow on the family who lives in their centuried seat.

[artemistorm]

Angsty story idea I just had:

Wild is feeling homesick for the home he had before the calamity and before he drew the Master Sword. All the other Links have their places of origin and he wants to know his own. He asks Flora but she doesn’t know where his home was. She only knew him at the castle. He prays to Hylia to show him his home.

Later, the Chain's in his Hyrule and they’re riding horses somewhere and Wild sees a ruined house out in the wilderness surrounded by blue nightshade (which is the symbolic flower of BotW/TotK Link). He realizes that this is his home and he ends up having a long memory of some of his life as a child living there.

He then finds something from that old time like a buried chest of valuables his family buried before the Calamity for safekeeping.

[planet4546b]

patho2 day 2 so good from a game design/tutorial perspective. okay we taught you that you need to eat and getting into fights is a bad idea on day 1. now the entire point of day 2 is that most quests will make you run around and waste your damn time for no reason. Just a heads up on that one

[nyasialiveshere]

Exo Kai: Due West

heavily opinionated semi long post

Inspired by a genius post I saw on twt iykyk, I didn't wanna bother them they seemed stressed.

topic: Is Kai promoting in English and doing Western promotion activities pandering for Western validation?

(because he clearly never pandered to anyone before ever in the history of ever...it never happened... seriously. I don't believe he knows what pandering is actually.)

Simple Fact: TECHNICALLY..yes

Question: Is that a bad thing?

Opinion: It depends

Clarification : By western do you mean American? And by pandering do you actually mean worshipping Eurocentricity and it's machine of capitalism? That is a slippery topic, technically most kpop idols, such as Kai, are already modeling for European brands and not Asian or African etc. Plus they have fans constantly brag about said sponsorships that they do. Plus South Koreans and far east asians are top consumers of european luxury brands

so anti colonialism is an odd arguement to stand behind with a kpop pfp but okay.

Opinion: Look, If you have a precise plan and goal for promoting in America, creating a better bond with foreign audiences, expressing creativity, working with more diverse creatives, and touring in multiple different states and/or countries, solidify the artist's place in the realm of popular music while having a more freeing time doing it... I don't get the problem with an artist like Kai promoting in America. It cannot intensify the issue of Kpop artists seeming like they are pandering to the euro-colonial powers, because it's already looking pretty bad tbh.

The real issue: Freedom. The reality is when someone dynamic, attractive, and full of life has freedom, obviously they are going to meet new people, make friends, and develop in personality. The real issue is whether fans who have had an artist as a cute little toy for years.

Are they ready to find out what his real personality is when he is given freedom. The reality is that despite dating clauses not technically existing after a few years post-debut, people do not actually expect them to talk about crushes, who they find attractive, or publicly state their attraction towards someone. Personally, I believe what K-pop fans expect, which is virtual silence except when being cute, charming, funny, or flirtatious and/or childlike asexual behavior, except if it is for audience consumption, this teeters on a slave owner mindset and is very gross. A person who calls themself a K-pop idol cannot publicly date like a regular artist.

I mean, they can, but not in a traditional way. Kai and Krystal technically dated for 2 years, and they couldn't mention one another's name publicly during that entire time.

They didn't even go near one another in public after it was revealed not even at smtown's. But at least people had a magazine shoot as proof they even knew one another.

Jennie and Kai weren't event at the same event since the dating scandal happened years ago, not an award show, or any other public event. If anything a dating scandal just means the person will enter a crackdown and be forced to be more present with fans to make up for what they lost.

It is extremely normalized in Korean culture that males and females try not to even make eye contact lest it be thought of that they did something.

For this reason it's incredibly easy for fans to say it is nonexistent. This is a pretty good summary of what happened.

The accepted narrative anyway. Sadly to combat the 'negative press' of dating publicly, fans go harder on the shipping, the overs#xualization, and the unfunny jokes to move the conversation away from their dating news. Taking the fandom further and further away from reality.

Yet, at the same time since people don't see 99 percent of the artist they obsess over's life and the entire 1 percent is scripted, they don't know how these people truly act or behave, or really anything about them. So to overcompensate other parts of their personality and minor things are overblown and hyperfocused on. Praise and worship take the place of actual critical thought.

Regardless of the opinion of whether it matters to every individual supporter or not, it still had actual effects on his career. To this day his support is stronger overseas. I believe this is in conjunction to the 2 dating scandals and his appearance. Which is a whole nother thing, but with this in mind a western audience, especially one that is less likely to bash for a simple dating scandal would be a smart choice.

To the people who have a don't ask don't tell policy when it comes to artists, but just don't want the artists to date publicly to protect them, what do they know, do they even look into the analysis how when properly leveraged a relationship could be good for business and not bad. I hesitate to believe fans whenever they say they don't care if their fave dates or not anyway. Like of course you don't care, because they will continue to play their role of a perfect idol content with fanservice.

I would say it's fine, but it really isn't, even in japan idol culture there is room for growth and evolution inside the mold. They gradually moved their idol culture over to the acting scene so now the youth are somewhat used to seeing public figures dating openly, it may be a surprise but I wouldn't classify it as a scandal.

Personally, I believe if they can push kpop idols towards acting and movies, then similar to japan it wouldn't become this crazy thing and artists can be young and married without it being a frenzy.

(p.s weloveyoukento) It's not exactly perfect but it is changing for the better.

In japan the mold is forever being molded and shifted to where it needs to be, whereas in kpop it seems to be stuck in stasis with the conveyer belt model continuing.

With the art clearly showing what fans deny, that each idol group is contained and perfected to the fans whims and desires.

Understandably people want privacy in relationships, but the privacy is mostly due to their careers being built on the whims of the fans.

To be fair all boy bands historically have done this. Whether that means wearing outfits that only teen girls like, or dancing uniformly to upbeat tunes for hours on end. It isn't just kpop that stretched people to the limit and covered up their originality.

Regardless of the location, race, or culture/ethnicity of said boy band this was all true, but in Kpop there is a specific desire to control the entire person as a product and as a human and this is something the fans are willing to ignore to recieve whatever fanservice they want.

Nobody cares who their local restaraunt owner or store employee dates, because they don't go to the store for them they go for the product, BUT in K-pop the artists are the product, the emotional relationship with fans is apart of the deal. Therefore they feel almost a sense of surrealness when thinking about them in a public relationship. Personally, I believe even western people struggle with having an odd fascination with who a person does or does not date, but again this is because people craft an image that makes it unbelivable if they go against it.

Whether it's a fake relationship or a real one, the point is that with either you would expect something like a conversation or a small mention during an interview, but typically Kpop stars are not allowed to do such a thing, ever. That is just how it is in K-pop. Whether the fans are native Korean or foreigner fans, much of the same behavior is expected. No one can say they have seen an artist's real personality. It isn't possible. Nearly everything is scripted.

In some cases, like Taemin's, they didn't even know their actual personalities.

They can go out and do things for fun, but it is expected that whatever they do not be noticeable to fans. Everything is expected to be hidden or undercover to be respectful of the fans. Because the artists are firstly marketed as boyfriends and girlfriends for the fans. Regardless of how it is spun, this is the marketing promotion; otherwise, suggestive music videos wouldn't really be necessary, nor would high-five events of ...fansigns.

I don't want to act like K-pop invented this.

It did not

or pretend that it is even the most extreme version of marketing love to strangers out of an exotic curiosity;

because it isn't. This has been happening for ages, but I will say that kpop has this unique hold where evolution doesn't exist. Since the 1990s I think kpop has gone backwards, before it was normal for idols girlfriends to leave the performance venues with them.

Now if a girlfriend posts something on her social that even implies they are together it is cause for fans to burn merch and say rude and innapropriate things online out of vendicated anger.

Even having a boyfriend or close male friend can invoke the ire of fans who have crafted an idol's desires to their imaginations, even if they themselves have no interest in them.

So if they do something unexpected like date a man, even though they "hate men" people have full blown meltdowns and delete their accounts out of embarrassment.

I've seen it happen to so many people. They refuse to accept a possibility and when it happens they loose it.

I know that people have sensitivities about Kpop people becoming more free, and honestly I think it's for the best. I do not think people want the ownership that fans feel to grow even more. They need more open and honest interviews, less objectfication and more laying out the facts instead of fans being so bored they hyperfixate on fake gossip to the point of it being more real than reality.

But no seriously all jokes aside, please somebody explain to Kai what pandering to an audience means. Doing things specifically to appeal to others whims and desires that you as a grown adult person probably don't want to do, but you must because of dinero, guap or cash money. Cause clearly he is just a giant stuffed animal and he has no ideal how it works, how anything at all works actually, he just dresses like this on stage because..I mean like what else would he wear, duh! How could he be expected to pander to the euro-colonial-objectifying axis of evil...

He's like..never even done that before....

[literaryvein-reblogs]

commonly confused words

accept: to receive except: with the exclusion of

advice: recommendation (noun) advise: to recommend (verb)

adverse: unfavorable averse: opposed to

affect: to influence (verb); emotional response (noun) effect: result (noun); to cause (verb)

aisle: space between rows isle: island

allude: to make indirect reference to elude: to avoid

allusion: indirect reference illusion: false idea, misleading appearance

already: by this time all ready: fully prepared

altar: sacred platform or place alter: to change

altogether: thoroughly all together: everyone/everything in one place

a lot: a quantity; many of something allot: to divide or portion out

angel: supernatural being, good person angle: shape made by joining two straight lines

are: plural form of "to be" our: plural form of "my"

accent: pronunciation common to a region ascent: the act of rising or climbing assent: consent, agreement

assistance: help assistants: helpers

bare: nude, unadorned bear: to carry; an animal

beside: close to; next to besides: except for; in addition

boar: a wild male pig bore: to drill a hole through

board: piece of wood bored: uninterested

born: brought into life borne: past participle of "to bear" (carry)

breath: air taken in (noun) breathe: to take in air (verb)

brake: device for stopping break: destroy; make into pieces

buy: to purchase by: next to; through the agency of

canvas: heavy cloth canvass: to take a survey; a survey

capital: major city capitol: government building

choose: to pick chose: past tense of "to choose"

clothes: garments close: to shut; near cloths: pieces of fabric

coarse: rough course: path; series of lectures

complement: something that completes compliment: praise, flattery

conscience: sense of morality conscious: awake, aware

corps: regulated group corpse: dead body

council: governing body counsel: advice; to give advice

dairy: place where milk products are processed diary: personal journal

descent: downward movement dissent: disagreement

dessert: final, sweet course in a meal desert: to abandon; dry, sandy area

device: a plan; a tool or utensil devise: to create

discreet: modest, prudent behavior discrete: a separate thing, distinct

do: a verb indicating performance or execution of a task dew: water droplets condensed from air due: as a result of

dominant: commanding, controlling dominate: to control

die: to lose life; one of a pair of dice dye: to change or add color

dyeing: changing or adding color dying: losing life

elicit: to draw out illicit: illegal, forbidden

eminent: prominent imminent: about to happen

envelop: to surround (verb) envelope: container for a letter (noun)

everyday: routine, commonplace, ordinary (adj.) every day: each day, succession (adj. + noun)

fair: just, honest; a carnival; light skinned fare: money for transportation; food

farther: at a greater (measurable) distance further: in greater (non-measurable) depth

formally: conventionally, with ceremony formerly: previously

forth: forward fourth: number four in a list

gorilla: animal in ape family guerrilla: soldier specializing in surprise attacks

hear: to sense sound by ear here: in this place

heard: past tense of "to hear" herd: group of animals

hoard: a hidden fund or supply, a cache horde: a large group or crowd, swarm

hole: opening whole: complete; an entire thing

human: relating to the species homo sapiens humane: compassionate

its: possessive form of "it" it's: contraction for "it is"

knew: past tense of "know" new: fresh, not yet old

know: to comprehend no: negative

later: after a time latter: second one of two things

lead: heavy metal substance; to guide led: past tense of "to lead"

lessen: to decrease lesson: something learned and/or taught

lightning: storm-related electricity lightening: making lighter

loose: unbound, not tightly fastened lose: to misplace

maybe: perhaps (adv.) may be: might be (verb)

meat: animal flesh meet: to encounter mete: to measure; to distribute

medal: a flat disk stamped with a design meddle: to interfere, intrude metal: a hard organic substance mettle: courage, spirit, energy

miner: a worker in a mine minor: underage person (noun); less important (adj.)

moral: distinguishing right from wrong; lesson of a fable or story morale: attitude or outlook usually of a group

passed: past tense of "to pass" past: at a previous time

patience: putting up with annoyances patients: people under medical care

peace: absence of war piece: part of a whole; musical arrangement

peak: point, pinnacle, maximum peek: to peer through or look furtively pique: fit of resentment, feeling of wounded vanity

pedal: the foot lever of a bicycle or car petal: a flower segment peddle: to sell

personal: intimate; owned by a person personnel: employees

plain: simple, unadorned plane: to shave wood; aircraft (noun)

precede: to come before proceed: to continue

presence: attendance; being at hand presents: gifts

principal: foremost (adj.); administrator of a school (noun) principle: moral conviction, basic truth

quiet: silent, calm quite: very

rain: water drops falling; to fall like rain reign: to rule rein: strap to control an animal (noun); to guide or control (verb)

raise: to lift up raze: to tear down

rational: having reason or understanding rationale: principles of opinion, beliefs

respectfully: with respect respectively: in that order

reverend: title given to clergy; deserving respect reverent: worshipful

right: correct; opposite of left rite: ritual or ceremony write: to put words on paper

road: path rode: past tense of "to ride"

scene: place of an action; segment of a play seen: viewed; past participle of "to see"

sense: perception, understanding since: measurement of past time; because

sight: scene, view, picture site: place, location cite: to document or quote (verb)

stationary: standing still stationery: writing paper

straight: unbending strait: narrow or confining; a waterway

taught: past tense of "to teach" taut: tight

than: used to introduce second element; compared to then: at that time; next

their: possessive form of "they" there: in that place they’re: contraction for "they are"

through: finished; into and out of threw: past tense of "to throw" thorough: complete

to: toward too: also; very (used to show emphasis) two: number following one

track: course, road tract: pamphlet; plot of ground

waist: midsection of the body waste: discarded material; to squander

waive: forgo, renounce wave: flutter, move back and forth

weak: not strong week: seven days

weather: climatic condition whether: if wether: a neutered male sheep

where: in which place were: past tense of "to be"

which: one of a group witch: female sorcerer

whose: possessive for "of who" who’s: contraction for "who is"

your: possessive for "of you" you’re: contraction for "you are" yore: time long past

commonly confused words part 2 ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

[accidentcache]

your daughter has a new, strange habit.

you don't know where she got it from. you've been racking your brain trying to figure out where and when she started it. with no clues or leads, you've been stuck to just watch and ponder what exactly the hell she's doing.

whenever your hand her something for lunch, for dinner-- if it's some kind of finger food, she does this odd little thing where she taps the food on the edge of her plate after proudly presenting it to you even though you were the one to give it to her.

she's a strange four year old, but she's cute. gets it from her father, you think to yourself.

it's not until keigo comes home from a particularly long mission that you bring it up to him. as usual, his smooth and easy demeanor makes the topic seem more endearing than anything concerning that you were thinking up.

in the back of your head, you're wondering if she'll do it still even while keigo's home. you don't think much of it, though. it's just a cute little habit, she four. nothing to worry about.

so when keigo mentions going out to dinner-- it's routine to go out to eat whenever he gets home from lengthy missions-- you agree like always. your daughter is over the moon, excited to eat some good food with her father and get spoiled endlessly. (much to your chagrin.)

you've honestly forgotten all about korra's little habit. with keigo back home, he makes things so much easier. he's always been easy to talk to, easy to relax around. he makes parenthood seem so much easier when he's got her next to him, doodling on the restaurant children's pages with her, giggling as they bicker and tease each other through a game of tic tac toe.

by the time the food comes out, you're thoroughly charmed and there are hearts in your eyes whenever he sneaks a glance at you.

and then it happens in slow motion, it seems. both your daughter and keigo-- practically carbon copies of each other-- move in sync. each of them with a skewer of yakitori in hand, lift it upwards-- and then tap it three times against the edge of their plate.

your face drops in realization.

keigo, ever the perceptive one; catches your expression almost immediately. "what, what's wrong?"

"she got it from you."

"got what?" he looks clueless. his hands are moving on their own, out of habit. completely unaware that next to him that his mini-me is copying his movements identically.

you can't help the grin that curls along your mouth. shaking your head, you laugh and brush off his confusion. you don't say anything, nor do you feel the need to. guess keigo was right-- it was just a cute little habit.

© accidentcache do not repost, translate or alter my work without permission. all rights reserved.

[lilydoesdrawsometimes]

IM GOING TO EXPLODE INTO A BILLION BAJILLION PEICES I LOVE THIS SO MUCH THANK YOU SO MUCH VELLICHOROM

GUYS LOOK AT HIM LOOK AT CACHE AREN'T THEY THE MOST BEST CREATURE YOU HAVE EVER LAID YOUR EYES UPON? LOOK AT THEM LOOK AT HOW VELLICHOROM DRAWS THEM!

I DIDNT EVEN EXPECT SUCH A BEAUTIFUL ARTPIECE TO HAVE BEEN CREATED FROM A SIMPLE REQUEST THIS IS DELICIOUS AND BEAUTIFUL AND MORE THAN EVERYTHING I COULD HAVE ASKED FOR THANK YOU

TIMEBEEPER MY BELOVED

when you set the exact time on the game's clock;

// LITTLE DOODLE OF @lilydoesdrawsometimes's SWEET LITTLE SETTINGS PERSON " CACHE " BELOVED 🕛🖤

[gaddaboutgriffon]

Red X Redemption

Based on this thread post.

Dan hadn’t set out to become the teen nitwits newest rogue. But using an already built name got him customers a lot faster then if he had to start from scratch. And the annoying bird wasn’t using it anyway. Though in hindsight maybe if he hadn’t stolen the Red X suit and name he wouldn’t have gotten the baby heroes attention so fast. Oh well, he had needed money fast at the time, and there was no changing it now.

Instead he focuses on ditching the chumps. He had the artifact in his bag. Once they’re off his tail he can make the drop, get paid enough to last three months and be done for the night.

He doges a reaching shadow tendril and throws a sticky X at the goth girl. It landed right over her mouth where he had aimed startling her into ending the spell. She was good but still relied on occasionally speaking her encantation which was his first clue she wasn’t that experienced. Still she was the main reason why he never used his ghost powers while out on a job. Little miss half demon would be able to sense it a mile away, but she didn’t notice anything when he was in human form.

Ugh that he hated being reminded that when his future timeline faded he would have too, if his younger self hadn’t convinced Vlad to make a clone body to be fused with. He will never thank the old creep but that human half that came with the clone body was really helpful now.

Dan slipped under a green star bolt. Then used a net X to tangle up the green shapeshifter and tin man. He grinned under his skull mask as they yelped from the electric shock. He landed on a roof top and went to jump again when his cape snagged. I cost him a precious second to pull it free of the “bird-arangs” that had pinned it. Now brat wonder was engaging him with a boe staff, and slowing him down so the others could catch up.

“You really don’t know when to quit.” Dan grunts as he tries to tangle Robin’s feet with another sticky X.

“Don’t know the meaning.” Robin quips back dodging the sticky X with experienced grace. But it left him open for a punch.

Dan may have used a bit of his ghost strength to send the bird flying since that doesn’t register to the magic user. He took off again, dodging Cyborg’s sonic blasts, but his own ghost sense went off. He skidded to a stop and backflips to avoid Desiree suddenly appearing in front of him.

“Give me the eye of Iris!” The ghost genie shouted at him, lunging for the duffle bag on his back.

“Sorry, already got a buyer, and I know your credit’s no good.” He spun out of her way and ran back towards the Titans. If he was lucky he could get them fighting her and he could slip away before his younger self showed up.

His plan worked. The titans predictably began fighting the load mouth ghost after she yapped about the eye of iris would give her unlimited power or whatever. Red X made it to the drop point nearly three blocks away and got his cash passing the item off to the buyer. He then made his way back to the back to one of his cache points and retrieved his duffel bag. That is when his luck finally ran out for the night, when a pink wave went past and caused some bolts to fly off the the hook holding steel girders and fall in from of Dan blocking the alley exit in front of him.

“Ugh, seriously not my night.” Dan groaned as pulled the Red X mask back on that he had just taken of not two minutes ago.

“The headmaster really doesn’t like his generous invitation to be unanswered. Not everyone gets offered a full scholarship to the Hive after all.”

Great, it’s the pink witch and her techs and brute sidekicks. He flipped the duffel bag strap over his shoulder so it was secure and ready to run, and answered “I already told him this Solo act wasn’t interested in joining his clown school.”

He turned with a ready grappling hook to leave, but a long metal spider leg shot out and Pericles the brick wall next to him. Purposefully missing by inches as an unsuccessful intimidation tactic.

“Doesn’t work like that, fart sniffer.” The annoying techy sneered.

Butter biscuits! These guys were going to make him late picking up Ellie from the sitter’s. Months ago Dan had found Danielle destabilizing and used his own ecto and what little he knew of ghost medicine to save her. But he must have done it wrong since she for some reason aged down to a two year old. Which lead to his Red X career, cause while he could live fine backpacking cross country by himself he needed a more stable home and food for Ellie.

Now he contemplated using his ghost powers to break the Hive lackeys, but he knew someone else from the hive always watched from a distance and if they saw his real powers they really wouldn’t leave him in peace.

His ghost sense then warned him of unwanted guests coming in fast. He used the grapple to get up to the roof barely dodging as Desiree crashed into the Hive nitwits in the alley. Now on the roof all the titans were surrounding him.

He took a ready stance to jump back into the alley and hope he could use the same truck twice getting his enemies to fight each other again. But then he spotted the worst thing his rotten luck could throw at him. His timeline doppelgänger flying in from the horizon.

He ignored whatever bird boy was saying and turned back to the alley. Only to see the Hive idiots and Desiree coming up to join the party on the roof.

“Alright Desiree! I chased you across country, and had enough! Time for you to go back to the ghost Zone!” Phantom shouted as he stopped to hover over the group.

Just when Dan thought things couldn’t get bad enough he felt the duffel bag on his back move and the zipper opened for Ellie to pop her head out. “Why so loud? ‘M Seepy” she grumbled. Guess he wouldn’t be paying the baby sitter after all.

“Wha- Ellie! A Oh my ancients, You’re alive!” Phantom zipped down to them. Now he was too close in range for Dan to hide the ecto signature. “Wait, Dan?! You saved our little sister! Have you been taking care of her this whole time?” Phantom then hugged both of them.

Dan wanted both more then to disappear right then. His secret identity is blown and he was going to have to start over from scratch with a new one.

“Dude, I think we really mis judged Red X” he heard the Green titan say. Confirming his reputation was now shot to Swiss cheese.

Deep underground Slade watched the whole thing on his many monitors. “Well if Robin won’t be my apprentice. I’ll see if this one is more agreeable.

(Ok small note. I went with the name Ellie, cause I like it better and Dani, Dan and Danny gets really repetitive…. Anyway I look forward to seeing what you guys add on!)

[sscieloz]

Live your life

band!aespa x groupie!reader

Synopsis: It’s been less than a year since the band Aespa was created. Karina, Minjeong, Giselle and Ningning travel all over the country with nothing but a few gigs, little money and much love for the music. They’re far from superstars, and still don’t have a lot to offer. Besides, there’s something they can’t quite grasp: why you, the band’s most faithful fan, follows them without even questioning.

Warnings: lots of plot w a little bit of smut in the end, as alwayss.

Word count: 6.5k

Notes: I tried following the MV in chronological order and I’m kinda proud w the way it turned out ˆˆ I had lots of fun writing it so I hope you have fun reading it too!! Also I ❤️ you band!aespa let me be your fucktoy I can take the four of you. and not in a fight (probably in a fight too).

pt.1 | pt.2 | pt.3 | pt.4

—

“Is this legal?” Ningning asks, hugging the straps of her backpack. She tilts her head up to grasp at the place that would make their stay for this week of competition, its grand walls of concrete leaving her in awe.

You’ve been wiser this time: the cache of the band’s last performance made it possible for them to buy a roof rack for your brother’s— now basically theirs— van, which provided much more space for equipment and luggage. 

“Not really.” The four of you say, in unison. With a deep sigh, you grab your belongings and walk towards the huge stairs that precede the nearly-abandoned place. 

“It used to be a bathhouse,” Karina tells the maknae, holding her by the shoulders as they walk forward in hopes of making her less uneasy. “But now they use it as a vintage, low-cost hostel, or whatever. It’s always cramped during these times of the year, so we’re safe Ningnie. Don’t worry.” 

The bathhouse is huge, although its dirty façade announces it’s been long since the place served its initial purpose. Grass grows around their feet, nearly disappearing into the wild, and there’s a great amount of dirt clinging to their shoes in the parking lot. Three floors are presented in front of them in all of their grandness, in a structure so massive the place could be misguided as a shopping mall. 

Ningning gulps, although she doesn’t look relaxed in the slightest. Going up so many flights of stairs leaves you breathless, resting your hands on your knees as soon as you reach the entry lounge. The inside of the building is much different from what you expected: it’s filled with warm lights, and most importantly, it’s packed. Young people storm from side to side, hanging out in the corners or walking in rushed paces. The mixed voices bring a lively vibe to the open area, and you smile as you watch comforting chaos unravel. Such noise is enough proof that you're here: the girls are actually going to perform in the most important music competition in the country. 

A hand on your shoulder grabs your attention as you reach for your camera, itching to record every second of the journey. Ningning’s voice makes you look up amidst getting lost searching for it in the middle of your stuff.

“Y/n.” She calls for you, staring at the ground to avoid making eye contact. Her shoulders are pressed downwards, announcing a hesitant posture much unlike herself. You hum in response, acknowledging her while still looking through your backpack. “Is it ok if we room together, this time?” 

You watch as Ning brushes her hands repetitively, aware something’s wrong. Ningning might be the youngest of the band, but she’s usually mature, serious, and confident; It’s concerning to have her acting like that.

“Sure, unnie.” You smile at her, looking around as you squeeze her arm in hopes of offering her some reassurance. After making sure the other girls were busy with the check-in, and that there weren’t any eavesdroppers, you ask, “Are they back again? Have you been getting any sleep?”

Ningning’s nod, followed by a tired sigh, is enough of an answer. You know being so dependent on her friends bothers her deeply, even though you’ve told her countless times none of you mind. 

It’s well-known among the girls that Ning struggles with night terrors. Being an independent and strong-willed child made her extremely talented, but also very lonely. Ningning’s parents invested in her and sent her away from her hometown, Harbin before the age of 10. From then on, the maknae found herself all alone in Korea, pushing through an excruciating routine at a shitty entertainment company where people barely knew her name. She never spoke, at first because she didn’t know Korean at all— but also because people rarely talked to her; only urging her through events and evaluations like a doll.

Or better, more like a ghost. The loneliness clung to her bones, making its way through her soul until she wasn’t even sure who she was without it. 

Ever since then, her nightmares have kept her awake at night, trapped in a tangled mess of absurd dreams that deprive her of getting any rest. The hallucinations are so real she’s frequently urged out of sleep with a trembling body and heavy nausea, rushing to the nearest bathroom in complete panic.

Thankfully, not sleeping by herself is something Ningning found to be of much help, even if just a bit. So the girls take turns holding the youngest member close in their arms until her body gives up to exhaustion, still trembling. 

That was before Ning had gotten it under control. With the help of a professional and her friends’ endless support, she eventually learned how to suppress her troubled thoughts. As months went by, her nightmares somehow did not scare her as much as they did when she was a little girl. 

Or so she thought. Asking for help meant things were not looking good at all, which set up an alarm in the back of your mind. 

You had to talk to Karina about it and let the leader know. Out of the three girls, she was the most protective of Ningning: the duo acted like sisters most of the time and had a tight bond. 

“We’ll get rid of those nasty monsters, Ningie.” You tell her, resting your arm on her shoulders as you walk side by side to the elevator. “Fuck them. I’ll personally beat their asses for disturbing our little princess’s sleep.” 

Ningning’s laugh fills up the small corridor, and as she clings to your body, you’re reminded of how small she is. The maknae trusts you; it’s something you feel in the way she reaches out for your embrace, allowing herself to be vulnerable even if not for long. 

“So,” Karina says, staring at the four of you with a serious face. “I know we all want to enjoy the festival too, and we absolutely should. But it’s late, and it’s a week-long competition, so I say we take it easy and rest today.” 

The leader's words reverberate through the elevator, her assertive tone leaving it clear that it was a rather strong-willed suggestion as you all nod. 

“We’ve worked hard for this opportunity.” Minjeong agrees, leaning onto the big mirror that gave the impression that the elevator was much bigger than its actual size. “Let’s not fuck it up. We can have fun later anyway.” 

“Our first performance is tomorrow, but we have a bunch of interviews scheduled before that. We must be well prepared and rested.” Giselle adds, while they get onto their floor and start walking toward their assigned rooms. 

Somehow, the girls always manage to get caught up with something just minutes before getting in the car for their road trip, which meant you arrived later than expected. At nearly 4 AM, everyone was tired, even though the adrenaline of being part of something as big as The Box was enough for them to be a bit jumpy, eyes darting around to capture everything dimmed possible. 

The rooms were better, this time: there wasn’t any dust and the place looked fairly comforting, compared to the last place you stayed at. You drop your backpack and your small suitcase onto the ground without much care.

“Goodnight, cuties. See you in the morning.” You murmur, rubbing your eyes as you throw yourself on the bed, extra tired from being the designated driver for the entire journey. Giselle, Winter, and Karina wave faintly, too, making their way to their room at a quick pace. 

Ningning smiles and watches as you stretch yourself, exhausted. She’s quick to drop her stuff and pull her single bed, although it doesn’t move further than an inch. “Y/n… help me join the beds, please?” 

“Right, right. Of course.” With some effort, the two of you manage to move the two beds together into the center of the room, and you relax for a bit while Ningning occupies the bathroom. The soft sheets that welcome your face are much different from the leather seats of your car, and the change is well welcomed— so much you let out a deep sigh, relieved now that you’re finally able to relax. 

After changing into your pajamas, you stare at the ceiling and you wait for Ningning to hop out of the shower and join you in bed before falling asleep yourself. However, the last thing your mind registers are the soft sounds of Yizhuo’s shower before sleep takes over your body and you lose a short-lived battle to unconsciousness. 

—

Life is anything but peaceful when you give up a normal, ordinary life to live off of music. Not that it’s a bad thing: if anything, the thrill of not having a routine grants to the girls a type of freedom that only comes with art. 

That’s all Karina can think about as the five of you hang out at a big, open field. There’s a fence where you and Ningning sit, and the cool breeze messes up her long, pitch-black hair. More than freedom, the leader’s chest also burns with a deep sense of accomplishment. 

Within a blink, she’s at the bathhouse’s rooftop and this time her bandmates chat lively by the place’s enormous sign. It’s late, and a different kind of unsettlement takes place inside her rebel heart this time, one Karina feels deep in her bones.

Thankfully, she doesn’t have to dwell much: her senses prove to be right almost immediately when they’re struck by a sea of shooting stars. They fly by so fast Karina barely sees them, making their way through with such strength she’s pushed onto the ground. There’s only enough time for her to grab a single star, grasping the small light within her hands as strongly as she can. 

But just as fast as it happened, the storm is gone. Karina looks up to talk to you and the girls about it, but you’re nowhere to be seen. She frowns, realizing she’s left all alone, under the darkness of a starless sky. 

That’s when she wakes up: breathless, trembling badly as she grabs her neck in hopes of making more air run through her lungs. Despite the cool night, her body is drenched in sweat. Yet, the oldest member can’t help but sigh in relief once she looks up beside her and finds Minjeong peacefully asleep. The leader looks to the other bed, where Giselle’s faint snores can be heard, her mouth hanging slightly open as saliva drools onto the bassist’s pillow.

Karina’s safe. She’s with her girls, in the comfort of their room. 

Yet the loneliness she felt still echoes through her body, hurting enough to draw small tears from her eyes before she acknowledges it. It had been such an empty moment… to look up and not see any of the people she loved and cherished deeply. 

It’s something Karina decides she never wants to feel again. 

“Mhm…” Minjeong stirs, her eyes half open as she stretches her arms out. Karina’s noises probably woke her up— the girl has never been a deep sleeper anyway. “What are you doing awake?” 

A few seconds go by, and Karina stays silent. The answer comes when the blonde is almost falling asleep again, so low Minjeong thinks she’s imagining it. “You left me there, all alone. All of you.” 

“We… who?” Minjeong’s voice is scrappy with confusion. She looks at the leader, scratching her head as she watches Karina get up. “Why would we do that? We’re literally right here, unnie.”

Minjeong’s attempts to understand her friend fail. If anything, she’s bluntly ignored by Karina, who shakes Giselle gently until she manages to get the Japanese girl up, although clearly in a zombie-like state, still barely conscious. 

The weather was still a bit hot by the time they arrived, so the girls agreed to leave the old, arched windows open for the night. Now, the wind had messed up the leader’s wavy hair, and there were little eye-bags under her eyes from waking up so abruptly. As a result of such an intense dream, Karina’s lips trembled and her body lacked its usual strength, which was noticeable by her limp arms. She looks fragile, clearly disturbed by a train of thoughts echoing inside her mind. 

And the way the leader stares at Minjeong so helplessly… It’s the reason why she doesn’t question when Karina offers her hand to help the blonde out of bed, in complete silence. One that remains until the leader unlocks your and Ningning’s room with her spare card, walking onto the bed with light steps— as if she was taken by the wind itself. 

Your bedroom is not as big as theirs, and the improvised bed is still rather small, but Karina makes it fit. Her hand is keen on Giselle’s back, urging the girl back to bed as the leader lies her down once again. Like in a puzzle, Minjeong squeezes herself between your arched back and Ning’s body, careful to not wake up either of you. 

“Feeling better?” She asks Karina, who watches the scene with a small smile. Minejong’s heart is filled with warmth at the girl’s pretty face, as she closes her eyes once again. 

“Much better.” The vocalist murmurs, calm and collected. Being tangled with her girls at one of the country’s most successful music events is enough to dissipate her previous loneliness. There’s nothing else she needed but the four of you. “I’m no longer alone, now.” 

She’s safe.

—

The Box is an event created for Companies from all over the country to show off their assets and make as much profit as possible—and they make sure to capitalize on every second of it, which is as much of a burden as it is an opportunity for its participants. The girls had interviews, outfit changes, and makeup booths provided by sponsors, guaranteed as long as they shot commercials and launched a few good words about their brands. 

Held in a big, open area, the place brings goosebumps to Karina’s stomach, reminiscing too much of her dream as the same clouds wind on the sky, blocking the sun’s path. Just as she had done moments prior, you look up too, frowning. The lack of light makes the day seem gloomier than usual, and a single droplet of rain would result in an atrocious, muddy day. 

And that would be a disaster, for sure.

“So,” After recording the stage they’d perform at in just a few hours, you turn around and nearly shove your camera on Giselle’s face. “Enlighten us, Gigi: why is the festival named The Box if the main stage is actually a big fucking losangle?” 

Giselle’s tone is condescending as she adjusts her perfectly arranged bangs, giving you a dirty look before answering. “Y/n, my love.” She redirects the camera to capture both of your faces, smearing your cheek with her lip gloss. “You just have to accept some things: like the weather, time… and The Box’s setup. It’s how it’s always been, so let’s not dwell on that matter, okay? Thanks.” 

“Very well, then. You heard her.” You nod back at the camera, capturing the massive stage for a few more seconds before pausing the recording. 

Giselle’s passive-aggressiveness was one of her hottest traits, and you loved to watch her boss people around. Which she always made sure of doing, whenever she had the chance to.

The Japanese girl giggles at your words, nudging you gently. Not much further from you, Karina and Ningning stand in a big line to try some popular dish. You wave to them, and Giselle straightens her posture, following your stare with a grunt. 

“So, you and Jimin, huh.” She asks, plucking at the grass with her shoes. It’s obvious she’s trying her best to sound nonchalant and not make a big deal out of it.

It was no secret that you were devoted to Karina, surrendering yourself with as much as a whisper from her. Still, it was amusing to you how shy Giselle seemed with her question. Her hesitation was sweet, so cute it draws a smile from your face. 

“Oh… well, yeah.” You shrug, not at all ashamed. “She needs someone to warm up her bed.” You eye Giselle attentively, studying the older girl’s body language before adding, “I can help you with that too if you’d like. I know Jimin unnie wouldn’t mind.”

Your answer catches her off guard, her eyes wide from your straightforwardness. You’re nearly teasing her for being so shocked when she laughs, shaking her head. It’s Giselle, after all: the girl has such a flirty nature you’d be surprised if she didn’t give you a run for your money. 

“We’ll see... You’re sure one of a kind, Y/n. That you are.” She answers, with a sultry tone before gently squeezing your arm and vanishing from your sight. 

That is enough for you. The Japanese girl’s gorgeous looks and confident nature make her so desirable and hot— truly an it girl, often leading the group to try out new music styles and different types of choreographies. Giselle is always pushing herself outside her comfort zone. 

It’s good that she knows you’re also willing to try anything she’d like, too. 

Brushing that subject off your mind, you take some time to dive into the festival, just as curious as the girls were: the place is still beautiful, despite the weather. Its lively atmosphere is enchanting, and there is so much happening: from bands singing on minor stages to dance performances not much further from where you stand. Everyone seems eager to participate, and you’re just as excited to watch everything at once.  

This event is also a great opportunity for you, considering you’re still attending university— hoping to major in Media Arts in two years or so. Even though you spend most of the time following the girls around, your passion for filmmaking and photography is also one of the reasons you’re so committed to recording everything your eyes meet. You plan on making this documentary into your final presentation of the year and submitting it to one of your main classes. 

So you record everything: making a full turn to capture your entire experience. You’re so committed to your task that you don’t even notice Minjeong’s frame behind you, the blonde girl not making an effort to move such thing as an inch from out of your way. 

The two of you collide with each other so roughly you have to hold onto the girl’s tiny frame with your free hand to prevent her from a having dirty fall.  Minjeong gives you an ugly look, impatiently wiping the dirt from her plaid skirt. She’s judgy, as always— not a day goes by where the blonde doesn’t give you a hard time.

Although you weren’t exactly peaceful to her, either. 

“Do you ever wear a bra?” She mumbles, annoyed. Minjeong’s fingers press the tip of her nose bridge and she closes her eyes as if dealing with you was enough to drain all of her energy. 

“Why are you looking anyway?” You’re quick to snap back, crossing your arms over your chest. 

Choosing comfort over fashion was something you’d always do, and today was no different. Your look for the day was rather basic, but perfect for someone who’d be walking around the entire time: a pair of jeans and a plain white tank top that made your Aespa badge visible to anyone who took a quick look at you. However, that little show of Winter has made the dirt that clung onto the fabric attract attention to your breasts, highlighting the way your pierced nipples peeked through. It had only been a few weeks since you and Giselle got them done, so you were still a bit hypersensitive.

Not that you minded, anyway. Minjeong would be a jerk regardless of that: the blonde made her life’s purpose to annoy the shit out of you, and she’s very committed on doing so.

Proving your point, Winter scoffs, all annoyed.

“You always make this shit on purpose, don’t you?” You stare at her, confused, and it seems like she’s had enough. Rolling her eyes, Minjeong brushes past you, nearly dragging you by the shoulders as she stomps away. “Whatever. Whore.”

Minjeong is so rude. Undeniably so, with an insanely stubborn temper. Her mood changes quickly, and it is hard to tell if she genuinely hates you or if it is just some kind of playful banter.

Not that you cared much, honestly. There were many important things for you to worry about, like the amazing festival happening at the moment. You’d deal with that nightmare of a girl some other time. 

Instead of allowing the petite blonde to disturb your mind, you decide to walk around by yourself too— despite preferring to be surrounded by the girls at all times, it felt good to be on your own.

You were deeply committed to making a masterpiece out of your clips. If the work you handed in was good enough, then perhaps your professor would overlook the number of absences on your attendance sheet and give you a nice grade. 

After walking around for a few minutes, a certain stage catches your attention: the structure is small and curiously held like a boxing ring, where nine girls sing and dance in beautiful harmony. The space is so far from the center of the festival its last rounds of chairs nearly drag onto the woods that surround the place. 

The girls performing are all dressed in dark pants, white crop tops, and black ties, and they’re incredibly in synch while still making complicated moves. Their voices are sweet, and so is the music that flows to your ears: it’s a cover of one of your favorite songs, KARA’s Mr.

Your eyes go straight to the sign that hangs in front of the stage, looking for said group’s name. Thankfully, it’s easy to find, both in Hangul and Romanized.

Fromis9.

The nine girls’ bright stage presence fills up the area, and it amazes you how coordinated they are, not one outshining the other despite being so many. No lines are stolen in the song; instead, they add to each other beautifully, reminding you of your girls. The contrast is fascinating, from Aespa’s four-member band to those strangers, who sing cheerful songs like this will be the last happy summer of their lives. 

You’re enchanted by them, truthfully. Not only talented, the girls seem genuinely sweet, as they spin and jump around to hype up the dead crowd. And oh, they’re stunning: each one with striking features, ones that surely seem like they’ve been taken straight out of a fairytale. 

You make sure to record their entire performance, as well as the little playful moments reserved for interacting with their fans and supporters. Soon enough, the song ends, leaving the group breathless but happy. You watch as the girls bow and take turns passing small water bottles around, tired from giving their all on stage. 

A few of them start a small discourse, although you don’t pay enough attention to grasp the meaning of their words. You’re too busy staring at one of them instead, hiding behind your camera so she doesn’t see how enamored you are. 

The girl is small, but her slim waist and toned muscles announce she must spend most of her free time at the gym. An energetic pink-haired girl clings to one of her arms, providing a clear contrast to her long, pitch-black hair, but she doesn’t seem bothered in the slightest: if anything, she hugs the energetic girl back, laughing and she twirls her friend around.

Luckily for you, there’s a big paper clasped in front of her shirt, just like every artist who is currently performing and competing at The Box. You search for her name with expectation, just like you’ve done with her group’s name.

Hers say, Saerom. 

A beautiful name for an enchanting girl. 

However, it’s her face that surprises you the most. She’s beautiful, of course— stunningly so, but so is everyone at this festival: something expected for a place with such a high concentration of artists, models, and people in the entertainment industry in general. But as you look into her high cheekbones and sharp jawline, you’re surprised to find such kind eyes staring back at you. Saerom’s eyes provide her soft, almost ethereal look as she nods to you. It’s a faint action, one a distracted eye would barely notice once she moved back to the middle of the stage with her bandmates, yet you’d never miss it. There’s no way she wouldn’t stand out, despite her plain outfit. 

You could stare at her for hours. 

Although you’re incapable of doing so: in a blink, steady hands grab your camera, and your arms are urged down so fast you nearly let it fall on the ground. Nothing disastrous happens, thanks to your steady grip and good reflex, but your vision is blocked by a serious Karina, fuming as she stares angrily at you. 

“What are you doing, Y/n?” The leader’s cocky, angry voice is something you only hear when she’s feeling intimidated or when she wants to be petty, which is unusual for the occasion. Why would she be so defensive towards you?

Karina usually yaps her heart out until your ears hurt from her complaints. It’s a normal thing for her to do, whenever she’s pissed. However, she doesn’t say anything this time, clearly waiting— demanding an explanation. 

So you lift your camera, playfully poking her in a failed attempt of easing the tension hanging in the air. “I’m making The Box’s documentary as my final presentation.” You stay on your tiptoes, trying to get a hold of the view Karina is blocking so confidently, but it’s useless by now: the performance is over, and the Fromis9 members have already retreated backstage. “For that class I told you about, remember?”

Karina rolls her eyes, ignoring your explanation as she directs you in the opposite direction. With a resolute tone, she brushes off the matter. “Whatever. Listen, Y/n: you should only focus on us, your band. There’s no need for you to look at anyone else.”

Oh, Karina’s fuming. It’s easy to tell, from the way she refuses to meet your face to the red that paints her cheeks. You giggle, enjoying her subtle possessiveness. 

Truth be told, you thrived on being reassured just as much as the girls did. The only difference was that you made an immense effort to hide how much it aroused you, well aware they’d use it as an advantage. 

Besides, there was a bit of truth behind her words: the girls were the only ones you truly felt connected to; they were yours just as much as you were theirs, and you didn’t feel like you needed to meet new people.

“Of course, Jimin unnie.” You nod, walking next to her as you turn your camera off and place it back in your backpack. “Aespa is the only band worth looking at, anyway.” 

Karina blossoms under your praise, smiling brightly as she kisses you gently, her irritation gone. “Good girl. Now let’s go to the main stage. There are only two hours until our performance, and the girls are starting to get ready.” 

You’d like to tease her back a bit, but now wasn’t the time. Not when the band’s nerves were all over the place, nervous they’d fuck up the opportunity of their lives. No, you wouldn’t do such a thing. You’d be their anchor, peace, and most faithful supporter as you always were, ready to remind the girls of their true potential. 

With that, you and Karina walk back to the main stage with synchronized steps, and the moment with Saerom is brushed off to the back of your mind.

You've probably imagined the entire thing, anyway. There was nothing to wonder. 

—

“Hello, girls. Are you Aespa?” The staff asks, entering the room with his eyes glued to the list in his hands. After the five of you nod, he adds, with a comforting smile, “You’re on in 30. Come after you finish your makeup and clothes so we can start the soundcheck and set up your microphones.”

With another nod, you fall into a nervous silence once again. The girls have waited for this opportunity for so long; the crowd’s heated screams could be heard from where you stood, only adding to the girl’s expectations. It was the first time they performed in front of so many people, let alone at such a big and renowned festival. 

“I think I’m going to throw up.” Giselle mumbles, softening her necklace as if it were suffocating her. Her breaths were uneven, and her eyes were fixated on the ground. 

Karina smiles softly at the girl. As the leader, she knows it’s her duty to look composed and relaxed, to tranquilize her bandmates. “You’re not going to throw up, Gigi. You just need some air. Come on, let’s get out of here.” 

The leader grabs Giselle by the arm, urging her up. As they go through the door, Ningning rushes to follow their steps. 

“I need to breathe too.” She gulps, not even sparing you a glance as she runs to catch up with her friends. 

The nerves were striking, and they needed to look composed so they’d give their all on stage, as always.

You and Minjeong were the only ones left backstage, which allows you to take some time to study her better. The blonde sits perfectly still on the couch, with a rigid posture and hands clasped tightly on her lap. She looks composed, almost bored, as she always does— but you know her better. 

Minjeong’s muscles are visibly tense, and her left leg bounces so much you’re afraid it’s going to be chopped off from her body. She’s usually so composed, rarely giving a fuck about anything in her life. Whatever it was, the most Minjeong would do was roll her eyes at it or give it a nasty, rude response. Nothing else.

Seeing her bottle up her feelings like that is something that leaves you deeply uncomfortable. The way she deals with her emotions is none of your business of course, and it’s not like she ever talks about how she’s feeling with anyone anyway. 

Minjeong rarely talks about herself; not to you or her bandmates. She’s simply someone very private when it comes to that matter. It’s something the blonde struggles with— understanding and acknowledging her emotions are not things that come to her naturally, so Minjeong would often carry her burdens alone until the feelings get so heavy she explodes, taking it off on someone who has nothing to do with whatever it is she’s going through. 

Although it surprises you to see how deeply caring the girl can be. Minjeong, who knows Karina loves apple-flavored candy and sorts them out for her leader, even though they all think it’s gross. Minjeong, whose personal space is sacred, allows Ningning to be as clingy as she wants, aware the maknae longs for physical contact after being deprived of it so much as a child. Minjeong, who is the most competitive person you’ve ever met, but lets Giselle beat her at deck games whenever they notice the Japanese girl is feeling down. 

Minjeong, who despises you thoroughly, but snuck a new SD card into your purse after seeing you struggle with your camera for a few days. 

You didn’t want her to make her big debut feeling like a nervous wreck. She needs to relax, and not be so tense otherwise she won’t do good in her performance. 

And you know just what to do. 

With a sigh, you drop your hand from the doorknob and turn to her, leaning on the wall to take a better look at Winter. 

“You’re nervous.” You state, smirking at the sight of her face growing red—the blonde girl, usually so collected… oh, how she hates to be caught. 

Most importantly, Minjeong hates how you can always see right through her. 

“Well no shit, Sherlock.” 

Walking towards her with small, unhurried steps, you sit right next to her, crossing your legs as you lean onto her.

“I can help you with that.” You whisper to her, staring at her mouth. “Do you trust me?”

Minjeong scrunches her nose but doesn’t move away. Her answer, however, comes immediately— not an ounce of hesitation coming from her mouth. “Not at all.”

“Good.” You cup her face. “Wise girl.”

Leaning in, you capture Minjeong’s lips in a messy kiss. Despite her fiery personality, she tastes sweet, and you savor the strawberry essence of her lip gloss. Kissing Minjeong is addictive, yet you can’t seem to get enough of her. You lick her lips and devour her until your lungs scream for air, and the two of you get off each other when there’s no air and you’re both left desperate and breathless. 

Minjeong’s blonde hair flows freely, her scrutinizing stare forgotten the moment the two of you got so close your breaths entwined. For a moment, you don’t do anything but stare at each other, as you look for any signs of what she’d like to do next. You’re nearly sure she’d tell you to get lost until she grabs your neck and pulls you close, kissing you for the second time. 

“You’re completely insufferable, Y/n.” She murmurs in between the kiss as her thumb brushes down your neck. Even though there’s a faint pressure, her touch is almost soothing, urging you down to your knees. “Now, do more.”

You’re more than eager to follow her wishes, urging her pants and underwear down in a swift motion. Minjeong’s pussy is so pretty, all pink, swollen, and glistening, and you lick your lips with anticipation. The blonde girl lies comfortably on the couch as she spreads her folds with two of her fingers— showing herself to your hungry gaze.

“How do I look right now, Y/n?” Her tone is drenched with mockery as you squeeze her thighs, drawing a shiver from her. Your hands trace tiny circles on her milky skin, and you choose to ignore her; too focused on her beautiful body on display for you. 

Minjeong’s free hand goes to grip your hair, annoyed by your lack of response. “Fine, then. Do you want to know how you look?” 

Her malicious smile, much different from her delicate features, is what makes you shiver at her concentration. Giving her thighs faint bites, you ask, “Enlighten me, Minjeong.” 

“Like a whore.” Her grip tightens and you can’t help but bite harder this time. “Hey! See, I’ve always said you’re just a cheap who—“

Minjeong is silenced by your warm tongue on her pussy, licking a big stripe of her sex, as you go all the way up to suck on her clit as well. Her high-pitched moans are like music to your ears, and you take turns sucking her sensitive bud and letting out some lewd, loud sounds as you nearly make out with her pussy. 

“Do you want my fingers, pretty girl?” You mumble, staring at her through your lashes. 

Minjeong looks like a painting, beautiful with her mouth half-opened and a thin cover of sweat covering her brows. She nods frantically, urging you even closer.

Greedy, that’s what she is.

“Yes, please.” It’s the first time you’ve ever seen use her manners, so you’re quick to comply. “Fuck, Y/n…” 

Two of your fingers enter her cunt without any resistance as you thrust hard and fast. She bucks her hips to add to the stimulation, and you’re graced with the glorious view of her abs, thankful she chose a tiny crop top for the day. You want to see her tits, too, but it’s not like you’re in any position to demand anything— not while Minjeong uses you as a toy, rocking onto your mouth as her moans grow louder and louder. 

You feel her walls tensing up, and her toes curl as she tells you, “Y/n, I’m going t—“

“Cum for me, Minjeongie.” You give her clit one last, harsh suck, as her breathing becomes even quicker. “That’s it, let go.”

Minjeong follows your commands, reaching her orgasm with a high-pitched moan as she squeezes your head in between her thighs. Her body trembles from the stimulation, and you keep your fingers inside her walls until she’s calmed down enough that her screams are reduced to heavy breaths. You lick her clean, then, careful to not touch her clit as you eat her out for a few other moments. 

What’s most surprising to you, though, is the delicacy in her touch as she urges you up, tasting herself on your lips. 

“Sweet.” She giggles, before grabbing your tank top and pushing you off her. Minjeong’s obsessed with oversized jeans, and her current ones look huge on her tiny waist as she takes her time with buttoning up. “I really needed that, Y/n. Thanks.”

You don’t bother to hide a cocky smile as you nod, shrugging. 

“You’re going own that fucking stage today, Minjeong. All of you.” It’s what they were born to do. There isn’t a slight possibility of them not doing their absolute best on stage.

“I know.” Minjeong looks around, bouncing back and forth with her hands on her jeans’ back pocket. After a pause, she adds, with a quiet tone, “You’re going to be there, right? At the front row. Recording and all. It’s one of the only things you’re useful for anyway.” 

You smile, understanding the hidden meaning behind her bored tone. “Of course, I will, dumbass. I’ll be there with you, as always.”

You’d always be there for your girls: cheering, supporting, or helping the band with anything they needed. 

Karina, Ningning, Giselle, and Minjeong were not sure of when you became such an important figure in their lives, but there was something they all agreed on: they’ve grown too fond of you now. It was impossible to let you go. 

Not that you had any intentions of leaving their side, anyway. 

[livwritesstuff]

There is a rule in the Harrington household that Eddie is only allowed to take one (1) of his and Steve’s three daughters with him to Target. Eddie going to Target by himself is dangerous enough.

For example:

Steve: Why did you buy three bags of cat food?

Eddie: Because if you spent $15 on pet supplies you got a $5 gift card

Steve:

Steve: How is this good for us?

Eddie: It’s free money!

Steve: No – it’s literally not. It cost $15 worth of shit we have no use for.

Steve: And now Hazel’s gonna think we’re getting her a cat.

The thing is, Eddie breaks the one child per Target trip rule constantly, enough times that he and the girls have developed a whole system to sneak their inevitable cache of Target junk into the house so Steve doesn’t find out. The system involves using their youngest, Hazel, as a pawn, which Steve wouldn’t be a fan of, but…it’s Hazel. It works.

“Hi Papa,” she says, setting the carton of eggs that had warranted a trip to Target on the counter.

“Hey,” he replies, looking up from where he was tying his running shoes, “Thanks for getting the eggs.”

“Are you going on a run?” Hazel asks nonchalantly.

“Yep. I’ll be back in a couple hours though, and then we can make those brownies.”

Once he leaves, Hazel returns to the garage where Eddie, Moe, and Robbie are still in hiding.

Hazel: He’s gone.

Eddie: Okay, you know the drill.

Eddie: Pop doesn’t hear a word about this.

Eddie: No fashion shows, no hauls. If he asks, you’ve had this shit your entire lives.

Eddie: Got it?

At the end of the month, Steve is going over all their card statements like he always does when he sees the charge.

Steve: Ed – Jesus Christ.

Steve: What the fuck could you possibly have spent five hundred dollars on at Target?

[luludeluluramblings]

I’m curious.

Small town!Reader isn’t allowed to go anywhere, shopping for instance. Because she’s neglected, but adored, does Bruce give her allowance or a whole card to shop online??

And Pregnant!Reader, she’s just straight up neglected. Does she have her own card from Bruce so he doesn’t have to worry about her??

I’m just imagining Tim and/or Bruce going over the bank records for the month, and seeing a bunch of baby stuff being bought. Alfred lies and says he was buying things for families in need

Bruce let’s Smalltown!Reader online shop. But, if they get too petty, he will either hire a personal shopper for them. Or, he will monitor ever single purchase and cancel the one’s he doesn’t approve of.

Why do you need custom made French lingerie? What do you need eight trampolines for? Why are you trying to purchase mystery cache boxes from the DARK WEB?!

Sometimes they get lucky and get one of the siblings to let them sneak something through.

As for Pregnant!Reader, they aren’t stupid. Even looking up baby stuff in the manor is risky.

They only get away with looking at baby things when they put on a casual disguise and go to a baby store. They have to be careful to avoid really high end places. But, their guilty pleasure is vintage stores because it’s not somewhere the Gotham elite frequent and it’s so timeless.

If they get locked up in the house they will use their hormones to get what they want. And, some of that antique stuff cost good money.

However, both Reader’s being based on the same origin story have their mother and stepfather’s inheritance to fall back on at about the age twenty one. It’s a drop compared to Bruce’s vast wealth. But, it could buy a nice house in Gotham’s suburbs and afford groceries for a year. (Which are both expensive.)

But, they do have personal accounts with money that their parents just had for them. Only a few thousand that the saved. Enough to basically cover an emergency.

[ghostly-penumbra]

Rejection

Ao3

Summary: In a world where Danyal al Ghul is resurrected by his mother after his death, the child turns down the idea of going with his biological father, the feared Batman.

In this one, he doesn't.

Most things don't change. Unfortunately, some do.

A what-if scenario from my dannymay entry "Reflection".

-

Look, I don't actually hate Damian, but I stumbled upon far too many "Danny forgives his abuser/murderer because he was just a kid and forgiving us good and siblings must stick together 4evr 🥺 uwu" and fuck that noise, I say as an abused sibling.

in the first part of this series, Danyal wondered what would have happened had he gone to Batman when he arrived to the USA

here we find out 3:)

- - -

Bruce watched his sons go with a smile on his face when Danyal finally reached out and held Jason’s offered hand.

It was a victory, for Danyal to see that his brother wasn’t out to get him, that he didn’t intend to harm him.

That his brother wouldn’t kill him.

The smile slipped from Bruce’s face, and the detective found himself cursing Ra’s al Ghul yet again.

- - -

Danyal had arrived at the Batcave in the middle of the night whilst Batman and Robin were in the middle of patrol, and introduced himself to Alfred as Batman’s son. His words, his face and his eyes quickly had the vigilantes returning home.

Talia’s nose, Bruce’s chin still full of baby fat, Talia’s soft hair, almost like silk… Martha Wayne’s blue eyes.

Bruce had frozen mid-step when he saw him, so small , with clothes that didn’t fit him and only a small backpack on his tired little shoulders. And when the boy’s eyes –Martha’s same blue – landed on him, a myriad of emotions passed through them, almost too fast for the detective to read them: awe, fear, hope, relief… and when he spotted Robin, the fear came back, wariness, unease…

His Jason, in spite of growing quick to anger as of late, was still good with younger kids, and agreed to leave him alone with only some minor grumbling.

Once alone, the boy stood straight again, hands clasped behind his back and chin lifted up proudly even as he swam in his clothes. (So small.) His eyes, though, didn’t meet Bruce’s, and instead settled on his chin.

“Hello, my name is Danyal al Ghul, son of Talia al Ghul…” He paused for a second, but then carried on, “and of the Batman.”

“I see.” Bruce barely managed to get out past the lump of emotion clogging his throat.

“I… mother and I have decided that Nanda Parbat and the League of Shadows is no longer safe for me,” his voice wobbled and broke and they both pretended it didn’t, “so she sent me here with you, if—if you will take me.”

Bruce breached the distance between them and knelt in front of his son with measured, projected movements.

“Danyal,” he said at last, “can I hug you?”

With a stunned expression, his son stiffly nodded, and just as slowly, Bruce wrapped his arms around him, tugging him towards his chest and feeling Danyal tentatively wrap his tiny arms as far as he could reach in turn.

“Danyal, what happened? Why now, at last, did your mother send you to me?”

“… I was murdered by Damian al Ghul—son of Talia al Ghul, grandson of Ra’s al Ghul and Heir of the Demon’s Head… my—my twin brother.”

- - -

It was always a challenge to track down the League’s movements and status, but not one Bruce ever cowered from.

Talia’s latest movements weren’t impossible to track, if you knew what you were looking at.

Places she hadn’t gone to in a long time, where he knew she had caches of valuables, money, safe-houses and the necessary means to disappear.

He could almost see her helping Danyal along, guiding him long enough to know he could make it to Gotham, until her father turned his eyes towards her once again, questioning her actions.

He searched further, from everything from the past seven years, to what they were currently doing.

He wished he could leave the country to have a more hands-on approach with the ever elusive League, but with Danyal only really relaxing—feeling safe— when Bruce was present, he had barely even left to go on patrol.

Despite their tense start, Bruce was grateful for Jason, from his acceptance of the paused patrols, his patience with Danyal, his understanding of the smaller boy’s situation, and his genuine desire to connect with him and be a good big brother.

It was a relief to Bruce, as a father, to see the anger that had been growing more and more in him be tampered down, easily put aside by his kindness, his gentleness.

- - -

“Do you like reading?”

Jason asked, smiling from his upside-down position in the couch on Bruce’s studio, where the man was working on police cases while he couldn’t go out and be Batman.

Danyal was glued to Bruce’s side, having been assured that it was okay for him to do so, was welcome, even, and he looked at his father from his periphery, gauging his reaction.

When he got a curious lifting of an eyebrow, Danyal frowned and his focus returned to Jason. “I don’t know.” He seemed pained to admit it.

Jason, though, didn’t let that put a damper in his plan, and beamed at the kid instead. “Wanna find out if you like children’s tales?”

This time, Danyal did turn his head towards Bruce, just a little, and the small frown on his face showed he was having difficulty deciphering Jason’s statement.

With an indulgent smile, Bruce carded his fingers through his youngest’s fluffy hair, feeling the kid relax under the touch.

“Jason is a fan of reading,” he explained, “and he’s trying to see if you two have that in common, and you just don’t know it yet.” Jason smiled and nodded, as much as he could in his position. “But mostly, he wants to share something he loves with you.”

“Oh.” Understanding dawned on Danyal. “Uh, okay.”

Jason’s smile turned radiant, and he jumped from his spot, closing his eyes and gripping the back of the couch as the world straightened, but said with joy anyway, “I’ll be back in a second!”, and ran out of the room, no doubt towards their library.

Once the older boy was gone, Danyal finally turned towards him, glaring at the bookshelf behind them. He clenched and unclenched his chubby fist a few times, clearly thinking hard. Bruce had learned by now that it was best for him to let Danyal take his time—unlike Jason, who typically had to be encouraged into revealing his feelings.

“Father, I have only ever read academic and pedagogic papers, what if I don’t like what Jason loves?”

Bruce cupped Danyal’s cheek with one hand, a victory in his heart when his son leaned into the touch, when two days ago he had startled. “Did you love all the academic papers you read?”

After a second of thought, Danyal confessed, “I don’t know. I enjoyed the ones about astronomy, the other ones… not nearly as much.”

“Hmm. Then maybe you will like this better, or you won’t, and you can try to find something you do, Jason has a big collection, and the library is even bigger, I’m sure he’ll like to help you find out, if you allow him. But tell me, do you want to find out if you like fantasy and fairy tales better than academic texts?”

Danyal did stop to think about it, and then a spark of defiance entered his blue eyes, a small rebellion compared to what he had already done, but a rebellion nonetheless.

Bruce ever-active detective mind could tell his son was thinking of Ra’s, of his sure disapproval for such a frivolous topic, and felt his heart fill with pride when his son replied, rocking his whole body in a nod.

“Yes, I want to find out.”

When Jason returned, it was with his arms full of books, almost toppling over his hold.

“I got some variety here!” He put half of them on Bruce’s desk, closer to their father than to his little brother, and went back to his seat across from the room. “Got two copies of each one so you can have your own! You get to choose what to start with!”

Bruce spread the books out on his desk, over his paperwork, to let Danyal see the titles and covers.

“How about this one?” He suggested, pointing at one title in particular.

Jason, though, glared at him. “Danyal gets to choose.”

Bruce winked at him, but Jason’s frown only really abated when his little brother asked him, “What is The Little Prince about?”

And, in spite of the physical distance Jason respected, Bruce got to see his children grow closer.

- - -

Now here he was, down in the Cave, pouring over strategies on how to infiltrate one of the most guarded places on earth to rescue his son, get him out, and not allow the League to ever lay hands on either of the twins again.

“They made him a killer.” He lamented when Alfred approached to hand him another mug of coffee. “They’re only six… if only Talia had told me…” He massages his temples and closes his eyes, the map of Nanda Parbat burnt in his eyelids while he imagined a world where he got to raise both kids since infancy.

“The past is rarely what we want it to be, Master Bruce, we can only hope to influence the present so as to have a better future.” Alfred told him, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder before taking his leave.

“If Damian is given the opportunity,” he muttered after a long moment of silence, drumming his fingers on the desk, “what kind of person would he become?”

“You would bring him here? After what he did?”

Bruce felt a stone drop in his stomach and he turned around to be met with Danyal, his sweet and shy youngest son, already clad in his star-themed pyjamas, staring him down even as he had to tilt his chin up to look him in the eye.

Straight in the eyes, instead of his chin or the bridge of his nose, where he felt safe looking in his shyness or nerves. Right now, his gaze was cold, a cold so great it burned you.

His tiny fists, clenched at his sides, were shaking, thumping against his thighs. If it was in rage or in fear, he couldn’t tell; both, possibly.

“Danyal.” He breathed out softly, carefully relaxing his posture and letting his hands fall palms-out by his sides. “Son, I know this isn’t ideal, but please listen to me, what Ra’s did to you is monstrous, to both of you; you are both just children…

“I promise I will keep you safe, and won’t let anyone hurt you, but I have to get your brother out of there, too, he’s not safe there. He’s only a child, Danyal, I can’t just leave him there.”

“Damian is not in danger, he is the danger! He murdered me and you don’t care!”

“Of course I do, if there was anything I could do to change it, to fix it, I would, but all I can do now is try to prevent it from happening again, to either of you; your brother is just a child too, who wasn’t taught any better-”

“ I knew better! I didn’t kill him !” Danyal screamed. His chest was heaving with laboured breaths, and his eyes shone with tears ready to fall. One of his hands went up to fist in his hair, tugging on it, and Bruce internally winced, trying to keep it off his face. “You—why—I can’t—you’ve only had me for a week, but you’ve already decided you love him more!”

Bruce had stood up, at the beginning of this, with measured movements, and now approached his youngest son the same way, with his hands spread out and taking a short step.

The only one he managed to take, before Danyal flinched back from him, eyes wide and afraid, sobs cutting short.

It was as if he had been stabbed in the gut, with the way he suddenly couldn’t breathe and how his knees would no longer hold his body and left him prostrated before his flesh and blood.

“Please, son, listen,” but the boy didn’t, instead bolting for the lift, almost falling into it when it opened, and leaving the cave with tears falling down his face, “Danyal!” Bruce called after him, watching him go.

And as he had sank into the floor, Bruce sank his head in his hands.

When he had regained enough of his composure, Bruce went back up into the manor, resolute in talking to his youngest. He was met, instead, with his second’s glare and anger.

“What did you do to Danyal?” Jason’s arms were crossed in front of his chest, his knuckles white and his blue gaze cold.

Bruce really didn’t like the sense of déjà vu he was getting.

“Not now, Jason, I have to talk with your brother.” He tried to go past him, but his son wasn’t budging. “Jason, move .”

“Why? So that you can go and make him cry more ?” He spat on his face, making Bruce flinch.

“Move aside, Jason, that’s an order.”

Changing his stance, Jason was no longer an unmoving wall, but someone prepared to dodge a blow. It was just as bad as with Danyal flinching back from him, even if this time he didn’t let his body fail him.

“Make me.”

“Jason,” he pleaded, “I have to fix things with your brother.”

“How? Breaking down his door? Barging in through his window? He locked himself in, he won’t even say a thing to me!”

And that obviously hurt Jason, who had adored his little brother the moment he knew about him, and for whom he had worked so hard in earning his trust, step by small step.

Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing like the weight of the world was on his shoulders.

“I need to make things right, son.”

“Then think of how you’re gonna do that first!”

And with that, Jason marched off to Danyal’s door, sitting down to keep watch against their father.

-

Jason didn’t barge in through Danyal’s window, he knocked on the windowpane first, and waited patiently for his baby brother to decide to let him in himself.

“Hey, buddy,” he started, looking at the boy’s red and swelling eyes, knowing he had cried himself to sleep, “you haven’t touched the food Alfie left ya, and you gotta eat if you wanna grow up strong.” He handed Danyal the lunchbox he had brought with him and continued. “I know my cooking isn’t as amazing as Alfie’s, but I think I’m okay.”

Danyal bit down on one of his sandwiches with a thoughtful face.

“It’s good.” He declared after swallowing.

Jason beamed at the praise, and hurried to offer the bottled juice he had brought as well. “It goes better with the sandwich than tap water!”

Danyal took it, and they sat down next to the wall, silent as Danyal ate.

“Thank you, Jason.” His little brother told him, handing him back the lunchbox.

“No problem.” There was another moment of silence, and Jason hated having to break it. “If you don’t wanna talk,” he started slowly, “about what happened with Bruce, you don’t have to; but, if you don’t wanna keep it in, you don’t have to do that either.”

Danyal obviously mulled it over, putting a hand on his nape and rubbing gently, and Jason waited, thinking of what could’ve happened and what he could say to it.

Maybe he should have expected it, knowing Bruce for years already, knowing Batman, but Danyal’s words still left him speechless.

“Father wants to bring Damian here.”

-

“Are you out of your fucking mind?! How could you even think it was a good idea?!”

“Jason, Damian is a kid who needs a better environment, not to be in the belly of the League of Assassins, he needs his family!”

“And Danyal? First Ra’s sacrifices him so that his chosen heir doesn’t grow weak , and now you sacrifice him so daddy’s littlest murderer can come and play house!”

“… Damian is my son.”

“So is Danyal. Doesn’t he matter?”

Alfred cut in with a harsh, worried look, “Sirs. Young Master Danyal is gone.”

The vigilantes turned as one to a worried Alfred, meeting his panic with theirs.

-

Everything fell apart so quickly after that.

They looked for Danyal, of course they did, but it was like his son was a ghost; he had only taken two extra changes of clothes—from the full wardrobe they had just gotten for him days ago—, some money in cash and some food they hadn’t seen him take from the kitchen.

He knew how to travel by himself, that was how he had gotten to Gotham in the first place, and even if he hadn’t wanted to use it, he had had infiltration training, knew how to not be noticed, how to look as if he fit in a place he wasn’t meant to be in.

He could have already left the continent, for all Bruce knew.

Not long after, Jason left for Ethiopia.

Him, who had a goal in mind other than leave this place , Bruce managed to track, reading his hurried movements and seeing, as well, another plot emerging around him, the jaws of danger closing on his son, who had walked into a trap as he looked for a good parent.

Batman arrived too late.

“Danyal is gone and Jason is dead.” His voice was rough with disuse, after having screamed in sorrow until his throat burned. “What could I even offer Damian if I could bring him here?”

Disappointment? Failure? Death?

Alfred didn’t answer him, but he didn’t expect him to. Whilst looking at Jason’s battered Robin suit inside the glass case, they knew there was no answer.

He allowed himself another short moment of sorrow, and then pulled himself together. He had work to do.

“If Ra’s finds out Danyal was here, he could look for him, he could find him.” He could have him killed again. “Outside the two of us, no one is to know that we even met him, that we knew he existed .”

“I shall dispose of his belongings, then.”

Bruce could hear the well-hidden pain in Alfred’s voice, but this had to be done, it was now the only thing he could do for Danyal.

Had his small son stayed, it would have been unavoidable for the League of Assassins to find out, but Bruce had been ready for that, ready to fight the Demon’s Head for his children, to make sure they were safe.

Now, though, he knew he couldn’t promise that. The safety of a warm home was not something he could provide, as a father.

All he could do was hope, against his paranoia and his instincts, that Danyal would survive out there, that he could live.

And all he had left, all he could do, was to keep on his crusade against crime, hoping a better world would treat his son kindly where he had failed.

- - -

and then Danyal meets an eccentric but loving ghost-obssessed family that adopts him and love him very much and don't dissect him because that tropes fucking bores me too fr

and if he ever meets Damian again and sees for himself he has changed for the better and regrets his actions, he still doesn't forgive him and doesn't reconnect with him, because he doesn't owe him neither his forgiveness nor his love just because they're blood 😊

i have Thoughts about why Danyal was deemed the weak one (it's ableism) by Ra's, and how it connects him and separates him from Bruce as well

please leave a comment with your thoughts! unless you're a scammer, I won't fucking buy a comission if you spam me!

[system-network]

Heros as Caregivers

DNI NSFW, this is an age regression post, not a kink post.

All Might

Picks you up like it's NOTHING NO MATTER WHAT FORM

He gives you piggyback rides whenever you ask

Type of Caregiver to just spoil you

This man has so much money from being a Pro for so long, and he has no one to spend it on till he finds you.

You want that plushie? Already bought. That blanket? In the cart. The stray cat on the street? On the way to the vet with the cat.

He calls you all the basic nicknames, “baby, sweetheart, little one, young one, my little baby, my girl/boy”

ྀི◟ ͜ ◞ ྀི◟ ͜ ׁ ˙ ◞ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞ ྀི◟ ͜ ׁ ˙ ◞ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞ ྀི◟ ͜ ׁ ˙ ◞ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞ ྀི◟ ͜

Hawks

He's trying his hardest…

He ends up Getting used to it soon enough

He sometimes forgets that you don't always regress, so he'll come home caching you watching a scary movie or something and quickly turns it off, or he'll make you a drink in a sippy cup when you ask him for water and hand it to you

You had to talk to him afterwards😭

He likes chilling with you when you go small

Type of cg who listens to you babble on and on and he just nods his head along with you.

Calls you bird related names, “Peep, little birdy, baby bird, chicken leg,“

Sometimes he calls you mean names when he's playing around with you, “little brat, okay eagle, little squawker”

ྀི◟ ͜ ◞ ྀི◟ ͜ ׁ ˙ ◞ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞ ྀི◟ ͜ ׁ ˙ ◞ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞ ྀི◟ ͜ ׁ ˙ ◞ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞ ྀི◟ ͜

Present Mic

This dude will have the TV on full blast with your favorite songs or videos

He doesn't want to give rules to you when you turn small, but he has to because he knows it helps you regress better

He plays with you all the time!!! You want to play hide and seek, guess who, or even a card game? Of course, he wants to play with you!!!

If you get overwhelmed by his voice, he makes sure to calm down and whisper to you. It's difficult for him, but he knows you sacrifice a lot, so he can do this for you.

Holds you all the time.

He hold you on his hip like a little toddler, has definitely tried to get a baby holder for his chest to set you in.

It didn't work and felt horrible.

He let's you play with his hair and paint his nails if you're big enough.

All the basic ones with his own twist, “my pretty little DJ, little listener, cutie, my little baby!!”

ྀི◟ ͜ ◞ ྀི◟ ͜ ׁ ˙ ◞ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞ ྀི◟ ͜ ׁ ˙ ◞ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞ ྀི◟ ͜ ׁ ˙ ◞ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞ ྀི◟ ͜

Aizawa

He tries his best to schedule during the week to be with you so you can regress

He knows you prefer to regress with him, but if you slip without him he understands

He sometimes regress with you

He likes having playdates with you

The few rules he has are mostly about eating and sleeping

You have to be in bed at a specific time whenever you are small

Will use you as his pillow whenever you refuse to sleep on time

“Princess/Prince, Little one, kitty, pretty thing, my little brat, problem child, jellybean, my little pillow, darling”

ྀི◟ ͜ ◞ ྀི◟ ͜ ׁ ˙ ◞ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞ ྀི◟ ͜ ׁ ˙ ◞ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞ ྀི◟ ͜ ׁ ˙ ◞ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞ ྀི◟ ͜

Fatgum

Like I said before, he's so sweet

Firm rules in place whenever you are little

You can't use anything in the kitchen if he's not with you, you have a bedtime, everything!

He let's you sit on his stomach as he lays on the floor, letting you giggle and play with him.

He's also really good whenever you slip into little space in public, makes sure to be discreet while he takes care of you.

Holds you in the most gentle way possible. His hands underneath your armpits as he laughs with you.

“Honeybee, sweet thing, sweetheart, gummybear, my sweetie."

ྀི◟ ͜ ◞ ྀི◟ ͜ ׁ ˙ ◞ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞ ྀི◟ ͜ ׁ ˙ ◞ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞ ྀི◟ ͜ ׁ ˙ ◞ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞ ྀི◟ ͜

[whoopsyeahokay]

October Sun

summary: Simon had been on the verge of getting the fuck out of Dodge, the enormity of everything he'd found out starting to bog him down. He hadn't been able to do it alone, not anymore, not even for Maddie. Thankfully, the universe had heard him and had held out an olive branch.

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

warnings: eventual smutty smut smut. and mad spoilers. and obvious Canon divergence. very involved, very dense plot.

bon reading, frens

___________________________💀

OCTOBER SUN pt.11

Simon crept to his car, a tactical advance, hunched low to the ground and clinging to the shadows as far as they would take him. He was afraid, adrenaline pumping, heart pounding in his ears; he didn't want Mr. Anderson to find him sneaking around the school a second time. Not after what he and Maddie had uncovered in the supply closet.

Mr. Anderson had propelled up Simon's short list of suspects to the top spot, the cache of money a sure sign the man was up to no good. Simon didn't have a lot of experience with society's seedy underbelly, but if movies had taught him anything, it's that normal people didn't hide stacks of cash outside of their homes unless they expected a police raid.

Was Mr. Anderson a drug dealer? Some kind of kingpin moonlighting as a high school English teacher? It was the perfect disguise. Cops would never think of a man who works with teenagers capable of that level of corruption. Although, Simon reckoned, Split River was a shitty enough place that turned good people rotten on a dime.

Still, Mr. Anderson had seemed nervous when Simon had heard him on the phone; a man forced onto a ledge at gunpoint. Threatened. Scared.

Okay, Simon reasoned, so Mr. Anderson wasn't a high-ranking drug lord. But he was definitely on the wrong side of the law and was obviously desperate. And desperate people were unpredictable when they felt backed into a corner.

He'd claimed he'd given Maddie what had sounded like a large sum of money. A bribe, maybe. One that, in the end, hadn't been enough to convince Mr. Anderson she wouldn't rat on him. The thought made Simon's stomach churn, bile burning the back of his throat.

Maddie had been wrecked by the discovery, hands shaking from a surge of emotion too enormous to contain. She'd held it together long enough to caution Simon not to contaminate the evidence by touching it, assuring him she'd count it after he was safely off school grounds.

She'd shooed him from the classroom, "You have to leave, now," eyes watery as Mr. Anderson's betrayal had finally seemed to sink in. "I've got this, okay? Just go."

Simon had done as ordered. What good would he be if Mr. Anderson took him out next?

He peeled out of the parking lot and into the road, lightheaded as a thousand and one questions flooded his brain. His chest tightened, breathing labored, and—God, shit, he hadn't had a panic attack since middle school but, since Maddie's disappearance last Friday, they'd made a grand comeback. Kept him awake at night when there was nothing left to distract him from what could've happened to his best friend.

"Fuck." Simon rasped, smacking the steering wheel with his palm. And then, increasing in volume and intensity, "Fuck. Fuck. FUCK!" He beat the steering wheel, accidentally hitting the horn once and startling a woman walking her dog.

"Sorry!" He called, sheepish, through the open driver's side window, flashing a hand in apology. He didn't wait for a reaction, simply continued to drive home.

The thought of interacting with his parents put him on edge. He didn't know how he was supposed to stay quiet about Mr. Anderson. Noticeably off the last few days, Simon had already endured three separate lectures about drug use, depression, and sexuality respectively.

His parents' unconditional support, though amazing, made him feel like garbage—or, more accurately, a landfill—for causing them to worry to the point of draping a rainbow flag over the back of the couch and reassuring him that, "Love is love. We just want you to be happy."

Even if he could slip past his dad, his mother would undoubtedly pick up that whatever plot she suspected Simon of hiding had thickened. And, frankly, if she asked just right, Simon knew he'd crack and tell her everything. About Xavier, about Mr. Anderson...about developing The fucking Shining and assuming the role of Watson to his best friend's ghost.

Buying himself some time, Simon took turns he didn't have to; drove through random neighborhoods as he tried to think up a plausible excuse for his behavior that wouldn't result in another intervention. He didn't have it in him to watch his mother's face crumple as he lied to her again. The umpteenth time that week.

He needed to talk to someone. To get it out of himself and share the burden. His skin felt too tight and his bones too heavy and he couldn't carry the weight of Maddie's murder mystery alone.

And then, as if God had heard him, Simon's prayers were answered.

Without thinking it through, he pulled over and beeped his horn to get your attention before you turned onto the path that margined the small neighborhood greenspace.

Clambering sideways to get out of his car, his foot caught on a pedal, seatbelt still hooked, Simon called out, "Hey!" grunting when he was knocked back into his seat by the strap. He took a second to collect himself, unbuckled his seatbelt, and climbed out in a less frenzied manner.

"Uhhhmm, are you okay?" You asked, your face displaying how not okay you thought Simon was. You glanced up and down the street, puzzled, "What are you doing here? Don't you live in Cedar Bank?" A suburb on the other side of the river that bisected the town.

Simon debated whether or not it had been a good idea to stop, but he didn't think he could give you an excuse and drive away, either. He dimly sympathized with how Mr. Anderson had felt back in that classroom; splitting threads pulled through the eye of a needle.

He summoned his resolve and turned to face you, "I need to tell you something."

You cocked your head, looked Simon over, and nodded slowly. Simon could tell you were trying to determine what this was about. Realized as you walked him into the little playpark and took a seat on one of the two swings, that he'd come out of nowhere in a move that could easily be interpreted as stalkerish.

"I could give you a lift home if you wanna talk in the car?" He offered, settling into the second swing all the same. The park was deserted, dark, the glow of the streetlights falling short by a few meters.

You shook your head and hooked your thumb over your shoulder, "That's literally my backyard."

Simon followed your indication and saw the top half of an antique build, painted a deep royal purple and trimmed in evergreen, that peaked over a tall, bushy hedgerow. A wooden fence several inches shorter than your family's hedges divided the public space from private property, running the length of the park behind your house and a few others.

"Huh." Simon returned his gaze to yours, "Never mind."

"Did you talk to Nicole?" You asked, possibly thinking that that was what Simon wanted to discuss. But there was something in your tone, in your eyes, that suggested you weren't actually referring to Nicole. More like you were feeling Simon out.

It was unsettling.

Simon tried to calm down. Told himself it was nothing. That he was just paranoid because of who Mr. Anderson turned out to be. That you weren't actually peeling back Simon's skin and bones to divinate his organs, because when had you ever been anything but kind and sympathetic? Especially since Maddie...disappeared.

He fiddled with his hands, closed his eyes, and supported his head on the metal chain that held the swing up. "No." He stated honestly. He needed to tell you about Mr. Anderson. Just. Start talking. But the words kept sticking in this throat.

"Simon? You're starting to scare me, is everything okay? Is this..." You trailed off and when you spoke again, you didn't sound worried. Rather, you sounded searching. "Is this about Maddie?" As if you knew what Simon knew.

Which wasn't possible. He and Maddie had already gone down that road yesterday and you very obviously hadn't seen her ghost.

After another lull wherein Simon got his head together, "Kind of," he admitted, pressing the meat of his palms into his eyes. "Screw it," He spun the swing so he faced you completely and then uncorked the bottle, "I found a shit ton of money in Mr. Anderson's classroom. Like, wads of it. Probably thousands of dollars hidden in the wall in the closet."

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

What the f u u u u u u ck.

One minute you'd been on your way home, trying to parse out why the connection between you and Wally had gone dormant as soon as you'd left him, and now, there you were, listening to Simon basically tell you that he'd unmasked Mr. Anderson like a Scooby-Doo villain.

Okay. This wasn't the confession you'd thought it would be, but it was big. Huge.

You weren't sure how to feel about your uncle's best friend being criminal, didn't know how to reconcile that your teacher was a criminal. But Simon wasn't a liar, so Mr. Anderson was definitely hiding criminal amounts of cash in his classroom.

And, "Maybe it has to do with why he freaked on me in the theater," you said, mostly to yourself though you knew Simon would hear it.

"He what?"

You looked at Simon, "Earlier, I was—" What had you told Mr. Anderson? Oh yeah, "—looking for something Tilly forgot in the theater and he found me. But, Simon," You stood, started to pace, "He was acting paranoid. Like...like he was hiding something. He practically threw me out of there." Which was, fine, a mild exaggeration, but Mr. Anderson's paranoia hadn't been. "I've never seen him like that. And he kept getting these phone calls that made him even more angry."

"Wait, what do you mean 'phone calls'? Did you hear anything?"

"No, just that he needed a minute. I guess to go find somewhere I wouldn't hear him."

Simon was standing now, pacing in a pattern the reverse of yours.

"He was on the phone when I saw him. Talking to someone about how he shouldn't have given Maddie money."

You felt like the sky had fallen on your head, "He gave Maddie money? And you think it's why she's..." You almost said 'she's not in her body anymore', fitting the pieces together. Had Mr. Anderson done something to her that had caused her ghost to exit her body?

Still not sure if Simon was actually able to see Maddie's ghost, you settled for: "Disappeared?"

Simon appeared to notice your hesitation, peered at you like a math problem, but didn't mention it, instead revealing, "It's a line of inquiry."

A line of inquiry...

You rubbed your temples to ease away the migraine that was building. Today had been too much; too many things unfolding one after the other: First hearing from Wally that Maddie was a ghost, and then just Wally and everything you had to unpack with that, and now Mr. Anderson's apparent criminal activity that may or may not have had a direct impact on Maddie's being a ghost in the first place.

At least, you reminded yourself, she wasn't dead because you couldn't see her. Which meant that, if he was involved, Mr. Anderson hadn't intended to kill her (that was good, right?). Wrong, since he still had to have done something to put her in a coma and then had to have hidden her body somewhere.

"Oh my God," You moaned dismally, "This is so f u c k e d." As the gears turned, a thought clawed for your attention. "Simon," you ceased pacing to lift your gaze and regard Simon closely, "Why were you snooping around Mr. Anderson's classroom?"

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

Simon knew he had to give you something, but, Jesus Christ, he was nervous. He'd already decided not to admit he could see Maddie, unable to believe that you wouldn't tell a trusted adult. And he wasn't keen on getting pumped full of antipsychotics and locked in a padded room, thanks.

You watched him, eyes hard, jaw set, more serious than he'd ever seen you, "Simon, what the hell?"

He swallowed, opting for half-truths, because he'd come this far. He needed help. A confidante. Would've preferred Nicole but she'd galivanted off with Xavier, apparently, and took the choice out of Simon's hands.

"I've been looking for clues about what happened to Maddie," Simon confessed, a weight lifting from his shoulders. "Since the search on Monday, when Xavier got arrested—"

You interrupted, fierce, loyal, "He wasn't arrested, Si. His dad was just taking him to the station to give an official statement."

"In the back seat?" Simon deadpanned.

"There's no room in the front of the cruiser!" You threw your hands up as if dealing with the situation would drive you to drink.

"With the lights on?"

"Because there was a crowd of people practically throwing themselves at the car to get Xavier's face on video."

Simon conceded and resituated himself on one of the swings. You followed his example, though, this time, you shrugged off your backpack and dropped it in the sand beside you.

"So, what do we do?" Simon wanted to know, close to getting on his knees and begging you to take the reigns on this because he was exhausted.

"Alright." You shifted to straddle your swing, hands in front of you as you counted details on your fingers. "We know that Maddie went missing on Friday. We know Xavier had nothing to do with it." Your eyes narrowed, daring Simon to comment. He didn't. "We know that Mr. Anderson is hiding money and that he gave some to Maddie. To keep her quiet?"

"That's what we-" Simon tensed, quickly undoing his mistake, "I'm thinking."

That intense look of scrutiny was back on your face and Simon resisted the urge to gulp. Three days ago Simon had figured you for the only person who'd believe him about Maddie's ghost. My how times have changed.

"If he was hiding money in his classroom, he could be hiding other things around the school, too." You rationalized. "Like the theater. I bet you anything there's something in there he doesn't want us to find."

True. In fact, "Do you think he's hiding Maddie in there?"

You stopped moving altogether, still as a statue. "You think Mr. Anderson did something to Maddie? Apart from giving her money?"

Simon realized his mistake, revealing something too soon. He didn't have a choice, he had to say something, "I think so, yeah." And then, not wanting to open a magical can of worms, "Call it a hunch." You didn't look convinced, so he added, "Maddie hasn't called me since she...disappeared," He explained, using your wording. "I think something bad happened to her and I think Mr. Anderson is involved."

You once again seemed to study Simon closely, as if trying to read his mind for answers to questions you obviously weren't going to ask. And then, you just carried on, open to entertaining the idea that Mr. Anderson might've hurt Maddie.

"So, what, you think Mr. Anderson tied her up under the stage?"

God, he wished he could tell you the whole truth. It would make things so much easier. Make Simon sound less like an idiot as, no, hiding Maddie's alive body under the stage at school sounded dumb as hell. Regardless, you weren't calling him out on how dumb it sounded, and Simon was so fucking grateful that you were willing to talk this out with him, omissions and all.

"That'd be pretty risky," You said. "And the cops went through every room in the school with search and rescue dogs and everything. Wouldn't they have found her if she was down there?"

Simon deflated, "Good point," reluctant to add that those dogs probably weren't the type trained to find cadavers.

He heard you take a deep breath, saw you close your eyes, either to organize your thoughts or analyze Simon further, he wasn't sure, but you soon continued, tone weak, "Simon, if he did have something to do with Maddie...I take back what I said before."

"About?"

You shrunk into yourself, forcing, "Maddie being okay," as if the words had to be wrenched out of you. "I don't want to believe Mr. Anderson could've hurt her but..." You blinked a rapid dozen times up at the sky, visibly shaken as you considered the worst, "If he did..."

A lump formed in Simon's throat. He was all too aware of the painful truth. His vision blurred, nostrils prickled, the enormity of the situation closing in on him.

"Yeah," He sniffed, "Me neither."

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

Neither you nor Simon were aware that, only ten feet away, crouched in the bushes, a figure wearing Simon's best friend's face had heard everything.

Cold.

Hungry.

And staring at you with purpose.

💀___________________________

PART TEN - PART TWELVE

also available on AO3!

MASTERLIST

[elexuscal]

When someone says "this piece of work is difficult to adapt"*, there's a sliding scale of reasons why, with the two ends being:

a) The work has some crucial element-- e.g. POV, narration style, time-scale, language, interactive elements, non-linear chronology, sense of humor, etc-- that works really well in the original medium but will be really hard to depict in the new one

to

z) the story has some key element that mainstream culture (and/or Hollywood in particular to) is deeply allergic to, so there's basically no way in hell they wouldn't highly dilute it or excise it completely

(*particularly with the subtext of X medium-> live action tv/movie, since that's the medium with the most money and social cache at this current period of time)

[accidentcache]

"you can't just say that!"

feat: college au megumi fushiguro

warning / cache notes: language, college au so alcohol / drinking, slight suggestiveness, maybe ooc megumi? i do not care

req📌: ❌ chat 💔💔💔💔💔 MEGUMI MEGUMI MEGUMI MEGUMI MEGUMI MEGUMI MEGUMI MEGUMI can u guys tell im not normal abt him

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