* 𝗿𝗶𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘀 & 𝗿𝗼𝗮𝗱𝘀 .

                     \༘ ⋆  ۫ ׅ  ࿓  the   feeling   of   impending   doom   sat   heavy   in   his   chest   as   the   slow,   asphyxiating   realization   settled   in—how   beautiful   the   life   they   had   created   on   their   own   had   become.   everything   he   had   always   known   they   were   capable   of,   they   became.   all   without   him.   he   had   never   been   more   amazed—nor   more   proud—   yet   he   wished   he   could   have   been   there   for   everything.   selfishly,   he   wished   he   had   been   there   to   tend   to   their   garden.   it   had   always   been   budding   beautifully,   but   now   they   were   in   full   bloom.   lush   and   incomparable.   he’d   missed   them   ineffably,   even   while   seated   beside   them.   he   felt   like   an   observer   rather   than   a   participant—overhearing,   a   soft   smile   sustained,   eyes   glued   to   them,   entirely   lost   in   his   love.   his   gaze   glossed   slightly   with   quiet   devastation   with   realization   settling   in   his   ribs.   they   weren’t   his   anymore…   and   it   sank   in.   the   truth   settled   slowly,   heavily,   between   laughter   and   lighthearted   jokes.   his   eyes   trailed   across   the   room   amid   the   easy   chatter   when   a   name—one   he   only   knew   through   rumors   and   half-formed   fears—caught   his   attention.   a   comment   struck   his   ears.   wait—   he   wasn’t   theirs   either   ?   his   slowed   heart   began   to   beat   again,   his   eyes   widening   slightly   as   he   blinked   back   into   reality,   meeting   their   gaze   once   more.   ❛   wait—so   he’s   not   your   boyfriend   ?   ❜   the   question   slipped   out   before   he   could   stop   it,   softer   than   intended,   carried   more   by   hope   than   curiosity,   hanging   between   them   like   a   held   breath.

sami blinked, the moment stretching as her head turned toward him. "what—" she started, then stopped herself, giving a small shake of her head as her lips tipped upward, smoothing the edges of the moment. "no, of course not." her voice was steady. practiced. but her heart betrayed her anyway, leaping at the question before she could stop it. her eyes search his, fleeting and instinctive, before she pulls them away again — a quiet retreat, an effort to slip back into something resembling normal. the moment fractures and reforms, fragile, as she reaches for the comfort of pretending everything is exactly as it should be.

             \༘ ⋆  ۫ ׅ  ࿓    she   was   so   much   smarter   than   this.   she   knew   she   was.   she   had   to   be.   she   just   couldn’t   understand   why   she   was   feeling   this   way—something   about   their   laughter   in   harmonic   unison,   the   way   it   carried,   rising   above   the   low   murmur   of   voices   and   clinking   glass.   something   in   her   chest   snapped   tight   when   she   saw   them   lean   in   together.   it   was   too   effortless.   too   easy.   it   almost   alarmed   her   how   quickly   she   reacted—before   sense   or   caution   could   intervene.   a   practiced   smile.   an   excuse   delivered   with   the   ease   of   long   familiarity.   her   heart   drummed   in   her   ears   as   she   maneuvered   through   the   room.   this   is   ridiculous.   it   could   mean   nothing.   people   laughed.   people   connected.   that   didn’t   mean   anything.   it   didn’t   mean   interest.   it   didn’t   mean   inevitability.   she   didn’t   know   why   it   bothered   her   so   much.   this   was   what   she   wanted…   right   ?   ❛   so   .   .   .   ❜   she   asked,   turning   toward   them   and   feigning   a   relaxed   smile,   ❛   how’s   everything   going   ?   ❜

and it was… not bad. better than not bad, even. the conversation had pulled him under just enough that he almost missed the interruption, a familiar voice cutting through and tugging him back to the present. jae looked up, meeting isa’s gaze as an easy smile curved across his mouth, unforced and genuine. "it’s going, uh... i was actually gonna get some more drinks, if you wanna help." maybe a little distance wouldn’t hurt. absence makes the heart grow fonder, right? and he owed isa a moment anyway — a quiet thanks for orchestrating this whole thing. stepping away felt like the perfect excuse. jae pushed himself up from his seat, already gesturing for femme to follow.

WOO DO-HWAN as HAE JO MR. PLANKTON (2024) 1.01

She's so pretty 💙

Gabriela Andrada

one night stands were meant to be exactly just that, a fleeting pleasure without any strings attached, a temporary fix, though some were self - imposed trials to see if a never - admitted secret was truly an attraction or the whim of an achingly bored & lonesome mind. it was pathetic, but retirement from the rink had given him too much time to reflect, to unabashedly see himself as a growing person instead of the champion glorified and frozen in time in eyes of the masses. and that night with fionn graves, of all people, gave him the definitive answer, that it was a late - blooming realization of something he kept from himself rather than a mid - life crisis, though roarke would rather be alone in dealing with the fallout in his mind before the inevitable public one. yet, fionn appeared everywhere he went     ⎯⎯⎯      like a ghost haunting him, both in reality & his dreams, like an unfinished business, as if fate was saying roarke owed him another moment of pleasure for the epiphany he'd given him. but he really only had himself to blame, sleeping with someone running in the same circles, with someone he was bound to cross paths with again and again. a low chuckle slipped past his lips the second he realized fionn had stationed himself beside him but refused to meet his eyes, so he glanced at the same direction : an attempt to make themselves look like simple observers, as if the conversation was about everyone else instead of them.           ❝     i see all the concussions on the ice is finally catching up to you, graves.     ❞         roarke deadpanned, voice almost low enough to be a whisper, though the fleeting shadow of a smile over his lips was unmistakable. then, he finally looked at him, taking a sip of his drink before cocking his head with an impish curiosity, leaning closer to murmur his next words into fionn's ear.          ❝     i mean, come on. you're the one makin ' an effort to be right next to me. either you want something, or you're hoping i want it first. so, which is it ?     ❞         

the thought that looped and replayed until it felt less like curiosity and more like fixation. and now that thought was standing right beside him. it was like a song lodged deep in his head — the kind you hum despite yourself. maybe if you listened all the way through, it would finally stop. or maybe it would dig in deeper, worming its way toward madness. fionn let out a low whistle, slow and deliberate, his eyebrow quirking as his gaze dragged downward and then back up roarke’s frame, openly appraising. "i’m just being friendly, y’know. seems like something’s on your mind, though." and he would never say it, would never allow his mind to be read so openly. and so he deflects, passes things off as jokes.

logan almost laughed, but the sound didn't fully make it out, lightly shaking his head at the bouncer's sentiment. he'd like to believe he was a good judge of character, even when his bloodstream felt tequila - warm    ⎯⎯⎯     and god, he wished his current company was an axe - murderer, but the only crime they were really guilty of was being boring when they weren't affectionate, when he wasn't drowning in their touch. and maybe he should settle for what he had, for who he chose, but logan had always needed something more than physical to really make him feel alive. something a little more primal. something more akin to the way he felt whenever a gaze burned into the back of his neck. ❝     bouncer - bouncee relationship ?     ❞         logan asked with feigned confusion lacing his voice, but the look in his eyes said what he really thought. that oli couldn't possibly believe his own words, that logan might be tipsy but oli would need to try much harder to fool him. bouncers were supposed to be indifferent, strong hands only intervening when needed, and they certainly weren't supposed to get invested in the patrons' lives or the revolving door of people that logan brought here whenever he was lonely.          ❝     it's more like a stalker - stalkee relationship, really. always looking for me in the crowd, waiting for me here while i was taking a piss,     ❞         he clicked his tongue, amusement playing on the corners of his lips.          ❝     i think you're checking me just as much as you're checking for a potential axe murderer, oliver.     ❞          but of course, logan was only half - joking, a chuckle slipping past his lips as oli finally really looked at him. so he leaned in, just a little, just enough to make the air between them feel crowded. and his gaze flicked toward the bouncer's lips for a split - second, almost unconsciously, before looking back up into his eyes.          ❝     but i'm warning you, man. i was ignored as a child, so all of these following me and always looking out for me, it's kind of hot. i'm like really, really kind of into it.     ❞         he laughed, taking a step forward as his inebriated mind raced about what was even happening between them, about what oliver wanted out of this, and what he wanted, too.          ❝     but to answer your question, about how it's working out with them    ⎯⎯⎯     let's just say, at this point, i'd let you take me somewhere to sober up. then, maybe we can work through you wanting to kiss me without feeling bad about it, stalker.     ❞         

there was just him. and then that word surfaced again. "don’t call me that." the retort came fast, reflexive. he shoved aside the intrusive flashes — the instinct to pull logan somewhere quieter, the unwanted imaginings of what sobriety might strip bare between them. no. his focus narrowed to the accusation alone. stalker. but what else was he doing? watching from the edges, adjusting his orbit without thinking, needing to know who logan was with — knowing when it was someone new just by the way unfamiliar hands fit against his body. the realization churned, ugly and undeniable. "you need to sober up, logan. you’re being fucking insane."

in   spite   of   every   spirit   &   chemical   reaction   swimming   through   his   veins,     logan   remained   enduringly   in   his   element     ⎯⎯⎯      his   own   heartbeat   drowned   out   by   the   low,     filthy   thump   of   bodies   on   the   dancefloor,     and his bones delightfully vibrated to the rhythm of the bassline.    and his skin was a little too warm, perhaps because of his current touchy feely company, but the truth was they were just another drug to drink in. another sweet thing to kick the pulse up during these never - ending nights. or maybe the warmth was just muscle memory, his body's natural response to being watched by a familiar gaze that pretended to be too casual about it. but he knew the truth behind those eyes : been close & cozy with how oli's indifference veiled simmering emotions, almost like a damned man pressing his hands on a gunshot wound just so he wouldn't stain the carpet. and so what if logan wanted to keep testing the water, pushing the limits, pulling his new dalliance closer, bodies grinding, knocking back one shot after another     ⎯⎯⎯      all because he knew oli was watching. all because oli was the miracle drug that made him feel the most, feel the best, and he knew he'd soon get his fix with enough teasing & taunting. yet, he had pause this little game for a moment, body in need of recovery after what might be his ninth tequila shot, rushing to the restroom before he pissed himself. but his relief was immediately replaced with guilt and delight all the same, thought oli would've last longer before making contact, but logan welcomed it nonetheless. he swallowed, tasting lime, salt, and old affections, but recollection didn't stop him from standing close and leaning against the wall. logan didn't even bother to follow where he pointed, already well - aware of the crux of this whole thing.          ❝     you've been watching me. like a scorned, jealous ex.     ❞         it wasn't an accusation, just the facts, though a playful, smug smile lingered on his lips. every word, every quirk of his mouth, everything was just another taunt to see how he'd react.          ❝     and yeah, we've been havin ' lots of fun together. but who know if it'll even last ? you know how easy it is to grow fickle and bored these days.     ❞         

it wasn’t even a lie. oli had done this before — stepped in, checked on people, watched their backs. that part of it was familiar, justified. what wasn’t familiar was the effort he’d made to end up here, the way he’d tracked logan down instead of letting chance handle it. his arms came up then, crossing over his chest. armor. habit. a physical barrier where his composure could rest. finally, he angled himself just a little more toward logan, enough to acknowledge him properly. "right." he said, slow and measured. "that’s what you’re doing, then? fulfilling boredom... how's it working out?"

fact ten you’ve never felt eternity but when he takes your hand or kisses your temple you think that you can almost taste it

𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐦𝐧𝐞𝐝 - one day, ten women wake up pregnant despite none of them trying. all ten children are born at the same time, five boys and five girls, except one is stillborn, making his pair partner alone. all the other children act the same, as if ruled by one entity, and show no personality. as they age, they start to show signs of paranormal abilities that are being used only to harm others. muse a and muse b could be parents or one of them could be the lone child grown up.