#but..... it really is a possibility. it really is

[legendary-falls-au]

Here we all love the Stanleys who are smart :3

For the twins in time AU, I genuinely wonder what kind of people the young twins grow up into because of Stan’s/Ford’s influence. Especially if it takes years for the portal to get fixed.

(Sorry if it seems like I already sent this question, I don’t know if it got sent the first time I asked)

I haven’t fully fleshed out how Ford grows up in the past but I do have thoughts on Stan presently

[humanjarvis]

runner's high

synopsis: you and sylus play a game of cat and mouse.

tags: predator/prey, primal play, rough sex, sensory deprivation (blindfold), semi-public sex, established relationship, established kink, tracking (mephisto), begging, biting, licking, struggling, manhandling, marking, coming inside/breeding, light evol use, mocking, slight body worship, crying, destruction of public and possibly private property, a blink of aftercare and then fucking until dawn. some previously consented rules listed in italics throughout

pairing: sylus x fem reader (reader referred to as “girl”)

word count: 4.6k

a/n: i tried to tag everything, as you can see. this was nowhere near high priority on my calendar originally but i genuinely do think i need to practice writing smut

Linkon City is known for its nightlife. 

Bustling crowds flooding the streets, sweeping stragglers up in their revelry. Glittering neon signs stacked on top of each other, so garish that passersby never know where to look. Thumping bass and the piercing bleats of car horns, constant and deafening. 

The perfect place to run. The perfect place to blend in. 

Your feet ache as they thud erratically across the pavement. They take the lead in steering you tonight—your wide, unfocused eyes are much too busy playing lookout. 

Around every corner, you think you spot him. A tall frame, a steady gait, a knowing smirk on a chiseled face. 

Around every corner, you’re relieved to be mistaken. 

You’d started as soon as the sun had set. Blood pumping through your veins, heart racing as you threw wary glances over your shoulder. 20-minute head start. 

And oh, had you used it. Darting off in one direction, only to circle back and slink away in another. If you had any chance of making it through the night, you had to be everywhere and nowhere, all at once. 

Anxious pangs propel you forward, past streetlights and food stalls and closing shops. A baritone laugh—no, not him—and your gut roils with unease.

For just one second—all you can afford—you falter. 

To your left, the menswear store with the crooked mannequin out front. Didn’t you already pass it a while ago? 

Traitorous wisps of fatigue, unwelcome and insidious, lick at your stumbling heels. 

You’ve been out for too long. 

Quickening your pace, you scour the busy strip, looking for somewhere, anywhere, that you can rest for a moment. 

The simple dive bar at the end of the street fades into view like a desert oasis. When your eyes settle on its browning bricks, eroding walls, and the bright green sign that flickers like its life is near its end, you allow yourself to feel a glimmer of hope. 

When rowdy college students trickle out the doors and the sour scent of cheap beer wafts through the air, that hope only burns brighter. 

Never, even on his worst day, would he be caught dead in there. 

Relief soars in your chest. It’s perfect. 

The beer really was cheap, according to the yellowing menu on the counter in front of you. 

The bartender, young and heavily tattooed, nods in greeting. “What can I get you tonight?” 

You skim the limited options with disinterest. “Just a water, please.” 

“Not many people come here just for water. There’s a vending machine across the street, you know.” 

Smiling sweetly, you reach into your pocket. The bartender’s eyes bulge when you deposit a neatly packed wad of cash on the table. Take it with you—no buts. Use all of it if you have to. “Will that cover it?” 

“Coming right up,” she squeaks. 

As she whips around to grab a clean glass, stumbling over her own feet, you take the moment to survey the lackluster interior. A row of wobbly stools, mismatched posters on the walls, a pool table that looks like it’s seen better days. 

It’s hideous in here. And for you, right now, that’s beautiful. Your heart feels lighter already. 

Suddenly, a figure slides into the stool to your right. “Hey, you here by yourself?”

He’s a blond, lanky college-aged kid. Not too drunk, by the looks of it, which is better than the alternative. 

“I’m waiting for my boyfriend.” The answer is evasive, but not untrue. 

He leans back immediately. “Oh, sorry. I’m here with mine, too. I was just checking in on you—too many girls come here alone.” He shifts his eyes around. “It’s not the safest of places, you know.” 

But for you, at this moment, it is. “Well, thank you for checking. You’re very sweet.” 

“No problem. While I’m here, can I get you anything?” 

Smiling softly, you shake your head. “Oh, no, I’m not drinking tonight.” Just as the words leave you, the bartender slides your glass across the counter, not-so-discreetly palming the cash off the surface. 

The boy nods. And behind him, you swear you spot a flash of silver hair.

No. There was no way. No way in hell that he’d—

Glasses and a round nose. Not him. 

Relaxing your tensed shoulders, you breathe a sigh of relief. But all fantasies of this place as one of refuge dissipate. 

Nerves alight, you dig out your cell and spare a flighty glance at the lock screen. Phone on you at all times. 

Precious minutes have slipped through your fingers. You have to keep moving. 

Cursing, you down your water and hop off your stool. 

“That…was not a very long visit,” the boy says in obvious confusion. “You didn’t wanna stay for a while?” 

You grimace as you lay an apologetic hand on his shoulder. “I don’t really have a while right now. It was nice meeting you.” Then, with a slight tip of your head, you head for the back exit. 

The air has cooled since you were last outside. 

Rubbing your hands over your bare biceps, you shiver as you stalk forward, ready to vanish into the night once again. 

“You really should try harder, sweetie.” 

Your foot hovers mid-step. 

Behind you. To the left, somewhere. Not many more than a few paces. 

Slowly, you turn. 

Polished leather shoes are the first thing you see. Fitted slacks that swell at the thighs, a shining silver belt buckle, a dark button-up under an expertly tailored overcoat. 

His sharp face is illuminated in the warm streetlight.  

Attentive red eyes subtly check you for injuries. When he finds none, a self-satisfied grin spreads across his lips. 

He opens his mouth again. But before he can speak, you spin on your heels, nearly smacking straight into a passing couple. 

A full, sonorous laugh, rich and mocking, echoes between your retreating footsteps. 

You’re more than a little unnerved.

Sylus—infallible, inevitable Sylus—had stood there, still and smirking, while you ran from him like he was a monster. 

Why had he let you get away? 

Sweat beads at your hairline as you slip through crowded sidewalks, heart thumping as loud as the bass in the background. 

Wiping your brow, you stare longingly at the distant tree line, wishing you could take the chance and disappear into the woodland. But alas, stay inside the city limits. 

Frantic footfalls take you to a sparse street, the city’s soundtrack fading behind you. On your right is a modern train station—open, but deserted in the midnight slowdown. 

Your stomach starts to tighten from your constant movements. But with a determined shake of your head, you push forward. 

Until the unmistakable, eerily perfect call of a crow sounds from above. 

He’s right on top of you. 

“And no Mephisto,” you proposed, knowing full well he’d argue.

His scoff was immediate. “I don’t think so.” 

“But that’s not fair! I won’t even have a chance if you get to use him. I’ll be a sitting duck out there!”

“You won’t be out there at all if I don’t use him. I won’t risk your safety just so you can feel the thrill of evading me for a little longer.” 

You opened your mouth to protest again, but he caught your jaw in his hand. 

“This one is nonnegotiable, kitten. Mephisto stays.”

And now, his master is toying with you.

You should have negotiated. 

The flapping of wings sounds overhead. In a panic, you look back to the train station, weighing your options in your scattered mind. No public transit. 

You step toward it. 

No public transit. 

Another caw. Closer. 

No public transit. No public transit. No public transit. 

The rule blinks in your mind like a warning light as you disappear through sliding doors. 

Since you’ve been with him, you’ve been no stranger to luxury hotels. 

You don’t know why you fled to this one. Maybe it’s the familiarity—you’d stayed here twice before. But you’d never ventured up to the rooftop lounge. Not until tonight. 

Ducking under velvet ropes, you take in the lavish setup. Cocktail tables and plush seating decorate the space, with tea light candles and white floral arrangements scattered throughout. Someone’s hosting an event here. Soon, by the looks of it. 

Inching forward, you pass a sign painted in beautiful calligraphy. Tom & Katie’s Engagement Party! 

Tomorrow’s date, big and bold, sits underneath. 

You’ll be gone before then. In and out, without a trace. 

You’d chosen the roof for two reasons: one, if—when—he comes, you’ll be able to see him well in advance. And two, not even that incorrigible crow can sneak up on you now. 

Nodding shakily, you step to the center, your attention stolen by a small photo frame. 

A shift. An electric charge in the air.

A hand around your nape.

“Caught you.”

In an instant, you lurch forward, barely suppressing the blood-curdling scream that rises in your throat. His hand slips from your neck as you attempt to flee, only to splay across your heaving ribcage as he corrals your body flush against his. 

Cautious as he is, his grip is firm, unyielding. But that doesn’t mean you’ll just give up like this, fall limply in his arms without a fight. You truly are a caged kitten as you thrash in his grip—a flurry of fists and elbows flailing wildly in the air. You’re not sure a single hit lands.

The threat of conquest looms with each passing second. His strength is unimaginable, the way he swiftly pins your arms to your sides with only a few annoyed grunts, as if your perseverance were merely a nuisance to him. An obstacle for him to surmount. 

He restrains your limbs with just one hand, his thumb firmly encircling both forearms against your clenched belly. As he leans downward, excited breaths brushing the shell of your ear, something long and hard and familiar prods your lumbar spine. 

“Playing with cornered prey is…tedious.” The words are a flippant, smug purr. He’s a lion that’s returned from a fruitless hunt, only to find a lost fawn in its den. “I’d much rather you conserve your strength. You’ll need it.” 

Anger flares at his assumption. Baring your teeth, you thrash against him again, but his power quells all protest. And with the way he pulses behind you, you’ve only made him more eager to consummate his victory. 

His free hand returns to snake around your throat, petting your feverish skin with hungry affection. Chuckling deeply, he raises it just to your jaw, circling two tantalizing digits around your mouth. It’s crude. Mocking. But it’s the opening you need. 

Parting your lips, you let his fingers slide onto the pad of your tongue, closing around them with a servile moan. Then, with a sudden snap forward, you sink your teeth into his prone flesh, just enough to leave an angry red imprint. Immediately, a harsh rumble sounds in his chest, the rippling waves against your spine a beacon of hope in your heart. If you’re lucky, he’ll let you go. 

But where you pray Sylus will flinch, pull back, do anything that will give you space to breathe, he only pulls you impossibly closer, lifting your head with his wounded hand. 

His eyes gleam with wicked delight. He leans down, brushing his nose to yours, feigning a pout as he tightens his grip on your chin. “If this is how you show thanks for my mercy, I can’t wait to see what you’ll do when I get mean.”

A suppressed whimper. Another failed thrash. And Sylus sighs with false sympathy, pressing a lewd, lasting kiss to your scalding cheek. 

“You’re so nervous, sweetie. Anxious animals often calm themselves when their eyes are covered. I wonder if you’ll do the same?” 

The words have barely hit the air before you’re plunged into darkness. With strong arms still subduing you, a strip of fabric secures itself around your eyes, leaving you blind and vulnerable to his whims.

So much for no Evol. 

His skin is hot. He smells of spice and fading cologne. And when he whispers in your ear, asking you how you feel now, the tip of his tongue hits the roof of his mouth with a sinful crackle. As if he's drawing out his dominance. Savoring it. 

Before long, you’re being maneuvered in his hold. Gathered and hoisted. 

Confident footsteps rattle the rooftop. 

You’re falling. Something soft hits your back. By the divots between cushions, it’s the oversized sectional you'd seen before your world went dark. 

You feel around the plush fabric for his hard, unwavering body. You snarl when you come up short. “Take this off! Take it off.” 

Somewhere before you, he tuts. “I was going to take my time with you, sweetie. But if you insist…”

Nimble hands sweep down your body, tugging your pants off with practiced ease. A choked gasp leaves you at the sudden movement, the cold night air nipping at your bare legs. 

You swipe wildly at an invisible target. “You know that's not what I meant!” 

“You’re not exactly in the position to be making demands right now.” Amusement bleeds through his tone. “There’s a much better use for your current…situation.”

The unsettling weight of his Evol lands on your shoulders, pulling and laying you flat on your back. A quiet thud sounds on the stony floor. Several beats of silence. 

And then, a hot tongue swirling on the inside of your ankle, soft lips sucking on untouched skin. 

“Sylus,” you hiss, failing to jerk away thanks to the heavy hand on your calf. 

He only hums dismissively, set on continuing his journey upwards. Slowly, methodically, he trails open-mouthed kisses and teasing nibbles over your calves, your knees, your thighs, ghosting a feather-light peck on your clothed core when it comes within reach. Throbbing with need, you hold back a whine when he stays his course, his eager lips coming to mouth at your tense lower belly. 

A moment later, and his touch leaves your skin, the nighttime breeze chilling you in its place. There’s a clinking sound, a soft rustling below. For a moment, you fear abandonment. But when the cushions dip and your shirt is swiftly tugged off, you know he’s just getting started. 

You wonder how you look to him—helpless and quivering, protected only by thin strips of fabric you’re sure he’ll conquer next. You wish you didn’t have to imagine the hunger in his eyes.

The next time he looms over you, his bare legs brush yours. The heat from his chest flows into your hips as his tongue reunites with your prickling flesh, dipping into your navel with unabashed intent. 

He leaves a wicked trail over the center of your stomach, stopping only when he reaches the lace hem of your bra. You try to sit up, try to push off, but fall right back down when his mouth closes over your stiff nipple. 

A wanton moan escapes you as his tongue roves over your clothed left breast. The friction is teasing, taunting over the flimsy barrier. A glimpse of what you could have if you gave yourself to him. But until that moment, he’s a cautious predator, refusing to be fooled twice by his prey playing dead. 

He’s right to do so. You’re desperate now, flexing fingers tugging sharply at his thick hair. When you scratch at his scalp, he scoffs around your dampened cup, his hand lifting to give your right peak the same treatment: tugging, pinching, rolling it under his thumb, all while relentlessly hollowing his cheeks around your other breast. As you writhe in his steady hold, sharp teeth threaten your swollen bud, and you arch fully off the cushions, pushing yourself even further into his waiting mouth. 

A few more greedy sucks, and he releases you with a pop, giving your tender flesh a much needed reprieve. “Still a feisty little thing,” he murmurs, “but you have gotten calmer, wouldn’t you agree? When you’re like this, supple and breathless beneath me…I can finally savor my prey.” 

Searing lips steal yours in a claiming kiss. With gluttonous audacity, he swallows your squeal, and you can feel his smirk as he tries to lick into you. Coming to your senses, you clamp your mouth shut with stubborn shakes of your head, denying him the triumph of tasting you. For a moment, you think he’ll relent—until he snakes an arm around your hips and gropes your backside in his hand. 

The bruising touch makes your lips part in a startled gasp, and the small opening is enough for him. Without hesitation, he plunges into your mouth, massaging the smooth insides of your cheeks before tangling his tongue with your own. 

His fervor chips away at the foundations of your resolve—slowly, precisely, as if waiting for it to topple like a felled tree. You barely struggle against him. You barely can, with the way he lays claim to every inch of your mouth, suckling your tongue like it’s candy. He tastes like sin and wine, and you’re anything but clean. 

You don’t realize when you start panting below him, breathy whines spilling from your lips in a frenzy. But he swallows them all with undisguised avarice, letting you moan into his mouth like he plans to siphon your voice alongside your energy.

The waistband of his boxers brushes your hips as he shifts, and his thick, heavy length throbs against you. But you’re so drunk on him, so high on his flavor, that the feeling of fabric sliding down your legs is only a passing thought.

Stars burst behind your blindfold as he spears into you. 

You convulse almost immediately, gasping at the sudden intrusion. He’s so warm and rigid, you don’t know how he’s lasted this long—you can practically picture his swollen tip, dripping with milky fluid under his boxers as he crumbled your will before taking you. 

From the relieved, guttural grunts that fall with each pump inside, you know your imagination isn’t too far off. 

His eager forward thrusts awaken the last of your instinct to push, to act—like a lamb fighting for its last breaths in the maw of a wolf. Surging upwards, you reach blindly around him, bumping your chest against his as you scratch wildly at his back. Your nails drag down his heated skin, catching at his rippling muscles, but you don’t let up. 

He snarls into your ear. “Give me it. Give it to me—everything you have. Exhaust the last of your strength and let me claim you completely. When you’ve worn yourself out, I bet I’ll reach even deeper.” 

Your nails sink further as your walls clench around him, sucking him in despite your brain’s protests. 

He leans closer. His nose ghosts the shell of your ear. “You feel it, don’t you? Your body taking me in? That means your time is running out. This is your last chance to prove to me that this night ends with anything but my seed spilling into you.”

The threat makes your heart lurch—anticipation masked as fear. With waning energy, you give a resolute grunt and thread your fingers in his hair once more, pulling until he hisses at the sting. But all the while, he never slows his thrusts—reveling in your weakness, ensuring no escape. 

With every surge into your tightening walls, Sylus takes what he won from you—what he knew he’d win from the moment you said no public transit. You knew he knew. For just one second, your eyes had shifted downward. Your guilt was fleeting for such a bold lie, but it’d been enough—enough for him to know you. Enough for him to chase you here and trap you with his foresight.

And now, you pay the price. Your frantic pants slow. Your fingers slacken in his hair. You’re barely wriggling in his hold now. Each relentless pump inside you, testing your limits, kissing your furthest depths, molds you more and more into willful prey. Under the sweat-slicked blindfold, where his touch is your only concern, your racing heartbeat calms to a steady pulse. 

He knows as much, with the way his strained grunts have turned to drawn-out moans—the way he coos in the ear he’d just snarled in, praising how smart you are for handing yourself over to him. How beautiful your surrender is. 

It’s not long until you’ve melted in his arms, clinging desperately to him as the steady slaps of skin on skin echo in your ears. Weakly, you kiss the closest thing you feel—his chin, it seems—and adoration burns through his resulting chuckle. 

Reaching under you, he deftly unclasps your ruined bra, finally freeing your tender breasts. They follow his thrusts with aching bounces, your hard, sore nipples ricocheting off his chest.

He kisses you again, cupping your cheek below your blindfold, and you open for him instantly, keening quietly into him. The pitiful sound wins a groan from him, and he laps at your mouth a final time before pulling away, a string of mixed saliva snapping as he does.

Whimpering, you paw at his chest, wanting to follow but not knowing where to go. His only response is to smooth a hand over your furrowed brow before dropping it to the cushion below, bracing himself on your makeshift bed. 

He pulls out, leaving you cold and empty, and you nearly wail at the loss. 

And then, he snaps forward with otherworldly precision, his hot, pulsing length pistoning into you with devastating speed. Dots sparkle across your darkened vision, and the obscene slaps of his hilt on your flesh carry into the night. 

Your walls are gushing around him, likely staining the expensive sofa below, but you’re well past the point of propriety. 

As need builds in your core, you cinch your legs around his waist, all but gluing him to you. A growl rips from his throat at the pressure, and he swipes his tongue through your mouth, nipping at your swollen bottom lip before he speaks. 

“Is this,” he begins, gasping between scorching waves of pleasure, “another tactic of yours? You squeeze me like this until I black out and make your grand escape?”

The euphoric buzz in your brain delays your answer. 

Until he licks a long stripe up your neck, biting down where it meets your shoulder. His tongue swirls around the angry bruise, the wet sounds of his mouth on you mixing with the rapid echoes of you sucking him in. 

A whine bubbles in your throat as tears slip from your closed eyelids, their sticky heat pasting your blindfold to your skin. “No,” you cry. “No escaping. I don’t want to, I only want—I need it. You promised me. You promised me if I gave in, you’d…” Your voice breaks. You can’t bring yourself to say it, even as you beg for it. “I need it, Sylus. All of it. Please.” 

Mirth fills his husky laugh. “That wasn’t what you were saying earlier, sweetie. You were fighting me so valiantly—what changed?”

Another whine from you. 

He rumbles in amusement, reaching between your legs to roll your swollen bud under his thumb. When you gasp, he bites your slackened jaw, suckling on your sweat-sheened skin. “I could hear your heart beating out of your chest. But you were never afraid of me. You know better than to be afraid of me,” he growls, surging far into your fluttering walls for emphasis. “Then…did you like being caught? Did you like me overpowering you? Do you like falling apart around me, begging for me to fill you?”

You’re practically sniveling as you nod your head, agreeing faithfully to his every accusation. Your safeword is Elysium.

“Filthy girl. And here I was, thinking I was so mean for giving you exactly what you wanted.” 

A broken sob escapes you. Shame, exhaustion, his bruising pace inside you still not letting up. At this point, you’ll give him anything he asks for. “I wanted you to catch me,” you hiccup, clinging to his arm like your life depends on it. “I wanted it so bad. I wanted you to pin me down and I wanted to fight, a-and I wanted you to win because you’re just that strong. I…I wanted you to break me, and now I want you to finish. I want to feel you inside me, even when you’re not there.” 

For just this moment, you’re thankful for the blindfold, knowing you don’t have to see the way his eyes gleam. 

“Hm,” he drawls, kissing your eyelid through the fabric. “Works for me, kitten.” 

He dips his head to lash his tongue around your breast. Its naked peak blossoms to life at his touch, still remembering his earlier onslaught. 

At the same time, he hurries the hand between your legs, circling and tapping the twitching nub until chants of his name spill from your mouth. When whispers turn to screams, he tugs it firmly between two fingers, and a rainbow of stars explodes under your eyelids.

You seize and clench around him, lodging him in your quivering core as your body eagerly broadcasts your defeat. 

He pulses once, twice, buried to the hilt in your heat, before warm bursts coat your flexing walls. Slumping forward on top of you, he buries his head in your shoulder with a guttural groan. 

His scent surrounds you until you're not sure where he ends and you begin anymore. But it’s exactly what you asked for. By nature's orders, you're his.

Reassuring touches are exchanged as you both catch your breath, embracing in the moonlight with the stars as your witness. After a while, he lifts slightly off of you and gently unfastens your blindfold, and when you blink your swollen eyes open, the purpling marks and scratches on your slick bodies are the first thing you see. The second? The once pristine decorations that lay scattered across the rooftop, misshapen and covered in dust. 

The third is the worst of all: the impish, arrogant glint in his eyes, so brazen it sparks a petulant pang deep in your gut. Squinting furiously, you surge upward and attack his lips with yours, emboldened by your captor’s brashness.

Again and again he takes you—until the hazy pink beginnings of dawn threaten to expose the outcome of last night’s hunt.

When he carries you down the lobby’s staircase, sauntering coolly past disgruntled overnight staff, you can only bury your head in his shoulder, blocking your vision once more. 

It’s late afternoon when you rouse beside him, kicking him under the covers in retribution. “You never said anything about a blindfold.” 

Sighing sleepily, he turns to face you and hoists your leg over his hips, trapping it for its insolence. “And you never said anything about raking your kitten claws down my back, so I guess we’re even.” He shrugs. “I was improvising, sweetie—didn’t you enjoy it? You certainly seemed to when you were begging me to—”

“Okay, okay! You don’t have to go there.”

He coos. “But what if I want to?” 

“I don’t care what you want,” you grumble, flipping over with a huff when he allows you to wriggle free. “Just…go back to sleep. It’s still your bedtime.” 

A rich chuckle envelops you as you drift off again.

The next morning, a mailman drops a deep red envelope on a hotel reception desk. Inside it are a seven-figure check and a small greeting card, the diamond ring on its front stained in swooping black ink. 

To the happy couple.

[kattahj]

This is an extremely local news piece, but I thought it was interesting enough to share on Tumblr anyway.

There's a village called Kvidinge in the south of Sweden. Probably the most notable thing to happen there was that in 1810, crown prince Carl August fell off his horse there and died, from unknown reasons, possibly a stroke. In 1826, a monument was raised in his honour.

It looked like this:

Until last week, when it was struck by lightning. Now it looks like this:

In conclusion:

Lightning is pretty powerful.

Having a large pillar on an open field was maybe not the best idea.

I'm really grateful for the invention of lightning rods.

(Pictures from Wikipedia.)

[solis-solaire]

Also him being upset about having to go up to bat while dressed like this yelling “I look like this though!!” even though there are only npcs who would not remember the encounter in the audience. Everyone who’s real already knows about how he’s dressed since they all voted on it and Caine needed to make the change happen.

This can contribute to either theory

“I’ve never seen you this upset about something.” - Zooble

Dysphoric rabbit?

+ this little trivia crumb

[eden-axe]

Wrong Sparks p1

Summary: During an argument with Eddie, Volt gets upset with you and kicks you out of the bar, unknowingly hurting you.

Part 2

Eddie/Volt x gn!reader

Warnings: Yelling, electrocution, mentions of falling down stairs, Volt being possessive, minor violence.

Word Count: 1,727

After closing hours at the Breaker Box arguing could be heard to anyone who passed by Dorian, who was unlucky enough to have heard all of it for the past hour.

From inside the club you and Eddie were having, what you both would consider a ‘causal argument.’ Though to those who did not, your dynamic would think it would put Harper & Dirk's shouting matches to shame. Though every argument you had with Eddie had one thing in common: it came from a place of genuine concern and love; but paired with both of your stubborn ways, it looked more violent than you intended.

"Do I seriously have to ban you for a week so you can just cool down?" Eddie was growing tired from trying to get you to stay put at the bar for the past hour. You have been trying to help with maintenance, but he denied your offer every time since you sprained your wrist.

You knew his threat was empty, but with your mind growing just as tired, you believed him. You huffed, “Fine, then maybe I'll go be a regular at Bev's!”

Eddie reeled back at your very real threat. You did it before and didn't come to the Breaker Box for two days. All because Eddie wanted to stop serving you after you got drunk once & almost fell down the stairs; And if it weren't for Dorian pulling you into your room and getting you to bed safely. After Eddie learned what happened, you got into another argument, to which you went to Beverley's and slept next to Koa that night. You knew Eddie would blow a fuse that night out of concern if he saw you go up the stairs after getting drunk at Bev's.

When you realize you stepped out of line due to Eddie's silence, you shuffle your feet, thinking of what to say, but he beats you to it, "You can stay... but you can't help.

That comment sparks the fire of the argument in you again, "That's how we got here in the first place!"

Eddie sighs and pinches his nose, “Oh god, not this again" Eddie sighs & pinches his nose.

Your argument picks up again, possibly even louder now. The reason for the fight? You had recently sprained your wrist & cramped your hand from taking on a part time job from home while in ‘labor limbo’ and going around the house helping everyone else. Due to your exhaustion you didn't help much with repairs at the bar, but just sat at the bar and chatted with Eddie.

Eddie was there when you realized how bad your hands were; You were drying dishes while he washed, when you turned the glass & dropped it clutching your hand.

After a quick trip to Farya, she wrapped and iced your hand and told you to take it easy on physical labor. You listened to her for a few days; you stopped helping people around the house, and only took time in keeping pleasant conversation, and even took time off work. But now you feel guilty. Eddie had fallen further behind on work since you would stay after house at the Breaker Box for a chat. Now he was stretching himself thin to take care of you and the bar. When you didn’t come to the bar, Eddie would always come to find you and make sure you were resting… Which brings you back to now...

"I can handle it! Let me help!”

"No, you need rest. I've got it handled." The lights were starting to flicker as Eddie just wanted to get back to work and let you rest.

You scoffed, “Oh yeah, because working alone got you really far last time!"

You both paused as a bulb burst from above you. You look at Eddie, shocked at your own words. You start to move to him when a large hand grips your shoulder, painfully so.

“Volt—” Eddie starts, but doesn't get to finish.

Volt's skin, an inhuman shade of blue, stares coldly down at you, “You’re cut off for the day. Get. Out”

"Volt” You grab his wrist, about to beg him to hear you out, when he suddenly grabs your injured wrist.

Eddie tries to reach Volt seeing you hold back a pained yell, but Volt already has you out the door. "Stay away from Eddie." "Volt doesn't even look at you as he slams the door.

You bang on the door yelling for Volt to let you in, when a small current comes through the door. That small spark finally allows you to feel the pain in your arm, it's excruciating. Volt, whether knowingly or not, had electrocuted your arm. You let out an ear piercing scream, only muffled when someone pulled you into their chest & everything went dark.

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

When you wake up you notice Farya and Betty right by your sides. Betty was petting your head as Farya was checking up on your arm. Her poking and prodding didn’t bother you, but you were confused why she was here.

“What happened?” You look around, but Betty keeps you lying down.

Curt and Rod appear from the end of your bed. Curt starts off the explanation, “It was crazy. Dorian bursts into the room carrying your.”

“And you were practically dead. Limp. The whole dramatics.”

“Yup. Farya entered not long after, and you were messed up real bad. Whoever you fought, they got you good.”

“They singed your arm bad. Farya considered cutting it off.”

Your heart started sped up as your breathing became uneven.

“They are just messing around. That was never even an option cutie.” Betty reassured you. Her warmth helped a bit, but the second you calmed down, you shot back up.

“Eddie!” You leapt from the bed before anyone could stop you. You raced to the door, but before you could even touch the handle Dorian grabbed your hand.

You look at him, but he shakes his head, “You need rest. Not to go mingling about with them.”

“Dorian, he didn’t mean to,” Your legs gave out, and he picked you up. When he put you back on the bed, you grabbed his hand, “Can you at least check if they are alright, especially Eddie.”

When Dorian doesn’t respond, you resort to puppy eyes and beg, “Please?”

Dorian sighs and squeezes your hand, “Your heart is too big from them, luv’.”

You thank him, and tell him you’ll go rest. You go to turn the lamp off, but when you make contact with the switch it shocks you. You go to pull your hand back, but Farya is already checking your fingers, lightly touching them.

“Does it hurt?”

You look at your shaking hands being touched by her steady one, then look at her, “I- I can’t feel anything.”

She releases your hand which begins to shake even more violently. Curt and Rod get up and head to the door.

“Oh those two really have their wires crossed.”

“Ain’t nobody mess with our friend.”

When they reach Dorian, he blocks their path, and before they could protest he gives them a look that shuts them up, “Look fellas, I know emotions are high but please, stay here with em’. I’ll handle them, I swear.”

Curt and Rod nod and go back to your bed, Curt pulling out cards they had kept themselves busy with before you woke up.

Rod dealt the deck as Dorian closed the door behind him.

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

The Breaker Box had been closed for a few days after the incident with you and Volt. Eddie was against the idea, but Volt wanted him to rest and get the repairs done in a timely manner; it also gave Volt time to cool down.

Volt had regretted how rough he handled you that day, but when he saw Eddie blow a fuse he got overprotective. It was a rare thing for both of them, especially now that you joined them. When Volt got too overprotective, he boiled over to controlling and possessive, and this was the first time you had seen it. His blue flared side was something Eddie had told him to reel in, and Volt swears he’s been working on it.

Now Eddie was ignoring him as Volt refused to let him leave to check up on you. So now Volt is in the front cleaning up, while Eddie sits backstage. A loud banging on the door interrupted his thoughts.

“We’re closed.”

“Not here for a drink.”

Volt stood up straighter and opened the door when he heard Dorian’s voice. Volt invited him in and put on his warm host persona.

“How can I help you Dorian? You rarely come here, even when I personally invite you.”

Dorian glances around the room, “Where’s Eddie? I need to speak with both of you.”

Volt felt his protective nature boil up again, but Eddie’s voice carried from across the room, “What do you want? We’re busy right now.”

“Look I don’t want to be here either, but I need to know,” Dorian glares at the two of them, “Which one of you blokes messed with the power.”

“I beg your pardon? We’ve been here fixing the breaker.” Volt puffs out his chest as Eddie stands by his side.

“Look,” Dorian closes his eyes, “I know you lot had an argument the other day, but what you did was too far.”

Eddie moved his hand to his hip, “What was too far?”

“Ah… alrighty then.” Without warning Dorian reels back and punches Volt, sending him to the ground. Eddie rushes to Volt’s side and opens his mouth to yell.

“Look, if you want answers, ask your mate here. And please do stay away from the human unless you both have a proper apology. And I’ll think of letting you see them once they recover from your little stunt.” Dorian gives Volt a pointed look before taking off.

Volt sits up and looks at Eddie confused, “What does he mean ‘recover?’ Our live wire got hurt?”

Eddie looked at the door of the bar, “Yeah, they sprained their hand earlier. The one you grabbed, rather roughly.”

Volt looked down, the guilt finally catching up to him.

“We’ll go apologize to them tomorrow, for now let's deal with your face.” Eddie helps Volt up and takes him to the back to ice his face.

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

Note: I will be making a part 2, so if you want to be tagged send me a dm or ask and I'll make sure you're notified when it drops. Please know it may take me a week or so to get it done. Any comments, feedback, or support is appreciated.

Also requests are open, please check pin to check out who I write for!

[sweetmapple]

My entry for @autumn-doodles Kayne selfie contest! Congrats on 1k!!🥳 I figured Kayne of all people would like a blood and sand

[sweetbitterbitten]

Then we can start planning the wedding…

THE TUDORS, 1x08 - "Truth and Justice"

requested by anon

[scumvsss]

Disciple Shen Yuan (during disciple Shen Jiu era) who accidentally became the Divination Peak's head disciple bc he worked so hard and used all his meta knowledge, just so he could make a video-based divination system that shows the future. The Peak Lords were all appropriately impressed and this seals Shen Yuan as the next Divination Peak Peak Lord. A lot of pre-canon problems get solved. It becomes a world-changing invention.

Shen Yuan made it just to watch the endings of all his favorite animes.

Just. The hilarity of Peak Lord Shen Yuan becoming this mysterious genius Seer, sought after by the entire cultivational world. And then he just locks himself inside, pretending to be "prophesizing" or something. He's a full blown NEET at this point. He completely misses Shen Jiu's entry to the sect bc he was too busy "dvining" the next episode of Frieren Beyond the Journey's End. The next time he comes out, its with some vague words of valuing time spent with your peers.

The Qing Generation Peak Lords immediately listens to him and are now doing constant meet ups as the equivalent of team bulding exercises. The Shen Qingqiu rumors get solved. Shen Jiu is appropriately wary of this seemingly all knowing Peak Lord whom everyone listens to. And yet he also considers. Someone who can see the future? Someone who can SPEAK of the future they see and CHANGE it? Oh? Someone who can see all possible threats? What do you mean he can also divine your past? Past as in blackmail material?

Shen Jiu, in a fit of genius proving his right to be called the sect strategist, decides he'll have to test tf outta Shen Yuan to see if he can trust him (and sj is also low key terrified and hateful bc here is someone who can ruin everything he's ever done and he will NOT just let it be tyvm) and so Shen Jiu just. Does some minor (extensive) background search. And tries ro get Shen Yuan to snap. Yeah, that's right. Just annoy the scary all-seeing dude.

Shen Yuan eventually gets super annoyed, his inner internet troll has been desperately struggling to get free for YEARS, and now here's a convenient target who totally deserves it. Shen-Shixiong you total prick, why do you keep digging up everything about Shen Yuan!

So. In a fit of similar genius spiked with way too much pettiness, Shen Yuan goes "You little prick, lets see how you like it when YOUR privacy gets invaded!" and promptly plays a random scene from Shen Jiu's future ala projector style while they were in a Peak Lord meeting.

Shen Yuan made sure its nothing distressing or embarassing, he's petty not cruel! Except he did this by just doing a routine surface level scan of the emotions involved, and it was on "happy." Shen Yuan, a fuerdai who never really knew about Shen Jiu's past, just assumed it'd be a basic scene of maybe having a good meal or talking to a friend or something. He did NOT realize how fucking rare "Happy" is for Shen Jiu.

The scene that plays is a marriage.

Two figures decked in regal red marriage robes are in a bow in front of each other. The unmistakeable Grand Hall of Cang Qiong swathed in tastefully luxurious decorations surrounds them. There are also a lot of other damning details.

Qing Jing Peak's logo is embroidered onto the billowing ribbons. Paired with Divination Peak's own logo.

The two figures stand.

Its Shen Jiu and Shen Yuan.

When future-Shen Jiu actually smiled at future-Shen Yuan (who looks disgustingly in love wtf) and started leaning in for a kiss, present-Shen Yuan violently slams the divining tool off.

The loud slam is followed with a damning silent moment. That, unfortunately, lasted only for an actual moment.

Someone clears their throat.

Its Qi Qingqi.

She has a shit eating grin on her face. Besides her, Wei Qingwei's expression is slowly starting to match. Around, the other peak lords are either too invested, or carefully avoiding looking at him and Shen Jiu.

Shen Yuan very, very carefully does not look Shen Jiu's way.

"So..." Qi Qingqi begins. "Interesting divination there, Shen-Da-Shixiong, Shen-Er-Shixiong." Her words practically drip with insinuation.

Oh God. Oh Fuck. Fuck no.

Side Notes:

Shen Yuan's eyes glow a beight system blue whenever he "divines the future"

Shen Yuan wears a fortune teller outfit, meaning he's typically covered head to toe, complete with a veil.

Shen Yuan CAN actually see the future and show it to other people, either ala projector style 2d view of his choosing. or a complete 3d (like a pensieve in hp)

[sixeyesonathiel]

satoru absolutely loves resting his chin on your head. loves it like it’s a sport. like it’s his full-time job. like it’s his birthright. like it’s the very reason he was put on this earth. like if he stops doing it, maybe the universe would implode.

it doesn’t matter if you’re grocery shopping, waiting in line for coffee, walking through the park, standing in an elevator—he’s there, all six feet plus of him, draping over you like a weighted blanket you didn’t ask for. tall, broad, obnoxiously warm, wearing that signature cologne you gifted him—the one that clings to his skin and his jacket, the one that makes your head spin every time he gets too close, the one he douses on his neck like he’s trying to intoxicate you with him alone.

he knows. he absolutely knows. he sprays it on his pulse points with a deliberate flourish, like he’s rigging the game, like he’s daring you to pull away—knowing full well you won’t.

“…your head’s heavy,” you grumble, trying to wriggle out of his hold, even as you subtly lean back into his chest, betraying yourself. your nose scrunches, your hands pushing weakly at his forearms, but your body betrays you, curling into him all the same, your fingers curling instinctively around his wrist.

he hums, shameless, tucking his chin deeper against your crown like he wants to fuse his bones into yours. his lips brush your hair as he speaks, his voice sweet and sticky like spun sugar. “yeah, but you’re my perfect little headrest, baby. s'not my fault you’re the perfect height for this.” his grin is all teeth and teasing, his bright blue eyes glimmering with mischief as he sways both of you lazily.

“you’re crushing me,” you complain, still trying to fight the way your heart softens, your fists halfheartedly knocking against his arm in protest that doesn’t reach your eyes.

“you can handle it,” he chirps, squeezing his arms tighter around your waist, swaying both of you side to side like you’re his favorite plushie. “you always do. 's not like you really want me to let go, right?”

sometimes, in sheer rebellion, you wear heels—thinking maybe this time, just maybe, you can shake him off. you march proudly with those extra inches like you’ve finally outsmarted him, but satoru, infuriating as he is, simply bends his knees a little, still managing to rest his chin on your head like he’s found a secret cheat code. “aw, trying to run away? too bad, pretty thing,” he purrs, his chin slotting right back where it belongs, his arms coiled around you with a grip just shy of possessive.

it’s not even subtle. he does it in public like it’s second nature, chin hooked over your head while chatting with friends, waiting for takeout, standing around without a care in the world. people stare—of course they do. the gojo satoru, the strongest, the untouchable, draped over his wife like he’s physically incapable of surviving without touching her, without pressing as much of himself against her as possible. but satoru doesn’t care. if anything, he thrives under the weight of their gazes, puffing his chest out more, glowing with obnoxious pride, his crystalline eyes gleaming with the most ridiculous joy that he gets to hold you like this. that you let him.

he’s not even subtle about sniffing your hair. head tilted, eyes fluttering shut, dragging in a deep, exaggerated inhale like you’re the sweetest thing he’s ever known. “ugh, you’re dangerous,” he sighs dramatically, pressing his nose into your hairline as if the scent alone could ruin him. he’ll even gently brush your hair to one side just to nestle his face against your neck. “how’m I supposed to focus when you smell this good?”

and the worst part? you let him. every time. even when you’re scolding him, even when you’re playfully elbowing his ribs, even when you’re groaning about how heavy he is—you always lean into him. you always melt into his chest, because the weight of him is familiar. comforting. because you love it when he melts into you like he can’t go another second without touching you. because you love being his home just as much as he loves being yours.

satoru always wins.

[redrage71890]

Backing Voice (Yan! KPDH x Fem! MC) Part 2

Synopsis: An ending tour marks the beginnings of a change. Just when everything was going so right. A meeting sparks emotions that were buried deep within one and another. What does that mean for our hunters and their source of peace.

Genres: Fluff, Angst, Slow Burn (?), Yandere (?)

CW: None

Prologue, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Word Count: 2.5k A/N: I'll be honest here, the yandere part is quite slow. Apologies if you're reading this purely bc of the yandere part. Also probably OOC.

————————————————————

A lift plunges further into the stages interior with the three hunters excitedly discussing the sight of gold along the honmoon. All their efforts are paying off with the near closeness of blocking the demons away from the surface.

"Did we just see gold?!"

"Yeah, I can't believe we're doing it."

"It's so exciting!"

"Okay. You know what this means. Its time to release the song."

"(Cough) Whoa. That was weird."

"Good thing we're taking a break."

"Yeah. Sounds like you need the rest."

"Yeah. Just need a little water."

"Did someone say water?"

Just as the doors opened the girls were met with an entourage of staff, just to take care of their well-beings after the show. Meeting the proud smiles of their managers Bobby and (Y/N).

Urging to give them water immediately as they walk and Bobby complimenting them on their performance. (Y/N) walks besides the girls and adjusts some of their robes and getting permission to take off some of their accessories.

As a reward for the success and topping the charts yet again, Bobby organised a staycation at fancy resort for them. But they promptly denied since mainly Mira and Zoey were more excited about relaxing on their couch.

Since the resort is now available, Rumi states that he should go to the resort instead. Which Bobby promptly got a robe and face mask on.

"Oh, wait. (Y/N), are you okay? You seem a bit... um, tired." Bobby questions, pausing her exit to follow the girls. Granted she didn't get much sleep due to the stress of organising the venue with Bobby, along with keeping up with the girls every time a demon showed up.

Not to mention the three girls asking for little pointers and ideas for the stage performance up until she firmly told them to stop.

Look. She likes her friends, really she does.

She just wishes they would leave her alone sometimes.

Zoey clung to her space so she can get pointers and ideas for lyrics, while also eagerly curious as to what she does outside of the tower.

Mira is much more chill about how they spend time together, typically asking her to watch something on the TV and eat together. But she started taking more of her personal time and commonly asking where she went by herself.

Rumi can be described as professional, initially. She tried to converse first, but (Y/N)'s shaking body was enough to stop trying for a while. But again, they grew acquainted and the hunter began joining in on her lyric writing and demo making sessions. Though once again, she never left the poor girl alone.

Though for all of them...

They refused to.

"Y-Yeah... I just need to rest for a while. But I got some things to take care of before that." Pulling a reassuring yet still tired smile his way, before following the girls in their shadows.

————————————————————

"You're telling me, that the girls released 'Golden'? Now?!" (Y/N) had been on the phone with Bobby as he made his way back for promotions.

(Y/N) was nervously fiddling with her good luck charm on her waist as she was taking in the news. But as much as she wanted to help with the promotions tonight, she couldn't hold off on what she had to do now.

Speeding through the streets with a guitar case on her back, a baggy hoodie and pants while donning a face mask to avoid people as much as possible.

She didn't wear a mask before, but fans started to recognise her as a manager for HUNTR/X. Her blood pressure by itself couldn't given her a heart attack right then and there when she heard that. Never again. She doesn't even know why they liked her so much.

The city nightlife has always been a somewhat suffocating, yet calming. Bustling crowded streets of people coming off work just to drink and let their worries leave for just a moment, families and friends going to dinner to spend time together and unwind. Such people made the night calming for her.

But the suffocating darkness that lingers underneath...

It always chokes at her.

However, her duties are of the most effective during those darkening nights.

Pushing away her inner anxieties and paranoia about herself, she pursues into the nightlife.

Coming down to a secluded park, long emptied for the streets and lights. Its playground seen better days and benches uncleaned with lingering brown leaves and twigs. By passing the structures, (Y/N) finds a suitable large old tree for herself. Its roots coming out of the ground and some leaving a space that make it appear like a throne among the tree.

Taking a seat in the centre and dismounting her case, showcasing to no one, a black electric guitar with gold and light blue accents along its body. A shiny exterior that makes look untouched, no lingering fingerprints or stains and signs of its use. A small notebook used and battered laid within the case. Stickers of the HUNTR/X girls and other musically themed ones about the cover.

(Y/N)'s touch detests the guitars unused appearance, but causes the accents to glow in the night. Picking up the notebook and flicking through the pages, she stopped at one page and put it to the ground, still visible for her eyes.

Tuning her guitar to its right sound, she began to pluck the strings.

————————————————————

As the honmoon glowed its usual blue, a deep pink purple teared through like paper. Clawing out the hole is a purple hand, followed by a black sleeve of a hanbok.

As soon as their feet touch the ground, a puff of pink smoke covers their body to reveal a young man who looked like he just came out of a drama series.

Middle parted black hair with dreamy brown eyes that can melt a girls heart. A dark teel green hoodie underneath a black jacket, paired with dark blue jeans and shoes.

An attire fit for a heartthrob, an ideal standard perfectly. Too perfectly.

Gwi-ma gave his blessings to humour Jinu's demon boy-band plan, in exchange he would erase Jinu's memories.

Earlier than planned, he decided to scout out the perfect place for the newly formed Saja Boys to debut. Surfacing through the night was a perfect cover for him, nobody would take full notice of him just yet. Using this time to casually scope the area.

Smirking at the large number of souls in the night. Numerous fans ready to be converted into loyal fans for him and the boys.

Though as he was admiring an empty park, he feels a sudden rush of his heart racing. Clenching his chest like he had heartburn, he freezes in his spot.

'What is this? Why does my chest hurt?'

As Jinu was questioning his sudden chest pains, his head flicks up as his ears picks up a haunting voice coming from the park.

"Watch the sunrise along the coast"

"As we're both getting old"

"I can't describe what I'm feeling"

"And all I know is we're going home"

"So, please don't let me go"

"Don't let me go~"

A gentle yet haunting voice echoes through the empty park. Ruptures of calm and contentment filling those along the outsides of the park.

Nobody bothering to humour their sudden feelings and search for the source of the voice.

All but one.

Stepping on the old green grass, Jinu follows the closing strums of a guitar and the warming vocals of the singer.

"And if it's right, I don't care how long it takes"

"As long as I'm with you, I've got a smile on my face"

The echoes of laughter from a once young girl fills her mind. Followed by the joint giggles and chuckles of a mother and father. All just happy to be together.

No care for what setting they were in, whether it was the busy streets of a city or the quiet hums of animals in the countryside, nothing could wipe off their joy and love for one another.

Until it did.

"Save your tears, it'll be okay"

"All I know is you're here with me"

"Ooh ooh, oh, oh oh"

"Oh oh oh oh oh"

A pitiful smile plastered on her face. Pouring her heart and soul into her voice.

Rays of blue and lavender light ripple through the city. Areas closer to the park reveal small parts of the honmoon, glowing a lavender purple.

A memory in her mind becomes as clear as an old tape record. Or one could say a thought.

Her body growing older and older. Watching as those who care for her grow weaker and weaker. A bittersweet image.

"Watch the sunrise as we're getting old, oh oh"

"I can't describe, oh oh"

"I wish I could live through every memory again~"

"Just one more time before we float off in the wind"

"And all the time we spent waiting for the light to take us in"

"Have been the greatest moments of my life~"

Hiding behind a tree Jinu peaks to manage out the silhouette of a figure sitting at the foot of the largest and oldest tree in the park. Based on the voice he could distinguish the singer to be a girl, but her hair was shaggy and covered her eyes.

He did not think this haunting voice would come from here.

"I don't care how long it takes"

"As long as I'm with you, I've got a smile on my face"

"Save your tears, it'll be okay"

"You're here with me"

Lifting her head, facing up to the old branches of the tree. That pitiful sad smile she held brought something unknown to his heart. He couldn't place why it felt so warming. Yet so haunting.

He felt reassured for some reason. Like his guilt and shame was washed away, clearing his head.

There was no sound of Gwi-ma.

For the first time in 400 years, he heard nothing but the haunting yet comforting voice of the singer.

"Ooh ooh, oh, oh oh"

"Oh oh oh oh oh"

"I can't describe, oh oh"

The plucking of her guitar came to an end. An overflowing amount of lavender light spreads along the honmoon, but it didn't push him down.

He felt at peace.

Unknowingly to himself, he took a step out from behind his hiding spot. Continuing to take more and more steps until he was right in front of her.

"Are you the one singing?" He was mentally cursing himself for the obvious question.

The singer in question froze. Slowly turning up her head, Jinu is met with a shiver of nerves. Piercing (f/c) and gold eyes stared back. Her pupils constricting as her hands began to shake.

"W-Who says it was m-me?" He sort of expected a quieter speaking voice. Just not this melodic. Her body was nervously shaking from his presence alone. As a demon, he should feel a certain thrill seeing her so fearful from him. Alluring humans to listen to their own shame and insecurities so they can be consumed by Gwi-ma.

But he hated seeing her shake.

"Uh, you are the only one here. I-I just wanted to say that, you have a beautiful voice." The compliment nearly rolled off his tongue flawlessly. He felt unnaturally shy with her (f/c) eyes on him.

While Jinu was weirdly nervous meeting the singer, (Y/N) felt like she was sweating bullets.

'There's only one explanation for this.'

No regular human pays attention to her singing. The only reason why her backing voice is discussed online, is because its among their favourite girl group.

'He's a demon.'

"U-Um... thank you...its nothing special..." Quieting her voice until it became a near whisper. Trying to ignore the demon as she packs up her notebook and guitar.

"What's your name?"

'He wants to keep talking? Should I tell him?'

Its not everyday that a demon wants to get to know her. It was strange. Unnatural. But what malice did she hold towards the male who has done nothing but try to talk to her.

She's not really a hunter anyway.

"(Y-Y/N)..."

"I-I'm Jinu, its nice to meet you." He holds out a hand for a shake. But he's just met with a blank stare.

(F/c) eyes barely blinking while simultaneously looking him up and down. He's never felt so self-conscious in centuries, he was beginning to sweat.

Thankfully for him, she peeled her gaze off and locked up her instrument once again. Slinging it on her back once she stood up at full height. While this was happening, Jinu put his hand away faster than a car. He could feel blood rushing to his ears out of pure embarrassment. He doesn't even know why he feels this way, they literally just met.

"A-Anyways! I wanted to ask if-"

"What's a demon like you doing here?"

Her question catching him off guard.

She knew what he was.

'Is she a hunter? How does she know?!'

"A regular human d-doesn't usually pay mind to my singing." Her statement coming out a bit louder than before. She didn't exactly look happy with being noticed.

Though in reality, she was feeling her heart race.

Of course she knew the effects her voice has on demons. Its what her ancestors have been doing for centuries. Things just changed when her mother met the Sunlight Sisters. Their duties were altered by the wishes of the hunters.

She can freeze a demons actions just by them hearing her voice. But it does not strengthen the honmoon as much as the hunters. Her weapon can barely kill a demon. Yet her voice and emotion poured into her singing is always enough for them to leave on their will.

Beyond what her mother has informed her of their ancestors, that is all she knows of her capabilities.

Jinu on the other hand didn't know how to respond. Humans don't pay attention to her melodic voice? He was beyond stumped.

'How could the humans not listen to this beauty!? I-I can't even describe how it feels to my body and mind!'

He had to stop himself mentally before he went on a tangent he didn't know was in him.

"I-If you're done staring. I'm gonna go." Walking past him in his frozen like state, trapped in his waring thoughts. Realising she passed him, he quickly snapped his neck over.

(Y/N) stopped in her tracks and looked over her shoulder. Lifting up an arm and doing a little wave, paired with the softest smile he's seen in years.

"I'll see you around, Jinu."

For the first time in 400 years, he met someone he wants to protect again.

Damn whoever stands in his way.

————————————————————

Edit: Trying my absolute best here :') Its a bit insane. Also if anyone has ideas for duet ballad or even like r&b songs, pls tell me, its for the fic and an idea I have in mind. And tell me your favourite saja boy bc I badly want more content about them.

Tags: @kitsune-05, @the-bookish-artist, @apelepikozume, @shoopershtar, @ravvilicous, @valeriele3, @vikc, @lasa27, @chipster-321, @greensunflowerjuna, @napbatata, @that-one-girl2020, @tagmepls, @thoughtfulbananaduckcroissant, @minepugs, @crescent-z, @colorfulgardenerduck, @poem-bee, @deityofprocastinating, @0-undead-0, @gremlinartstudio, @jessica-mcd, @strayharmony943, @fruityg0rl, @cherryblossomfox, @aominehaven, @kyxmlii, @ssaischilling, @sweaterkitty-fluff, @historygeekqueen, @satansdaughter123, @theall-seeingone, @nvmkyuu, @amenabii, @julianne1024

[jacksabbotts]

✧ cold storage — ❪ part two ❫

. ᵒ . ➛ PAIR . dr. jack abbot ( the pitt ) x fem!morguetech!reader . ᵒ . ➛ SUMMARY . after jack’s furious outburst in the morgue, you can’t sit with the silence—or the guilt. even with no space left and no backup available, you wheels a stretcher up to the er yourself, determined to prove you are doing your job. what follows is a quiet, desperate attempt to avoid confrontation while making things right even if it means handling four dead bodies alone. . ᵒ . ➛ TRIGGER WARNINGS . lowercase intended!!! \ age gap ( reader is late 20s, jack is late 40s ) \ medical setting ( hospital/morgue ) \ mentions of corpses / dead bodies / autopsy prep \ death discussed clinically \ anxiety / overthinking / spiraling thoughts \ harsh tone from a superior ( prior scene reference ) \ self-isolation / emotional suppression \ physical overexertion / self-neglect \ internalized guilt \ negative self-talk \ touch aversion ( mild )

main masterlist | series masterlist | join the taglist | inbox | dividers by @cafekitsune

you pressed the button for the third floor.

the elevator doors closed too slowly.

your hands were clammy around the collapsible gurney handle, your palms sticking to the rubber grip as the platform shuddered into motion. you hated these elevators—how loud they were, how long they took, how the lights overhead always buzzed like they were about to die.

you hated this entire decision.

but you were doing it anyway.

because it had been an hour since he stormed out and the silence was unbearable.

you’d refreshed your email inbox eight times. no response from admin. no pickup update from the funeral home. no call from your boss the medical examiner, who was likely asleep and blissfully unaware of the fact that the basement morgue was packed full and you were about to try and make room for four more.

this was stupid.

there was no room.

but the idea of him—jack abbot—still believing you weren’t doing your job? that you were down here eating lentil soup while patients bled out upstairs?

it gnawed at you. it rotted you.

so you brought the gurney. the elevator dinged at every floor like it was mocking you. you exhaled slowly. in through the nose. out through the mouth.

okay. just apologize. simple. direct. professional.

you tried again, whispering under your breath :

'dr. abbot, i just wanted to say i’m sorry again for the delay—'

no. too stiff. too scripted.

'i know it’s not ideal, but i’m doing my best to keep things moving—'

too defensive.

'i didn’t mean to make things harder for you, i just—'

too pathetic.

the elevator stopped at the second floor. no one got in. you swallowed hard. tried again.

'it’s just me downstairs. i’ve been trying to manage everything as best i can. i should’ve escalated the situation sooner. i’m really, truly sorry—'

and then maybe he’d say—

no.

no, don’t imagine what he’ll say.

you weren’t good at that.

jack didn’t follow scripts. he didn’t talk like anyone else. he didn’t even look at you like anyone else did—and you weren’t sure if that was good or bad yet. all you knew was that when his voice had filled that cold little morgue, something inside you had snapped in half.

no matter which version you picked, they all made your stomach twist. none of them sounded right. none of them felt like enough.

you shouldn’t be doing this. you shouldn’t be making space for four new bodies. but the funeral home had come through early—just two pickups, but enough to buy you drawer room and a single empty table.

you could’ve waited for security to bring them down.

but part of you didn’t want to look like you were hiding.

the elevator dinged.

the doors opened into fluorescent light and barely-controlled chaos. someone shouted a room number. monitors beeped down the hall. a paramedic wheeled in a gurney while two residents followed, talking too fast.

you slipped into the corner like a shadow, trying to make yourself as small as possible as you scanned the room for him.

jack wasn’t there.

your shoulders dropped an inch. not in relief. not quite. you’d been bracing for impact. now you didn’t know what to do with the leftover adrenaline.

you angled your stretcher toward bay two—the furthest from the main desk, where the most recent doa had been placed. you could be fast. quiet. invisible.

'hey!'

you flinched.

dana. you didn't know her, but you know of.

of course, things could never go the way you planned them.

she strode over from the central desk, still in her navy compression top and trauma boots, a clipboard tucked under one arm. 'your the new morgue tech, right? you’re here for the stiffs?' she asked, jerking her head toward the curtain. 'jack's gonna lose his mind. he’s been bitching for hours.'

you couldn't help the rumbling in your stomach as dana referred to dr. abbot as jack. were they really that close? they seemed close in age and had the same no fuck around attitude. but you supposed it wasn't any of you business and nodded.

you nodded quickly, eyes darting toward the er entrance. 'great, i'll just get him so he can sign the transfer papers,' she turned to walk away and you stopped her with what could only be defined as a mouse peep.

'um. could you just give him the papers after i leave? i'll sign them and everything.'

dana blinked. 'why?'

you hesitated for a moment, probably trying to come up with a believable lie. 'he’s busy. he doesn’t need to worry about . . . something that’s just my job.'

she raised an eyebrow. 'you sure? he’s been chewing everyone out about this. if i tell him you’ve got space—'

'please,' you said again, more firmly. 'it’s okay, really. he needs to worry about the live ones, i've got the dead ones.' you immediately wince at your phrasing but don't say anything else.

dana looked at you for a beat too long. her expression softened slightly. 'alright, morgue girl. holler if you need any help.'

you nodded.

she patted your shoulder once—light, but enough to make you tense—and turned away without another word.

you exhaled slowly.

your hands were trembling again, just a little. the unexpected social interaction was a little more draining than you had anticipated. you adjusted your grip on the stretcher and moved toward the curtain, telling yourself you’d be gone in five minutes.

tops. no conversations. no confrontations. and absolutely no Jack, if you could help it. just a job. you were good at your job.

you took them down one at a time.

no one offered to help—not because they were cruel, but because you didn’t ask. the er was busy, and you didn’t want to pull anyone away from the living. besides, you were used to it. the elevator was slow, and the stretchers stuck sometimes when you turned them, but you managed. you always managed.

by the time you returned with the fourth body, your shoulders ached and your hands were stiff around the rails. you were sweating under your scrubs, even in the chill of the morgue—but the work gave your mind something to focus on. something that wasn’t jack abbot or the echo of his voice in your head.

the funeral home had picked up two earlier—unclaimed cases from last week. that gave you just enough room to do what needed doing, if you were smart about it.

and you were always smart about it.

you turned the thermostat down as far as it would go. the whole morgue shivered in response—cold creeping into the corners like frostbite, numbing the walls, the vents, your fingers. you didn’t mind. you preferred it that way. like a walk-in freezer, steady and sterile.

you slid the first two onto the autopsy tables. not ideal, but manageable. you pulled the vinyl covers over them and laid their charts on the tray beside each one. you’d process them later, when things were quiet again.

the third went between the file cabinets.

you’d cleared that space before—back when the coolers were under repair. it wasn’t perfect, but it was dark and low and close to the vents. the cold pooled there. it would hold.

the last body took the most time.

there was nowhere left.

you looked around the room, scanning every corner, every shadow, until your gaze landed on the empty gurney beside your desk.

it wasn’t even a decision. just motion. you rolled it forward, locked the brakes, and transferred the body as gently as you could. you covered them. labeled the tag. added a note to the chart.

then sat down.

right there. at your desk. beside the dead.

it didn’t bother you.

not really.

you’d always been good at compartmentalizing. at pretending you were part of the quiet. part of the stillness. being surrounded by the dead was no different than being surrounded by filing cabinets or lab equipment. they didn’t need you to make conversation. they didn’t expect you to smile.

the body beside your desk wasn’t a person anymore.

just paperwork.

just weight.

you rubbed your fingers, cracked from the cold, and jotted down notes in your log. your breath fogged the air.

you didn’t know what time it was.

you didn’t think about jack.

not directly.

but your hands trembled when you reached for the next file.

just a little.

🔖 . @princesssunderworld @mayabbot @imherefordeanandbones @arigoldsblog @oldmanbunnylover @i-mushi @autumnleaves1991-blog @lovelexi717 @peggyofoz @qtmoonies @nfwmb-gvf @britt217 @babybatreads @cheekym8s @bitteroceanlove @spooky-librarian-ghost @dr-yapper @yutasgem @keseqna @gardeniarose13 @witchbitchlovesdilfs @sotragedynut @robbyrosierobinavitch @anglophileforlife @flyinglama @reignbooks8506 @kmc198899-blog @sillymuffintrashflap @letstryagaintomorrow @caterpillarskimono @maiamore @chuiisi @madzleigh01 @qardasngan @imightbeinsanebutwtv @shadowfoxey @foolishseven @anxiousfuckupon @lumpypoll @coldmuffinbanditshoe @blueliketheseaa @justfaefaeee @sweetdayme4427 @404creep ( if you user is white, that means i could not tag you. i copy and pasted usernames straight from the forms so if you would like to send another form with the updated username you are welcome to do so 🫶😁 the link is above )

[twilightofthesandwiches]

Man, this is such an interesting exchange, cause, like… in most stories, when a character says they'd like things to go on forever, that they want something eternal, they're pretty much setting themselves up for a very rude awakening. You know, nothing lasts forever, sometimes you have to learn how to let go, sometimes you need to move on. I mean, that's one of the core themes of Undertale.

Flowey/Asriel's whole motivation in the Pacifist Route is to make the Game go on forever, to put the ending eternally out of reach, to trap Frisk in an infinite time loop because he just can't move on from Chara's death.

Part of the narrative is that if the Player RESETs a Pacifist Route then they are no better than he was, since now they are also yanking everyone away from their Happy Ending so that we can play with them again, because we can't accept the game has Ended. The Murder Route is less focused on that whole theme but you replay it over and over again Chara will basically call you a weirdo for your obsessive clinginess to this world.

Part of Undertale's themes is the importance of an Ending to a story. A True Pacifist Player's true and final act of selflessness is to let go of their desire have things keep going for forever, to give up on Eternity… for the sake of the happiness of every other character in this world, for the sake of their Happy Ending.

On the other hand, as a Wise Dog once said…

Both Undertale and Deltarune love exploring the ways in which the world of a game is different or similar to the real world, how the perspective of a Player is so different from the perspective of an actual character living in this world and... Real Life doesn't have a clear set ending.

The Player is the only one from whom the story just ended. Everyone else just kept living their stories of friendship together, although they probably never experienced something as high-stakes as the events of 'Undertale' ever again. And... when endings do seem to come, they're not going to be as clear-cut and satisfying and clearly communicated as the Game Ending is to the Player.

…But on the other other hand, it is still true that some things in life do end and we do have to accept that. Like… you know, the most famous Ending in life… is Death.

Gerson hears Susie talk about how she wants things to go on forever, but he already decided he has no interest in Eternity himself. He knows that the Three Heroes are here to seal the Fountains that revived him, he knows that when they succeed he'd go back to being a dust-covered hammer, probably never to be revived again and… he's perfectly at peace with that. He's an old man who died from natural causes, he had a long, full and satisfying life, he already had his ending. What's happening now is some weird glorified epilogue, but he knows it will end soon. And that's fine by him, because the time for his story has ended.

He does have one major regret in life, his failure to properly support his son's writing, and he spends all of the time the Dark has given him to try and make up for it. But it's really just a matter of asking Susie to deliver his message. He doesn't try to maintain or expand the Dark World so he could make up for his mistakes or try to pull Alvin in so he could meet him again or find a way to come back to life in the Light World somehow… I wonder if Someone was expecting him to do something like that and that's why they tried to give him that Shadow Crystal, but we all know that didn't work

In a way… we've already seen Susie's rude awakening for her desire for a 'forever'. She formed such a powerful bond with "the Old Man", she definitely would've wanted their time together to last longer, to last as long as it could, to last forever. But that's not possible.

And even his appearance in the Third Sanctuary was kind of a surprise stroke of luck that shouldn't be taken for granted.

The whole point of the Second Sanctuary is that Susie realized that Gerson was dead in the Light World, and trying to cope with this idea, went straight to a kind of denial.

Well, she can just pop over to the Dark World and, like, ask him what the Door Code is, right? No big deal! I mean, it's not exactly like Susie and Kris were really at a dead-end, there were plenty of areas in the Church they haven't checked thoroughly at all (not just the Fire Extinguisher)…

It wasn't because she HAD to do it for the Door Code, it's because she had to do it to reassure herself that her new friend isn't really gone, that maybe he'll be there waiting for her in his study if she just High-Key Stab Reality and Unleash the Flow of Pure Darkness Energy…

But it wasn't that simple. At best you can say his appearance in the Third Sanctuary means that he can manifest in any Church Dark World created by the Knight… but seeing how Susie's whole goal at the moment is to stop the Knight from making more Dark Fountains, that's not exactly increasing her chances to see the Old Man again.

When they go to seal the Fountain, Susie muses about her 'stupid dream' that things will just… stay the same. That she'll keep having fun Dark World adventures with her friends through eternity. But she knows that although Kris fully understands her, that's not what's going to happen. It's both about how the stakes and seriousness of the story have been so overtly raised for her, the Knight and the Titans aren't just an ominous background detail. She has fought them both. But it's also because she is already experiencing an Ending right now. She knows that when Kris seals this Fountain, she will probably never see Gerson again.

…But despite all of that, I don't think the narrative completely rebuke Susie's desire for Eternity. After all, Gerson heard her say that, fully knowing his own fate, and he mostly seemed intrigued? It doesn't seem to waver his belief that she's the one who should be writing the story, that he could count on her to defy fate in the name of Justice. Y'know, Susie wasn't really thinking of the Inevitability of Death at that moment, she was just thinking that… she would like to keep having fun adventures with her friends in perpetuity. And is that such a bad thing to wish for?

I mean, just because something was a theme in Undertale doesn't mean that Deltarune can't use Susie to drive home the point of 'well, yeah, you're not wrong, but it's a bit more nuanced than that", there's precedence, in fact.

I'm thinking about, like, the Tenna storyline in Chapter 3. That was also about someone who needs to move on, Tenna is clinging to his happier past in unhealthy way and wants the fun of his game show to last forever. He also wanted his own version of Eternity. But the game still draws a contrast between Ralsei, who just tells him to remember the happy times and accept that everything ends, including his use

And Susie, who is the one who rejects this mindset. Her solution still has some level of moving on and accepting that the Dreemurr-Holiday Family Unit has ended, but that doesn't mean he's just got to lay down and accept that his whole life is over. She comes up with a plan that ensures the continuation of his life and his dreams. It's an Ending of sorts, but an Ending that has a continuation attached to it. And it came specifically from Susie's distaste for endings, from her aggressive rejection of going gently into that good night.

There are certain things, certain endings, we all have to accept, but there is also so much that is worth rebelling against, that is worth fighting for. Susie's desire for an 'Eternity' might be a bit oversimplistic, but it is also the source of her rebellious spirit, out-of-the-box-thinking and the shining hope that Gerson sees in her. So I don't think the story will dismiss it outright, we really just have to wait and see just how much of that 'Eternity' Susie will manage to keep...

[chow0w]

I would love to see darkstalker in your style :00 your redesigns are so neat

Never in my life did I think I would redesign Darkstalker and Hatsune Miku in the same weekend, but here we are.

@oli-bird , @natureforlife and a few anons also asked for this redesign. Sorry anons, I would tag you if I could.

In spite of how often (very often) I make fun of Darkstalker on this channel, I don't actually hold some insane grudge against him at all. I harbor a lot of resentment towards how the fandom tends to treat him, But I think Darkstalker himself is probably the best written villain in WoF. (It's either him or Queen Scarlet, but there's a few reasons I won't get into as to why I think comparing them is unfair.)

Onto the art! Redesigning Darkstalker was one of the more challenging things I've done on this blog, mostly because I already really like his canon design and I feel like there are a lot of good takes out there too. Nonetheless, I make my attempt. The red/blue contrast from his cover art is definitely what I like the most about his general design, and I wanted to try and emulate this as best as possible - especially because I often see him redesigned on a solid red or blue background (which is fine, but inconvenient because it kind of pitfalls Darkstalker into a world where he only looks good in red lighting.) Anyways, I took the red/blue pallet from his cover art and slapped it right onto his scales. Problem solved!

As for the patterns themselves, I was going for a stained-glass type of look: even though religion isn't particularly relevant in Darkstalker's story, I still think it's interesting to try and illustrate how he views himself as superior/almost 'godly' in comparison to other characters. I wanted to carry that theme onto his wings, but ended up deciding with a simpler starry pattern because the design was already super detailed. Everything else kind of speaks for itself... his ribs are more pronounced because of his time under the mountain, and he has longer claws/spikes as a result of the icewing genes. Don't ask me where those white icewing spikes went.... I think they grew legs and walked away... (Real talk, I've just always preferred blue hybrid darkstalker over white hybrid darkstalker. I think the contrast is nicer)

As always, thank you so much for reading down this far! I'm glad you made it! My inbox is as open as ever, and you can find all of my other redesigns through my pinned post which has them linked! My Discord server is right here, for anyone looking to chat/draw/enter in my art contest!

later (o´∀`o)

[madamadamiu]

I’m sorry if I havent been replying to too many of my asks and @ mentions😭🙏 I want to RB as much art as possible, but I only get a few times a week to really take time at my computer, and I spend most that time drawing

I’m also busy plotting and scheming my evil comic stuff

[theglassofmiddleearth]

Imagine Being Isekai'ed into KPOP DEMON HUNTERS. (part 6)

SO, IIDEK WHAT TO PUT AS SUMMARY BUT LOWKEY HUNTR/X X Y/N! Also, we get some Mystery backstory here! (Also if you wanna hear some bad covering of Your Idol here it is

IDOl

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

‘Technically we didn't follow you, we overheard you. We just happened to be in the vicinity of the conversation.’ Beom looked up to the left, refusing to meet Y/N’s eyes.

‘Y’know you can’t always get out of things by being cute. It doesn’t work that way.’ Y/N rolled her eyes, slumping onto the sofa face first. Watching their debut stage had really taken it out of her. Especially that walk back from the Huntr/x tower.

‘I’m cute?’ Beom’s eyes lit up, as if he were a puppy that had just been given a treat. Y/N could swear she saw a tail wagging behind Beom.

Was this what was known as the natural charm of a youngest group member? Even so, this man was over two huundred years old… Did demons mature in the underworld? Was it even possible to grow? Were they like vampires, just stuck mentally at their age forever? Y/N's mind whirled with unanswered questions.

‘I’m not repeating it.’ Y/N rolled her eyes, unlocking her phone. ‘Well, what's the plan? You have that variety show in about an hour.’

‘Well, seeing as the demon hunters know we have a shooting tonight, they’re probably gonna try to kill us after we finish.’ Jinu shrugged, he twisted the cap off an energy drink and passed it to Y/N.

‘Thanks.’ She smiled, sipping the drink. 

‘Would you be upset if we killed them?’ Min tilted his head, seated in Y/N’s gaming chair. Although the man's light purple hair was obscuring his eyes, Y/N could tell he was looking at her.

‘Yes, very.’ Y/N answered quickly, taking another swig of her drink.

‘Hm, okay.’ Min turned his head to Rae. ‘Looks like it’ll be a change of plans then.’

‘YOU GUYS WERE PLANNING ON KILLING THEM?’ Y/N stood up, pointing her fingers at the plotting boys.

‘Well they were planning to kill us too.’ Abel shrugged, handing out pink clothing to the group.

‘Aw man, not pink again.’ Jinu groaned, holding his shirt as far away from himself as he could possibly.

‘You said you looked good in any colour.’ Y/N laughed, pointing her drink bottle at him.

‘Ugh, that doesn't mean I have to like the colour.’ Jinu grumbled, lifting his shirt over his head.

‘HEY, I’M STILL IN THE ROOM.’ Y/N squawked, turning around, only to be met with the four other shirtless men in the middle of changing. The girl quickly covered her eyes with her hands, squatting down in embarrassment.

‘Oh, sorry. Bad habit.’ Jinu said from behind her. ‘I’m decent now.’

Y/N peeked out of her fingers up at the voice, seeing a guilty looking Jinu.

‘I should have warned you. My bad.’ He stuck out his hand to which Y/N grasped.

Y/N let herself be tugged up, as the rest of the boys finished changing their shirts.

‘Okay, time for pants.’ Rae handed out jeans, each in a different shade of pink.

‘I’M GOING TO MY ROOM, TELL ME WHEN YOU GUYS ARE DONE.’ Y/N sprinted into her bedroom door, slamming it shut behind her.

‘She’s so cute, I could just eat her.’ Min remarked, zipping himself up.

‘Huh.’ Beom turned around.

‘Isn’t that what the young people say about cute things? I could eat it?’ Min sat back down in the chair, shrugging his shoulders.

‘No you old man, I could just eat her up. You need to add the ‘up’ or it just sounds like you wanna take her soul.’ Beom shook his head, brushing off the lint on his jumper.

‘Huh, alright, noted.’ Min gave a quiet laugh, leaning back in the chair with his arms raised.

–

They boys had insisted on bringing Y/N along with them, saying that they needed a fake manager.

They somehow had no manager but they had a typical van that Idols would use to travel. Y/N could see that someone was driving the car but she had never seen the man before today. 

The boys were jabbering about how they would introduce themselves at the variety show and what they would do. They were sat in pairs, Jinu and Beom and Abel with Rae, leaving Min to sit next to Y/N. 

‘If you don’t have a manager, how in the world are you pulling all of this off?’ Y/N blanched, ‘And if you don’t even have a manager, do you have a company? How did you even release Soda Pop?’

‘Hypnosis, we can make anyone do our bidding. Why do you think this person’s driving the car?’ Min leaned down whispering in her ear, his face close to Y/N’s.

‘I’ve been meaning to ask. Can you even see?’ Y/N reached up, fingertips just brushing Min’s purple hair-

‘Not really.’ Min abruptly grasped Y/N’s hand, gripping it tightly.

‘Ow.’

‘Sorry.’ Min released Y/N’s wrist in an instant. ‘I…’ 

‘It’s ok. I shouldn’t have-’

‘No. It’s my fault. I’m just… I have a thing about my face.’ Min sighed, turning away as the rest of the boys continued their conversations, unaware as to the situation in the back seat.

‘Does it have something to do with your deal with Gwi-ma?’ Y/N slid her hands underneath her legs, kicking her feet slightly.

‘Yeah. It does.’ Min said, resting his chin on his fist. Y/N looked down at her feet, waiting for the man next to her to elaborate.

‘I had leprosy.’ Min said in a hushed whisper. ‘It was bad. It started with my hands and feet but it spread. The disease always spreads until eventually… I became blind.’

‘Oh…’

‘It was the fourteenth century so there was no cure and I had no family.’ Min sighed, turning to look at Y/N, hair still obscuring his face. ‘I was begging in the street, stumbling around blind when a group of men beat me with sticks, telling me to do them a favour and just die.’

‘Assholes.’ Y/N grumbled, crossing her arms.

‘Yes, they were.’ Min chuckled at her reaction, putting a reassuring hand on Y/N’s shoulder before continuing. ‘And that was when I first heard Gwi-ma, whispering in my ear.’

‘What did he offer you?’ Y/N blinked, not noticing that the entire car had gone quiet.

‘He said he could take away my scars and help me get revenge on those who had wronged me.’ Min laughed, resting his head against his seat. ‘Now that I think about it, it was such a shallow deal. I barely got anything from it.’

‘You were hurting. Vulnerable.’

‘I was weak.’ Min shook his head, seemingly disappointed in himself.

‘Men have killed for less.’ Y/N noted, as the car slowed to a stop.

‘You’re right about that one I guess.’ Min chuckled, unbuckling Y/N from her seat before doing his own.

‘I honestly thought you were just hiding a big ass forehead.’ Y/N shrugged, stepping out of the car, following the rest of the boys into the studio.

‘HAH! I’ll have you know I was quite handsome before I got that stupid disease.’ Y/N could practically hear Min rolling his eyes.

‘Yeah yeah… Wait, fourteenth century… You have to be the oldest!’ Y/N bounced along, passing through the doors leading into the set.

‘Such a smart girl.’ Min hummed, leaning down.

‘Uh…’ 

Min smirked, combing back his bangs with one hand, revealing his face for a second. Y/N was stunned, eyes lingering on Min’s own ones.

He really was beautiful.

Hell, people would go to war for a face like that, regardless of Min being a man.

‘Wow.’ Y/N blinked, eyes bugged wide.

‘Hm, maybe Gwi-ma really did do me a favour.’ Min continued to smirk, letting his hair fall back into place, turning to walk onto the stage where the rest of the boys were filing onto.

‘Um-’

‘We’ll talk after the show.’ Min lifted Y/N’s chin gently, looking down at her through his hair.

‘Okay…’ 

‘That’s our girl.’ Min smiled, releasing her chin before walking onto stage with the rest of the boys.

‘Holy crap…’ Y/N gaped.

Min’s face was like nothing she’d ever seen. Imagine the most handsome man you knew, married the most beautiful woman on earth and had a baby. Not even then would that child compare to Min.

‘Huh, no wonder Zoey said he was just her type.’ Y/N mused, watching the hosts introduce the boys.

‘Who’s my type?’ A voice chimed in, merging into Y/N’s thoughts.

‘Zoey?’ Y/N spun around to face the three Hunt/x girls.

‘Twice in one day, aren’t we lucky.’ Mira smiled, wrapping an arm around Y/N’s shoulder.

‘Why are you here? Are you scouting out the competition?’ Rumi gave the ghost writer a tight hug, her leather outfit squeaking quietly.

‘Uh, actually I’m-’

‘Oh, OH! Maybe Y/N can watch us take out these demons! She’s never gone with us on a mission before!’ Zoey interrupted, her eyes wide and pleading.

Holy crap Zoey was good at puppy dog eyes. Y/N flickered her gaze between the boys who were now chugging hot sauce, for some reason, to Zoey’s begging eyes.

‘Okay, I’ll watch.’ Y/N agreed, unsure of how this would go down. In the original story this was where Jinu would see Rumi's patterns but... He already knew and so did the rest of the girls.

Rumi cheered quietly, ‘Great! Once they come off the stage, we’ll jump down for the attack!’

‘These boys will be-

‘Done, done, done!’ Zoey finished, as the girls let out evil giggles, as they climbed the steps behind the set, peeking over the set.

Y/N watched on nervously as Beom let out the most sarcastic ‘Goo goo, ga ga’ She’d ever heard in her life.

‘Oh boy…’ Y/N mumbled, glancing between the girls and her demon boyband.

‘Hard to goodbye when we’re having so much fun!’ One of the hosts said into the mic.

‘So hard! So hard…’ The other said, shaking his head in mock sadness.

Jinu took the mic, sending a little smirk to the side wings where Y/N was watching.

Oh no.

What was this man planning?

‘Then why say goodbye when we have an extra special guest coming up?’ He addressed the audience, guesting backstage.

‘What is he up to?’ Y/N mumbled, watching him walk towards her.

‘Oh HELL NO.’ She said, turning to run as Jinu grabbed the back of her collar.

‘Say hello to our writer and producer, Y/N!!’ Jinu cried out, practically dragging her on stage.

‘Ah haha- hi!’ Y/N waved awkwardly as the spotlights partially blinded her. The cheering from the crowd surprised her, as she squinted under the lights.

‘We have her to thank for writing our debut song!’ Abel smiled, as the rest of the boys came to stand around her.

‘Yeah! Thanks Y/N!’ Beom called out, as the group began to bow at her.

‘Wow so hot and respectful!’ The audience cheered, as the boys bowed.

‘Oh no… It was my pleasure.’ Y/N bowed back.

‘No really it was ours!’ The boys folded completely in half as Y/N gaped, shifting her eyes to see an angry looking Huntr/x on the side.

‘Well! That's all we have time for today!’ The hosts called, as the curtains began to close. ‘See you next time! Play Games With Us!’

‘What the hell was that?!'

‘Sorry Y/N, hold on tight!’ Abel smiled, lifting Y/N over his shoulder as the Saja Boys began to run out the back exit.

‘Y/N!’ The girls called, chasing after them, concern etched on the girl’s faces.

‘Girls!’ Y/N called out, stretching her hand out as the door swung shut in front of her.

The boys ran into the bathhouse, Y/N slumped over Abel's shoulder as the girls spotted Y/N still being carried off.

‘Over there! Let’s get our Y/N back!’

‘Aw man, we were just in a bathhouse this morning.’ Mira groaned, running along with the girls.

The girls opened the bathhouse door, peeking out one by one.

‘Aw man, it's a men’s bathhouse.’ Rumi whined, spotting half naked men.

‘Wow, did you guys really follow us in here?’ Jinu rolled his eyes, knowing damn well Huntr/x followed because they had taken Y/N with them.

‘Of course they did, that one’s always looking at our Y/N.’ Abel snarked, jumping slightly to bounce Y/N on his shoulder, receiving an oomf from the flopped over girl.

‘Give us back our Y/N!’ Zoey brandished her throwing knives.

‘You think we’re just gonna let you steal our Y/N and our fans?’ Rumi snarled, gripping her sword tightly. ‘You’re gonna have to fight us for both!’

‘Yeah, keep your hands off our girl.’ Mira backed Rumi up, lifting her moon blade. 

‘Heh, we’re not here to fight.’ Jinu shrugged, splaying his arms, as demons rose from the hot baths. ‘They are.’

‘Water demons.’ Rumi narrowed her eyes.

‘Oh great. My favourite.’ Mira cheered sarcastically, eyes darting to count how many were now slowly surrounding the group.

‘Get rid of the hunters. Then, you can eat all the souls you want.’ Jinu smirked, placing a hand on the water demon in front of him.

‘Rumi!’ Y/N called out, as the rest of the boys ran through the bathhouse, leaving Huntr/x behind.

‘Have fun!’ Jinu ran out, almost slipping on a puddle of water. 'Ah crap.'

Zoey and Mira were slashing through the demons, killing several each second.

‘GO get back Y/N!’ Mira called out to Rumi, slicing through a group of demons.

‘But there's so many!’ Rumi protested, twisting away from a pair of demon claws.

‘Y/N’s alone with them, we need to go get her!’ Zoey threw her daggers, hitting two in the face.

‘GO rumi! We’ll catch up.’ Mira called out, flipping through the air and slamming her blade into the ground, causing a wave of the demons to be vaporised.

‘Okay!’ Rumi flipped over a demon, rushing toward the door that she had seen the boys run through.

‘You promised you wouldn’t kill them. Y/N protested, still being carried by Abel.

‘Technically, we’re not.’ Jinu giggled, running forward, oblivious to Rumi advancing behind him.

‘Gimmie back my Y/N!’ Rumi slashed at the man with her sword, catching his shirt slightly as Jinu ducked almost too late.

‘‘She’s mine.’ Jinu snarled, throwing a bucket at Rumi. He jumped as he slashed at Rumi’s arm with his claws, cutting a piece of her clothing off her arm, drawing blood.

‘AH.’ Rumi cried out, clutching at her arm.

The wall burst open, Mira and Zoey had kicked a demon straight through.

‘Rumi!’ Y/N called out, reaching toward her, as she was carried further away. Jinu turned at the sound of Y/N’s voice, snapping him out of his violent haze.

'DON'T HURT HER.' Y/N cried out, her frustration leaking into her voice.

‘Better help your friends. They look like they need it.’ Jinu smirked, running towards the exit without a second glance.

‘Y/N!’ Rumi shouted desperately as she slashed through the demons that were still emerging from the bathhouse pools.

‘I’ve never seen the Honmoon like this before! There are tears everywhere!’ Zoey threw her knives, each finding their mark.

‘I think it’s because the Saja Boys are stealing the fans! It’s weakening the Honmoon!’ Mira grunted as she stuck her spear into the ground, allowing Rumi to swing on it to gain momentum.

The girls panted with exertion as they finally cleared out the room.

‘What are you doing here! This is the men's bathhouse!’ An elderly man grouched, shooing the girls away as they apologised profusely.

‘Hmph.’ The man sat down on his stool, going back to scrubbing his arms.

‘My little soda pop.’ The man hummed, as a water demon arose silently from the waterbucket, inhaling the mans soul.

–

Y/N groaned, as Abel finally let her down as the elevator doors opened. 

‘I think I'm carsick.’

‘I’m not a car…’ 

‘Whatever, Y/N shook her head, steadying herself. ‘Jinu you hurt Rumi!’ 

‘She literally tried to take my head off Y/N.’ Jinu rolled his eyes, crossing his arms defiantly.

‘But she didn’t.’ Y/N protested, gesturing wildly before stumbling, putting her hand on her head. 

Jinu was at her side in an instant, clutching at the arms gently.

‘Tired?’ Jinu’s tone changed from annoyance to worrisome in a flash. ‘If you want, I can whip up something quick. Or you can go to sleep now.’

‘Just a headache, I think the all-nighters are catching up with me.’ Y/N slowly sat down on the couch with Jinu’s help.

“Can we get you anything Y/N?’ Rae kneeled down next to her, checking her forehead temperature. ‘Your forehead is a little warm Do you have any medication at home?'

'It'd all probably be out of date.' Y/N shook her head, laying down on her side, face against the couch cushions as the boys fussed over her.

‘Did she eat lunch?’

‘No I don’t think so.’

‘Should we-’

‘Mm, need to shower…’ Y/N whined, burying her face further into the couch cushion. 

‘Okay, come on. Up we get.’ Abel heaved Y/N into his arms bridal style. Y/N grouched, her eyes closed as she shifted in the demon’s well built arms, smushing her face into his chest.

Jinu raised his eyebrows, watching his biggest friend turn slowly bright pink in the face.

‘Heh, look at Abel, he’s blushing.’ Beom jeered, pointing.

‘Shut up. Don’t act like you wouldn’t be the exact same way if she was doing it to you.’ Abel spat out quietly. Beom in return, held up his hands in mock surrender.

‘You slipped in before I could!’

‘You snooze, you lose.’ Abel stuck out his tongue, walking towards the bathroom, separate from her ensuite. ‘Hey, are you sure you’ll be able to stay awake while you shower?’ 

‘Can I just sleep?’ Y/N groaned, shifting into a more comfortable position in Abel’s arms.

‘You said you wanted to shower.’ Abel hummed, finding his way to Y/N’s room instead.

‘Here, lay her down and I’ll wipe her face.’ Min appeared behind, holding a wet towel, doused in warm water. 

As Abel slowly (and reluctantly) detangled Y/N’s limbs from his own, Min gently rubbed Y/N’s cheeks with the towel. Abel turned to go turn off the bedroom light so Y/N wouldn’t squint.

‘Y’know, I think-’ Suddenly Min disappeared in a puff of smoke.

‘Wot?’ Abel blinked, looking at the empty space where Min was, now replaced by the wet towel on the floor.

‘Uhh, Abel?’ Beom came into the room, looking confused. ‘Jinu 형 (hyung) and all the others just poofed.’

‘Wait, did Gwi-ma just take them back?’ Abel blinked, looking at Y/N who was now out cold in her bed.

‘I think so… their patterns were glowing.’  Beom mumbled from behind his fist, looking confused. But, we didn’t get taken. Why?’

‘Could it be?..’

Both boys turned to look at the sleeping girl, who was now drooling slightly.

‘Mm, ramen…’ Y/N mumbled, before turning over in the bed.

‘Did she-’

‘It couldn’t be..’

–

Meanwhile the boys had been pulled back, slamming into the ground as they landed.

'Saja Boys! Saja Boys!’ The demons chanted, looking at the group, waving lightsticks around.

The boys looked around, slightly irritated that they were no longer in Y/N’s apartment.

‘Wait where’s-’ Jinu began, before being interrupted by a loud shout from a demon in the crowd.

‘Look! Souls incoming!’

And they were. Streaking across the sky were blue lights, finding their place in the fire behind three of Saja Boys.

‘My little soda pop.’ The flames hummed, ‘It’s catchy.’

‘Surprisingly your little plan is working.’ Gwi-ma said, almost as a challenge.

‘I know. So lemme get back to work and you’ll be feasting in no time.’ Jinu plastered a fake smile, a charming one nonetheless.

‘Except, two of your friends. I can no longer see them. Are they dead?’

‘Yes.’ Jinu answered, thinking quickly, ‘But we’ll kill all of the hunters before they get the rest of us.’ 

Gwi-ma was wrong about them being dead, but he was right about not controlling the boys. Abel and Beom had not been dragged back to the underworld with the rest of the group. Jinu knew they weren’t dead but… How come they weren’t here? How had they escaped Gwi-ma’s control?

‘I’ve taught you well Jinu.’ The giant flame chuckled as the Saja Boys disappeared again, into a puff of pink smoke.

–

As the boys reappeared in Y/N’s apartment, the doorbell began to ring. Jinu frowned, turn around to see that the Huntr/x girls were covered in scratches, waiting to be buzzed up on the monitor.

‘Go wakeup Y/N.’ Jinu said, ‘Tell her the hunters are here. Abel and Beom, we need to talk.’ 

As the boys slinked into one of Y/N’s spare rooms. Rae knocked on Y/N’s door before opening, knowing that the girl would sleep through the knocking.

‘Y/N? The Huntr/x girls are here, they’re waiting to be buzzed in.’ He gently shook the shoulder of the sleeping girl.

‘Wha?’ Y/N rasped, turning over to face Rae.

‘Huntr/x is down stairs.’

‘Oh my gosh!’ Y/N sat up immediately, flinging her covers back and slipping her flip flip’s on. She rushed to buzz them in, before looking around her apartment.

‘Where’d the boys go? Doesn’t matter, you guys have to hide! Go in-’ Y/N opened her spare room to see the rest of the Saja Boys, already hiding in the room. 

‘Uh, we’ll be in here as you guys talk.’ Beom gave a hopeful smile. 

‘Do you guys ever go back to your own apartment?’ Y/N slapped a hand to her forehead.

‘No not really.’ Min shook his head.

‘We only got it because-’ 

‘We’ll talk later. The room is soundproofed but still be quiet!’ Y/N closed the door, just as the elevator began to beep happily.

‘Y/N!’ Rumi rushed forward checking Y/N all over, a teddy bear band aid covering her cheek.

‘Y/N you’re safe!’ Zoey rushed forward, pulling Y/N into a hug.

‘We were so worried.’ Mira sighed, walking forward, holding a bag.

‘Girls, I’m sorry. I really am the writer of their music.’

‘It’s okay. They must have forced you into it.’ Rumi shook her head, guiding Y/N to the kitchen island. ‘Come on, sit. You probably haven’t eaten all day!’

Y/N’s stomach gurgled loudly in reply.

Traitor.

‘Erm.’ Y/N rubbed her neck in embarrassment. ‘How did you guys know?’

‘You never eat if you’re working and today was…’ Zoey trailed off.

‘Y/N, are you okay?’ Mira set down the bag of kimbap before rummaging through the cupboard to find a plate.

‘Yeah, you must have been so scared.’ Rumi touched a hand to Y/N’s shoulder.

‘No, Rumi are you okay? Your arm, did you disinfect it before you bandaged it?’ Y/N hurriedly lifted Rumi’s shirt sleeve, relieved to see a bandage wrapped around it. The purple haired girl had been wearing shorter sleeves since she had told the rest of the girls about her patterns.

‘Yeah, I’m fine. I’ve had worse.’ Rumi smiled, looking content. ‘We’ve all had a lot worse.’

‘Still…’ Y/N frowned, putting her head in her hands. ‘I don’t want you guys getting hurt. I don’t want the Saja Boys to take souls either-’

‘Y/N calm down, we know you have your reasons, whatever they may be.’ Mira hushed Y/N, sliding a plate of kimbap toward her.

‘But-’

‘We trust you.’

‘But we do need to get our fans back. Have you seen the Honmoon? I’ve never seen it so bad.’ Zoey sighed, resting her head on her arms face down.

‘We could record What It Sounds Like! That’ll be-

‘No, I have a better song!’ Y/N dashed toward her gaming set up, snatching up her book. ‘It’s called Takedown!’

‘Oh?’ Rumi hummed, giving the rest of Huntr/x a knowing smile. ‘Our Y/N’s a musical genius isn’t she.’

‘No. It’s you guys, you inspire me so much!’ Y/N flipped the pages to Takedown. ‘Let me know what you think!’

The girls gathered around the notebook, scanning the lyrics.

‘Break you into pieces in a world of pain, cause you’re all the same?’ Mira muttered, flipping through the pages.

‘Wow, Y/N, if you wrote a love song for me, I think I’d fall in love with you.’ Rumi cocked her head, giving Y/N a smile that she couldn’t place.

‘Rumi, focus.’ Mira laughed, patting the purple haired girl on the shoulder. ‘You can flirt with our girl when we grind these Saja Boys into the dust.’

A thump came from inside the spare bedroom.

The huntr/x girls didn’t hear it but, Y/N swear she heard someone make a noise of protest.

‘This is exactly what we need.’ Rumi nodded in approval, flicking through the lyrics. ‘We have two weeks until the Idol Awards. We’ll release the song then! Is that enough time? I don’t want you to overwork yourself Y/N.’

‘I’ll be fine! I just have to do Takedown and What It Sounds Like.’ Y/N nodded enthusiastically. 

‘You don’t have to do both Y/N.’ Zoey fretted, as Y/N moved to go boot up her PC.

‘But if you release both, you can do it as a joint stage! You could make the Honmoon golden! Fix all the cracks!’ Y/N bounced in her seat, pulling up her digital audio station.

‘Y/N, if you overwork yourself you’ll get sick. If you think you can do it, go ahead, but make sure you’re getting enough rest.’ Rumi laid a hand on Y/N’s shoulder, her tone was akin to an owner scolding their puppy.

‘I can do it!’ Y/N pouted, looking up at Rumi.

‘Alright then.’ Rumi sighed, laughing quietly. ‘You’re so cute when you’re excited, it’s hard to say no to you.’

‘Right? I could just keep her in my pocket!’ Zoey sat down gazing at Y/N while she slid on her headphones, testing out her midi controller.

She had since forgotten the Saja Boys in her spare room, now focusing on replicating the beat in her head, using a thick bass sound to replicate the electro punk sound.

'Hey, can you guys stay so I can get a few recordings?' Y/N stared into the computer, frowning as she adjusted her mic settings for the girls.

'Yeah sure!'

'Perfect.'

The girls worked into the night, making a rough version of Takedown for Y/N to edit.

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TAG LIST IS FULL FOLLOW POST FOR UPDATES! also lmk if u wanna hear the Takedown cover!

[lakesparkles]

can you draw thangyu in anyway shape or form I don’t really like this season

😭

I'm not sure if this will make you feel better, but now that they're in hell together they have all the time possible to talk <3