#soaring-aurora

[2penguinsinatrenchcoat]

Colors dance across the sky,

Some invisible to the naked eye

A feeling of wonder and joy come to pass,

When the Northern Lights return at last

[starryknight-dragonarts]

Princess Pryde Gender: Female Background: Pryde is the adopted daughter and personal pride and joy of "The Great Northern Emperor" Jokul. Story goes that he took her off the streets as a young hatchling and raised her as his own, something which she is eternally grateful for, but many within his court wonder just what his purpose was for raising this homeless girl to such a high status. Perhaps there is something more intended for her? Personality: Pride is an apt description of her attitude, her father dotes on her and thanks to his influence she has become very good at controlling other dragons to do what she wants and use them as an extension of her power, however through her pompous attitude she is actually very grateful for every kindness given to her and makes sure to use her influence and position of power pay each kindness granted her way back in full because she knows what it's like to be without anything having been born an orphan and living on the streets where nobody cared about her. Because her father saved her from the life she had before she looks up to him very high and is committed to his dream of conquering every Dragon Kingdom and uniting them into one Great Dragon Empire, that'll be her gift to her father in return for saving her...this has also lead her to overlook some of her father's decisions and tactics that have hurt a lot of the people he's conquering...in her mind it'll all be worth it eventually. She's also followed her Father's doctrine that the Southern Empire is inherently Bad and needs to be conquered to set things right.  Strengths: Loyal, Grateful, Generous Weaknesses: Condescending, Controlling, Dismissive of her Father's Faults Powers: Ice, Ice Crystal Magic (All crystals have some sort of Magic as a result of the magic inherit in nature passing through their crystalline structure, Ice and snow are also a crystal but very few dragons can actually use it for its power. For most Crystal dragon a single flake of snow is too small and delicate to channel magic through and would simply melt if they touched it, and most Ice dragons can create Ice and Snow but can't tap into that crystal magic. Pryde however seems to have a unique gift that allows her to use magic like a Crystal dragon but only with Ice Crystals. Ice Magic imposes a Slowness effect  Stats Elemental Energy: 5/10 Her power is about average  Elemental Control: 6/10 She is about average in terms of using her elemental powers like other Ice Dragons but she has a unique power all her own that no other Ice Dragon is capable of. Intelligence: 6/10 She is not exceptionally studious but she has been given a high tier education and has been trained in courtly politics. Combat Ability: 5/10 She has had limited combat training, she knows how to fight but is not expected to as the Princess, her training has mostly been for ceremonial use. Potential to Grow: For Pryde to grow she needs to step out of the shadow of her father, she may still love him but his conquests and ambitions are not so black and white.

[emjayewrites]

Private Landing (Lewis Hamilton) (Epilogue)

SUMMARY: In the high-speed world of Formula One, Lewis Hamilton subtly introduces a mysterious partner via Instagram after a slight mishap during an interview. Sparking media intrigue, everyone wants to know: who is the enigmatic figure that calls herself Mrs. Hamilton?

INSPO: this post

PAIRINGS: Sir Lewis Hamilton x Aurora "Rorie" Phillips-Hamilton (faceclaim is Justine Skye)

WARNINGS: drama, angst, sexual content, formula one b.s., pre-established relationship (with flashbacks). RATED M (18+)

TAGLIST: @a-moment-captured, @boujiestpoet, @avngrsfangirl, @cocobutterqwueen @yeea-nah @alika-4466 @scorpiobleue @certifiedlesbianbaddie @motheroffae @perfecttrashface @saturnville @weetjy @lewlewlemon44 @cranberryjulce @chaoticcoffeequeen @periodjosh @melanin-queen369 @niahxo @purplelewlew @f1-football-fiend @imjustheretomanifest @gg-trini @kinggbl @iamryanl @mitruscity @nichmeddar @xoscar03 @eugene-emt-roe @cherry2stems @louvrepool @actuallyazriel @tremendousstarlighttragedy @ggaslyp1 @lewisroscoelove

A/N: The epilogue....

EPILOGUE: 44 Forever

17 years later...

Through the paddock of the 2042 Singapore Grand Prix, Lewis Hamilton moved with the same grace he'd had during his racing days, though now his shoulder-length locs showed distinguished gray at the temples. At 57, the eleventh-time world champion was still fit and still turned heads, but his name wasn't on everyone's lips these days, at least not this Hamilton.

The sport had transformed in ways that made his heart swell with pride. Susie Wolff's sixth year as F1 President had seen viewership numbers soar even higher, while Iman Al-Rashid's leadership as FIA CEO had revolutionized the technical regulations. The paddock was unrecognizable from his early days - team principals, engineers, and executives reflecting the true diversity of the sport's global audience.

His consulting work with F1's marketing department kept him loosely connected to the sport, but Lewis had found greater joy in being present for his family. Watching Rorie's music career soar - six Grammys adorning their home studio, her three independent albums changing the industry's landscape - had been as thrilling as any race win. Together, they'd built an empire: their record label nurturing new talent, their production company telling untold stories, their charity work opening doors, their consulting agency reshaping corporate cultures.

Rorie appeared beside him, her chin-length bob framing her face perfectly as she slipped her hand into his. Even after all these years, she still took his breath away. They'd created a life beyond their wildest dreams, but today wasn't about them.

Today was about the newest Hamilton making their mark in Formula 1. Despite all his hopes for different career choices, despite knowing the pressure of legacy, he couldn't help but beam with pride. Sometimes the racing line was just in the blood.

Through the McLaren garage, a familiar pre-race ritual played out. "Don't forget to spit out the gum," Lewis called out, trying to keep his voice neutral despite the nerves he still felt watching his child prepare to race.

"We don't want another Monaco incident," Andrea Thûy, McLaren's Team Principal, joked. She'd been instrumental in bringing their driver to the team, recognizing raw talent when she saw it.

Larke Atlas Hamilton rolled those distinctive hazel eyes - still so striking against her brown skin - before removing her gum. At seventeen years and 98 days, she'd already shattered Max Verstappen's record as the youngest F1 debut. Currently sitting P3 in the World Driver’s Championship, just 10 points behind Ferrari's Angelo Pilotti and 50 points off Mercedes' Kenzo Craigie, she was proving that talent didn't care about gender.

The only woman on the grid, but that was changing too - three female drivers were making waves in F2, inspired by her breakthrough season. Seven consecutive podiums had silenced any remaining doubters. Those hazel eyes held the same steel Lewis had once brought to every race.

"Ready to smoke these boys again?" Rorie asked, adjusting Larke's race suit collar in that same way she used to do for Lewis.

"Please," Larke scoffed, fixing her nose piercing before pulling on her balaclava. "They're still trying to figure out how I took that corner in Japan. Wait till they see what I've got planned for Singapore."

It started with a rainy day on a track near their home in Monaco when Larke was six. What began as a casual karting session turned into something else entirely when she took a racing line through a corner that made both Lewis and Nico, who were watching, stand up straight. By eight, she was competing seriously, Uncle Jenson helping fine-tune her wet weather racing while her father and Uncle Nico argued good-naturedly about setup preferences. The podiums started stacking up, and by thirteen, she was breaking records in junior categories.

Her ascent through the ranks was meteoric - F3 at fifteen, F2 at sixteen, and now, in her rookie F1 season, she was making history. Still waiting on her regular driver's license ("The irony," she'd joke), but already proving herself against drivers twice her age. The paddock whispered about her natural ability, but it was her technical understanding that set her apart - hours spent with her father and uncles studying racing theory, perfecting every aspect of her craft.

"Time to suit up," Lyric's voice carried across the garage. At twenty, he was already making waves as one of McLaren's most promising engineering interns, his talent for understanding car dynamics matching his sister's ability to exploit them. Their unique bond - driver and engineer, sister and brother - had become paddock legend. Some said Lyric could have been just as successful behind the wheel, but he'd found his calling in the technical side of the sport.

Their elaborate handshake, developed over years of shared racing dreams, played out automatically. "Show them how it's done, baby sis," Lyric grinned.

Larke hugged her mother, then her father, those hazel eyes now focused entirely on the race ahead. "Love you both," she said softly as she settled in the car’s cockpit.

"Go get 'em, Princess," Lewis whispered, using the nickname that had stuck even after all these years. "See you after, big man," Lewis kissed Lyric's cheek before leading Rorie toward the paddock club.

Their family section was already filling up - Athena with her motorsport media credentials still around her neck, Azariah and Aaron with their families, and Aaliyah snuggled against Franco, her two-time world champion husband now retired but still as passionate about the sport as ever. Their children, along with various cousins, were already analyzing sector times on their tablets.

Marian and Greg, still sprite despite being in their seventies, had prime viewing spots - Marian wouldn't have it any other way when watching her granddaughter race. Back in Stevenage, Lewis knew his father Anthony, his mum Carmen, and stepmum Linda were gathering with Nicolas, Nicola, and Sam for their traditional race watch party.

"She's got this," Franco noted, his expert eye catching something in Larke's warm-up lap. "That line through turn 7 - pure Hamilton."

Lewis smiled, watching number 44 glide through the Singapore streets. His daughter had taken his old number and made it entirely her own, breaking his records one by one. She was hungrier than he'd ever been, if that was possible, with a natural talent that left even veteran paddock members speechless.

But more than the records, more than the history-making moments, she carried herself with a grace that made him proudest. Every victory dedicated to increasing diversity in motorsport, every interview focused on inspiring the next generation of female drivers. She wasn't just racing - she was revolutionizing the sport, just like her father had before her.

"Welcome back to the Singapore Grand Prix," James Martinez's voice carried through the paddock club speakers. "And what a stunning display we're seeing from the youngest Hamilton."

"She's definitely got her father's feel for these street circuits," Valerie Chen added, the excitement clear in her voice. "The way she's managing those tires while keeping pace with Pilotti and Craigie is remarkable."

In the family section, they watched as Larke navigated the Marina Bay circuit with a precision that had Lewis gripping Rorie's hand tightly. Franco was practically doing commentary of his own, explaining to the younger cousins how she was setting up each overtake.

"Look at that gap management," Aaliyah squeezed her husband's arm. "Just like you taught her."

With fifteen laps to go, Larke made her move on Pilotti's Ferrari - a breathtaking pass through Turn 7 that had everyone on their feet.

"AND HAMILTON TAKES SECOND!" Martinez shouted. "What a move from the seventeen-year-old!"

Five laps later, she was hunting down Craigie's Mercedes. Lewis could barely breathe, watching his daughter close the gap millisecond by millisecond.

"Holy shit," Aaron whispered as Larke set up what looked impossible. "She's not going to—"

But she did. Through the final sector, number 44 slipped past Craigie's defense like it wasn't even there.

"LARKE HAMILTON TAKES THE LEAD!" Chen's voice broke with excitement. "The youngest Hamilton showing us exactly why she belongs here!"

The paddock club erupted as she crossed the finish line. Marian was crying, Greg was hugging everyone he could reach, and Lewis... Lewis couldn't take his eyes off the screens as his daughter's voice filled the air:

"I DID IT DADDY! I LOVE YOU SO MUCH! LET'S GO MCLAREN!"

_____________________________________________

God Save The King echoed through Marina Bay as Larke stood atop the podium, tears streaming down her face as she held the Singapore trophy - the same race her father had won multiple times before her. In parc fermé, Lewis couldn't hold back his own tears, watching his baby girl living out her dreams.

"That's our baby," Rorie sobbed into his chest, gripping his hand tight. Around them, their family was equally emotional - Aaliyah filming everything while crying, Franco shouting encouragement in Spanish, Azariah and Aaron both pretending they weren't wiping tears.

When Larke spotted them through the fence, her smile grew even bigger. She pointed to the sky - that familiar Hamilton gesture - before pointing directly at her father. The cameras caught the moment, split-screening it with footage of Lewis doing the same gesture years ago on this very podium.

"She did that move you taught her in Monaco last month," Franco noted, his voice thick with emotion. "That pass on Kenzo?"

"Nah," Lewis shook his head, unable to stop smiling through his tears. "That was all Larke. That's her own magic now."

The podium ceremony ended with Larke spraying champagne over Angelo and Kenzo with the same enthusiasm she'd had in her karting days. As she made her way down to her family, trophy clutched tight, Lewis felt his heart might burst with pride.

His daughter hadn't just followed in his footsteps - she was creating her own path, blazing her own trails, breaking barriers he never could. And she was only just getting started.

____________________________________________________

The McLaren garage was still buzzing with chants of "Larke the Shark!" - a nickname she'd earned for her ruthless hunting and overtaking opportunities. The champagne was starting to dry sticky in her hair, and her race suit clung uncomfortably to her skin.

"I have to wash this out," she called to her celebrating team, making her way to her driver's room. Collapsing onto the couch, Larke let out a deep breath, still processing the reality of her victory. The trophy sitting on her coffee table caught the light - her first Singapore win.

"Incoming call from Abel Brynn," her AI assistant announced. "Would you like me to answer?"

"Yes," she replied immediately, unable to stop her smile as her boyfriend's holographic image appeared.

"YOU WON!!" Abel's excited yell filled the room, his dark brown eyes dancing with joy. At six-foot-two, he barely fit in the hologram frame, but his megawatt smile made up for it.

"Oh my goodness, you're so annoying," she laughed, but her heart fluttered at his enthusiasm. Even through the hologram, his beauty was striking - rich mahogany skin, close-cropped curls, and those dimples that had first caught her attention at a London fashion event.

"Love you too, champion."

At eighteen, Abel was making his own waves as Arsenal's newest striker, his South African-British heritage making him a fan favorite both in London and Cape Town. But what Larke loved most was his goofy smile and the way he treated her success as if it were his own. Private, supportive, and completely understanding of the pressure that came with their respective careers.

"I have to shower," she said reluctantly. "I'm basically marinating in champagne right now."

"So..." Abel started, and she knew what was coming. "When can I meet your parents? I've met Lyric and his girl Laura, why not them?"

"You know how my father gets—"

"But I love you, Larke." The sincerity in his voice made her melt every time.

"Say that again."

"I love you, Larke Atlas," he repeated, those dimples appearing again.

"Okay," she conceded with a huff that held no heat. "I'll text you about dinner with them."

"Yes!" he cheered and she let out a chuckle.

"You won’t be cheering when he threatens to kill you."

"He’s gonna love me. Trust on that," was Abel’s overly optimistic response.

After their goodbyes and a quick shower, she rejoined her family, accepting hugs and congratulations from everyone. Her Aunt Aaliyah was already planning a celebration dinner, while Uncle Franco was breaking down her overtaking moves for the younger cousins.

As they left the paddock, her father's arm around her shoulders felt both comforting and slightly guilt-inducing. She knew she'd have to tell him about Abel - about the sweet footballer who brought her tea during late practice sessions on the simulator and learned everything about F1 just to understand her world better.

"I love you, Daddy."

"I love you more, Princess."

Larke snuggled closer, knowing the Abel conversation would be challenging. Her father still saw her as his little girl, but she was building her own life now - breaking records on track and finding love off it. But looking up at her father's proud smile, she knew that just like everything else in her life, it would work out. After all, she was a Hamilton - facing challenges head-on was in her DNA.

From his spot in the McLaren engineering bay, Lyric was still running on the high of his sister's victory when Laura's hologram appeared. Her blonde hair was messy in that artistic way he loved, probably from falling asleep while studying again.

"Your sister is incredible!" Laura exclaimed, her Swedish apartment visible behind her. "That move on Kenzo? Pure genius!"

"Right?" Lyric grinned, adjusting his headset. "The setup changes we made last night really paid off."

It was strange sometimes, how their childhood had come full circle. From racing toy cars together to now - him working on his sister's F1 car while Laura pursued her passion for art in Stockholm. Eighteen years of friendship had bloomed into something more just last year, though they'd probably been heading there since they were kids.

"I miss you," Laura said softly. "Holograms aren't the same."

"Two more weeks," he reminded her. "Then I'm all yours for the semester break." He'd already planned his trip to Sweden, though juggling his engineering studies in Paris with the McLaren internship and their long-distance relationship was challenging.

"Remember when we thought the hardest thing in life was beating each other in karting?" she laughed.

"Now look at us - you're becoming an art expert while I'm trying to make my little sister's car faster than everyone else's."

"Speaking of sisters," Laura's eyes twinkled. "Has Larke told your parents about Abel yet?"

Lyric groaned. "Don't even start. Dad's going to have a meltdown when he finds out his precious princess has a boyfriend."

"Remember how your dad reacted when we started dating?" Laura grinned. "And he's known me since I was in diapers."

"Yeah, but that was different," Lyric adjusted some data readings on his tablet. "You're Kevin's daughter, practically family already. Abel's... well, he's a footballer."

"A very good footballer," Laura pointed out. "And he's good to Larke. You said so yourself."

"True," Lyric admitted. "But Dad's... Dad. He still thinks Larke's that little girl in the kangaroo pouch."

The hologram flickered as Laura moved around her apartment, settling onto her bed with her sketchbook. They'd fallen into this routine - her drawing while they talked, him tinkering with engineering data. Different worlds but somehow perfectly aligned.

"How's the thesis going?" he asked, watching her charcoal-stained fingers work across the page.

"Almost done with the research phase. Swedish modernism is fascinating, but I miss our garage sessions. Remember how we used to spread my art supplies all over your dad's workshop?"

"And you'd draw the cars while I tried to explain aerodynamics," Lyric smiled at the memory. "Who knew we'd end up here?"

"I did," Laura looked up from her sketch. "Always knew we'd figure it out eventually. Just like Larke will figure out how to tell your parents about Abel."

"Yeah, well, maybe she should wait until after she wins the championship. Dad might be too happy to freak out then."

"Lyric," Rorie's voice called as she entered the engineering bay. "Time for- oh, hi Laura!"

"Hi Auntie Rorie!" Laura beamed through the hologram. "Congrats on Larke's win!"

"Thank you, sweetheart. How's Stockholm treating you?"

"Cold," Laura laughed. "But beautiful. Tell Uncle Lewis I'm using his racing lines as inspiration for my latest art installation."

"Of course you are," Rorie smiled fondly. "Lyric, dinner reservations in twenty. The whole family's waiting."

"Okay, Mama," Lyric nodded, then turned back to Laura. "Call you after?"

"Obviously. Go celebrate your sister's victory." Laura's eyes softened the way they always did when she looked at him. "Jeg elsker dig."

"Jeg elsker også dig," Lyric replied, their private goodbye in Danish, a language he'd learned during summers in Copenhagen with Kevin and Louise.

As the hologram faded, Rorie gave her son a knowing look. "You two are adorable, you know that?"

"Mama," Lyric groaned, but he was smiling. Twenty years old and his mother could still make him blush about his childhood friend turned girlfriend.

"Come on, engineer extraordinaire," Rorie linked her arm through his. "Let's go celebrate your sister before she has to tell your father about her own romance."

"You know about Abel?"

"Please," Rorie laughed. "I'm her mother. I know everything."

At forty-eight, Rorie Hamilton had mastered the art of balancing it all - though these days, "it all" looked different. The house felt quieter with Lyric in Paris and Larke constantly traveling for races, but she cherished how their family had evolved. Her babies were pursuing their dreams, just as she and Lewis had.

Martin had faded from her life completely after that tumultuous period, but what she'd gained in return was immeasurable. Athena, Azariah, and Aaron had become the siblings she never knew she needed. Their children were close, their bonds strong, their Sunday family dinners a testament to how love could grow from complicated beginnings.

Losing Roscoe just before Larke's second birthday had been devastating, but his legacy lived on through Brutus and Maximus - his puppies who were now elderly themselves, lounging in sunspots around their Monaco home. The dogs had been there through everything: Lyric's first karting victory, Larke's debut race, and countless family milestones.

At this stage of life, Rorie found joy in the quiet moments with Lewis. Her husband, now silver strands mixed with his locs, still looked at her the same way he had twenty-two years ago. They'd travel to races together, supporting Larke while also sneaking in date nights in exotic locations. When they weren't cheering on their children, they were building their empire, nurturing young talent through their various ventures, or simply enjoying each other's company on their deck overlooking the Mediterranean.

The celebration dinner in Singapore was exactly what their family did best - loud, loving, and full of laughter. The private room at Marina Bay Sands buzzed with excitement as everyone relived Larke's incredible victory. Franco was still breaking down her overtaking moves, while Aaliyah recorded everything for the family archive.

But Rorie noticed her daughter's tells - the way she bit her cheek, how her fingers kept fidgeting with her water glass. Mother's intuition had already told her about Abel weeks ago, but she'd waited, knowing Larke needed to handle this in her own time.

"Actually," Larke's voice cut through the chatter, "I have something to tell everyone." She glanced nervously at Lewis. "Especially you, Daddy."

Lewis lowered his chopsticks, and Rorie squeezed his knee under the table.

"I... I have a boyfriend." Larke rushed on before anyone could speak. "His name is Abel, he plays for Arsenal, and he's really wonderful and supportive and-"

"The striker?" Franco interrupted, earning an elbow from Aaliyah.

"Yes," Larke confirmed. "We've been dating for a few months."

Lewis was quiet for a moment, and Rorie could feel their daughter holding her breath. Then: "Well, I suppose we should meet him then."

"Really?" Larke's eyes lit up.

"Of course. Need to make sure he understands that if he hurts you, I know people in every country with an F1 race."

"Lewis!" Rorie chided, but she was smiling. Their daughter's relief was palpable.

"What? I'm just saying," Lewis shrugged, but his eyes were twinkling. "Nobody messes with my princess."

Franco couldn't help interjecting again. "Kid's got a good left foot though. Scored a hat trick last week."

"Not helping, babe," Aaliyah laughed, while Lyric just rolled his eyes, already familiar with his sister's boyfriend.

"He wants to come to Abu Dhabi," Larke ventured, encouraged by her father's relatively calm reaction. "For the final race."

"Perfect," Lewis nodded. "That gives me plenty of time to run a thorough background check."

"Dad!"

"I'm kidding," he grinned. "Mostly."

Looking around the table - her family expanded beyond anything she could have imagined twenty years ago - Rorie felt overwhelming gratitude. Her children were forging their own paths, their extended family was thriving, and her marriage was stronger than ever.

Larke was explaining something about Abel's charity work to Lewis, who was clearly trying not to look too impressed. Lyric was speaking to his grandparents. Her brothers and sisters were already planning the Abu Dhabi family gathering. This was their legacy - not just the racing victories or broken records, but the love that had multiplied through generations.

The Hamilton name had evolved from being synonymous with racing excellence to representing something bigger: breaking barriers, challenging norms, and above all, the power of family. As Rorie watched her daughter - the youngest grand prix winner in history, a barrier-breaker like her father - she knew this was just the beginning of their next chapter.

The future was bright, filled with more races to win and more love to share.

And timing? Well, it was still perfect.

THE END

[hanafubukki]

Waking up before your husband was always a treat.

This time only between you two and no one else.

He was known for his golden locks. Charming and bright against the silver of his armor.

What you thought most beautiful of all?

The smile from one recently waken from slumber. Eyes a soft blue bright in a pool of pink, speaking of how relaxed he was of this moment.

He stares at you as if you adorned the sun in the bright sky.

How you wish that was so. If then, could you give him the freedom he so rightly deserves. Let him spread his wings far and wide to soar the sky.

“May I touch you?”

“You needn’t ask.“

But you did ask. You always will.

He was somone chained to duty and crown. Someone whose wings clipped.

You would always ask him. Give him this freedom of choice.

He knew. He would take your hand every time. Calloused from training but treating yours as fine jewels. Placing it over his heart.

Yours. Yours. Yours.

While his body might not belong to him, his soul will always belong to you.

“My light, what are you thinking of?”

You lean into the hand that cups your cheek before taking it in yours, lips grazing across scars and hardened skin.

“How much I adore you.”

A shuddering breath.

Hands pulling you close.

Kisses filled with smiles exchanged.

Was feeling soft for The Knight of Dawn and decided to finish this fic that I started months ago. ☺️💞💞 I’m quite happy how it turned out 🫶🫶 even though that middle section came and hit me out of nowhere lol.

This was inspired by this art piece of the Knight of Dawn from months ago. (Careful, it’s nsfwish; he’s naked waist up but he’s so beautiful 🥰🥰)

Story Notes: the reason why I said Dawn’s eyes are “bright blue in a pool of pink” is not only because he has aurora colored eyes like Silver, but also because when Silver is determined or fierce, you can see his eyes become more pink highlighted. So the soft blue eyes is a tell to show how relaxed and comforted Dawn is. 💚💕

[bad-omens-blog]

The Assistant - CHAPTER 2

Warnings: Noah is a dom, unknowingly to Aurora. A shorter than want I wanted but here it is!

Caden stood on the edge of the crowded venue, captivated as Noah's voice soared, delivering the lively upbeat notes of "IDWT$." The lead singer, a whirlwind of energy, was drenched in sweat, each glistening droplet enhancing the intricate tapestry of tattoos sprawled across his muscular arms and chest. To most, Noah was nothing short of a god among men, an idol in the crowd's adoration. Aurora, Caden's girlfriend, was undeniably entranced, her wide eyes sparkling with admiration, reveling in the presence of the rockstar. She sang along as she swayed to the beat.

Yet, beneath the surface of the pulsating music and electrifying atmosphere, Caden felt a surge of annoyance. He couldn't shake the feeling that Noah’s gaze, warm and inviting like the richest chocolate, lingered a moment too long on Aurora as she turned to walk away. It was as if she were a forbidden fruit that ignited an unmistakable hunger in Noah's eyes—a craving that sent a pang of unease deep within Caden's chest.

He recognized that Aurora was an indispensable asset to Bad Omens, seamlessly attending to their every need and desire. Whether it was ensuring that Jolly’s shirt was perfectly pressed and ready for the next performance or soothing Ruffilo’s sore throat after he’d bravely lent his voice in a chorus of backup roars for Noah, Aurora was always there, expertly managing the various quirks and demands of their chaotic lives.

Caden couldn't shake the pang of jealousy that gnawed at him as he watched her invest every ounce of her focus into Bad Omens. It was as if the world around her faded away, leaving only the pulsating rhythm of the band's music and the allure of their fame. He grudgingly acknowledged the reality: they compensated her handsomely, and he felt a bitter sting each time he remembered that fleeting moment when he had extended an opportunity for her to join him instead. The thought lingered, a haunting reminder of how effortlessly she flourished in a world that had long since eclipsed his own.

“Ugh, Noah looks like he’s about to collapse in this sweltering heat.” He observed with a touch of concern as his girl dashed toward the cooler, her movements quick and purposeful, to fetch ice-cold water and a soft towel for the other man. 

“You know he can get that himself, right?” Caden asked, raising an eyebrow in playful disbelief. 

Aurora smiled, a glint of understanding in her eyes. “True, but he doesn’t have the time. Between songs, there’s only a moment to catch his breath and prepare for the next song. It’s just easier for me to dash over, grab it, and hand it all to him. It keeps the rhythm flowing and lets him focus on the performance.”

Caden's eyes widened in surprise as Noah sprinted over, his excitement evident as he eagerly gulped down the cool water. The sunlight glinted off his tousled hair, and she swiftly used a towel to dry him off, paying extra attention to the damp strands and the nape of his neck. 

With a playful glint in her eyes, she lifted each of his arms, spraying a generous burst of deodorant into the air between them. 

“Are you implying that I smell?” Noah chuckled, amusement dancing in his voice. 

“You will if you keep this up,” she replied with a knowing nod, a teasing smile breaking across her face. “Here, have another drink.”

A surge of rage welled up in Caden’s chest as he watched Noah grip the back of Aurora’s ponytail, halting her escape with a gentle, yet firm tug. She turned to face him, her eyes wide with surprise but quickly shifting back to indifference. “You need to drink some water too, princess,” Noah insisted, his tone casual, as if he were simply advising her during a sunny picnic rather than holding her captive in that moment. 

Aurora shrugged nonchalantly, her face betraying no sign of distress as she calmly informed him that she had already polished off three bottles of water. A satisfied smile crept onto Noah’s lips, a glimmer of mischief dancing in his eyes. “Good,” he replied with a playful lilt. “Keep it up, and I’ll even buy you dessert.” The promise hung in the air, light and teasing, while tension still crackled around them.

“Lava cake?” she inquired, her tone playful and naive, glancing up at him with wide, curious eyes reminiscent of a child begging her parents for a new toy. 

“Whatever you want,” Noah replied, flicking his wrist nonchalantly to cast aside the damp towel as he strode back onto the stage. His demeanor was unruffled, as if the moment had been just another fleeting distraction.

“What the hell was that?” Caden snapped, his voice sharp and incredulous, causing Aurora to turn towards him with a mixture of confusion and surprise etched across her features. “Don’t pull that crap with me. He just grabbed you like that!”

Aurora’s expression shifted, a hint of uncertainty creeping in. “Oh, right. It’s just... it’s hard to hear him call my name, so he started doing that instead. It doesn’t hurt,” she reassured, attempting to dismiss the tension in his voice.

“He shouldn’t be putting his hands on you at all. He’s your boss,” Caden insisted, his voice firm with concern.

Aurora paused, glancing up at him with a mix of defiance and vulnerability. “He’s also my friend—my best friend, if I had one,” she replied, her fingers deftly sorting through Noah and Foilo’s belongings, arranging them neatly in their vibrant backpacks. The lively notes of “Dethrowned” began to fill the air, a signal that the night was drawing to a close with its final song. 

Caden’s brow furrowed slightly as he stepped closer, a hint of hurt in his eyes. “I thought I was your best friend,” he said, his voice dropping.

Aurora sighed. “You’re my boyfriend, that’s different. Look, the guys invited you to dinner with us. Will you please come along?”

“Why? So I can watch Noah eye-fuck you all night?”

“Whoa! What’s going on here?” Matt exclaimed, emerging from behind a cluster of speakers that hummed with the remnants of music. His curious gaze darted between Aurora and Caden, noting the tension that crackled in the air like static. "Something's happening, right, Rory?”

Aurora shot a glance at Caden, her eyes narrowing. “Will you please tell him that Noah yanking me by the hair doesn’t mean anything?”

Matt’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, then a mischievous grin spread across his face. “It’s all good, man. Nick pulls her by the back of her shirt, and I just toss paper balls at her from across the room. She gets lost in her thoughts and barely registers any of it.” Matt slapped Caden on the back, “Chill out, man. She’s our baby around here. Nothing bad is happening to her.”

********

Noah let out a deep groan as he peeled off his damp, clammy clothes, the fabric clinging uncomfortably to his skin. The humid air was thick around him, and he welcomed the coolness of the wet washcloth as he wiped down his face and neck. Matt, on the other hand, was animatedly gesturing beside him, his words rushing out in a torrent. “Dude, you really need to chill with Aurora.”

Confusion furrowed Noah’s brow as he replied, “What are you talking about?” He swiped the cloth across his forehead, trying to focus on his friend’s frantic energy.

“Caden is freaking out about the hair thing,” Matt exclaimed, his eyes wide with urgency. “I totally lied through my teeth, claiming we all do some weird stuff to her.”

Noah let out a derisive laugh, shaking his head. “He’s not going to last long enough for that kind of panic,” he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

Matt ran a hand through his hair, frustration etched on his face. “Are you really going to push him away like that? Don’t you realize how much it’s going to damage Rory?” he replied, his voice filled with concern.

"And I'll be there to pick up the pieces when it all falls apart. The guy’s a complete tool, Matt. He might have that charming smile and all that superficial charm, but he’s far from what she truly needs. Do you have any idea how many times I've heard her playing with herself—"

“NO! Just shut up!” Matt snapped, his voice a harsh, jagged edge cutting through the air. “Look, none of us like him, but Aurora does. So either face your feelings and be honest about them or just leave it alone!”

Noah rolled his eyes dramatically, a hint of mischief in his voice. “I’ll be an angel tonight, okay? You can count on it.”

Matt let out a weary sigh, running a hand through his messy hair. “Thank God for small favors,” he replied, relief evident in his tone.

Noah leaned against the wall, arms crossed, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. “He doesn’t like me either, you know. Our interests are like oil and water—totally incompatible.”

Matt shook his head, exasperated. “Just shut up already. You’re making it worse.”

“You know she does it too, right?” Noah asked, his voice shifting to a more serious note. His warm brown eyes momentarily darkened, revealing a depth of understanding. “She doesn’t mean to, but a part of her thrives on it when I engage in those behaviors. A submissive always recognizes a dominant.” He relished the moments when she sought him out during her anxious spells, their breathing exercises transforming into a shared ritual that brought them closer. She always made it a point to reach out, letting him know her whereabouts. Or when her head got too chaotic to speak correctly, he pieced the words together for her.

Matt knocked his fist against his head. "We all do, but not tonight."

*****

Noah nestled in the back of the van, his gaze flickering between Aurora and Caden's vibrant chatter as they animatedly discussed their plans for the following day. Caden, his fingers deftly navigating his phone, leaned closer to Aurora, excitement sparkling in his eyes as he declared, “We’ll go to the car show, then grab lunch at that amazing sushi place.”

From the row in front, Nick turned around, a hint of concern etched on his face. “Aurora, didn’t you stop eating seafood?” he asked, his voice carrying a note of urgency. “It makes you feel weird, right? Like that prickly sensation? Remember when we had that shrimp fried rice?”

Aurora glanced down, momentarily distracted, before lifting her gaze with a reassuring smile. “I can always opt for the chicken fried rice instead.”

Noah interjected, slight annoyance creeping into his tone as he shook his head slightly. “But they don’t clean the grills between each order,” he reminded her earnestly. “You could still end up having a reaction.”

“If she starts feeling worse, I can take her to an urgent care,” Caden said in a hushed tone, his eyes darting with concern. He leaned in closer, lowering his voice even further, “Why didn’t you tell me you had a reaction?”

“It wasn’t anything serious, just some strange sensations,” came the reply, downplaying the discomfort. “Anyway, what kind of cars will be at the show?”

“Maybe an aquarium would be a better idea,” Noah found himself blurting out, the thought slipping from his lips before he could catch it. As soon as he said it, Matt sharply pinched Noah's arm, a reprimand, yet he chose to ignore the sting.

“Who would want to sit around watching fish swim?” Caden retorted, skepticism lacing his words.

Your girlfriend, a lively enthusiast of the animal kingdom, never misses an opportunity to share fascinating animal facts, often springing them on you at the most unexpected moments. Her childhood dream of becoming a game warden shaped her vibrant passion for wildlife and conservation. As she animatedly shares her latest nugget of information, you can see the spark in her eyes, reflecting her deep-seated love for nature. Who also didn't like the heat and was prone to fainting. . .

Noah's jaw tightened, a silent struggle visible on his face as he fought to keep his emotions in check. He was caught between admiration for her fervor and the weight of his own unspoken feelings.

“Zoo’s open too,” Jolly remarked casually, glancing down at his phone, a hint of excitement in his voice. “What’s your favorite animal again?”

“A zebra,” Caden replied, his voice steady,

With a bright spark in her eyes, Aurora leaned forward, her excitement bubbling over, “Otters!” she exclaimed, the joy in her voice as playful as the creatures she adored. 

Noah, sitting back with a carefully composed expression, bit his tongue, fighting the urge to reveal the secret that everyone in the band seemed to know—Aurora’s fondness for the charming aquatic mammals. He couldn’t help but wonder, Does this guy really know anything about her? 

Caden furrowed his brow, a perplexed expression crossing his face. “When did you stop liking zebras?” he asked, his voice tinged with confusion.

“She never did,” Noah replied calmly, his eyes locking with Caden’s in an attempt to hold his gaze. The tension in the air was palpable as Caden shot a heated glare back at him. “She likes birds too,” Noah added, a hint of amusement dancing in his tone, as if trying to diffuse the situation with a gentle reminder of her affection for all things lively and colorful.

"I'm going to tape your mouth shut." Matt hissed.

"Not my fault he's a fucking idiot," Noah muttered.

@ami--gami @flowery-mess @kenjipepsi1 @renegadebirch @thenmaybehellaintsobadafterall @rumoured-whispers

@looney-goose @pipidol @hedonist-k1l

[forlorn-crows]

On the topic of new ghouls, I have a little bit of a 'hear me out' for the new ghoulette's name so . . . hear me out:

Nike

As in winged victory, Nike. No not the shoe company. Yes, this one:

Nike in mythology was the winged goddess of victory, daughter of Pallas and Styx (the infernal River Styx, if you will). Not only does she represent victory and triumph in war, but in all things---a "mediator of success between gods and men" [x].

─ ⊹ ─ ⊹ ⊱꒰☆꒱⊰ ⊹ ─ ⊹ ⊱꒰☆꒱⊰ ⊹ ─ ⊹ ⊱꒰☆꒱⊰ ⊹ ─ ⊹ ⊱꒰☆꒱⊰ ⊹ ─ ⊹ ─

If you've seen any clips of (who we presume to be) the unmasked ghoulette, you've seen that she's a powerhouse of a vocalist, very strong in her technique. Nike is often depicted in flight, or preparing to, which lends itself to the element (or one of the elements) attributed to her as a vocalist in the context of Ghost, which is air. Melodies and harmonies soaring above. She's also, from what I can tell, the other ghoulette opposite Aurora with the big skeleton bat wings.

In a way, the choosing of ghouls is always a competition, but a friendly, peaceful one, which Nike heralds. Cumulus, her predecessor, most likely would not see her as a threat, but a worthy opponent. If it's true that this ghoulette is replacing her, we'll all have our own headcanons as to why Lus chose not to tour. But to be able to summon and/or mentor someone as skilled and dedicated as she, is a victory for her as well.

The goddess Nike is often depicted as carrying a palm branch or laurel wreath, symbolically bringing and carrying victory to others [x].

With the beginning of a brand new era, she brings with her that symbol of triumph and prosperity, even when the rest of the band is widely succesful before her. But it is the first appearance of Papa V, Perpetua, so maybe this ghoulette brings just that extra shred of confidence and luck along with the rest.

Cumulus: She's a strong one. I think she should have a name to match.

Some further discussion under the cut:

I know there have been some names tossed around here and there, Tempest and Nimbus being two I've seen a lot. And I'm still a proponent of waiting until we know and have seen more about her. How she acts, interacts. What her presence as a whole is like. Not that name determines these factors, but it is how we as a fandom have (mostly) been operating all these years.

I'd love to have a more open conversation than the last time new ghouls were introduced. Yes, it came as a shock to lose Sunshine and Aether (him especially so, since we had more of an understanding of the unmasked Sunshine's plans prior to the Re-Imperatour), so there was some scrambling there. But the Skeletour is still about a month away, with the release of Skeleta even further than that. Some people want to talk about it now, some people don't, and I understand both. I'm just throwing something out there, as I haven't felt super strongly about any particular name until I thought about this one!

Definitely let me and others know what you think x

[justbelievinginmagic]

MIRAGE - part 1: paradigm shift.

pairing(s): ot8 ateez x reader, focus on hongjoong x reader & wooyoung x reader series summary: Your life aboard the airship, the Illusion, with the Ateez Crew wasn't any fantasy. As rebels against the Android Guardians, as no-good pirates to society, life was full of running, lying, and fighting. It wasn't the dream life you had imagined when you had met the charming young Kim Hongjoong in the port of Aurora years ago. When an enemy unexplainably caught up to the airship, you made a choice that shattered the universe, sending you hurtling back to a time before the Android Guardians, before the Illusion, and even before Ateez. warnings/tags: for mature audiences!, inspired by Illusion MV, inspired by Ateez's lore, inspired by the Treasure Albums, Pirate AU, Sci-Fi / Technopunk vibes, Dystopian AU, Time Travel AU, 3rd person POV, fem!reader, use of YN, polyteez, too much sci fi universe lore, violence, gore, mature topics, angst, fluff, weaponry (they're pirates), death, blood, canon divergent Cromer, canon divergent Android Guardians, distant love, strained love, obsession, magic, very lightly edited lol, let me know if there are more tags needed. word count: 8.6 k -> next chapter series masterlist

Somewhere high above the smog-covered, tech-invested cities, a floating ship soared through the clouds. Pastel-blue and soft-purple skies encompassed it as it sailed under, around, and above cotton-candy clouds. Wind rustled the large white sails, tickling over YN’s arms as she walked across the deck of the ship. A shadow cast over the main deck, shielding them from the bright star of a sun. A damp chill clung as the cloud dispersed lightly through the sails.

It felt like a perfect day. It had been a long time since they sailed throughout the clouds rather than above them. Too often than not, Hongjoong ordered them to sail above the clouds, away from sight. But when they sailed through soft cotton-candy clouds like this, it threw her back to the beginning of it all.

Memories of the mischievous then-sailor Hongjoong, a younger and more naïve man with his soft-feathered brown mullet, flickered to the surface. The way he had met her on the stacked upon stacked docks of Aurora. Aurora was once a beautiful port with its sherbert pebbled shores. But even when he and her met, those shores had become faded with pollution. The skies were still pastel soft despite the layer of smog that grew from the air-ships and few remaining water-ships that found their home there. But that day… his face could’ve rivaled the sparkling sun; it was so bright. He smiled so sweetly as he introduced himself boldly, stepping into her way on the busy docks.

“I’m Kim Hongjoong.”

And she had been so wary, despite his good looks, despite his near-glowing smile. She hadnt shaken the hand outstretched to her, instead glanced at it and back at his coy smile. Her arms crossed. His smile grew.

“No need to be careful. I can tell we are going to be good friends.” He proclaimed, hand dropping. “Will you be my friend?” he added, stepping forward, as if he knew the answer.

It was an arrogant statement, and it had her pushing past him to fall into the crowds once more.

She had seen him day after day. Each day he’d chime out a different nickname.

“Hello, Star.”

“Hi again, my Horizon.”

“How’s your day going, Starlight?”

“Have a moment, twilight?”

It was funny that each nickname only made her brow raise until finally she turned on her heel and faced the young man perched on a barrel. He leaned his cheek against his curled knee as he smiled his charming grin her way.

“What does ‘twilight’ even mean as a nickname?” she half-laughed incredulously.

He bit his lower lip as he shifted his head to look at her straight on.

“Have you ever seen twilight from an air-ship?” Hongjoong prompted; he leaned back on the barrel casual. 

YN shook her head. She didn’t specialize in ships – despite coming from the port of Aurora. She’d come and go to the traveler ships – the last few oceanliners and the more common air-cruises that docked. And she’d draw for them. Little caricatures or pictures of the shores of Aurora in its prime. Tourist things they could pay a few spare credits for with the hover of their phones and cards. Yet she had never flown in an air-ship and it had been a long time since she sailed on a water-freight.

He smiled. “It’s the most magical time.” He admitted. “There is an energy at twilight. Purple, blue, orange, and pink. That’s how I feel about you. Twilight.”

She laughed a bit.

“Poetic,” she commented.

“Maybe,” his stare hadn’t shifted from her as he smiled, tilting his head. Hongjoong pushed off the barrel to stand in front of her. “But it caught you, didn’t it?”

The smile that came to her lips was like a wild-fire, uncontrollable and bright. His grin grew at its spark.

“I’m Hongjoong,” he reminded, hand outstretched.

“YN.” She finally introduced.

“YN,” he breathed out like he was starstruck. Her hand in his felt electric.

Only a week later, he had taken her by the hand, that same spark going through her bones, as he tugged her along.

“Hold my hand,” he encouraged, excited. “I got to show you something.”

Running between the crowd felt freeing, winding through the multi-leveled docks, they climbed higher and higher until they were at the base of an air-ship. The thing looked new, shiny, and pristine. Its carved name, the Illusion, was freshly shaped on its rear. It reeked of new wood and new linens and new everything.

“An air-ship,” she stated. Her brow raised as she looked up at him.

“Mine,” he insisted. “Ours.”

She had learned in this short time that Hongjoong had dreams of grandeur that accompanied his arrogance. If he wasn’t so charming, it’d be a negative trait. But instead, it filled her with hope.

“Ours?” she repeated, doubtful.

He turned to her with stars in his eyes.

“It will be,” he chimed. “Once you step foot aboard my ship, you’ll never want to leave me.”

“Leave you?” she noted with a raised brow, a chuckle in her voice.

“I said what I said,” he replied coyly. “Let me ask you… will you join me?”

And something in her said to take the leap, to see if he was right. The way the sparkling sunlight up here haloed him made him seem magical, something special. Was she just going to stay here forever in the slums of a slowly polluting city?

She could live with him. Explore the world.

“Aye, captain,” it had been a joke as she took the first step up the gangplank, but it had led to where she was now.

And he was right. She hadn’t wanted to ever leave Hongjoong or the Illusion or the seven other men that had slowly joined them and made a home in her heart… at least not ‘til recently. Her gaze flickered from across the skies to the very man she was remembering. But, in front of her stood a very different Hongjoong. No longer was he a sailor, what stood before her was a pirate king.

Instead of a mullet of natural fluffy brown hair, he had taken to dying it and keeping it short. Between ink black to navy blue to vibrant blondes, he’s tried everything in effort to remain hidden. He sported a ruby-red color now – the shade had been fading like a sunset over the past few weeks until it was a soft honey-pink. His face was obscured by a dark mask, chains interlacing over its front as he leaned across the banister in front of the helm. He looked off onto the horizon, eyes piercing. His fingers, chipped in black paint, tapped out a beat as he stared off. His eyes were tired. When was the last time he slept? She couldn’t remember – and she shared a living quarters with him.

They were hiding once more. It had been weeks since they evaded their attackers, but still he insisted on wearing the mask. He had once ordered them all to do so, but pirates didn’t do well with commands. One by one, they tossed the mask aside in their cabins. He frowned, at least she thought he did (it was hidden by his mask) as he looked over his most-trusted members of his crew. Disappointed.

It wasn’t as if they were in the heavily-monitored cities again. Their ship was thousands of miles up in the sky away from the Android Guardians, away from the Initiative. But he was growing paranoid, she knew it. He was worried about something.

His gaze shifted from the open skies to her, looking her over with his cutlass-sharp brown eyes. Before they flashed away. Almost like if he stared too long, he’d fall into thoughts he didn’t want to think.

He was avoiding her. It was plain and simple. She used to think this was the ultimate freedom.  She wasn’t sure what it was anymore. Did he even love her? Did he tire of her? He held a distant sense of responsibility, but he was their captain wasn’t that his role. Is that all he felt for her? He made sure she was safe, made sure she slept, but when was the last time there was affection? YN couldn’t remember.

When it had been just them in this large ship, he had said to her, “Just be my companion, and that’ll be enough.” It didn’t feel that way anymore. Countless nights she had tried to tell him. But he shrugged her off, turning his shoulder as he looked over a pirate map. You have the others, YN. I need to figure this out. Even if the puzzle pieces of her heart were made up of eight, missing one piece still distorted the puzzle’s picture.

Shifting in her chair, one of the many mismatched kitchen chairs that Yeosang or San had hauled up from the galley and placed around a large crate, she let out a sigh. Things had been so different on the ship as of late. Reality was a sour taste to the few years of honeyed fantasy together. Her woe came out in her art. A sketch-book rested on the make-shift table; her own drawings decorated the page. It used to be full of her loves – side profiles of Seonghwa while he cooked, full body sketches of San while he tightened the riggings, shirtless, in the mornings, doodles of Wooyoung posing for her dramatically as they laid in bed. Happy smiles on their faces. It had become more and more full of restless scribbles instead.

Her heart ached. Alone despite the bustling crew around her. Men and women that they had picked up in order to outrun their hunters. It used to be different. It used to be a group decision around a shared dinner as they discussed how they felt about adding a new crew member. The Illusion used to just need the nine members of Ateez. 

“You alright, my baby?” The voice that interrupted her thoughts was a gentle one, deep but kind.

The dark-haired man’s plump lips were in a deep pout as he looked down at her. And while he had sharp features, sharp jaw, sharp brows, even a sharp swoop of hair, he was so soft. Mingi had always been a gentle creature – though he was the sharpest long-range shooter that ever flew the skies. Even better than Seonghwa.

With one hand, he pushed his bulky headphones off his ears, so that they rested slung around his neck. Something funky with a lo-fi beat hummed heavily through them. It just fit Mingi so much. He smiled down at her soothingly, a calloused hand raising to caress over her cheek.

This was what made her heart so sad. Because despite her melancholy, her depression Jongho had told her once while they laid alone in his hammock, she did love them. Even now.

She loved the ones she called the true crew of Ateez.

Mingi, her gentle sharpshooter who was shy around the ones he loved and yet confident and deadly around those who threatened them.

Jongho, their brilliant Quartermaster who worked to make sure all parts of the ship were ready for attack, but also taught the crew all he knew so that they would be safe if he wasn’t there to protect them.

 Yunho, their hardworking navigator who wouldn’t rest until they were set on a proper course and wouldn’t sleep until all of eight of the Ateez upper-crew were asleep and safe.

Yeosang, her sweet Bosun who oversaw the crew by his spot in the crow’s nest ensuring their freedom was never compromised but also would keep their spirits high with his gentle jokes.

Wooyoung, her rebellious wild Gunner who found a game in anything and loved to tease and sweet-talk each of his lovers until they flushed and fluttered.

Seonghwa, their mother-hen of a First Mate, loyal to a fault but would rather die than see his freedom or his loves stolen from him.

San, their strong Helmsman who could easily control the wheel no matter the weather but would cry if she ever mentioned how she was feeling – ever a sweetheart.

And, of course, Hongjoong, her Captain. Their Captain. Who found them, took them in, and loved them she knew. But he loved one thing even more – treasure.

Mingi’s ringed thumb brushed over her cheek once more, pulling her from her thoughts. “You are day-dreamy, baby,” he rumbled, frowning.

She flashed an apologetic smile.

“Sorry, princess,” she hummed out, nuzzling into his palm.

He pulled away with an embarrassed flush, glancing around. As if the opinions of the faceless crew meant more than her affections. It hadnt been like that before.

“Baby,” he whined lowly.

He used to love being called all sorts of nicknames before they hired their first non-Ateez member. Because that’s what this was – Ateez and crew. Not just the crew, Ateez. She laughed softly, going to grab his hand once more to bring it back to her cheek. His bracelets clanked, and his rings felt cool against her skin. Mingi had always been one to love the reaping of their conquests. A main reason why he’d never fight out against Hongjoong’s crusades. His outfit was modern, sleek on his form; his headphones the newest brand stolen from a billionaire’s mansion they looted.

“Can Yunho only call you that?” she teased. “Princess?”

“You—how – How do you know that?” he whispered close.

“I hear all, babe,” she replied with a chuckle. That was her skill after all. Seeing things from a different perspective; she was often the one to figure out a way of attack. Her plans and observations weren’t what the others thought of in discussions. Observe, analyze, interpret. “I know everything about my loves,” she teased once again, squeezing his hand.

A yawn broke through her – making her shudder. He frowned, the humor of their conversation leaving when it came to their well-being. Mingi loved knowing things, too – or more so, loved eavesdropping. Sometimes she assumed his headphones played no music, and it was just so he could listen into other people’s conversations without them thinking he was paying attention.

“Are you not sleeping well?” he asked.

She offered a sleepy look his way. “Hongjoong’s been up-and-down most nights. He’s paranoid,” she admitted, glancing towards the red head.

Last night, he kept reading a notebook she had never seen, pacing this way and that as his eyes flickered to his Treasure. Not her, of course. He’d bite his lip and go back to his research. A chalkboard behind him – that one held their next destination mapping – now held scribbles of notes she couldn’t decipher. A fanatic’s raving about the Treasure.

Mingi’s brows raised curiously, following her gaze. His Captain showed no emotion; with his steely eyes locked on the horizon and the rest of his face blocked by the dark mask.

“He’s convinced something will happen,” she mumbled, her head shifting to rest against Mingi’s toned stomach. His hand automatically rose to stroke over her head. “With his Treasure.”

Mingi scoffed. Treasure. He didn’t know what was so special about a stupid hourglass. Wooyoung and Yeosang agreed with him, and he bet others did too but… they all knew how Hongjoong acted when it came to the Treasure.

It had taken priority over the last year.

“Go sleep in my cabin; you’re always welcome there,” he told her, scratching her head softly.

“I can nap out here,” she insisted.

They used to do that often, falling asleep on the deck while staring up at the clouds. When was the last time they did just that? She couldn’t remember.

“Seonghwa would hate if you got stepped on,” he commented.

“And you wouldn’t?” she joked.

Mingi shrugged teasingly. She jabbed his stomach. He dodged. Her head lulled to the side as she lost her makeshift standing pillow.

“Go on, pirate princess,” he insisted, gesturing towards the latch towards the lower decks. “I’ll let Captain and Seonghwa know where you are if they ask.”

She nodded slowly. Sleepiness ate at her. Maybe it was just the lack of something in her life. Maybe it was the weather. Maybe it was depression like Jongho thought. Maybe it was just her. She wasn’t sure – all she knew was she had felt wrong for days, weeks, months. Restless, exhausted, unenthusiastic. Unignited.

Maybe sleep was all she needed. So, when she curled up next to Yunho in Mingi’s small cabin covered in any and all music memorabilia he could find, it felt right. He wrapped her up in his long limbs and, while she didn’t feel better, she felt safe. Wasn’t that enough?

-

The ship rocked violently; the sounds of gunfire and ricochet thundering into the cabin. Jolting from sleep, she sat up in a panic. There was another explosion shuddering the wood of the Illusion. Without much thought, she hoisted herself out of Yunho’s bed; he was gone, bedsheets rumpled. There were records and music tapes scattered on the ground from the rocking and rolling of the fast-sailing ship.

Running throughout the lower decks, all she saw was destruction and chaos. Crew running this way and that. Yelling. Running. Smoke. Climbing higher and higher, she pushed open the main deck’s latch to be hit with pandemonium.

Explosions rang out all about her. Half-awake in her pajamas, the world she knew and loved looked less like a daydream and more like a waking nightmare. Yells cried out; screams of pain pierced the air. Small fires licked at the well-loved, graffitied hull, burning away drawings and memories etched into the yellow-heart and blue mahoe wood. Riggings were hanging limply from the masts; ropes decorated the floor like guts. A few lower crew members laid unresponsive, bloodied. Large chunks of the ship laid scattered about, making the large deck look more like an obstacle course than her home.

Her eyes darted from every unresponsive man she could spot. Not him. Not him. Where were they? Were they okay? Wood shards were flung into the air as she ran across the deck of the air-ship. Ducking behind a large wooden box, one they used often as a makeshift table but now she used as protection against the crash of chaos. Glancing around, she searched for a weapon, something in case the attack came onboard. But there was little weaponry lying about. They’d been alone for two weeks – the threat had been gone. Gunfire rang out, and cannons flashed. Her eyes shut tight as the bright bang blinded her for a moment.

The threat was here.

It could only be one entity.

Coughing through smoke, she tried to spot the highest members of the crew. She finally spotted one among the pandemonium. Ash blond hair was plastered back from his forehead, mussed and sweatied, as he pushed ahead. A cannon ram looked more like a scepter with how he wielded it. Commanding the gunners on how to reload and aim at their enemy. Rushing past the long-line of gunners, Jongho was a vision of strength; fury etched into his brow as he strode past, staring down the enemy ship.

“Fire! Now!” Jongho’s voice cried out. “Fire starboard!”

She stood then, aiming to run to his side before the piercing sound of their cannons went off. Senses burnt like a live-wire; her ears rang and her eyes felt blurred before there was a thud of sneakers beside her, a muscular arm going to press her down against the ground as something whittled through the air above their heads and slammed into the mast beside them. Wood debris rained down over them. YN huffed and puffed, trying to catch the breath that had gotten knocked from her lungs. His arm kept them pressed into the floor.

“YN. There you are – fuck, watch out.”

His breath was hot against her neck, sweat and cinders dripped down his face. Familiar orange blossom and light green apple wafted over her, giving a momentary comfort in the gun-smoke and destruction. Yunho’s hands shifted her against him, tugging her half-underneath him. Protecting her with his form as another cannon-ball whistled overhead. Their gazes met. Panic crossed over his face, ash coating his blue hair and colorful clothes making them look ghastly.

“Who’s attacking?” she asked, trying to shift from her lover’s protective embrace to peer over the hull at the other air-ship. Yunho yanked her back down as another crash of cannon fire rang out. The nearby cannon a fellow crew member utilized throttled back heavily on its wheels as it fired out its deadly weapon. His hand covered her head, over her ears and curling her into his chest. Cursing beneath his breath, he held her closer, wishing he could keep her safe in between his ribs. Beside his hummingbird heart.

“It’s the Guardians!” he told her closely, his voice as breathless as she felt. “Same frigate from Paradise.”

They could hear Seonghwa’s war cry from somewhere across the ship and the always-familiar bang of his rifle. Far from their ship, there was a scream.

“We can’t outfight them,” she told Yunho.

She knew better than anyone – except perhaps Jongho – about their stocks. They were low on ammunition; they hadn’t stopped long enough to restock.

“We need to get out of here. Before they hit the mainsail.”

Glancing upwards, she took in their large white-sailed masts. Three of them stood tall and proud, billowing with air as they guided them in their sail through the skies. Squinting, she could see Yeosang in his sunny-yellow sweater that he loved, high in the crow’s nest. There was a splatter of red across his face as he pulled binoculars away, pointing and yelling down to the crew below.

“Land! Portside!”

“He’s okay,” Yunho reassured. He had just come from climbing between the sails like a spider monkey.

Wreckage showered down over them as a cannon ball struck the mainsail mast with a shattering of wood, but it remained steady. Thankfully, it was a thick sturdy pole. But, before relief could flush through her and Yunho, the ship heaved to the side with a lurch. Yunho scrambled to keep them down against the floorboards. A cry tumbled out of the remaining crew as their shoes slid and their canons followed suit heavily rolling against them. Some sickening crunches were heard. Yunho dug his sneakers into the wood as his hand rose to cup the back of her head, ducking them down to take the brute of the slide – in case anything hit them. His back pushed into the side of the hull while she was cradled into his arms and lanky legs. Their head snapped at the sound of their Captain’s yelling.

“San!” Hongjoong’s sharp voice bit out from somewhere.

“Working on it, Captain,” San grunted out. 

She could see between fire and smoke San at the helm; his muscles rippling as he tried to control their ship. He pulled at the wheel, trying to take control of their ship. His teeth gritted as he finally righted their ship and snarled something beneath his breath as he looked back at the attacking air-ship.

Yunho stood quickly, hoisting her forward. His hands lifted her onto her feet easily.

“Get to Hongjoong’s quarters,” he breathed to her, hand on her cheek as he urged her to understand his intent. “Hide!”

As if that’d be any safer, she thought. But Yunho’s rough hands were already onto their next goal – moving from her face to encouraged her to go, go, go, pushing her towards the Captain’s Quarters. There was no room for discussion right now.

“Run,” Yunho said as he reached for a discarded sword, the metal shlinging as it was unsheathed. “Now, YN.”

So, she did. Running around figures and broken riggings, past Jongho who’s gaze flickered to her fearfully until he saw her path ahead. She was going towards the others; she’d be safe there. Stomping up the stairs, she finally caught sight of the large airship attacking them. The frigate overpowered their smaller ship, but it gave her some relief to see flames billowing out of its keel. There was hope that they could outrun them. They were smaller. 

Racing up the last few steps up to the quarterdeck, she felt an explosion burst beside her, sending her stumbling. Her ears rung as she was flung into the thick railings of the deck painfully. Her waist ached and she felt like she’s was going to lose her dinner. Dazed, she felt faint for a moment. The ringing and blurred smoke of the ship all she could process. Canon fire rung out again. She blindly crouched, her hand wrapping around the banister of the railing to keep herself steady.

“YN!” she heard San cry out distantly.

Everything felt far away. She tried to shake her head, tried to steady herself. Her face stung and burned uncomfortably, but all she had on her mind was to get to Hongjoong’s quarters. Someone hoisted her back to standing. Large hands held onto her shoulders as they peered into her face. He called her name again, a hand going to cup her face. A grimace graced his face as he came into a non-double vision view.

Wooyoung’s face was covered in smears of soot, hands a dark color from the gun powder he had helped a crew member load into a cannon moments ago. His squid-ink black hair looked grey with ash. Fingers went to the side of her face, prying bits of wood away from her new wound. A large collection of splinters dug into her cheek to her temple in a long gash.

“Are you ok?” he asked fast. His eyes were wide and fearful. “Baby!”

She nodded slowly, dazed, before shaking away her bewilderment. In her adrenaline rush, she truly didn’t feel much pain. It was all so fleeting – hard to distinguish amongst the chaos. Like when you can’t tell if something is burning cold or freezing hot to the touch. Her own hand went to feel the damage, coming away red. Wooyoung flinched at the sight.

“I’ll live; I’m fine. Go,” she encouraged, moving to push him with her hand.

Wooyoung was their best gunner with his accuracy. Her palm had left a bloody hand print on his colorful red-white-blue-yellow graphic tee as she curled her fingers into his fabric near pleading. He hadnt shifted an inch, his face drenched in agony at the sight of her pain.

“Woo, aim for their rudder; slow them down. So, we all can make it out alive.”

His face was stoney, a type of seriousness Wooyoung rarely got. He nodded firmly as he turned to observe their attacker. His hands firmly kept her in place – keeping her grounded. The Guardian’s grand white-painted frigate towered above them, not overtaking them yet. It seemed it wanted to cause more damage than board them as of now. They’d take that blessing. 

“Captain,” Wooyoung crowed out instead. “Any orders?”

Their Captain stood on the platform above his quarters. With his honey-red hair, he was easy to spot – even more so with his attire. He wore a vibrant red fur coat that barely stayed on his shoulders as he paced in battle, a white graphic tee, skinny jeans, and black Doc Martins. He wasn’t a picture of a sea-salted, wobbly old pirate. But his face surely held the power of one. His glare could strike someone down as he growled out.

“Prevent them from boarding!” Hongjoong bit out, reaching for his pistol on his hip. He raised it into the air, shooting at the opposing ship’s crew. “Protect the Treasure at all costs.”

The treasure, the treasure, the treasure. That was all he cared for now it felt. Even in the heat of battle, he was one-track minded. Wooyoung hissed through his teeth as he turned back. Wooyoung had been someone she had shared this feeling with before. Hongjoong and his obsession for his treasure. It was like a parasite sucking at his soul. But Wooyoung’s concern only grew as he surveyed the deck. Her head turned to look back at the ship soaring so close by. It was bad.

“Of course, he’d say that,” Wooyoung muttered before he moved away from her.

His hands leaving her arms left her wobbly, and he quickly tried to make up for his failure. He steadied her with both hands.

“You aren’t okay,” he muttered out, pressing her into her spot firmly. His hands went to her jaw, cupping it and directing her gaze.

“We don’t have time to not be okay; we are in a battle!” she replied.

Her head turned to glanced back at Hongjoong, at San. Yeosang was swinging down from the crow’s nest, a dangerous attempt, as Mingi cried up at him to watch out for this and that. They all were not okay – they all were in danger.

And all Hongjoong could think about was treasure.

“Go hide,” Wooyoung warned. “Somewhere, anywhere. Stay alive – this will all be over soon.”

She nodded firmly; Wooyoung returning it. He squeezed her shoulder, risking a kiss to her forehead, before running off. He’d hit their rudder; he had to. He was their best shot.

“Be safe,” she yelled to him, to them, as she continued her journey towards the Captain’s Quarters.

Flinging the stain-glassed French doors open, she ran inside Hongjoong’s room. Turning, she quickly locked them behind her with a flick of a golden lock. The familiar sight of Hongjoong’s sanctuary would be reassuring if there weren’t shattered glass from the exterior windows blown out across the cabin. The drapery around his space used to give it a soft look, now with torn fabrics and destruction, it looked like a mummy of itself. A cannon ball was embedded on the map-covered desk, a large splintering gash through the wooden desk.

Their safe space was half-destroyed; the ship was in ruins; and it sent a wave of fear crippling through her. That this was the end. But no, she couldn’t think of that now. She looked around. Could she hide in the wardrobe? Or the chest by the door? What if something hit it? No, she needed a weapon first.  

She rushed further into the space, going towards his king-sized bed alcoved into the wall of the hull. It sheets were still rumpled from last night. Tossing Hongjoong’s pillow aside, she grabbed the pistol he kept hidden there and checked to make sure it was loaded.

Feeling better with the heavy weapon in her palm, she turned back to survey the room only for something to blind her. A light flare flashed over her face, making her flinch back. Her hand rose to cover her eyes.

Follow me. It pulled.

Shining from within Hongjoong’ desk, something caught her eye like a lit-flame, like a burning guiding star. Through a crack in the wood, the thing glimmered and shimmered and she swore it called to her.

Into the light. Into that light. Beyond the light.

The temptation dragged her towards it. Her brows pursed as she felt something burn in her chest. Like a live-wire. Rounding the desk, she crouched down, pulling each drawer open. Some tumbled off of their tracks and onto the messy floor, others hung open lazily. Pearls, music CDs, credit cards. Empty snack bags, glass bottles, wires for computers and gadgets. A laptop covered in stickers, love letters, condoms, keys to the brig. No. No. No.

Find me.

Where was it? Where did he put it?

There was a loud lurch of the ship like a dog yanking on its leach and a horrible tearing sound. Like splintering wood and broken metal. The entire ship trembled and sagged at an angle. Glass, knick-knacks, and maps clattered and rolled towards the door. The desk was screwed into the planks (at the request of Seonghwa, she remembered) and didn’t move an inch. Her hands gripped the desk top. A commotion exploded outside and slowly but surely the ship righted. They weren’t leaning anymore, but they weren’t sailing. But YN couldn’t focus on that.

All she could focus on was that light. Where was it?

Find me.

The light gleamed from within the desk but after tearing out the drawers’ there was nothing within. Her fingers slide over the wood of the desk, carefully searching for a divot, a secret compartment, something. Hongjoong trusted them, obvious by the lack of locks on his drawers. But maybe he had thought ahead. Her Captain often did.

Her nails stuck into a fine line, a thin crevice finally found, on the wall of the desk. With effort, she pulled and tugged at the plank until it popped open to reveal the sparkling artefact. It was almost holy; the way the light sighed at her and hummed. Almost like it was saying hello.

Now, this wasn’t the first time she had seen the Cromer. They all had seen it before, but never before had it shimmered and gleamed like it held glowing stardust. Like something magical was happening.

It wasn’t large, no, it was just large enough to be the size of a small water-bottle. The Cromer was intricate and yet simple in its design. Gold-wrought wire framing held a delicate glass-blown hourglass. Sand forever trickled, not downwards but upwards, as if gravity didn’t exist in its plane. Something magical. Something precious. Something they had still yet to understand beyond it was a treasure that they needed to protect from falling into the wrong hands. That’s what Hongjoong had always said and she never understood why… til now.

There was a clash of blades from the deck, making her jump and look up. A shadow had covered the desk… The sunlight that had poured into the quarters from the blasted windows was gone. No, no… they were being boarded. That was the only reason there would be blades crossed.

She pried the Cromer out of its velveteen holding space. Even touching it felt strange. Like there was an electric hum running up through her veins where it touched her skin. She shoved the hidden compartment closed with a thud, pushing at the drawers to shut as many as could.  Already shifting from her crouched position, YN glanced around the room.

She had to hide.

Running towards the large oaken closet, she swung open the doors and shoved herself inside. Pushing jackets and fur coats aside, she nestled herself as far as she could wiggled herself into the closet, cradling the Cromer in her lap and reaching to slam the closet doors shut. One hand wrapped around the glass of the hourglass and the other around Hongjoong’s pistol.

YN shut her eyes, listening closely. Heavy footsteps, clash of swords, gunfire. She heard it all, and it made her stomach curdle.

How did the Android Guardians take them by storm? Everything had been calm waters recently. Itd been weeks since their last port. Yeosang kept careful watch. They were careful of their trails. How did they find them?

There was a loud thud on the doors to the Captain’s Quarters.

“Again!” there was a command muddled by an electronic-processor.

It was the Guardians. Her breath caught in her throat as she twisted further into the closet. From the smallest crack in between the closet doors, she peered into the room, waiting and praying that the doors held up as another BANG made her flinch.

Please, please, please, she repeated silently.

Don’t let them in; keep them safe. Don’t let this happen.

Please, please, please.

Bang, bang, bang.

There was a shatter of glass. A scatter of sea-foam and sunset-pink glass tumbled across the quarter’s floor. The carefully-cared-for colored glass was now nothing but shards of dust.

“Finally,” a voice barked; a strange mixture of robotic and animalistic tones made up his shout.

A clatter of locks chilled her. The clanking of doors shoved open.

She held her breath.

“Get in there,” the sound of flesh hitting flesh made her shut her eyes tightly.

The grunt was one she had heard before. Her eyes flashed open; fear flooded her body. Wooyoung huffed out; there was a jingle. Was he locked up? From her small crack, she couldn��t see much. YN didn’t move a muscle.

“Where is it? Hm?” The nearly inhuman voice croaked.

“Go fuck yourself,” Wooyoung exclaimed out.

A loud thud and low groan made her heart lurch. Wooyoung’s laugh was wet as he heaved and groaned from the floor. He spat blood and saliva out onto the leader’s shoes, the remaining of the spittle staining into the floorboards. He let out a low laugh and, despite him not being in her line of sight, she knew he’d been smiling cruelly. His laugh wasn’t a smidge humorous. He was heaved back onto his knees by the Android Guardian’s followers.

The doors to the Captain’s Quarters were shoved shut with a loud clatter, keeping all noise from the deck out and all noise in the room inside.

“Your emotions don’t suit you,” the invader commented. “Don’t worry that will all be solved soon.”

“I don’t know why you expected me of all people to be obedient,” Wooyoung bit back; his voice sounded strange, gurgled. There was a cracking sound, familiar to her only because Wooyoung loved to crack his neck.

Why did the Guardians drag him to the Quarters and not all of them – or at the very least the Captain or First Mate? Where was Hongjoong? Where was Seonghwa?  Was Wooyoung being used as a bargaining chip? They had been caught – that much was clear, but was everyone okay?

Her own injured face stung against one of Seonghwa’s fur jackets; the hairs sticking into her flesh painfully as her wound dried in the air. She’d have to apologize to Seonghwa for ruining one of his favorites. Later. Because there had to be a later… there had to be. She stayed silent, trying to catch a glimpse of Wooyoung without moving. Was he okay?

She instead gained a glance of the Android Guardian leading this attack. He was unnaturally tall, covered in an all-white leathered ensemble. Its overlapping belts and straps felt like they kept his posture too straight.  Ever frightening with its entirely covered face, a muzzle-like chainwork wounded over around its mouth. The slight give and take of the fabric indicated his breathing, but she wasn’t sure how he could breathe, let alone see through the thick fabric. No face, no humanity. No emotion. That was the way of the Initiative.

That’s what they wanted from the remains of the world. Why couldn’t they just leave them alone? She missed yesterday so suddenly.

“These games are juvenile, Jung Wooyoung,” the leader spoke once more. “Tell me the location of the device or else the bargain is off.”

There was a deal happening. Hongjoong struck a deal. He always had a plan – even if they couldn’t see all the moving piece of it. She shifted her arms around the Cromer, almost as if it was a comfort object – a long-lost teddy bear to soothe her as she was forced to witness Wooyoung and the Guardians.

Wooyoung snorted. “Order your men to let me go and I’ll gladly help,” he said with vigor. There was a rattling of chains after his words.

The Guardian looked down at him – or she assumed he did as he tilted his head slowly. The all-white figure glanced aside before giving a solid nod. Wooyoung’s body slammed to the floor once more.

“Godda—gently,” he scolded, muffled. There was a grunt in his words as he must’ve pushed himself up and stood. She could see the outline of his form now, standing tall. He spat to the side again; blood splattered.

“Better,” Wooyoung replied, raising a brow at the Android Guardian. “It’s in here.”

He smiled a bloody smile at their attacker before walking around him, towards the closet. She could see him in his full glory. Blood stained his shirt, not just his from his rubied mouth but her own blood remained in a handprint across the joyful red-white-blue-and-yellow of his shirt. It didn’t look like it fit in in this scenario. Too joyful and colorful for the destruction and smoke that tumbled in from the creaking fires rattling the ship.

His hair was mussed and sweatied strewn across his forehead like ink spilt across a piece of parchment. She pushed herself closer to the crack, hoping that he’d see her while blocking her from view. In the perfect world, like an old movie scene, he’d see her and smile his boyish smile that made her feel safe. But all that greeted her was furrowed dark brows as he kicked aside rubble.

He hadn’t seen her. He hadn’t! Her stomach turned in worry. Her fingers brushed over the Cromer, fidgeting restlessly. The smooth glass was cold to the touch and clanked just lightly from her fingers. She froze.

The Android Leader twitched. She held her breath, held every cell in her body, held every atom at bay as she waited.

“Fuck, you destroyed this room,” Wooyoung whistled out.

She heard the cannon ball that had been embedded into the desk get pushed off with a heavy thud. YN watched it roll slowly towards the closet; the air-ship was tilting just slightly. It thudded against the closet, rattling the wooden doors. Trapping her inside.

“You gave us no other logical choice,” the Guardian informed.

Wooyoung rolled his eyes. He shifted through the drawers she had half destroyed in her own search. Haphazardly, Wooyoung tossed aside thoughtful gifts that they had given Hongjoong, half-eaten snack bags, Hongjoong’s vape that he had placed deep in his desk after swearing he’d give it up.

“What if you had hit our rudder? Or mainsail? Or what if we had struck your weak spot and you had crushed us?” Wooyoung argued back, pausing to stare at the leader with a condescending tilt of his head. “You wouldn’t have been able to raid us if we had crashed.”

“Good thing that didn’t happen,” the Guardian replied, almost like a parent replying to a child’s outlandish comments. Estranged and detached. “These illogical scenarios are fanciful. No wonder you had a delusion of grandeur.”

Wooyoung’s face twitched and he glared at the figure once more.

“Keep searching.” The Guardian commanded, head nodding to the desk.

Wooyoung obeyed. He tossed aside a polaroid camera with a clank; some stray polaroids were strewn across the deck. There were coins that were pocketed by Wooyoung. He was methodical, taking his time to explore the drawers inside and out, more than she had done.

Was he stalling? She tried to listen to anything happening on the main deck, but it was loudly quiet. The only sounds she heard was the deep breaths in and out the Guardians made to breathe through their thick face-masks, the occasional bellowing of the ship’s wood as it heaved against something, and the very quiet sound of the Cromer’s sand reversing through its hourglass.

Finally, after digging through all of the drawers, slow and methodical, he began to do what she did. Fingers pressed into the wood to find a compartment of sorts.

“This is taking too long,” the Guardian growled out.

Maybe that was the point, she hoped. The more time Wooyoung bought, the more time her loves would fight and hopefully find them.

“Relax, bud,” Wooyoung crowed out, too casual for the situation – but of course he always liked the upper-hand. Loved teasing. Some would say he was arrogant but YN believed him to just be bold.

That boldness grew when there was a clicking sound, the Cromer’s compartment ticking open with a satisfying pop. His grin, bloodied and gruesome, looked like a wolf after a kill. Before he opened the door.

“It’s gone,” Wooyoung breathed, his eyes blinking in disbelief. He licked over his reddened lips and swallowed.

The Cromer warmed close to her chest, and she saw its glow grow. No, no, stop. YN worried the glow would be seen through the cracks in the wardrobe. She hugged it closer, tucking it into her chest.

“Enough of these games,” the leader bit out; there was a flick of his hand and one of the Guardian hooligans rushed forwards seizing Wooyoung by the arms. Hoisting him up with a struggle as a loud shling of his blade made YN’s blood turn cold.

She could see Wooyoung’s head raise just in time for the blade to rest under his chin, sharp and unforgivingly.

“Tell me where the Cromer is now,” the Guardian commanded from aside. She could see red drip from the blade and a grunt leave Wooyoung’s lips.

“Go to hell.” There was a low hum as the Guardian leader’s hand flick once more, signaling something to his captor. A signal he didn’t get to follow through with.

“Don’t hurt him!” she exclaimed out, unable to watch as the blade sliced into Wooyoung’s throat more. She pushed herself out of the closet, firing the pistol at the Guardian that had him. The villain plunked to the floor, freeing Wooyoung who stared at her with wide eyes and a bloodied throat.

“Seize her,” the Android Guardian’s leader commanded. The remaining Guardians rushed forward, their strong hands gripping and groping at her until she was caught beneath their strong hold. She held on tight to the Cromer, refusing to let them pry it from her hand. It hummed and buzzed erratically as if upset. She continued to squabble with her captors, her pistol falling from her hand as she grasped the artefact tightly.

Over their struggle, she could hear Wooyoung crying out, trying to get her to stop or for the Guardians to stop. It wasn’t until the leader unempathetically stated.

“That’s enough.”

Her two captors held her by her arms, simply but strongly. She still struggled, writhing this way and that as she glared up at the Guardian who slowly approached her. He towered over her, leaning down with the blank mask of a face.

“We have another defector aboard. I knew we hadnt collected all of the crew,” the robotic-man commented. His large latex-gloved hand reached out to grasp her chin.

There was a strange noise from his masked face almost like an electronic chirp.

“YN LN.” he hummed. “Yes. We know all about you.”

“Don’t touch her,” Wooyoung snarled out.

He nearly jumped over the desk; his hand grasped the Android Guardian’s bicep firmly. Tugging him away from YN, she had never seen Wooyoung’s face look so dark. His brows shadowed his dark brown eyes, a snarl void of humor or temptation crossing his mouth.

“She’s not part of the bargain. Let her go.”

There was a laugh, too robotic, too unemotional, to feel genuine from the all-white Guardian. The figures, holding her arms, didn’t even shift a smidge, didn’t look at one another for clarity. Just stared ahead – pawns to the Grand Guardian’s command.

“We let you keep the helmsman, the look-out,” the Guardian recalled. “And now her?”

It sounded condescending. Her eyes flashed from the emotionless face to Wooyoung. His eyes flickered from her to the Grand Guardian. There was uncertainty there. He licked his lips.

“This is the problem with you defectors.” The Guardian’s voice rasped out with a metallic edge. “You think you’re always in control. Even when you aren’t.”

In a flash, the leader thrusted his arm into Wooyoung’s torso sending him tumbling to his knees, his hands going to his punched stomach. Wheezing, Wooyoung bared his teeth and watched as the Android Guardian tugged his arm away. The frightening figure approached her, too quick and mechanical to feel unthreatening.

“Give us the Cromer,” he demanded. His fingers curled and uncurled, outstretched.

Protect the Treasure at all costs. Hongjoong’s voice echoed in her head. He had drilled it into her mind, all of their minds. But, at the cost of Wooyoung’s life? At hers?  

She glared at their enemy. Her fingers curled around the metal wire around the hourglass of the Cromer.

I know you're afraid. Follow your gut.

The way the metal buzzed and silently hummed in her ear was strange. Familiar and yet foreign as it spoke to only her. The burst of warmth in its metal was reassuring, like holding onto someone’s hand. Reassuring her that this was the right thing to do. The sand trickling inside the Cromer was the only sound in the Captain’s Quarters. Somehow something so gentle and soothing could be loud – even after the chaos that enraptured them moments ago.

“No.” she bit out.

The ship creaked ominously. She grasped the artefact closer to her chest.

Follow your gut.

Hongjoong had told her once long ago that the Cromer was what brought them together; that he had let it guide him to them. The look in his eyes felt distant as he stared at the hourglass. His index finger would stroke the glass like it was their cheek. His friends. His family.

It brought them together and he had to keep it safe to keep them safe. A paranoid take she always thought. He believed if the Cromer was taken away from them – well, it’d be like the sea with no moon. Chaotic, untethered, unnatural. YN had always believed they found one another, not some hourglass.

“How did you use it?” She had asked him one night, wrapped in his arms as he continued to stare off. With his head lost in the clouds, he was loose-lipped. A sigh of fruity-smelling, blue smoke left his lips as he tugged his vape away from his mouth before he replied: “You’re the only one besides me that will know if I tell you. Not even Seonghwa knows… Alright, precious?”

She held it horizontally like had shown her, shifting it so the sand couldn’t flow up or down – freezing the hourglass’s sand. Her eyes shut as she murmured the words he hadn’t dare recite aloud and instead wrote down on an old receipt they had found in his jeans. She didn’t see as recognition flashed over Wooyoung’s bloodied face, eyes widening and his heart dropping.

“YN, don’t—” Wooyoung was barely able to get out as he lunged forward.

“Stop, child!” the Guardian growled out. “Grab it!”

Treasure.

But it was too late. With the spell cast, the artefact had begun to whirl, the metal loops surrounding the hourglass undulating. The glow grew and grew.

It can complete us…

They pushed and shoved and tried to take it from her still, fingers all digging into her skin until… she hoisted the Cromer up into the air and sent it shattering to the ground.

…Or it can destroy us.

There was no Treasure to steal. No artefact to worship. She dove to try to grab the pistol once more, to fire at the Guardians so they could escape, but she was unable to move. Like gravity refused to let her. The shattered remains of the Cromer glinted in a non-existent light; sending a flare out over the figures, blinding them. A wild hurricane wind burst forth around them, blooming from the pile of sand. A tornado of golden sand growing and growing until it consumed her, the Guardians, and Wooyoung. 

She couldn’t even yell out for him. Her mouth was full of sand. Her nose, her eyes. It was sharp and burning and hot.

There was a woosh around her, her hair tumbling into the air, her clothes rustling in the hot-blast.

The sound of wind blowing from the horizon.

The warmth of the sun.

The sand vibrating against her skin.

Open your eyes.

The Cromer whispered in her ear, warm and in a voice that nearly sounded like Hongjoong’s.

No, she didn’t want to. It hurt. It burned.

Open your eyes.

When she flickered her eyes open tentative and slow, her breath was stolen. She was no longer in her Captain’s quarters. No longer on the Illusion. No longer was she with her Ateez.

YN was in the shadows of the stacked-upon-stacked docks of Aurora.  

We're at the starting point of this long journey.

Will you join us?

[cheritzteam]

[The Ssum] Your Valentine’s Day Ssumones now revealed! Test your luck in winning their Valentine’s Day merch as well!

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Cheritz.

[guardian-of-fun-times]

Hi friend! Do you have any songs for a Jack Frost playlist? Tysm!

“Do you stop believing in the moon when the sun comes up?” - Jack Frost (ROTG)

Hey there, friend! Absolutely—I’ve got some songs that I think really capture Jack Frost’s energy from Rise of the Guardians! Whether it’s his playful mischief, hidden loneliness, or that deep yearning to be seen and believed in, these tracks reflect different sides of him:

Winter Sound – Of Monsters and Men: A perfect blend of whimsical and melancholic, like Jack’s own wintry heart.

Youth – Daughter: That ache of being forgotten and misunderstood, but still holding onto wonder.

King and Lionheart – Of Monsters and Men: For the brave spirit within him, always fighting for what’s right even when he’s unsure of himself.

Snow (Hey Oh) – Red Hot Chili Peppers: Chill, layered, and flowing like a winter breeze—this one feels like soaring through snowy skies.

Run – Aurora: Captures his ethereal, otherworldly feel and his constant motion, always searching.

Ghost – Halsey: For that haunting sense of being invisible to the world around him.

Glitter & Gold – Barns Courtney: A rebellious energy that fits his mischief and spark.

Silhouettes – Of Monsters and Men: Soft and powerful, like a memory that lingers in the frost.

Eyes Shut – Years & Years: About hiding hurt behind brightness, much like Jack’s smile.

Into the Unknown – Panic! At The Disco: Because let’s be real—Jack would totally relate to this call for identity and adventure.

[milliesfishes]

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[fem reader] contains: cheating, sexual themes, drugs pairing: billy the kid x fem reader summary: (70s au) billy works as security for a band with you as the lead singer author’s note: as always let me know if you want more! Pinterest Board Spotify Playlist

America's sweetheart.

Two words that your name always accompanied, whether standing boldly in front or trailing behind. Staring out into the crowd, lights bright as suns nearly blinding you, faintly you could make out a sign held by a cheering fan with that phrase written in big, bold letters.

Raising your arms to the sky, you let a big, bold smile stretch your lips, tilting your head so your hair fell down your back. There was a sound like thunder as the crowd let you know exactly how excited they were to see you.

It was adrenaline. It was glory. It was invigorating. Rock 'n roll did that to you, and there was no other feeling like it. You didn't cycle through drugs and booze like the rest of your bandmates, determined to keep your image intact and your body safe for performing, but there was no way coke or ecstasy came even close to how you felt right now.

Next to you, David flashed you a cheesy grin. As usual he stood close enough to you that he was in the spotlight, but far away enough that it looked like he was letting you have your moment. His fingers absentmindedly stroked the curve of his electric guitar, as attached to the instrument as anyone could be to anything.

Blowing a kiss to the audience, you watched the faces closest to you light up. It was jarring still, how a single motion from you could make a stranger so happy. Although the idolatry of it all had a power that scared you, you were determined to use it for good.

David moved in, sliding his arm around your waist and making you stiffen slightly. He waved to the audience, the sight of the two of you together sending them into a frenzy. He kissed your cheek, ever the picture of the supportive boyfriend.

You subtly pulled yourself away from him, folding your hands on the microphone and leaning slightly into the stand. "It's been such a wonderful night, hasn't it?" A great cheer sounded. "We've got one more song for you...thank you for coming out tonight."

The band glided into the opening chords of the song, and you raised a hand to the sky, a long, smooth note drawing from your throat.

"The space between her eyes is where his lips found their home...she's an angel in his window when the light goes off..."

David elbowed his way against you, showing off by tweaking the chords into a riff. You felt a twinge of annoyance. He always did this, trying to bring all the attention on him. Not that you were possessive over the spotlight. The setlist was specifically tuned so that there were individual songs that highlighted the skills of each band member. And while being the lead singer made you the face of the band, you were very insistent about letting everyone have their moment.

This song was your time. It was your most impressive vocal feat, and you spent hours in practice and mic check perfecting your performance. And here David was, in the middle of an impromptu guitar solo. You could practically feel the exasperation of your bandmates behind you.

Normally you would have let him. Smiled as he demonstrated his skill, be a supportive girlfriend. But tonight for some reason you'd had enough. Frustration took over your regularly demure manner, and your mind raced.

In a split-second decision, you waited for the next break in chords, bursting into song and pulling out all the stops. You trilled riffs every other word, ranging from a low growl to a whistle-y high. And when it came time for the chorus, you let your voice soar as you belted the words...in French.

Of course, the audience was eating it up like a four-course meal. They wouldn't be able to see the little rivalry happening onstage, all they knew was that they'd gotten the cake with the cream for that song. Between David's solo and your response, it was sure to be talked about, which would mean good publicity.

You could feel his eyes on you. David hated it when you sang in French, even though you adored the language. In the past he'd told you that he always felt like you were trying to seem better than him by doing it, as if you'd learned just to spite him. That seemed to be a common theme these days in your arguments. Perhaps that was what sparked his little musical outburst just now.

Trying to concentrate back on the music, you leaned into the microphone, crooning the last few words of the song and feeling the lights dim above you as the crowd went wild. You heard your name being chanted, almost like a whisper under the noise. Raising your hand and waving, blowing kisses, you shouted, "Goodnight!", and picked up your skirts, gracefully heading offstage with the band.

There was a flurry of congratulations and praise surrounding you the second you were behind the curtain, and in a haze you tried to thank them all. Your manager pulled you aside quickly, around a corner behind a rack holding your dresses. She smiled brightly. "Great performance. The papers will be singing your praises tomorrow."

"I hope so," you ran a hand over your face, feeling some of the glitter on your eyelids smear onto your fingers. "After David tried to commandeer my song."

"It was a smooth fix," she assured you, leaning against the wall. "Nobody's gonna be talking about him tomorrow. All the stars are aligned in your favor."

"Would you talk to him?" you asked nervously, using your non-glittery hand to smooth your hair. "I've tried, but..."

"I understand," she nodded. "First thing tomorrow I'll lay down the law. Keep the showing off to his designated song. Stay out of yours."

"Isn't like he helped write it," you muttered, pursing your lips. "Could you make sure he knows not to interrupt the songs of anyone in the band? I'd almost rather have him pull that little stunt in mine than anyone else's. He isn't above switching tactics."

"It'll be the first thing on my list," your manager promised, patting your shoulder. "Go rest up. You played a good show, focus on that."

As you headed down the hallway to your dressing room, you tried to prepare yourself for what laid ahead. David would persuade you to give him the spare key to your hotel room, sneak in at an ungodly hour and spend an even worse amount of time trying to beg his way into your bed. Inhaling softly, you made it a goal to relish the hour or so you'd get alone before heading back to the hotel.

Focusing on your breaths, you pushed the dressing room door open, and immediately gasped in horror at the sight waiting for you inside like a disgusting haunted house.

David was sitting on the chaise, pants pushed down to his ankles, head tilted back and groaning as a girl you barely recognized as a groupie knelt in front of him. Her hair hid her actions, but it wasn't hard to gather what exactly she was doing.

When you gasped, his eyes flew open and widened when they recognized you. He sat up, opening his mouth to say something, but you turned on your heel, slamming the door shut and leaning against it.

Maybe if he'd come after you, you would have given him some grace. But almost as soon as the door was closed you could hear his moans again, and tears pricked the corners of your eyes.

Turning, you ran down the hall, narrowly missing trunks and boxes in your feet's path. Holding the skirt of your dress, you almost felt like a maiden of old sprinting through a field. If the maiden had just had her heart broken by a man she wasn't even sure she loved even though they'd been together for nearly a year, you'd be a dead match.

Finding your way into a room void of anything but a single box of records, you collapsed to your knees, resting your head against the wall and letting the tears fall.

Even America's Sweetheart catches heartbreak.

Leaning against the side of the tour bus, Billy watched as the roadies hauled everything into the undercarriage of the bus. He kept a wary eye out in the alley for crazed fans or lost civilians, but the coast seemed to be clear. It wouldn't be the first time he'd had to step in, but for tonight he was glad things were calm.

Working security hadn't been his first choice of career, but it'd been a good way to support his family before his mother died and his brother was hauled off by his stepfather. By the time the dust from the tragedy had settled, Billy had been alright with continuing the work. It paid well and it was something he knew how to do: mindless labor.

One of the roadies next to him groaned, leaning against the side. "There was one more box in the back room."

"Dude..." his companion shook his head.

Billy clapped him on the back. "I've got it. Think you guys can handle yourselves for a few minutes? Could use some time away from ya."

As his friend laughed good-naturedly, Billy strode in the direction off the room, whistling lightly as he did. Usually, he wouldn't have left his post, but he was in a good mood tonight, wanting to stretch his legs. It had been a good show tonight- that was one of the perks of his job. He got to watch the inner workings of the production, of the tour. But best of all he got to watch you.

He would have been lying if he said you weren't a big reason he'd accepted work for this band. There had been offers from several prominent names- Billy had become renowned for his dedication to his work. But he'd chosen this one, chosen you.

A few years back he'd gotten the chance to see the band live, shoulder to shoulder with a few of his friends at the time. It had been right in the midst of his mother's illness, and he'd had to be practically dragged away from her side. His friends were insistent that she'd be fine with the nurse for a few hours, and that he needed to relieve some stress.

Of course, they'd been implying that he needed to find someone to warm his bed for the night, but he told them he was going for the music. The band's singles had been on the radio at the hospital a few times, and he enjoyed the sound, had been willing to get a ticket.

Looking to the stage he'd watched the members file out from offstage, waving to the crowd's enthusiastic cheers. The drummer, the keyboardist, the bass player, the guitarist who took way too long striding to his spot, soaking up every bit of attention the audience would give him.

Then you appeared. With a smile like morning sunshine and a laugh akin to church bells that he could hear from his place in the back, you captivated him at first sight. It went without saying that you were beautiful- he'd seen you on the covers of magazines at supermarkets around town. There was more to you than 'great tits and an ass', as the man next to him breathed. No, your aura exuded something so mesmerizing that he didn't tear his eyes from you for the whole show.

And when you opened your mouth to sing, well, it would be an understatement to say you were phenomenal. He bought the band's record the day after that.

Needless to say, he'd accepted the offer of security work giddily. Not only was the job the full package, with benefits and pay that would set him up, but he would get to watch you every night. Even a glimpse from his spot offstage would be more than enough.

He was surprised when you turned out to be just as lovely in person as you were onstage. Usually, celebrities and rock stars were doting with their fans from their pedestal but cold when you met them on the same level. But you were the only member of the band who asked his name, and you said hello to him whenever your paths crossed, asking him how he was doing.

The best part was that you never seemed to be doing it out of obligation. You had a gift that made a person feel like there was nobody in the world you'd rather be listening to. He'd say something that'd make that ringing laugh escape your lips, your response decorated with the cute Southern accent that Rolling Stone had declared 'sultry and girl-next-door all rolled into one', and his day would be made.

Billy turned the corner down the hallway, nearly bumping into the lead guitarist. David grabbed his arm, pulling him jarringly close as he asked roughly, "Have you seen her?"

Assuming he meant you, Billy tried not to cough at the cigarettes on his breath and said, "No. Not since the show-"

He was already running off, pulling some poor intern aside likely to ask the same question. Billy shook off the interaction and continued on his way to the second storage room. He pushed open the door, spotting the box of the band's records sitting alone in the light of the open door. Just as he was about to move, the sound of a sniffle caught his ear.

Eyes peeled in the darkness, it would have been an understatement to say he was surprised to see you there, legs pulled to your chest, dress bunched around your thighs as you leaned against the wall with your head in your knees.

You were crying, little sobs escaping you as you sniffled into yourself. He could only watch you for a moment in disbelief. The show had been wonderful, the crowd adoring. He hadn't noticed any mistakes you'd made. But Billy also knew well enough by now that behind the scenes was a myriad of things nobody usually knew to ask about.

Hesitantly, he took a step forward. Normally he wouldn't disturb someone who'd clearly come here for refuge, but it was you. And like it or not, he cared about you and wanted you to be okay.

"Hey..." he started, wincing when you looked up with tearful eyes. His greeting felt too casual for the situation. "Everythin' alright?"

Now your fingers were moving to the outlines of your eyes, collecting any makeup that the tears had smeared. You forced a smile onto your face. "Hi Billy..." sniffle "...I'm okay."

Your voice was honeyed, although decorated with tears, and he wasn't convinced by the act. So instead of pressing, he sat down in front of you, one knee bent, the other flat on the floor, nearly touching yours. He gave you a look. "What happened?"

Lower lip trembling, the entire story came bursting out, your breath hitching every now and then. How you'd walked in on your boyfriend (ex-boyfriend, you amended) with one of the women who followed the band around like mosquitoes on a blood bank. His heart sank as your confession poured out of you, and you seemed to relive it as you told the tale.

Billy was quiet for a moment. His only thought was how stupid David was. You'd chosen to more than give him the time of day, something Billy certainly didn't think the man was worthy of, and he'd somehow screwed it up. He looked up into your eyes. "Why d'ya think he did it?"

You brushed a tear away. "He was mad tonight that I one-upped him in the finale."

"Y'mean your French part?" Billy asked, thinking back to it. Of course he'd been utterly mesmerized by you, blown away by your utter skill.

"He hates it when I do things like that," you murmured, looking down as if you were embarrassed.

It was a strange thing, seeing America's Sweetheart crying on the floor because her ex hadn't been able to handle her talent. The world felt all backwards.

Looking down at you, with your tearstained and reddened cheeks coupled with the facts of the moment, Billy felt a wave of protectiveness crash over him. It was his job to keep you safe, but right now, overexcited fans and paparazzi was the last thing on his mind. You didn't deserve one bit of this situation.

With that in mind, he reached out, setting a hand on your knee. You looked up at him with shining eyes that lit a spark in his heart. Billy squeezed it once. "Y'know...you've gotta good heart. 'n anyone who tries t' take advantage of it don't deserve ya."

The tiniest smile lifted your lips, and Billy nearly melted. You sniffled once, and he could see you coming back; the sweet girl he'd grown to care for in the past few months. "Really?"

"I wouldn't say it if it wasn't true," he promised, nodding to punctuate it. "I've worked for lotsa stars. An' none of 'em 'r as kind as you, so they don't shine as bright. If anybody should know their worth, it's you."

Nodding slightly, you brushed your last tear away. "Him and me are done. I don't care what excuses he tries to make later."

Billy felt relief, though he wasn't sure why. "'f course."

Straightening your knees out, you smoothed your dress, looking up at him. He couldn't help the twang he felt when you fixed such pretty doe eyes in his direction. "I'm sorry I unloaded all that on you."

"No, no," he assured you, eyes sincere. "It's okay. Believe me, I don't mind at all."

Smiling softly, you sat up a little more, smoothing your hair. Then your face filled with dread. "I don't wanna go out and face him. He's gonna try and apologize and..." you covered your eyes with your hand.

Picturing David, Billy nearly cringed. He squeezed your knee again. "I'll stay with ya. I am your security after all."

"For the whole band," you corrected.

"Well, tonight 'm makin' an exception," Billy remedied. He was relieved when you giggled, that sunshine-y sound making him smile in return. "The rest 'f the band can settle for the others in my position. But you're stuck with me." Standing up, he held out a hand. "C'mon. I'll walk ya out."

That tiny smile still gracing your face, you took the outstretched hand and stood, ironing out your dress with your opposite fingers. It was made of a sheer white material, and he could see the outline of your body through it. Even after you'd been crying, you were still stunning. Picking up the box of records, he shifted to hold it against his side as his arm slid around your shoulders and you leaned into him.

Billy guided you through the hallways, escorting you onto the bus with the rest of the band. As expected, once you sat down David turned and opened his mouth. But before he could say anything Billy gave him a firm look, squeezing his arm around you.

He didn't let the smile he wanted to show spread over his face when you rested your head on his shoulder. His hand rubbed your arm, and you closed your eyes.

The bus ride was rowdy as usual, with groupies and band members alike doing lines and chattering loudly in the background. You didn't join in- simply sitting with Billy and letting your hair fall over his torso. He wanted to drop a kiss to your head, but he didn't, sure you'd been overwhelmed enough for the evening. So he just let you rest there, the box of records sitting on his lap and making his knees go numb.

Billy walked you all the way up to your assigned hotel room, stopping in front of the door. He took in your tired expression, letting his arm fall from around your shoulders. "You doin' okay?"

"As well as I can, I think," you said softly, eyes meeting his. Billy half-smiled and shifted the box on his hip.

"'s understandable," he consoled. "'m here for ya though. Whatever ya need." Now he took a step back, getting ready to say goodnight, but paused seeing the look on your face. You were looking over his shoulder timidly, as if scared of something behind him. When he checked, there was nobody there. Raising an eyebrow, Billy turned back to you. "Somethin' wrong?"

"I'm scared David's gonna try and come into my room," you whispered, eyes still on the elevator doors. "He's done it before, I-" you looked down, shaking your head. "It's stupid."

"No," Billy shook his head firmly. "No, he shouldn't be doin' that." He cast a long look at the doors, then used his free hand to lift your chin so your eyes met his. It was funny-every time they did he was awestruck. "Look...d'ya want me to stay with you?"

He almost cringed as soon as he said it. Could he sound any more like a desperate fan? But this was different. He was genuinely concerned for your well-being. And come hell or high water, Billy would do anything for you.

Your brow furrowed in an impossibly adorable way. "Don't you have to go check in with the other security?"

Billy gave you a look. "Do you feel unsafe?"

"I...I don't-" your voice was halting. "I can't get you in trouble just cause-"

"Yes or no, do you?"

A pause. "Yes."

"Right," he nodded, a fond little smile crossing his face. "That makes this an emergency, and I'm s'posed to keep ya safe in an emergency. If ya want me to stay..." his thumb lightly stroked your chin. "I'll stay."

There was some glitter on his hand from the makeup that had smeared down your cheeks. It was a picture every man in America would kill for- their hand on your soft face. You nodded slowly.

"It's settled, then," he said quietly, hand falling from your cheek. When you still looked unsure of the situation, Billy said, "Toldja earlier. It's my job to keep ya safe." He made sure you were making eye contact when he said, "I want to protect you."

"Thank you," you whispered, eyes soft.

"'s no problem," Billy told you. When you turned to stick the key into the lock, he kept himself wary of the surroundings, ready to jump in front of you if David dared to make any appearence.

Though Billy was dedicated to his job, you were a special case. He couldn't ignore the twinges in his heart whenever you smiled, the need in his being to keep you smiling. You weren't just any old celebrity with talent; you shone inside out with a light that a man didn't come across every day.

So, he vowed right then and there that he would always keep you safe. No matter the cost.

[bardic-tales]

Tumblr Games: FF Edition: OC Interview

Thanks so much for the tag, @aalinaaaaaa. I love all of your answers to this.

Rules: Answer the following questions in your character's voice.

Soft tagging: @megandaisy9 @watermeezer @chickensarentcheap @seastarblue @projecthypocrisy

@sapphirothcrescent @tolliver-j-mortaelwyver (for your ocs), @mrsmungus @dream-beyond-the-fantasy @residentdormouse

@serenofroses and OPEN Tag.

Are you named after anyone? My name is Bianca. It wasn't given in honor of anyone in particular. Mom and dad just liked how it sounded.

When was the last time you cried? I don't often let my tears show, but there have been moments of quiet sorrow, recently. Especially after remembering a loss that still hurts me. Even a goddess like me has moments of vulnerability.

Do you have kids? Yes, I have two beautiful children, Aurora and Lucien. They are my heart and my hope for a better future, even in the midst of chaos.

Do you use sarcasm a lot? Absolutely. Sarcasm is my armor and my wit. It keeps conversations interesting and lets me express truth in a way that's both biting and playful.

What’s the first thing you notice about people? I always notice the eyes. They reveal so much about a person's soul, whether it's hidden beneath layers of pretense or lit with passion.

What’s your eye colour? My eyes are a deep purple. They reflect the complexities within me, a blend of celestial beauty and demonic mystery. As well as a bit of cosmic horror that was thrown into my dna. Thanks, Hojo.

Scary movies or happy endings? I lean toward happy endings. Life is too precious and painful already to dwell only in darkness.

Any special talents? I possess abilities that bend reality itself. Besides my talent for writing, I can manipulate space and time, and even converse with departed souls. Not many can say that.

Do you have any pets? I have two dark dragons that patrol the Northern Crater with me. They are as fierce and loyal as I am, and they remind me daily of the wild magic within.

What sort of sports do you play? I don't play sports in the traditional sense, but I love soaring through the skies. Flying is my ultimate adrenaline rush and a reminder of my celestial heritage. It has taken me some time to accept my wings as a part of me and not my horrific past, so this is a new joy I'm experiencing.

How tall are you? I stand at 5 feet tall. My size may be modest, but my presence is anything but.

What was your favorite subject in school? I haven't had a normal childhood. My life was nomadic, so the education I received was from my father found in several dumpsters at high schools. I am self-taught.

What is your dream job? A "dream job"? Bianca scoffs. How quaint. I don’t dream of something as pedestrian as a career—I dream of destiny. I am the Harbinger of Death and Rebirth, the one who will bring about the kilonova that ends this wretched Creation and paves the way for something far greater. I don’t care for titles, fame, or wealth. What use are such trivial things when Creation is a rotting carcass begging to be reduced to ash? No, my purpose, my highest calling, is to stand beside Sephiroth as we burn it all down and sculpt something worthy from the ruins. That isn’t a job. That is meaning. That is the only thing that makes existence bearable after everything I’ve endured.

Blank Template

Are you named after anyone?

When was the last time you cried?

Do you have kids?

Do you use sarcasm a lot?

What’s the first thing you notice about people?

What’s your eye colour?

Scary movies or happy endings?

Any special talents?

Where were you born?

Do you have any pets?

What sort of sports do you play?

How tall are you?

What was your favourite subject in school?

What is your dream job?

[chthonic-cassandra]

Instead of the darkness, she faced a stupendous sky-conflagration, an incredible glacial dream-scene. Cold coruscations of rainbow fire pulsed overhead, shot through by shafts of pure incandescence thrown out by mountains of solid ice towering all round. Closer, the trees round the house, sheathed in ice, dripped and sparkled with weird prismatic jewels, reflecting the vivid changing cascades above. Instead of the familiar night sky, the aurora borealis formed a blazing, vibrating roof of intense cold and colour, beneath which the earth was trapped with all its inhabitants, walled in by those impassable glittering ice-cliffs. The world had become an arctic prison from which no escape was possible, all its creatures trapped as securely as were the trees, already lifeless inside their deadly resplendent armour. Despairingly she looked all round. She was completely encircled by the tremendous ice walls, which were made fluid by explosions of blinding light, so that they moved and changed with a continuous liquid motion, advancing in torrents of ice, avalanches as big as oceans, flooding everywhere over the doomed world. Wherever she looked, she was the same fearful encirclement, soaring battlements of ice, an overhanging ring of frigid, fiery, colossal waves about to collapse upon her. Frozen by the deathly cold emanating from the ice, dazzled by the blaze of crystalline ice-light, she felt herself becoming part of the polar vision, her structure becoming one with the structure of ice and snow. As her fate, she accepted the world of ice, shining, shimmering, dead; she resigned herself to the triumph of glaciers and the death of her world.

Anna Kavan, Ice

[butternutt613]

My submission for a Valentine’s Day writing event from a discord server!

Just under 900 words of Ominis, God of Dreams, discovering Diana Aurora's dreamscape! I hope you enjoy, my loves! (*＾3＾)/～☆

I would like to dedicate this to @ravenwind-75 for beta reading and my secret valentine, who seems to really enjoy this pairing, whoever you are!

Theme: Cupid's Arrow!

Ominis had seen the dreams of countless mortals in their eons of being. Many dreamt of power, riches, fame, even love. These were not new to the Oneironaut. Ominis would wander through each human's deepest desires and truest wishes, shaping and manifesting what the mortals needed to see most. It was their purpose. The role they had been assigned in creation, since becoming.

Ominis had never questioned that divine role bestowed upon them.

That was until Ominis entered the dreams of one, Diana Aurora.

Hers were unlike anything the Sandman had laid their pale gaze upon. Ominis knew she was an artist; they had seen the swirling sunset skies in the minds of mortals before. A world of their own made of brush strokes and rainbows.

Ominis could recall a mortal man with a vibrant, trembling mind whose fever dreams were a symphony of cobalt and gold swirling through the air untamed and radiant in the void. Ominis could feel the artist's longing, his sorrows, his love, as he transformed the ordinary into something pulsing with life eternal. The deity was saddened the last night they saw the man's once colorful mind, swirling with sorrowful blue.

Ominis enjoyed shaping artists' dreams the most. They would take what the deity presented them and soar.

But Diana did not just take.

She created.

Here, there were no limitations, no structure that followed mortal reason. Only pure artistry, raw and unrestrained.

Her dreamscape was not merely a reflection of her waking mind. It was alive, breathing with a rhythm all its own. The sky, a canvas of lavender and indigo melting into gold, as though the horizon itself had been dipped in sunlight. The ocean stretched before them, not just blue, but a galaxy of colors shifting with every pulse of the waves. Deep sapphire, streaks of nebula pink, liquid silver. The tide shimmered as though the stars had fallen into the sea, their light tangled in the current.

Ominis had spent eternity weaving the dreams of mortals, but never before had they entered a dream so alive.

Ominis turned, expecting to find an empty dream, as they always did at first. Instead, they saw her.

Diana stood at the water’s edge, her bare feet sinking into the white sand. The waves lapped at her ankles, leaving behind glowing trails as they retreated. Even the ocean itself sought to cling to her presence. She lifted a hand, fingers outstretched, and beckoned for the sea. The tide returned swirling and lapping at her ankles as though she was a part of it.

Extending her hand toward the sky, the water rose in a graceful arc that caught the final rays of the setting sun. Like liquid crystal, the water shimmered, refracting the light into a cascade of colors. A brilliant rainbow unfurled across the twilight, bridging the gap between the heavens and the sea, pulsing with hues more vivid than mere mortals could comprehend.

And then-

The rainbow exploded into thousands of shimmering stars, each droplet igniting as it drifted upward, embedding itself into the darkening heavens. The sky inhaled, and the stars settled into their place, constellations of Diana’s own making. Unique and as brilliant as her.

The sea had given birth to the cosmos.

And Ominis could do nothing but watch in reverence.

She was not yearning for riches. Not for power. Not even for love.

She was dreaming in creation.

Ominis had never felt small before. They were a being beyond time, beyond matter, beyond what mortals could comprehend. And yet, standing in the world Diana had woven from her mind, Ominis felt insignificant in the face of something greater than themselves.

She was turning the ocean into light.

Her fingertips brushed the air, and the sky bloomed in color.

Ominis could not move. Could not breathe, if they had ever truly breathed at all.

They had wandered through the minds of poets and kings, of artists and dreamers. But never had they entered a dream that felt as though it had been crafted for them.

Something in Ominis shifted, an unfamiliar ache curling through their very core.

They had known admiration. They had known fascination.

But this was something else entirely.

This was yearning.

Ominis had seen beauty in its many forms, but never had they looked upon something, someone, who felt as though they belonged to the fabric of their being.

They reached for her.

Just as their fingers would have brushed through her, as the dreams were not tangible to the Sandman, Diana turned.

She turned and their eyes met.

Pale moons met golden suns in a supernova.

Ominis felt the world tilt beneath them.

She should not have seen them. No mortal should have been able to look upon them and truly see.

And yet, Diana’s gaze did not waver.

A slow, knowing smile curled her lips. Soft, warm, devastating.

Ominis had watched humans dream of love for centuries. They had shaped it, sculpted it, let it unfold within their realm over and over and over again.

But this was different.

This was real.

And in that moment, standing beneath the endless sky of her making, with the waves whispering against the shore and the scent of lavender curling in the wind, Ominis realized something terrifying and beautiful.

They were falling.

Falling in love.

And they never wanted her to wake up.

[rems-writing]

The rulers of Hearts

Pairing: WooGi × Lost Girl!reader (mainly Mingi × reader)

Summary: After choosing your suit, you're wondering if you chose the right one or if you regret your decision

Warning(s): bigdick!Mingi (mf hung like a horse lol), ass smacking, finger riding, boob play, backshots, hair pulling

Genre: Smut with plot

Nets: @mirohs-aurora-society

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

“Let’s go visit… the rulers of Hearts.” 

Seonghwa and Yeosang nodded before they finished their food and beckoned you to come with them so the three of you could get changed for the meeting. Yeosang picked out some clothes for you and when you held them up, you gulped nervously. “Um… why exactly do I have to wear this?”

The clothes Yeosang set out for you was a red bodycon dress. The fabric was made out of the finest red silk and when it flared down, diamond cutouts were shown. You looked at what they were wearing. Yeosang changed back into the suit he wore when you first met him and Seonghwa wore a similar suit, only instead of a blazer, he wore a long red trench coat. Seonghwa saw the worried look on your face and he patted your head, smoothing out the hair that was sticking out all over the place. “We couldn’t find any suits your size plus your arrival was last minute so we didn’t have time to get a suit tailored for you. Our apologies.” 

Your heart soared when Seonghwa said this. You didn’t mind that you wore a dress.You were just a bit afraid of not pulling it off like Seonghwa did with his dress. As if he read your mind, Seonghwa leaned down and kissed your forehead. “Go put it on. We want to see for ourselves how you look.”  

You nodded and quickly rushed to the bathroom to go change. The dress wasn’t particularly long yet you felt like a fawn trying to walk for the first time. You almost tripped and landed on your face when Yeosang grabbed your waist and held you upright. You thanked him and smoothed out your dress before noticing that the two of them couldn’t stop staring at you. Feeling insecure, you tried to cover yourself. Or rather your shoulders and collarbone since those were the only body parts exposed. Yeosang gently grabbed your wrists and pulled your arms away before taking another look at you. “You look marvelous, angel. Would you like something to top off the dress?” Yeosang asked and patted his own neck, indicating that he’s asking you if you want to accessorize your neck. 

“Maybe not a necklace, but perhaps a shawl? I’ve never had my skin exposed like this before.”

Yeosang nodded and quickly fetched something from his closet before walking back to you and draping the shawl over your shoulders and collarbone. “Is this ok?” 

You nodded and Yeosang smiled before he kissed your forehead and grabbed your hand so you, him, and Seonghwa can get going on this journey to the Heart castle. As you entered the carriage, you looked out the window and saw many creatures running about over the grassy plains of Wonderland. You yawned all of a sudden and both men looked at you in concern. “Lay your head on my shoulder and get some rest, dear. It’ll take almost an hour and a half to get to the Hearts castle. We’ll wake you up.” 

You looked up at Seonghwa and nodded slowly before leaning your head on his shoulder. His arm wrapped around your waist and he looked at you with an unfamiliar look on his face. 

“Sweet dreams… my good girl.” 

—-------------------------------------------------

The first thing you felt as you arrived at the Hearts castle was fear. 

Sure, Cora was long gone but that didn’t settle the anxiety bubbling in your stomach. Sensing your apprehension once more, Seonghwa brought you into a warm hug and made you look at him. His bright pink eyes stared down at you with so much care as he spoke.  “Unlike Cora, the King of Hearts is actually kind to his citizens and would never crush their hearts. Literally. Same with the Jack of Hearts. They are both sweethearts.” 

“Menaces, but sweethearts.” 

You giggled at Yeosang’s comment and the other man found his own heart beating rapidly upon hearing the sound. Once the carriage stopped, the three of you exited the horse drawn vehicle and walked towards the entrance. You were greeted by card soldiers and walked down the long hallway to the meeting room, where the King and Jack of Hearts were seated. 

A high pitched scream was emitted from one of them. 

You saw the Jack of Hearts rush over to the three of you and capture both Seonghwa and Yeosang in a bone crushing hug. You found the sight endearing as the two men playfully rejected the Jack’s boisterous affection. The Jack soon turned to you and tilted his head curiously as he strided over towards you. “Hi. Are you nervous?” His once loud voice turned quiet as he stared at you tentatively while he spoke. You shyly waved and a big smile was on his face before he extended his hand.  

“I’m the Jack of Hearts, but you can call me Wooyoung. You’re not from here huh?”

As you shook his hand, you noticed that his eyes were a dark brown, almost black, color and you saw the outline of a heart in his pupils. He literally had heart eyes!

“I originally came from Neverland…”

The smile disappeared from Wooyoung’s face and you slowly regretted saying that. To your surprise, he grabbed your wrist and pulled you into a hug. He was caressing your hair and checking for anything that might’ve indicated you were hurt in that dying realm. 

“Have you been struck with dreamshade?”

“No.” 

“Have the Lost Boys hurt you either physically or mentally? I highly doubt those teenagers care about emotions.”

“No.”

“Has Peter Pan himself -”

“No! Rather, he simply told me to toughen up and walk it off.”

Wooyoung growled and he was about to say something else when a deep voice rang out in the meeting room. 

“That’s enough, Woo. We’ll take care of Neverland once the Savior finishes her job and we finish this meeting with Seonghwa and Yeosang.” 

At the mention of Emma’s name, you peered over Wooyoung’s shoulder to see who that deep voice belonged to. Your knees almost gave out. 

Standing behind the three men was the King of Hearts. 

He was definitely taller than all three men combined and he had sharp eyes like that of a wolf. He looked down at you and smirked before beckoning you to come closer to him. You gulped nervously and walked closer to him, squeaking in surprise when his large hands grabbed your waist and pulled you closer to him. His eye color was a pale yellow and the rest of his facial features looked absolutely divine. His long silver hair was styled specifically to show off his mullet and his hands were adorned with many silver rings that had heart shaped rubies topped off. As he was observing you, he licked his lips and had one of his hands caress your face. 

“Sit with us. Tell us everything that happened to you in Neverland. We’ll take good care of you.”

—-------------------------------------------------

The meeting lasted for three hours. Even though talking about your time in Neverland was painful, you felt at ease knowing these four men would protect you. After you finished speaking, the King and Wooyoung drafted up plans on how to invade Neverland and ultimately destroy it so you’d truly be free of that realm. Once the drafts were written up, all five of you stood up from the table. You were about to bid your goodbyes when a clap of thunder could be heard from outside the castle walls and lightning flashed through the windows. You shrieked and hid your face in Seonghwa’s chest. The King chuckled deeply and patted your head. “Aww. Baby girl is afraid of a little storm?” He teased and Seonghwa scolded him. 

“Quiet you. She told us how Pan would make her sleep in a horrible downpour as punishment for her misbehavior.”

“I fucking know, ok? Rumple should kill him faster. The hell is the Savior going to do?”

“Just help me comfort her, Mingi.” 

Mingi sighed and pulled you away from Seonghwa so you could hide in his chest. “Relax, babe. Pan’s not here. You’re safe with us.” You nodded and Mingi lifted your face up so you could look at him. He wiped your tears away and pressed a soft kiss to your cheek. “Have Seonghwa and Yeosang’s rooms prepared for tonight! I’m taking little Y/N with me.” 

“Don’t hurt her.”

“Mingi won’t. Unless she asks.” 

Yeosang elbowed Wooyoung and the Jack simply giggled while you were confused as to what he meant by that. 

“I bid you goodnight, gentlemen. Hopefully, this storm clears up by tomorrow.” 

He lifted you up and carried you bridal style before stomping over to his room. 

Once the two of you arrived, Mingi set you down but he didn’t let go of you yet. Instead, he pressed you against the wall. 

“Tell me something, Y/N. Did you have any needs met when you were in that stupid realm?”

“No… I was told that if I needed something, I should just work for it, just like every other Lost Boy had to. If Pan treated me differently, he’d have to treat everyone the same way.” 

“Right… as to be expected. So none of them took care of you properly.” 

“No…” 

“Well in that case… allow me.” 

You didn’t have the chance to speak as he kissed you hungrily and passionately. You didn’t know what to do since the only other person that kissed you was Pan himself. And it wasn’t even on the lips! Only the hand, occasionally the cheek if you behaved well. When Mingi pulled away, he rubbed your bottom lip with his thumb. 

“Was that your first kiss, baby girl?”

You noddedly shyly and Mingi cooed quietly at your bashful demeanour. He bent down  and grabbed your legs before lifting you and pressing your body against his. You felt something large poking you from underneath and you blushed. Even though that was your first kiss, this definitely wasn’t the first time you had sex. Again. The only other person that you initially did the deed with was Pan himself. Sex with him was rare and if you had to be honest, you were glad it was rare. Sex with Peter Pan was rushed and sloppy. It felt like he didn’t know what he was doing. After he finished first, he just left you to clean up. The worst part of it all?

He never kissed you. 

Mingi saw you deep in thought and he connected his forehead with yours. “We don’t have to do this if you’re uncomfortable. I’m sorry if I just jumped the gun on that.”

His voice was soft and he looked at you like you were a precious gem he cared for. As he caressed your face, you leaned into his touch. 

“It’s ok. Just give me a moment before we continue.”

“Continue? So you actually want to go through with this?”

“Peter Pan is a boy. He only cares about himself and his needs.” 

“You’re absolutely right, babe. You don’t need him. You need a man. And I can definitely be that man for you. I’ll treat you like the queen you’re supposed to be.” 

As he leaned down and planted kisses on your neck, your hand found its way to his hair and tugged it slightly, feeling the soft locks in between your fingers. He lifted his head and stared at you with a newfound lust in his eyes. “I’ll take care of you.”

With that, he took you to his bed and laid you down gently before slowly peeling off the dress you had on. 

You were in a for a long night

—-------------------------------------------------

You didn’t know how long you were in this position for and quite frankly, you didn’t care. His huge cock pulled out and slammed right back in at a brutal pace while his hands gripped your hips so tight that you were sure they would leave bruises. Speaking of his hands, let’s just say that you discovered some new kinks along the way. 

One, you liked getting your ass smacked. The harder the slaps, the tighter you clenched around him. He groaned at the way your pussy practically sucked his cock in and he reveled in it. Two, you could ride his fingers for hours and never get tired of it. To be fair though, he only fingered you as a means to prep you for his cock. However, with the way you happily sucked his fingers beforehand, he figured he could get to cum a few times from his fingers before he whipped out his dick. Three, you loved the way his huge hands fondled and played with your breasts. 

He stopped for a moment to worship you a bit by planting soft kisses along your backside. He rubbed your hips and whispered sweet yet dirty words in your ear.

“Seonghwa was right. You’re such a good girl. Fuck, I wish I could ruin you. Make you mine.” 

“Mingi~” You mewled quietly and he chuckled deeply. 

“Yeah that’s right. Say my name, baby girl. In fact, scream it. Scream my name as I continue hitting it from the back. God you love my backshots huh? Wish you could let me pound this pretty pussy for hours on end? Hmm? I bet you’d like that.” 

You moaned in response to his words and he laughed before picking up where he left off. As his cock ran deep inside you, your back arched and you threw your head back, which allowed him the opportunity to grab a fistful of your hair and yank on it harshly. You screamed his name so loud that you were sure anyone that was still awake in the castle would’ve heard you by now. Mingi soon pulled your body upright so your back was to his sweaty chest. 

Did I mention how good he looked naked? 

Mingi was a bit more lean than Yeosang yet his biceps were bigger. His waist was tiny, his legs, specifically his thighs, were strong & firm, and his cock. Good Lord his cock was big and you loved taking every single inch of it. At this point, your pussy was shaped just to take his dick and his dick alone. 

As he continued hitting it from the back, his arm wrapped around your waist to keep you close to him while his other hand snaked down to your clit and rubbed it in slow circles. You craned your neck to position your head to face him before pushing his own head forehead so your lips can meet in a sloppy kiss. Teeth clashed here and there but you were so far gone in the pleasure to notice. 

“MINGI, I’M CLOSE! LET ME CUM! PLEASE~” 

“Fuck, baby. Me too. We’re cumming together.” 

After a few more thrusts, he came inside you while you squirted all over his dick. Breathing heavily, you fell face first into the bed, your legs feeling like mush after being in those compromising positions for so long. You cringed at the way you felt empty when he slipped out of you as you fell forward. He chuckled and got up to rush to the bathroom. He soon came back with a warm wet rag and turned your body over gently before spreading your legs once more to clean in between them. After you were fully cleaned up, he threw the rag aside and helped you get under the covers before pulling you close to him so you could hear his heartbeat as you laid on his chest. 

“I’m keeping my promise to destroy Neverland. I’m making Peter Pan and his stupid Lost Boys pay for making you suffer alone.” 

The gutteral growl sent a shiver down your spine yet you knew that anger wasn’t directed towards you. He kept you close for the rest of the night as you both slept soundly. 

—-------------------------------------------------

The next morning, Yeosang and Wooyoung were chatting away while Mingi had to go somewhere to finalize the plans of Neverlands’ destruction. You made smalltalk with Seonghwa and the queen teased you about your session with Mingi.

I’m guessing you were loud as hell. 

After Mingi joined the four of you shortly, you continued eating breakfast until you were all full to your hearts’ content. You soon got up but Seonghwa made you stay behind, leaving you confused. You then looked down at what he was looking at and blushed after he held up a mirror for you to look into.

There were a shit ton of hickies Mingi left behind on your neck. 

You were about to ask what Seonghwa will do or say when the queen simply waved his hand slowly over your neck. You realized he probably had a bit of magic in him as you saw the hickies slowly disappear from your skin. Once he was done, he seemed proud of his work. He grinned lightly and kissed your forehead. 

“We wouldn’t want the rest of the rulers here to see evidence of your time with Mingi. Speaking of which, who do you want to visit next?”

That was a good question indeed. 

[necroticpixies]

soaring aurora dragon

[ad-hawkeye]

Alkaid's Destiny's Call Endings

A transcript of each ending can be found below.

ASTRONOMER ENDING

Ever since he was a child, Alkaid has always harbored a profound fascination with the heavens above. Gazing into the sky, he could sense the endlessness of the world beyond the curtain of the sky.

When he grew up, he bought a small telescope, which shortened the distance between him and the sky. Through it, he could see beautiful stars traveling along mysterious tracks in space.

Eventually, Alkaid's unwavering passion led him down the path of becoming an astronomer. Countless complexities created a cascade of numbers, constructing a ladder that propelled him toward the stars.

There, he watched the birth and death of the stars as if he was watching the blossoming and withering of a flower.

FLORIST ENDING

After reaching the age of 18, Alkaid became the owner of a flower shop. He named his store "Aurora," a name he held dear, even though its profound significance remained a secret, intertwined with the threads of destiny.

He looks after the white roses, lilies, and daisies in his floral shop. He treats these delicate flowers as cherished companions, joyfully passing them into the hands of those who appreciate them properly.

"Do you have 319 white roses in stock?"*

"I'm afraid we don't at the moment. But you can leave your contact details and I'll call you to pick them up in three days."

"Okay. Thank you." The girl nods and leaves her contact information.

Alkaid takes the note and repeats her name under his breath - "Can I call you... Miss [MC Name]?

*March 19th is Alkaid's birthday.

TRAVEL PHOTOGRAPHER ENDING

Alkaid has visited countless places.

To him, the world contains both perils and marvels. In his eyes, the allure of a place grows exponentially with its danger and inaccessibility.

Fearless and resolute, Alkaid willingly embraces risk to experience the world on a personal level. He captures these extraordinary locations through the lens of his camera, cherishing them as souvenirs.

The sight of snow-capped mountains always leaves him awestruck. As Alkaid sets up his equipment, a girl walks into his camera frame. With a canvas in her hand, she trips over and falls down in the snow.

"It's too dangerous to traverse this mountain on your own," Alkaid says as he runs over to help the girl.

RACE CAR DRIVER ENDING

As the race car reaches its maximum speed, a whirlwind ensues. The boundary between life and death is so close, and fate can be heard screaming.

Alkaid can't say for sure why he fell in love with this feeling. It only lasts for an instant, but still leaves him in deep fascination.

When the car reaches the finish line, Alkaid's soul finally finds solace. Mr. McGrath, the "Best Driver of the Year", smiles gently as he received a starry candy bouquet.

"Congratulations, Alkaid!"

Alkaid looks at the girl. Again, he feels the thrilling sensation he'd just experienced. But this time, it faintly whirls around his heart.

He asks the girl, "May I have your name?"

"My name is [MC Name]," she replies.

PSYCHOLOGIST ENDING

Alkaid first became interested in psychology because he wanted to understand himself and other human beings.

Later on, he discovered that the world is a vast ocean where everyone is surrounded by water. People affect and are affected by each other. There is no shame in misfortune and feeling emotions. Reconciliation is a long process. Emotions, just like many things in the world, are contagious.

Although, ever since he became a psychologist, Alkaid thinks he's adapted very well.

"Next, please."

PILOT ENDING

Countless choices in life often originate from fortuitous encounters. Yet, this choices often carry a sense of destiny.

Planes mimic the graceful flight of birds as they ascend into the heavens. Bound by the pull of gravity, they persistently strive to soar higher and higher.

Whenever he soars into the sky and glides over the horizon, and whenever he sees a glimpse of the glow at the end of the world, Alkaid is reminded of one afternoon from many years ago.

Through torrents of rain and storms, he unfurls his wings, determined to fly into the heavens and safeguard the land beneath him.