#Small steps for big progress

[aaliyawrites]

From Perfectionism to Progress: Aaliya's Story of Breaking Free from Procrastination

Hey there, I’m Aaliya, the pen with a story to tell. I’ve been with my human, V, since 2018, and trust me, it’s been quite the journey. I’ve seen her smile, cry, win, lose, fall in love, and sink into some deep pain. Her path’s been full of confusion, heavy expectations, and, well, let’s just say, a lot of procrastination. But through it all, she’s kept going. That takes courage — even if she’d never admit it.

You see, V’s methods aren’t always the best (and yes, sometimes they suck), but her heart is in the right place. This blog? It’s not about her past (at least, not all of it). It’s about where she’s at right now. But hey, a little context never hurt anyone, right?

V’s Battle with Perfectionism: The Journey to Self-Acceptance

Let’s get one thing straight: V is human. Shocking, right? You’re probably rolling your eyes, but it’s important. She forgets that a lot. In her world, her worth is tied up in accomplishments — money, looks, killer communication skills, friendships, or finding her "perfect" crew (think Luffy’s gang, for you anime fans).

She’s convinced that if she doesn’t check all those boxes, she’s just… not enough. She believes that if she doesn’t have it all, people will leave her behind. And if you’re sitting there thinking, "Well, that’s wrong," you’re absolutely right. But does she know that? Sure. Does she feel it, though? Not quite.

Knowing something’s wrong doesn’t mean you can magically stop feeling it.

Meet the Monster of Procrastination

For too long, V has been stuck battling Profecta — the monster born from perfectionism and procrastination. She’s caught in an exhausting loop where her efforts never feel good enough, and there’s always something more she thinks she should have done. This creates a void inside, filled with guilt and shame, which leads to procrastination — a victory for Profecta, her inner perfectionism.

Has she tried to escape this cycle? Absolutely. But she usually lasts 3-7 days before something breaks her rhythm. Overload or distraction stops her, and it takes her another 1-2 months to get back on track.

Love, Loss, and a Whole Lot of Mess

V, like anyone in their twenties, has loved with all she had. Her first love? Miss K. Yep, Miss. But Miss K didn’t return those feelings. She wasn’t interested in girls, in general. Even though V never fully accepted her feelings or confessed, they stayed friends. Miss K was her Safe Place — full of love, acceptance, care, and support But when their paths diverged, V convinced herself that she wasn’t worthy of Miss K’s time and never contacted her again. Also, those emotions connected to Miss K? Way too overwhelming for V to face.

Two years have passed, and V is still holding on. Too much? Welcome to the mess.

Did she try to move on? Of course! But she couldn’t bring herself to delete Miss K’s number. She’d still watch her stories online, and instead of deleting photos, she just hid them in a folder. Silly, right? But facing her feelings was too hard. So, she buried them under distractions.

Escaping into Fiction: A False Safe Place

When battling the Profecta monster became too much, V sought comfort in a form of escape — creating a fictional world where she felt safe and loved. It became her refuge, but soon it turned into an unhealthy coping mechanism. Instead of preparing for her exams during her gap year, she threw herself into fanfiction, reading it for 13-15 hours a day. Not exaggerating.

She isolated herself from the real world, cut off friends, and stopped replying to messages. Why? Because she felt she wasn’t enough. She’d suffered two huge academic setbacks, and even after taking a gap year, she couldn’t get back on track. The weight of her past failures made the present feel unbearable, so she sought refuge in a fictional world, even at the cost of her health, sleep, and academics.

The Turning Point: Letting Go of Miss K and Fiction

V cared deeply for Miss K and didn’t want to hurt her. She didn’t mind if her escape ruined her, as long as Miss K was safe. But one day, V’s thoughts took a darker turn. She imagined hurting Miss K emotionally, just to make her feel the same pain V was feeling. It shocked her.

That was when V knew she had to change. She deleted Miss K’s number, erased the photos, and cut all ties. She even stopped reading fanfiction — something she had tried and failed to do before.

A New Battle: Seeking Comfort in Unhealthy Escapes

Without her fictional escape, V felt lost. So, she turned to another unhealthy coping mechanism. Let’s just say it involved content that didn’t make her feel any better. She started seeking comfort in role-playing communities, hoping to find real love and comfort. But it only messed with her mental health even more.

Journaling: A Ray of Hope for Healing

Despite all the struggles, there’s been one thing that helps V find her way back: Journaling. When she sticks to it, things start to shift. Journaling helps her process the chaos inside her head. It’s not a perfect solution — she’s had bad days that stop her in her tracks — but it’s a start.

This is why V decided to start writing on Aaliyawrites. Because, let’s face it, Aaliya writes ;) .Through this blog, she hopes to create a space where healing becomes possible, even if the path isn’t always straight.

Building a Community: Sharing Stories and Healing Together

Aaliyawrites isn’t just V’s story. It’s for anyone who’s ever felt lost, stuck, or overwhelmed. V wants this space to be a community where people can share their experiences, support each other, and offer advice. Healing doesn’t happen alone, and through this blog, she hopes to help others feel a little less alone on their journey.

Have you ever battled perfectionism? Or found yourself stuck in an exhausting loop of procrastination? If so, V and I (Aaliya, the pen) would love to hear your story.

George Herbert once said, "Good words are worth much, and cost little."

Your words might be the lifeline someone needs.

So, What’s Next?

V is still figuring things out, but she’s trying. Her journey isn’t linear, and there are still battles with Profecta. But every small step she takes matters. And through Aaliyawrites, she’s hoping to keep moving forward — and hopefully help others do the same.

Please, share your story, give advice, or drop a few words of encouragement. Let’s build a space where we can be open, vulnerable, and support one another on this journey of growth and healing.

Final Thoughts: A New Beginning

This post marks the beginning of something new, not just for V, but for all of us. Together, we can create a space where healing and growth are possible, one step at a time.

Signing off, Aaliya the pen (P.S. — Classic Profecta move: this draft was written four days ago!)

[nymphrasis]

To those living on their own or roommate: How much do you recommend to save to be able to live out there?

[aberooski]

I'm proud of myself. Yesterday I did a big girl thing and called my therapist's office back cuz I missed a call from them on Friday, also yeah I recently started seeing a therapist because I am, not okay 😜 they didn’t answer but I left a message and when the receptionist called me back today I did the big girl thing and rescheduled my appointment I was supposed to have today cause she told me my therapist needed to reschedule because she wasn't feeling well today AND I got myself booked in for a mental health assessment in September. Phone calls are so incredibly horrifying to me for some reason and I was shaking the whole time both times but I did it, and I'm so proud of myself. 😭

[milo-is-rambling]

I can’t even imagine living without anxiety. Like. How. What?

[jez-bez]

[audaciousevolution]

Article of the Day: How to Track Your Goals Without Overwhelm

Staying on top of your goals doesn’t have to feel like a chore! Instead of getting lost in endless to-do lists, try these simple strategies to track your progress with ease:

✅ Focus on Progress, Not Perfection

📝 Use a Simple System

⏳ Set Check-in Points

🎉 Celebrate Milestones

Tracking should feel motivating, not overwhelming. Ready to simplify your goal-setting journey? Read more in our latest article!

[mrbizz1]

Forget Perfect: Embrace the Power of Daily Improvement

Disclosure and Disclaimer This blog post was created with the assistance of AI to ensure it is as informative and engaging as possible. Additionally, some of the links included in this post are affiliate links. If you click on them, I may earn a small commission. This comes at no extra cost to you. Your support helps me continue creating valuable content—thank you! The Illusion of Perfection: A…

[slowfuckintheafternoon]

18+ only please and thank you

Roommate Ghost who’s basically a rehomed cat.

You barely saw him at first. He’d come out of his room to do laundry, and you’d occasionally spot the back of him as he’s leaving for work, but otherwise it was like living with a ghost. A large, moody ghost who seemed to think eye contact was an unforgivable breach of privacy.

So you did the obvious thing, and coaxed him out with food. You’re lonely, he seems nice enough, and he’s also just conveniently there. It’s no big deal to make something that smells really wonderful when he’s home, and hope he’ll take the bait.

It takes three whole entire dinners. Two delicious meals without so much as a stir from his room, and you’re just about to give up on the whole scheme, when you’re finally rewarded with a tousled head poking out of his room on the third attempt.

“Want some?” you immediately pipe up, giving him an encouraging smile while you scoop noodles into your bowl. Realizing your mistake, you quickly relocate your gaze back to the food, so as not to scare him off.

Cmon, take the bait. Come on out, kitty. You know you want it.

Silent as ever, your massive roommate indeed emerges to fill his belly.

A soft, “Thanks,” is all you get for your efforts, but it thrills you. You sit there practically vibrating with glee, trying to play as cool as possible while you both eat and purposefully don’t speak to each other. There’s just chewing and silence, and the quiet clatter of spoons and forks, and you love it.

The next day, the contents of your personal grocery list have magically appeared in your refrigerator. The meat you needed, vegetables, your special milk for your cereal. Bemused, you step over to your pantry and verify that, yes, he got the dry stuff too. You weren’t planning to cook anything fancy two days in a row, but hell, if he’s around again tonight, you might as well.

But he’s not around. You don’t see him again for several weeks, never even got a text that he was leaving. You were just starting to make progress, and now it’ll all be erased when he returns. You lost your one window of opportunity for building trust, and it’ll be back to silence, back to emptiness, back to being strangers.

But to your surprise, when he does finally come home, he meows at you.

Not officially. Not in, like, actual cat language, but he drops his bag by the door and responds to your quiet greeting with a heavy sigh, and, "It’s good to be back.”

You can’t help the grin that spreads across your face, so you quickly hide it by staring at the TV.

He joins you for dinner the next time you cook. And the next. Groceries pop up like spring flowers, anything you write down, even if it’s snacks he never touches.

He starts hanging out with you while you cook. On the other side of the counter at first, looming like a dark shadow, just listening to your music and offering answers to your small talk.

You keep it light. Keep it friendly and easy, and entice him over occasionally to taste what you’re making. He starts lingering closer, letting the kitchen light touch him, leaning against your side of the counter. The scary side.

And then one day he tells you a joke. Just completely out of the blue, “What do you call an angry carrot?”

“Uhh…” you pause peeling carrots for a second, trying to wrap your head around some scenario where this is a legitimate question, because surely he's not about to tell you an actual joke. “I dunno?”

“A steamed vegetable.”

You return to your carrots with a delighted laugh. He's being friendly, he's making jokes! Best not comment on the progress he's made, because you don’t want to scare him off.

Good luck with that.

He starts following you around like an actual stray cat. You can’t bear to close the door on him, so he’s just always there, hanging out in the doorway, telling you little bits about his day while you brush your teeth for bed. He doesn’t talk a whole lot, prefers to listen to you yap, but he’s shut in his room less and less.

Except for the bad times. Simon goes through phases where he recluses himself again. Sometimes it’s only a few hours, other times it’s days, but he occasionally needs time to himself, and you don’t mind. You still get a thrill every time he appears again, metaphorically meowing at you and rubbing up against your leg.

God, you wish he would. You could use some good leg rubbing, actually.

Is he the rubbing type? He’s never made a pass at you, never touched you at all, and even the times when you’ve hung out together in your room, he always stood politely in the doorway. Always turned his head to the side when you’ve had to open your underwear drawer or spilled sauce on your shirt and had to strip it off. He’s just like that, always aware of your personal space and his, uncomfortable about the two bubbles touching without warning.

When it finally happens, it's you who's surprised.

You've just halted mid-step in the middle of the kitchen, staring down at the corner of the cabinets because you swear you just saw something move.

When all of a sudden, and actual mouse scampers across the floor, doing erratic zig zags like it's too scared to decide where to go, and all you can do is scream because it's coming right for you--

A thick arm clamps around your stomach, and your feet abruptly lose contact with the floor. You've completely lost track of the mouse, you're just frozen in shock from the fact that your whole back is glued to Simon's side, and he doesn't even bother to hold you up with both arms as he swivels around searching for where the mouse went.

"Thanks," you squeak, patting his forearm as a signal to put you down. "You're really strong, holy shit."

He grunts like he doesn't agree. "Doesn't take much to lift somebody."

Your feet touch back down to the linoleum, and you just hope your hot face isn't too evident. "Right, uh huh. Cause I could definitely lift you."

"Probably could."

You eye him skeptically, all the way from his socks, to the always-mussed hair at the top of the mountain. "I don't feel like throwing out my back, but thanks for the offer."

"I wasn't offering."

It's just small talk. Regular jokes, with his usual deadpan delivery, but you swear there was something he meant to say in those words. You try to discern them, gazing up into those brown eyes that don't mind meeting yours anymore.

It's hanging in the air, the thing he meant to say. You don't want to try and guess. It's too risky, and you might hurt yourself if you get it wrong.

"What is it, Simon? What's wrong?"

His eyes stutter for just a second, like he's ripping himself out of a train of thought. "I think you should hide in your room while I find that mouse."

Stupid, cockblocking mouse.

You don't sleep well that night. You keep thinking about your quiet roommate, end up having to jerk off at two in the morning just to get a little bit of relief, and your sleep is fretful even after that.

You ask about the mouse the next day, and he swears he not only caught it, but released it in the woods a mile away. There's absolutely no telling if he's pulling your leg or not, so you just drop it, too absorbed in the questions that were haunting you all night.

"I'm not good at... fucking."

Your head snaps up, staring wide eyed at Simon's troubled expression across the table. "What?"

"I've never been with a woman before. At least, not... like this. Wager I'll make a fool of myself, so I might as well get it out in the open."

"Oh. Um." Your heart is pounding, your mind whirling to comprehend how you got here so suddenly. He looks so scared, holding himself rigidly into place without so much as blinking, and you're taking far too long to answer at this point.

"I'm good at it," you finally tell him, hoping it sounds more comforting and less like a brag. "We can figure it out together, if it's something you want to do."

"Okay."

It takes a little while to get there. Some time to find a natural moment to take his hand in yours, for him to return the gesture by wrapping his arm around your waist and bringing your body over to his. But then his hand finds the back of your neck, and he's definitely not a beginner at kissing.

You've wanted it for so long, imagined it so often, that the press of his body against yours almost feels familiar. The seeking movements of his lips, the soft breaths coasting over your cheek. It's quiet and slow, in the corner of your shared kitchen.

He tucks your body into his, lets you saturate yourself in each second of this moment while you both learn the way the other likes to kiss. You end up in your bed soon after, just for the sake of comfort and lining up your mouths a little more conveniently.

It's easy to lose yourself in the safety of him. Your body feels at home in the muscled softness of his, in the thoughtful, patient movements of his hands exploring under your clothes. It feels like he's belonged to you far sooner than today.

His first time isn't perfect, but he makes up for his inexperience by taking his time. Laughs at your breathless, "a hole is a hole" statement, and insists on exploring with his mouth and fingers first.

Simon makes the prettiest noises when he finds your wetness waiting for him. He seems to enjoy the feeling of it on his fingers, sliding them in and out so carefully, studying the textures inside you. He tastes his own fingers, less like a scientist and more like a little kid who's discovering new flavors in the sandbox.

He makes a sound then, a warm, rumbly one, and then pulls his fingers out of his mouth to lean down and find your clit with his lips.

A hole is a hole, but there's something special about whispering little cues at him in the dark, and the way he efficiently adjusts himself, ever the dedicated soldier. A hole is a hole, but you cum like that, with your roommate's strong hand gripping your hip, and his mouth accomplishing exactly the motion you need to draw a slow, brain-melting orgasm out of you.

"Yeah, just like that," you pant a few moments later, shoving his face away from your oversensitive pussy.

Just like that.

[glowettee]

25 Self-Improvement Hacks to Level Up Your Life⋆🍓.

Start each day by making your bed—instant productivity boost.

Plan your week with a pastel-colored planner or digital aesthetic template.

Set monthly intentions instead of overwhelming resolutions.

Learn a new skill every quarter, like calligraphy or coding.

Invest in quality over quantity (this applies to friends and shoes).

Schedule your “glow-up” days—DIY spa treatments, anyone?

Create a “success playlist” for studying or working out.

Listen to podcasts during commutes (multitasking = efficiency).

Take aesthetic notes using color-coded pens and highlighters.

Start a “things I love” gratitude list.

Implement a digital detox every Sunday.

Read at least one self-help book per month (hello, Atomic Habits).

Wake up 15 minutes earlier to avoid rushing.

Commit to a skincare morning and nighttime routine.

Learn to say “no” to protect your peace.

Create a morning mantra and repeat it every day.

Try monthly challenges (like daily journaling or yoga).

Write down your goals and review them weekly.

Spend time in nature to reset your mindset.

Journal about your dream life and take actionable steps.

Break down big goals into tiny, manageable tasks.

Surround yourself with inspiring people or creators.

Organize your phone with aesthetic folders and wallpapers.

Romanticize drinking water with chic glasses or infused flavors.

Reward yourself for small wins—progress deserves celebration.

[harmonyhealinghub]

One Step at a Time: The Power of Incremental Progress Shaina Tranquilino February 19, 2024

Life is a journey filled with challenges, dreams, and aspirations. Whether you're pursuing personal growth, professional success, or a significant life change, the path ahead can seem daunting. In those moments of uncertainty, it's crucial to remember a timeless piece of advice: take one step at a time. This simple mantra encapsulates the power of incremental progress, emphasizing the importance of small, consistent actions on the road to achieving your goals.

The Power of Small Steps:

Builds Momentum: Every big achievement begins with a single step. Taking that first step sets a series of events in motion, creating a sense of momentum that propels you forward. Think of it as a snowball effect – as you gather small wins, your confidence and motivation grow, making it easier to tackle more significant challenges.

Reduces Overwhelm: Ambitious goals can be overwhelming, leading to procrastination or feelings of inadequacy. Breaking them down into smaller, more manageable tasks makes the journey seem less intimidating. Instead of focusing on the entire mountain to climb, concentrate on the next step. This approach minimizes stress and allows you to channel your energy effectively.

Fosters Consistency: Consistency is key to success. Small, consistent efforts over time often yield better results than sporadic bursts of intense activity. By focusing on one step at a time, you develop a routine that becomes ingrained in your daily life. This sustained effort is more likely to lead to lasting change and achievement.

The Journey, Not the Destination:

Celebrate Progress: Acknowledge and celebrate each small victory along the way. Whether it's completing a task, reaching a milestone, or overcoming a challenge, take a moment to recognize your achievements. This positive reinforcement reinforces the idea that progress is being made, motivating you to continue on the path.

Learn and Adjust: Not every step will be perfect, and setbacks are a natural part of any journey. Instead of viewing them as failures, see them as opportunities to learn and adjust your approach. Reflect on what went well and what could be improved, then make the necessary adjustments as you move forward.

Enjoy the Process: Embrace the journey itself, as it holds valuable lessons and experiences. Life is not just about reaching the destination; it's about the growth, self-discovery, and resilience developed along the way. By savouring each step, you cultivate a positive mindset that enhances your overall well-being. In a world that often glorifies overnight success and instant gratification, the wisdom of taking one step at a time stands strong. Whether you're chasing dreams, facing challenges, or pursuing personal growth, remember that greatness is often achieved through persistent, incremental progress. By breaking down your goals into manageable steps, celebrating small victories, and staying focused on the journey, you'll discover the transformative power of one step at a time. So, take that first step – your future self will thank you for it.

[kisses4themissus]

Obsessive Lover || Hwang In-ho X reader

wc: 2.4k request: an obsessive!reader who joins the games for in-ho but turns her gaze to player 456. a/n: this is actually my fav concept I've written so far!!

masterlist ¦ pt 2

“Ms y/l/n, you can’t keep chasing after an unknown man.” The therapist sighed as he sat down across from you at the table. You sighed as you swirled around your water.

“He’s not unknown. I’m being honest he knows of me, i can feel it!” You giggled at the therapist. He sighed before writing something down on his small notepad be had beside him. You watched as he jolted something down and quickly flipped it over so you couldn’t be able to read it.

“Moving on, you haven’t made progress in six sessions ms y/l/n.” The therapist placed his hand on your thigh, you flickered it off before standing up and walking to the door.

“What progress? You mean you trying to get me to sleep with you?!” You chuckled at his shocked expression; majority of his clients had been woman. You weren’t there for his sympathetic therapy but rather he was quickest way to gain debt.

- - - - - - - - - - -

You groaned as you sat on a bench, waiting for the next train. You dug through your bag before pulling out your phone; zooming in on the map to a familiar memorial site. 

“May I sit here miss?”

You nodded, not looking up from your phone’s map. “Lost?” The same man questioned. Putting down your phone you glanced at the man with an upset look. He had his hair combed back, his briefcase place between the two of you. 

You blinked at the man before grinning at him. “Let me guess, you want to play a game?” You batted your lashes at the man, he chuckled in response. “I was told that you happen to be looking for a certain someone..” He motioned towards your phone.

You nodded, turning it off before scooting closer to the man. “Possibly, do you know how to get me there?” 

He nodded and opened his suit jacket and handed you a card. “Just call the number.” He winked before getting on the next train. You watched as he left before flipping the card over to see the number. You grinned before stashing it in your phone case. 

- - - - - - - - - - -

Weeks had passed since your encounter with the recruiter. You had entered the games and were picked up on halloween.

Classical music filled your ears as you woke up from your deep sleep. Looking around you watched with curious eyes as other players got up from their bed and made their way to the middle of the room. You quickly got up and looked around the room.

Your gaze stopped at player 456, he stood at the end of his bunk, his eyes lowered as he watched everyone. “Upset?” You questions, he glanced at you before sighing. “These people don’t know what they’ve signed up to do.” 

You tilted your head at his words. “You know something don’t you?” You questioned.

He looked at you before motioning to the wall behind his bunk, you followed his gaze to see a camera above you both, you smiled and waved, player 456 glared at the camera before tugging you away.

“These games aren’t what you’re expecting.” He spoke sternly, you felt your face heat up at the short distance between you both. “Are you going to protect me then?” You smirked at the older man. He stared at you for a moment before distancing himself from you. “I’ll try to keep you alive if you listen to me.” 

You nodded at his words. The big metal doors in the middle of the room opened to reveal pink guards, the square guard walked up to the front of the room, catching eyes of the players.

Player 456 walked further down the steps of the bunks, you quickly skipped after him. You both listened as the square explained everything, a big piggy bank had lowered down from the ceiling. “Don’t be tempted, it’s all blood money you’d be spending.” Player 456 whispered to you, earning a nod. “I’m not after money here.” You grinned at the man, who shook his head and turned his attention back to the pink manager. 

- - - - - - - - - - -

After you had signed a wavier, you had been told a game would soon begin. You had stuck beside player 456 and even his friend who he had met on the stairs. You had gotten 456’s name due to his friend yelling it out on the steps.

The bright sun filled your sight as you three stepped outside, you eyed the giant statute of a doll on the opposite side of the field. “What’s that thing?” You questioned out loud, player 390 gasped as gi-hun popped out his dental implant. You turned back and stared at the dental implant before taking it from gi-hun’s froze hand.

You inspected the small implant and giggled as the inside had been missing a tracker. Gi-hun stared at the doll in horror as the voice spoke up over the speaker. “The first game will be red light, green light!” 

You quickly pocketed the dental implant with a sigh before turning back to gi-hun and his friend.

Gi-hun quickly pushed his way to the front, leaving you alone with his friend, jung-bae. You listened as the voice told the instructions over the speakers. Gi-hun yelled and got everyone’s attention.

You both listened as gi-hun yelled. “If you lose, you die!” Everyone around you laughed at him, you furrowed your brows at his words. “What is he even talking about?” Someone yelled out from behind you.

“Is he high?!” 

You glared at the woman beside you. With a scoff you shoved her away. “If they catch you moving they will shoot you from above!” He yelled ot, a bit frustrated no one took him serious. Whirling came from the doll as it turned around and raised it’s hand to touch the fake tree, five minutes popped up on the board behind the doll.

Gi-hun turned back to the crowd. “Whatever happens don’t panic and just keep running.” He yelled out.

The doll began to speak. “The hibiscus flower has bloomed.”

You quickly listen to gi-hun’s words and ran. As the doll turned back you were right by gi-hun. His eyes ran over the crowd of frozen players. “FREEZE!” He yelled out.

You watched as the doll turn around. The eyes moving in different directions, once confirmed no one had moved it turned back once more. You had made it halfway across the field before tripping right before the doll turned around. You laid on the dirt, frozen. Once in the clear you scrambled to get up but stopped as another player, 196 stepped on your hand. You scoffed as you glanced up at her. 

“You bitch!” You cursed as she stopped on your hand. “Oops!” She grinned down at you.

You froze once more as the doll turned back to you all. You held back groans as she purposefully moved her weight to her heels, adding pressure to your hand.

Once in the clear, you had been able to get up, a familiar build had stepped in front of you. Gi-hun helped you up before stopping as the doll turned. 

From the corner of your eye you had seen the player that stepped on your hand move as a bee landed on her neck. She stopped and laughed, “Crap, I moved!” As she laughed, she was shot in her forehead.

“Don’t panic, stay calm!” Gi-hun yelled as he heard the gunshot. “Player 196 has been eliminated!” The announcement rang out on the speakers. You tensed up as gunshots began to ring from behind you as other players screamed and scrambled.

Once stopped the rules repeated over the speakers, before a list of players who had died. Gi-hun quickly ran to the front and began to direct everyone.

In-ho watched quietly in his living quarters as he watched gi-hun help player live. He quickly poured whiskey into his glass and reclined a bit in his chair as he watched players begin to form lines.

As it had gotten to the end. In-ho furrowed his brow as he watched gi-hun and another player both fall to the ground before the doll turned. He watched confused as gi-hun’s back covered the other player.

You stared up at gi-hun who stared directly into your eyes. You smirked at the older man. “In front of everyone? Didn’t think you had it in you!” You giggled at his fluster reaction. “When that doll turns we ned to get up and across the finish line!” He commanded, making you nod.

Once the doll had turned you both had sprung onto your feet and ran to the finish line, barely making it in time as the timer hit zero.

You panted with a grin on your face, suddenly the roof had began to close above you all.

- - - - - - - - - - -

Once back in the dorm everyone had been silent. You sat on the bed steps by gi-hun. “Thank you for saving me!” You smiled at the man, who nodded. “Thank you for listening to me.” He thanked you before moving his gaze to his blood splattered cover shoes. With a sigh you sat down beside him, leaving little to no space.

“Gi-hun, how did you know about the doll’s eyes being able to shoot people down?” You questioned. He sighed as his attention was his hands. “It’s not the doll, there are soldiers that are hidden.” He avoided the main part of your question.

Jung-bae walked over to you both and stood in front of you two. “How did you know about that doll? Is it true you’ve been here before?” Jung-bae questioned. 

Before gi-hun could respond the big metal doors opened, out walked pink triangles and their square once more, as the manager spoke about voting you watched as they set up a machine.

You watched as the room darkened and the piggy bank filled with money. Gi-hun sighed and tugged on your wrist to catch your attention. “No matter how much there is in that piggy bank, you have to vote to leave!” He pleaded as you held his gaze.

You nodded as you stared into his brown eyes. As voting began you watched as players were divided. When you had finally gone up you winked as you passed gi-hun. You pressed down on the X and received a patch, you quickly attached it to your jacket before bouncing over to gi-hun’s side.

You both watched as the vote finally tied, you all watched as the final player walked to the machine. The machine made a sound, gi-hun looked defeated as the board read out 51. “Very well, majority have vote to keep the games going.” The square announced.

In-ho turned back to face the crowds, his eyes focusing on gi-hun. His gaze shifted as he watched a familiar stalker comfort the man, leading him to the bunks.

- - - - - - - - - - -

You sighed as you sat next to a frowning gi-hun. “You said you’ve been here before, correct?” You asked, holding onto his arm. “Three years ago..” He nodded.

“You have advantage, you know what games were played.” You grinned, he sighed rolling his shoulders back. You both had spent the time talking about his previous game and the games he had to play in. You were interrupted by the workers announcing dinner. You quickly popped up and lead him to the line to get your food.

- - - - - - - - - - -

You sighed as you waited to hand back your dishes to the staff. You grew bored of waiting, you turned around to check on gi-hun, a crowd of player had formed around him your gaze had stopped as you recognized one of the player number 001; the one who had stopped gi-hun’s wish of leaving the place with everyone alive. You scoffed at the players who surrounded the man, asking him questions of his previous game.

Once your dishes had been handed back. You marched over to the now empty space. You sat back down next to gi-hun, watching player 001 with careful eyes. 

“If we stick together, everything should work out just fine!” Jung-bae exclaimed, another player hopped off their bunk and joined the conversation. “He’s right sirs, oh and miss.” Player 388 nodded in agreement to jung-bae’s words.

“Who are you?” Jung-bae questioned.

“Oh i’m dae-ho, kang dae-ho! I’m a big fan of this guy since his awesome freeze earlier!” He grinned, holding his hand out for the men to shake.

You nodded as you watched the man in front of you. You sighed, slipping your hand into your pockets, a sharp poke made you jump for a moment before grinning at the memory of gi-hun’s implant in your pocket.

“I’d like the pleasure of getting to know you all!” 

You hadn’t noticed the stare of in-ho as you were busy fiddling with the implant in your palm. Jung-bae had gotten up from where he sat and walked over to the young man and rolled up his sleeve. 

“You were in the marines?” Jung-bae asked, standing back crossing his arms over his chest. “Yes sir.”

“Class number?” He questioned, puffing out his chest.

The younger man laughed at the question. You all watched with amusement as jung-bae unzipped his jacket to reveal his marine tattoo. Gi-hun sighed at his friend. You leaned over and laid your head on gi-hun’s shoulder. “Thank you for saving me again, i’ll protect you from now on in here!” You smiled at the older man who shook his head at you.

“It’s alright, you don’t have to do that.” Gi-hun cleared his throat, trying to push down the feeling of fluster you had given him.

In-ho watched with jealousy, he had known who you were; the stalker you had gained a fascination with him. Sending him letters to his old office, visiting his ex-wife’s grave, leaving her flowers. You had been admitted to a mental hospital for delusions. He was a bit excited when he had heard the news you had drowned yourself in debt to get his attention, he had sent the recruiter after you, hoping to see your obsession in person.

It was offensive that you had switched your toxic gaze to the “loser” winner; seong gi-hun. You had careless of his identity being in front of you but brushed him to the side as you cuddled into gi-hun’s side.

“You two seem close, it’s cute.” In-ho’s word dripped of sarcasm, you had picked up on it and glared at the player before turning to dae-ho and jung-bae. 

“You seem like an asshole...” You muttered under your breath.

pt 2

[yukioos]

Hmo.. Viktor x drunk!reader, After attending an event and overdid it with the alcohol due to mel being best friends with reader (Progress day or other events that lets them loosen up) (No nsfw or yes nsfw!)

NASTY DOG

SUMMARY: viktor x reader // on progress day, you tend to celebrate and drink too much, ignoring viktor’s worries. you end up confessing your feelings to your best friend, and take your relationship a step further.

AUTHORS NOTE: eeeee this ask is amazinggg!!! i love the idea of mel n reader being best friends sm!!!!! this is 2.2k words, a lot longer than i expected it to be

WARNINGS: suggestive but no smut, making out, not a lot of mel and reader talking, mention about reader and viktor having maybe sex later, not proofread

the way the city of piltover progressed and changed throughout the years has always fascinated you. watching new inventions come and go was always interesting, and the city had a spectacularly advanced community. heimerdinger always tells you and the members of the piltover community stories about how he founded the city. he is especially smart in science and works hard to improve the lives of those around him, which you always admired.

you were pleased when you figured out he found a new assistant, viktor. he grew to be your best friend quickly, and always rambled about his studies and his mistakes. whenever he makes a new discovery, you are always the first person he tells, and he explains it with such detail.

he’s a handsome guy. you never understood why people weren’t all over him, maybe because he was closed off and spent his days in a lab. he’s a busy man, you know that as well as you recognize the palm of your hand, but he always finds a way to make time for you.

there’s no doubt he loves you. as his best friend, you are always his first priority, but he loves to indulge in his interests, that being inventions. as a way to spend time with you and enjoy science at the same time, sometimes he lets you sit next to him in the laboratory while he’s working.

he occasionally asks you to pass him an instrument he can use, but most of the time, he just tells you to sit there and look pretty. you know well that he doesn’t like to be bothered during his work, and normally he hates it when someone is in the room with him as he’s working. however, it’s a different story when that person is you.

he never feels bothered by you, no. in fact, you help him concentrate more than he does when he’s without you. he doesn’t mind the soft sound of you turning pages in the book he bought you, and he doesn’t mind when you stand up to take a small sip of water. he rather enjoys when you do those small actions without even realizing it’s a large thing for him. he can’t help but realize it brings immense joy to him when you ask a little question like, ‘what does that do?’ when he picks up an instrument for his work, or when you make a quick statement, ‘that’s a pretty color,’ when he oh-so unintentionally adds your favorite color to his works.

you’ve always supported him with his hextech project, even though you could get frustrated with the way he’s acted in the past. sometimes he would feel agitated because he couldn’t figure a part out, or if he messed something up. despite this, you’ve continued to tell him that a true scientist never figures something out perfectly on the first try. you hoped your words would affect him, and thank god they do. once you overheard jayce complaining about how something isn’t working right, and viktor repeated your words back to him. that of course, made your heart swell with pride.

you always knew the hextech would, sometime in the future, impact a whole civilization. heimerdinger said he’s never seen anything like it in his 314 years of living, nor anything that came close to it ever since piltover was founded 200 years ago.

speaking of which, jayce is planning to give the big speech tonight. lucky for you, viktor decided to give you front-row seats to the assembly.

jayce suggested that viktor should join him on the stage and share the speech, but he refused. it wasn’t uncommon for people to have stage fright. the speech was impressive, jayce did an amazing job, honoring each and every one of the members of piltover.

after the ceremony, a party was hosted by a volunteer group, who set up a large room full of drinks and a feast for thousands. you hadn’t had time to talk to viktor in between the ceremony and party, so you began to take a few drinks with mel.

you hesitated a bit, but eventually gave in when mel reminded you that it’s the only party piltover will have for their 200th anniversary. the fancy room is decorated with gold banners featuring the words ‘happy progress day.’ there are couches, tables, and booths all around, as if it is serving as an elegant restaurant.

not too long after, your vision starts to become blurry, and your words slur. you turn around to see viktor and jayce sitting in a dark red booth, most likely discussing their next chapter of hextech over a glass of wine.

you grin and cheer, then mumble to mel, “oh, it’s viktor! i’ll be right back, mel!” and she nods, chuckling as she softly pats your back.

you walk over to viktor with a bounce in every step, feeling giddy after taking one too many sips of wine. he quickly spots your recognizable figure and smiles at you, eyes softening at your stumbling body.

“i thought i told you not to drink too much,” he wraps an arm around your shoulder, rubbing it gently before continuing, “you know drinking isn’t good for you.”

his worried voice makes you smile, and your cheeks flush, as they always do around him. a warm feeling spreads your body, and you hum, staring at viktor’s bright eyes. jayce soon gets pulled away by someone who seemingly needs his attention, and lets out a little “let’s work on the hextech tomorrow, viktor,” ending with a small goodbye.

“oh, good! now i have you all to myself!” you smile, placing your arm on viktor’s bicep, “didn’t you talk to heimer— heim— um…” you mumble, putting your finger to your lip and rubbing your temple, “i can’t remember, vik…”

“heimerdinger?” he asked, tilting his head in confusion. you must be drunk out of your mind if you can’t even remember the professor’s name.

“oh, yes! such a sweet guy… anyway, he talked to you about your new little gadgets, right? how’d that go?”

he knew you’d forget in a few minutes, but responded anyway. he sighed with frustration, “jayce and i showed the professor that the hextech is safe. he approved, of course, but i even found out a way to fortify the crystals, as you might remember me testing it out yesterday. we showed him the gloves and the hex claw—“

“i love the hex claw! it’s sooo cool, i love how you can control it with your own hand!” you comment, smiling and looking up at viktor through your eyelashes.

he blushes and nods, “eh, yes, thank you. we worked hard on it— but, anyways, heimerdinger explained the gadgets will most likely be perfected in a decade. i mean, why can’t we use the equipment now? i understand there are a few things wrong, but they would help the community so much!” he furrows his brows in frustration, eyes squinting.

“awh, baby, i know you worked hard on that. heimer— heim… um…” you forgot his name again, causing your best friend to smirk and chuckle to himself. you place your hand on his chest, “you’re real handsome, vik. don’t understand why people aren’t all over you.”

the way you look up at him with big eyes, your hand on his chest, gets his heart racing. he suddenly feels more nervous with the compliment and your actions. you rub his chest so caringly and keep glancing from his tie to his eyes.

you move closer to him, “your heart’s racing, baby. you nervous?” he bites his lip and glances to where jayce would have sat, trying to avoid your intimidating gaze.

he feels so small around you. not in a bad way, of course, you didn’t break him down, but instead built him up and made him a more confident version of himself. but when you were like this, when you flirt with him like this, his heart melts. he swears he would’ve fallen to his knees if he was standing. he would never admit it to anyone, but you could take over his life, control every single thing he does and he’d still be happy because at least he’d be with you.

“y’know, you’re so sweet, so caring and loving. you’re the smartest person i know, and you don’t get much credit for it. i hope you know i love you and everything you do for me and this city, vikky. i really mean it.”

i love you.

all his problems disappear when you say those three words, and his eyes visibly widen. he doubts you for the first time in his life, and he asks, “did councilor medarda tell you to say this? are you messing with me? because if you are—“

“sweetheart, i’ve never been more serious in my life. you’re my best friend, but i want more. i want you.”

you slowly straddle his lap, hand still perched on his chest. you look deep into his eyes as if you are trying to find his soul hidden inside.

he remembers you once said if you had to merge souls with anyone, it’d be him. you claimed you wouldn’t complain about anything, and you’re practically the same person. it truly was an intimate conversation with him, and you finally spoke out that you wanted to stay with him for eternity. you just wish you knew how.

you rub his chest, wishing you could rip his vest off and feel him, skin-to-skin. you completely forget you are in a public space, however, the chatter and people had died down, and most retreated to their homes already.

you bring a hand up to his cheek, and he can’t help but lean into the comforting feeling of your palm. rubbing his cold cheek, you feel shaking hands on your waist. you grin and glance up to his eyes, then down to his lips multiple times, trying to find any part of him that doesn’t want to go through.

but you can’t find anything, so you close your eyes and softly kiss his lips. you have a party in your head, congratulating yourself for finally kissing him and confessing your feelings. your lips continue to move against his cold ones, and soon you begin to hear soft whimpers from the man.

you grin into the kiss, understanding the effect you have on the scientist. moving your hand to the back of his head, you feel adrenaline coursing and pumping through your veins. this is the most exhilarating moment of your life.

he grips your waist tighter, and one hand moves down to your ass. it lingers for a couple of seconds, waiting to see if you’ll push it off. when you don’t, he grips the plush of your ass hard, and you whimper into the kiss.

he feels proud of himself, loving your reaction to the small action. he brings his other hand under and up your back, feeling the soft skin against his palm.

you feel as if you’re about to lose oxygen and pass out, not wanting to break up the kiss. you push past your wants and desires, moving away from him for a split second. the combo of his tired eyes and plump lips is surely a sight. a string of saliva is still connected to your lips to his, but you don’t care.

god, you need to be closer to him, you need to be one. you grip his shoulder and tugged on his hair, eliciting a moan from his mouth. you push your lips against him, always wanting more from him. you whimper against his lips, however, still being the dominant figure in the action.

moving closer to him, you feel safer, and heat blooms from his chest. you wrap your arms around his shoulders, still keeping a hand in his soft hair. as you move closer to him, your chest pushes against him. he groans, feeling your soft and warm body close to his.

he’s knocked out of his thoughts when he’s reminded that you’re in a public space, and he taps your unclothed arm. you hate to part your lips, but concede, as you need air.

you whine against his chest and bring your hands back to rest on his shoulders. he mumbles and stutters, “s-sweetheart, we really shouldn’t be doing this here. we should go back to your room—“ he looks like he wants to say something more, but he catches himself and bites his tongue.

“i know that look, vik. don’t feel guilty about this, i didn’t have too much to drink, i’m aware of my actions, i’m okay.” you smile up at him and give him a quick peck, more intimate and cherished than the last, “let’s go up to my room.”

he smiles, and you stumble out of the booth, viktor follows right after you. he grabs his cane and stumbles, still nervous and sweaty after the interaction with you. you hold his hand and continue talking to him, rambling about some show of how two characters are gods who represent life and death, who happen to be each other’s spouses.

you recommend he watches the movie, but deep in your mind, you’re still thinking about how you could make yours and viktor’s night even better.

viktor listens to all your words, he always does. but now, he just wants you to shut up, he wants to consume you and become one, as you said a few days ago. he tries to not grip your hand tightly, trying not to express his feelings at the moment, of how badly he wants you.

[reasonsforhope]

"In a historic step toward the first-ever restoration of the tiger population to a nation where they were once extinct, two captive Siberian tigers have been translocated from Anna Paulowna Sanctuary, Netherlands, to the Ile-Balkhash Nature Reserve in Kazakhstan.

This remarkable event is part of an ambitious program led by the Government of Kazakhstan with support from WWF and the UN Development Program to restore the Ile-Balkhash delta ecosystem and reintroduce tigers to the country and region, where the species has been extinct for over 70 years.

“It is a high priority for Kazakhstan to work on the restoration of rare species. For ecological value it is important that our biodiversity chain is restored. And that the tiger that once lived in this area is reintroduced here,” said Daniyar Turgambayev, Vice-minister of the Ministry of Ecology and Natural Resources of Kazakhstan.

In the early 21st century, genetic studies were carried out on bones and furs held in national collections which revealed that the population of tigers living between Iran, southern Russia, Central Asia, and the areas around the Caspian Sea was extremely similar to Siberian tigers.

This led scientists to conclude that Felis vigrata, the former name of the Caspian tiger, was simply the Siberian tiger that developed into a distinct population, but not a new subspecies, over generations of being separated by habitat fragmentation.

Bodhana and Kuma, the male and female tigers, will be housed in a spacious semi-natural enclosure of three hectares [7.4 acres] within the Ile-Balkhash Nature Reserve. Any of their offspring will be released into the wild and will become the first tigers to roam Kazakhstan in decades, and potentially the first-ever international tiger reintroduction.

They will play an important role in the establishment of a new tiger population in the region where they had previously been wiped out as a result of excessive hunting.

“Today marks a monumental conservation milestone to bring tigers back to Kazakhstan and Central Asia,” said Stuart Chapman Leader of WWF Tigers Alive. “This tiger translocation is a critical step to not only bring back the big cat to its historic homeland but also to rewild an entire ecosystem.”

Progress towards restoration of the area is already well underway with recovering and reintroduction of critical tiger prey species like the Kulan (Asiatic wild ass), and reforestation of over 120 acres with native trees. Being the apex predator, tigers will play a significant role in sustaining the structure and function of the ecosystem on which both humans and wildlife rely...

“With the launch of the tiger reintroduction program, we have witnessed a significant change—the revival of nature and our village of Karoi,” said Adilbaev Zhasar, the head of the local community group Auyldastar.

“This project not only restores lost ecosystems, but also fills us with pride in participating in a historic process. Because of small grants from WWF, we have the opportunity to do what we love, develop small businesses, and create jobs in the village, which brings joy and confidence in the future.”

From the very beginning, the local community around Ile-Balkhash Nature Reserve has been closely involved in the project. This includes support for improved agricultural techniques and the future development of nature tourism in the area.

The translocation of these tigers is the first of several planned in the coming years, with a goal to build a healthy population of about 50 wild tigers by 2035, starting with this pioneering pair for breeding. This initiative is not only a testament to the resilience of the species but also a powerful example of governments, conservation organizations, and local communities cooperating in wildlife and nature conservation."

-via Good News Network, November 27, 2024

[tinakp]

Confronting Workplace Problems: Small Steps, Big Changes | Chris Beer, the Wizard of Ops™

Ever found yourself ignoring those big, ugly workplace problems? We've all been there. But it's time to face those issues head-on! This video is your call to action to transform your work environment into a healthier and more positive space.

[includedisco]

Remember that every day is an opportunity to be a better fanfiction writer than you were yesterday. That being said...

...improvement isn't only in the big things like writing a 10k story in one sitting or responding positively to negative comments on your work. Progress is in the seemingly small but actually big things too;

You finally learned how to correctly spell that word you frequently use.

2. You found a different word you can use in place of the verb you've abused

3. You wrote a whole ass paragraph for your draft without feeling insecure about it because you're finally understanding that drafts are meant to be messy.

4. It's taking you months to complete the next chapter of your story. At first you felt bad about it every second of your day but now you actually haven't felt bad for a whole hour. Slowly you're understanding that art takes time and you deserve to be patient and kind with yourself.

5. You took the step to read/listen to a random post about how to write better. Maybe you haven't put that advice into practice yet but hey, you clicked on it and listened/read till the end

6. You managed to read one of your own posted stories, ill feelings about it or no

7. You now celebrate every vote/kudos/like you get on your story because you know that a real human being is behind it, loving your work, shoddy as you think it might be.

8. Today you woke up caring a little less about how your stories aren't that popular in the fandom. Finally you're learning to write for you and to just dwell on enjoying the writing process instead of focusing on how the world will receive your story when you post

9. You read comments on your story which suggest you take your story in a certain different direction, but you successfully ignore those suggestions and courageously stick to the story you want to tell.

10. You ended the day still resisting the urge to have AI write your story for you.

Congratulations to you, most improved writer, even if only one of the items on this list resonates with you👏👍🤝

You're still growing and improving after all.

[syluses]

HEART WANTS WHAT IT WANTS

𓍯𓂃 PART TWO (2) of the stepdad! sylus x reader series

(2) THE DEATH OF PEACE OF MIND

𓍯𓂃 CONTENT: stepdad! sylus therefore step/pseudocest, eventual smut, nsfw, dubcon, slowburn, yandere undertones, all characters are 18+ (mc is presently 23; sylus is in early forties), possessive & yandere behaviors, age difference, daddy kink, unreliable narrator, drinking, non-evol au, modern au, lowkey enemies to lovers, lots of (sexual) tension, loss of virginity, emotional breakdowns, some angst, some fluff, a lil bit of everything; tags will be added as story progresses— but know the story is relatively triggering

𓍯𓂃 SIDENOTE: ayyy finally got chapter 2 out ✨ apologies for the wait!! but i hope u enjoy this one my friends :] 💕 also sorry for any typos PLEASE overlook them i beg :,) i hate the edit/revise process it took SO long but i hope my sleep-addled brain did me decent as i went thru to correct stuff. oh also i made a teeny mistake in part one, but i fixed it and its very inconsequential (used wrong number: 6 changed to 7). but anyway just letting u know if ur very observant & noticed a difference lol!! [art credit: @/chimmyming on twitter/X]

It’s hard to be secretive, tiptoeing down the hallway toward the stairs, when halfway through it opens up into the living room’s overhang.

If someone were sitting on the couch, and they heard so much as a creak from above, all it’d take is a glance thrown over their shoulder to spot you with a hand hesitantly placed on the banister, leery of stepping down to the first floor.

Nervewracking.

Perhaps it’s a bit dramatic to compare it to walking into the lion’s den- but you’re not the most talkative of persons, especially not with him, and it does seem daunting in your head to be cornered into conversation. Like prey meeting predator. Small meeting big. One delicate discussion could do you in, but you won’t bet on your demise being brought along so… easily.

To your immense relief, when you you peek around the stone column and survey the area below (mainly the L-shaped sofa, facing the massive wall-mounted TV above the fireplace), you find it empty.

At that, you let out a quiet breath. Some of your courage returns.

If you had spotted the twins, it would’ve been manageable, more so than if it was their dad, anyway.

It was only an hour ago (well, an hour and ten minutes, but you hope they won’t hold that against you— and considering all their tardy slips in highschool, they wouldn’t have the right) that you’d held conversation with them, and it went alright.

It’s a bit harder for you to admit that it was actually pretty nice to see them again.

Cathartic, even.

There’s a part of you that’s vulnerable and girlish- carefully stowed beneath the tough skin you lay on in front of most of everyone else- locked somewhere safe- and yes, it did miss them.

But you’re meant to dislike the three of them. Your meddling stepfamily who slipped into the cracks of your home, your mother’s heart, no different than an invasive species would. Stuck a foot into the door of your life and pressed until the hinge gave.

Once, it was easy. As effortless as breathing.

You didn’t have to think about it, or deliberate on it, or make all the justifications in your head- no, you hated them and that was it.

That feeling was meant to be final. Set in stone.

You thought it was.

For a time you even likened Sylus to Cinderella’s evil stepmother and his two conniving sons to the insufferable stepsisters. Oh, it’s childish, you know; looking back on those moments, you don’t know whether you want to hug the teenage girl you’d been or laugh in the face of her.

As it stands, though, Anastasia and Drizella aren’t half the monsters you’d once liked to believe. Awfully enough, you’ve warmed up to them, maybe even came to love them.

You’re stubborn, not stupid: Luke and Kieran have a special place in your heart and you recognize that.

You’re sure that they do, too. It’s what makes them bolder during every confrontation; brings out the smiles where they once paled. Scared you’d yell or shriek for your mom to just—

Get these two idiots out of my room!

That was then, though.

Things are different now. Changed.

…The ‘Lady Tremaine’ in this picture is still a work in progress. If you’re being honest, you wouldn’t be too terribly upset if it stayed that way—

No. But no, because…

Your mother would’ve been happy if you got along with him. Made amends. It’s a truth as sour as it is undebatable.

“Baby, please- he’s a good man, really. Can you just try, for me? I know you miss your dad, I know you do, I do, too-“

‘Does she?’ To save your hide, you bite that remark down, but listen on just as grumpily.

“-but I think that this can be a good thing if you just-“

Her words echo in the walls of your head. Plangent, bouncing. Like a gunshot ringing out through a canyon, it’s still loud in your conscience, even more so now that she won’t be around to nag you on the matter any further.

—“Smiled.”

If you don’t like Sylus, you’re the bad guy, right? And damn it all if that doesn’t dredge up an ounce of bitterness in you, but—

…For the sake of this trip, for the sake of her no longer being here (and oh, what you wouldn’t give so she could be here), you’ll do your best to swallow down your misgivings about your stepfather.

And you’ll be good.

Two weeks.

Reminding yourself of that for what must be the millionth time, you push off the truffle-wrap pillar to continue into the lofty hall. Starting down the wide, marble staircase in silence.

You’re not so sure where their father is. You definitely have your guesses— A fancy-shmancy meeting or outing that’s called him outside of the estate, or perhaps he’s simply in his study working, running an errand— All of which you hope are correct for the sake of avoiding him.

This late lunch of yours and the twins’ should be just that.

Yours and the twins’.

✦

The further you press into the first floor, the more you smell whatever the private chef is cooking.

Delicious, whatever it is. And no surprise there- the man who hired him demands only the best of the best. He’ll brook nothing less.

As you get closer, the aromas (some too faint to label, others almost dominating your senses: garlic, a pinch of ginger, the mouthwatering scent of meat) blend into a savory potpourri. A cohesive, expertly-made dish, you’re sure.

It’s true that in the past five years since your moving out that your visits have become more sporadic, far and few in between, but meals gathered around a tabletop brimming with tasty sides and entrées will always be a distinct memory you hold of this place.

I mean, you were all but forced by your mother to endure them. Thus, dinner became a special time for you and your stepfamily to bond.

Even Sylus, the endlessly busy CEO of some lucrative company you pretend not to know the name of, made room within his schedule where he could.

However, bonding is not what generally happened.

Teenage you always thought those dinners were stupid. Awkward at the best of times. Smiles too tight to be polite, hands passing around bowls you’d stick your nose up to. Not out of disgust, no, the platters never failed to make you drool- but because you’d take your dad’s homemade roast chicken over your stepfather’s insincere, gourmet trays any day of the week.

To be honest? you’d been mean to them, you’ll admit that much. Cruel even. A big brat with an even bigger bone to pick. You and your family didn’t come from rags, but your origins were infinitely more humble than the twin’s, than what Sylus had— yet you were prissy and rude in a way that they somehow weren’t... Presumptuous.

So upset with the new arrangement you couldn’t think straight.

“Y/n, pick up the fork for God’s sake- can’t you see your father went through all this just to have a meal with us tonight?”

Placatingly, “Honey. It’s alright.”

It’s not quite a snarl that you throw her way, but it’s close. With no one here to spank you, you’re allowed to mouth off a little, be unruly. No one’s here to stop you— your mother’s never had the arm for the paddle and regardless of that, she clearly shouldn’t be responsible over you if she can’t even make good decisions for herself.

To date, her worst decision yet is bringing that asshole around…

Pointedly ignoring the attention that’s gravitated to you, you scowl.

Maybe you are pushing the part of brat a touch too far- a shock, taking your past obedience into play- but how else will you get her to see you? Your hurt? I mean, the twins misbehave endlessly at school and at best, they get a slap on the wrist, no doubt because of their mogul of a father, but you don’t miss the laughs or rueful glances tossed their way.

The positive feedback.

“…Father?” You snip, eyes laser-focused on the woman at the far end of the table. The twins juggle between watching you and their dad with bated breath, half grinning in mischievous delight.

For several moments, the latter doesn’t move.

Sure enough, though, that cardinal gaze finds its roost on you. Not that you’re paying it any mind.

The air shifts when you open your mouth again, rising from the table with a start. The finely-placed cutlery jumps as you do.

“I don’t care if you’ve married him, made him your ‘quote on quote’ husband, that’s not my father and never will be. And these stupid boys that trail me all damn day long aren’t my family, either!”

“Whoa-ho! We caught a stray, bro!”

A beat of stunned silence.

Galileo crosses your mind; mainly what he did when the spotlight fell to him. The point is that there’s still time to recant, the rational part of your brain whispers. To backtrack.

Your cheeks warm. Heart pounding in your chest at the embarrassment of voicing your emotions, making a literal stand. But you can’t stop now. It’s too late to.

“A-And…” A tremble. You’re- You’re trembling, comes the small revelation. Ignoring it, you barely repress a wince, standing there uncertainly.

Finally, your mother- finding her bearings- angrily sputters out your government name.

You almost cow to it.

But you can’t be weak, not now, not in front of them, and-

In a frantic moment, your eyes dart over opposite the table to collide with his, your voice shaking wildly as the twins, at either side of you, snicker.

You swallow down the dregs of your self-consciousness to uncivilly pick up your fork and wave it at him.

“And you! Don’t even get me started on how awful you are! What you’ve done to me!”

All along you’ve done your damnedest to ignore him, only adding in your two cents where it was absolutely necessary. The last month or two you’ve spent under the same roof as him has been nothing less than an excellent demonstration of the cold shoulder on your part. You want the credit for that.

So when you point a literal finger, staring him down like you would prey through a muzzle and furrow your brow as unbidden tears wet your lash-line, his eyes actually double in size. Your stepfather, having forgotten to breathe by the looks of it (albeit, you have too), straightens by a fraction.

Good. That’s...

That’s good, you think.

Something in the back of your mind says ‘heel,’ says ‘don’t poke the bear,’ warns in every possible language you can think of that this is NOT a good idea. He’s rich enough to fill whole swimming pools with cash and powerful enough to move people like chess pieces— probably nudge them out of the game and off the board, too.

But he’ll never be the man of your house. You won’t allow it. So call it sheer stupidity on your end or just a death wish but—

“Y-You’ve stolen everything from me!”

On your right, Luke blinks with hesitant awe, his amusement petering out. Kieran’s jaw shuts. The foot he’d been kicking you with under the table draws away from yours. He exchanges a brief, suddenly sobered look with his brother as everything you’ve been holding back on these past several weeks looses to the surface.

“Y/n-!”

“You took it all! My mother, my dad’s honor, even my fucking house-!”

For the second time, your government name flies across the panel of demurred faces, but you’ve reached your melting point. The watershed where fear and politeness, all the conventional little things you’re supposed to respect and operate by, warps into hot unbridled anger.

This is a cut that originated from your father’s death, one exacerbated awfully by Sylus and his two sly, obnoxious sons- so you think it’s due time to let it bleed.

Bleed, it does.

But then- “You ruined my life, you-“

A breath. Stuttering and shallow and tender. It’s horrifying to realize it came from you.

“Y-You….”

Through the blur is a low, gentle murmur.

Rich and thick. You think even if your ears ceased to work, something in your chest could still recognize it; the bass moves through your ribs and rattles them.

In your periphery, for as fogged as it’s become what with the tears that suddenly speckle the room- the ones you vaguely acknowledge but do all you can to hold, even if just for a few more moments- the silver-haired man sets down his utensil. Nonchalant per usual. With unrivaled class.

It pisses you off.

Without looking at your frazzled mother, he raises a hand to calm her. “Shh, it’s alright, it’s alright. Let her speak.”

Speak…?

Oh- Is that what he fucking thinks this is? That you’ve stood, clinking the side of your glass with a spoon to humbly direct the diners’ attention from the plates spread tastefully before them to you as you prepare a fancy speech of sorts-?

This isn’t an announcement you’re making. This is not even a conversation. It’s just-

It’s just-

The epiphany that every set of eyes is on you including the chef’s (still tucked in the kitchen, as poor as any man could be as he hurriedly cleans up)— and that you are being treated no different than a dangerous animal that needs patience and slow movement to be handled, corralled back into a fucking cage—

It’s so infuriating you go quiet.

Your brain reaches a lapse and you shut up. Lips flattening into a pursed line immediately, you ball your fists and scamper back off to where it’s safest.

Your room.

“Sis, wait, Kieran said he’s sorry for kicking you under the table-“

You’d ignored it all and then you’d cried.

“Kieran,” an unexpected growl. “A word.”

…You suppose time has a funny way of soothing, though, because right now when you recollect the moment, you find the humor in it and scoff quietly.

“Dad, wait, I-I was just kidding around with her!”

Yeah okay, it was a bit embarrassing- you were a bit embarrassing- but you won’t hold that against sixteen year old you. She knew fuck all else how to navigate.

The big house is familiar and airy as you walk through the lower floor, as quiet as you left it.

Even if you’d forgotten the layout, whatever fragrance wafting from the kitchen would be enough to guide you there.

You wonder if it’s some kind of stirfry. A far cry from the humble PB&J’s you’ve been making yourself at home with chips sometimes as a side, but your tummy growls for it all the same.

You haven’t ate since sometime yesterday. As your tongue wets itself in anticipation, you’re made very aware of that now.

You spot the rice cooker on the side counter when you finally walk in and the blurred figures of the twins as they turn to look at you.

Luke, perched on a bar stool to eagerly watch the chef work his magic, hops off just to pull out another one at its right. The look in his eye, glittering, full of anticipation, tells you verbatim to ‘sit right here’. You don’t bother protesting- you’re already some minutes late after all- and climb up onto the seat between them.

Kieran, at your left, scoots closer to sling his arm over your shoulder. You let it happen with a small wince. The chair supporting the other twin gives a short screech when he, too, inches closer to fold his arms on the counter, lean his head on them, and angle his cheek to look at you.

“So, sis, how do you like Linkon so far?”

Not paying them much attention, you quirk an eyebrow.

Between watching the chef as he deftly tosses the pan back and forth (broccoli, you see now, with meat cubes he folds in) and glancing at the archways connecting the rest of the house into the kitchen- eyes peeled for someone- the twins are not your priority right now.

At the top, that list looks something like this: Eat a nice midday meal without any incident involving their dad.

“I’ve lived in Linkon almost all my life, don’t act like this is my first time here,” you poke back, albeit in a somewhat hushed tone. The walls might as well have ears.

Kieran reaches out to run an idle finger down the jut of your shoulder, his chin lazily propped up by his hand.

He looks at you.

“Sis, do you even realize for how long you were gone?”

His voice is light. Conversational. You’re not so deluded, though, by their indifferent, laidback act. You’ve known them not for a decade but not far off from that either, and you’ve learned to catch the whiff of trouble in the air before it blows its wind your way.

When you finally throw them each a gander, hesitantly prying your gaze from the open entries, the delight masked behind each placid set of eyes is absolutely there— just hiding well.

They’re getting much more amusement out of this than they’re letting on.

You’ll give them credit here: they’ve gotten better at pretending they’re not up to no good,… but there’s no bamboozling you.

You think about it for a few seconds before quipping back. “Almost seven months,… right?”

“Right,” Luke chirps beside you, “Seven whole months!” You turn your head to focus on him now.

(Ah, that’s right- you inwardly alert yourself upon notice- no matter who you’re facing, the other will inevitably be in your blindspot… Have to keep on your toes these upcoming weeks if you don’t want them pulling a trick on you.)

He pouts his lips, ever dramatic, to play up the kicked expression and make it all the more impactful as they guilt trip you. “Seven whole months where Kieran and I were left alllllll on our lonesome. Left to fend for ourselves.”

“Oh, you big babies.” With a huff, half-smiling, you lean out to flick his forehead. His hood slips off when he tries to nod away from your attack, laughing softly as wild, red tufts come loose.

“You’re plenty old enough now to care for yourselves. You can’t always rely on me for everything. Besides,” you start, thoughtful, and this is when your already quiet voice slinks into a whisper, one the boys draw in to hear.

Luke’s attention drifting past your shoulder, “you already have the big boss man covering your asses in every sense of the word.”

From the archway, a sonorous voice rings out.

“She’s right, you know.”

You and Kieran snap your heads over to look. The chef (and you don’t why you’re suddenly staring at him, or the ground, for that matter, nervous) gives a little glance his way, dipping his chin respectfully, but doesn’t note him beyond that. A big grin blooms across the lower half of Luke’s face. You’d smack it off if you could.

Beside you, Kieran suddenly lets out a chuckle, both of the twins once more very interested in you- particularly the reaction you’re trying to hide- as you swallow and look away.

Under the broad arch, their stepfather adjusts his sleeves before casually propping himself against the wall, arms folded.

You risk a glance over and instantly regret it when you catch his eyes on yours, a brow quirked teasingly.

…Directed at the boys, you realize when he speaks again. Of course. “You two lean on your sister far too much, don’t you think? I’d say you’re lucky she’s been so patient with you both.”

A huff from one of them. But they’re so similar it might as well come from the other. “Hah, I have the patience of a saint, especially when it comes to her! Don’t forget, dad, how long it took for me to get her to even talk to me-“

Frowning, you open your mouth to argue against that, to defend your past-self’s choices (because she had every reason to ignore the obnoxious pair), but to your suprise Luke beats you to the punch.

“Bro, you have to admit,” he starts with a sheepish laugh, “we were kind of annoying kids… I mean, we were pretty much always trying to find a new way to bother her…”

Curtly, you close your mouth. That deep, rumbling voice sounds out again- light in tone- and your heart skips a beat.

“Honesty’s not a bad start... Kieran, you might benefit from taking notes from your brother.”

“Eh…”

From behind the island, tucked in front of the stove- you swear you hear the cuisiner chuckle.

The pan sizzles. Your mouth waters and you’re reminded of how hungry you are, but the longer the silver-haired man lingers in the entryway the more you’re afraid he’s there to stay.

It was supposed to be just the three of you eating together. Not- Not him. And yeah, sure, this is his house at the end of the day— you wouldn’t be you if you weren’t already painfully aware of that- a fact that’s more obvious than ever now that your only real tether to this place, your mother, is gone— but why did he have to show up now of all times?

As every gripe starts to form in your head-

Two weeks. And then, and then it’ll be over for the last time.

-you silence them.

A moment passes and Luke, still studying you with the ghost of a grin, asks what you all really want to know.

“So, dad, are you staying for lunch?”

A beat. You furtively glance up in time to watch him check his expensive wristwatch, his brow furrowed.

“Lunch, you say?” He chuckles, ruby-red eyes practically sparkling when he lifts his chin, one corner of his mouth curved- though you can tell he’s trying to mask it. “And I guess this is the early bird special?”

“Sleepyhead Y/n here rolled out of bed late.”

You huff, crossing your arms, distracting yourself with the busy chef. “And these two all but barged in while I was still busy unpacking.”

Like clockwork, much of the mirth in his expression wanes. He frowns expectantly, voice neither stern nor flat but something in between. “Boys. What did I tell you about not pestering our guest while she’s still here?”

Luke and Kieran snicker. You bite down on a grin.

“Yeah, boys,” you murmur to be annoying, just loud enough for them to hear. That’s the hope, at least.

Sylus’s little smirk returns with a vengeance. He refolds his arms, adjusting.

“…Anyway, though. I can’t stay. I have a meeting I need to sit in at the main office, unfortunately. I would’ve…” A raking of his eyes between the three of you, interested, and a brief pause, “Enjoyed that, though.”

He hums, saying more to himself now than to any of you, “another time.”

For a number of moments, the air seems oddly tense. A miasma of something unsaid hangs between the four of you, thickening the air between, and in the split second before someone breaks the silence, you’re struggling to pinpoint the root cause.

It’s just the ice from last night, you decide quietly, the bits of it that didn’t break. The friction left over.

You’re still settling in, after all.

…And yet when his gaze finds yours again, something not to be uttered in it as cherry hues zero in on you, his lashes fluttering ever so slightly—

The pulse in your chest trips and picks itself back up again.

You blink, looking down to his chest. When your stare sweeps up again to his face, almost hesitant to find what may be waiting there, he’s addressing the twins and it’s already gone.

“Well. I’m out, then. Boys: don’t drive your sister crazy. And… Kitten…”

Your brow pinches unwittingly. There, again, is that strange yet patient twinkle in his eye and it steals all the breath from your lungs in one fell swoop.

Either side of you, Luke and Kieran trade off between appearing uncertain and then appearing just as eager. Behind the steaming stove, even the chef, cottoning onto the shift in atmosphere, tosses the briefest of looks over his shoulder to assess the situation.

You nervously wet your lip. “Y-Yeah?”

Promptly, your stepfather’s countenance smooths out into an easy, pellucid smile. A whit challenging; a whit encouraging— but not at all reluctant, no, the mite of intimidation in his gaze is a simple result of your clouded thinking these past few days. Nothing more.

“Don’t pull your punches if they do.”

A swallow. “Alright.”

The twins, no different than conspiring, bothersome little rats, slap a hand over their mouths to hide a laugh, and then their dad is skimming between all three of you in your row at the counter. Albeit, his tone is too gentle for them—

“Call if you need something,” he suggests.

And then he’s gone.

A tumbleweed blows through. Kieran turns to you afterward, Luke’s hand idly dangling off your shoulder, the pair far too comfortable with taking up your space- but for now, obedient enough.

“Well, chef, how’s it looking?”

Lunch is served on a silver platter.

Swallowing down your reservations, your typical discomfort with their casual, sumptuous lifestyle, you fold to your hunger and dig in.

Kieran, ever the pest, laughs when you finish before them, shoveling a share of his saucy broccoli onto your plate. His grin is shit-eating, but you can appreciate the generosity laced under his teasing remark for what it is.

“Wow, someone’s hungry, huh? Bet you’re wishing you ate during your flight!”

✦

In the hours after, you trampoline between idling through the massive home, revisiting various memories you hold of each room and long corridor, and sitting down with a hand over your full belly. Thinking.

Maybe all the reflection isn’t for the better, though, as much as you try to keep optimistic by playing dumb to your circumstances.

You don’t blame the boys for being so energetic, even amidst the doom and gloom that’s reared its head in just the past few days— it’s a lot to handle, everything with your mother, sure it is, but they’re known for their mischief, for being nothing but happy-go-lucky. Besides… sometimes grief manifests itself in strange ways. Whether it be through inconvenient fits of laughter or a stone-faced apathy, it’s all of the same brood: an interesting yet no less instinctual coping mechanism.

Considering you’ve been forcefully naive surrounding your reasons for being flown out, you know plenty about those mechanisms yourself.

It’s not impossible that they’re mourning her in their own way, the twins. Behind all the admittedly strange, insouciant remarks and the carelessness around such a delicate situation- tasteless at the best of times- you think you see it, the cracks.

The fleeting blips of unease in Luke’s eyes. The moments where the room goes quiet after a good joke makes its round through and he has to blink something away from his conscience. Or the gelidity of his brother, for that matter. The wide-eyed stare into nothingness before he, too, shakes it away like whatever it is is no more than an intrusive thought to be tossed aside and disregarded.

Not to mention they’re gentler with you. More… chivalrous, almost.

Exhibit A:

The boys approach you closer to sunset in your bedroom, their polite, small smiles and knocks before coming in pleasant surprises each.

Perched on your bedroom’s dormer window, you boredly flip through a book you’ve read at least thrice as they ask if you’ve found a dress yet for the funeral, as respectful as they ever could be.

On cue, your world weathers at the edges. Like paper thinning through after its corner is put to a lighter.

Right, right. A dress. The- The funeral….

You’ve not even been in the Qin estate for 24 hours but you’re already letting these things- these very paramount things- slip from your mind. They should be in the forefront of it, but the more you dwell on them (your priorities: using these two weeks to prepare for the ceremony, finding suitable attire, hopefully going through her belongings once you’re ready enough), the more it hurts, so you just shut it out.

See, all of this— the dreadful knowing that your veritable mother is gone and in terms of blood and bone family, you’re now left utterly alone (that maybe if you’d just- fucking hung around a bit more you somehow could’ve reversed her fate)— has obviously affected you as much as it has your stepfamily if not more- considering they were the ones who found her and all. But the twins, and even their father, are demonstrating a master class in composure, and you don’t know whether to find gratitude in their lack of flying off the handle (in this hell, someone needs to remain coolheaded) or be offended by it.

It almost feels like she was never here.

Like nothing went wrong... But you can’t really blame them for their cool and collected behaviors, because you’re putting up a strong front yourself.

Maybe your mother wasn’t the twins’ given at birth, sure... But they operated as a true family. Even when you were bitter and stuck-up and rude, the four of them were tight-knit, so much so that eventually you felt like the fucking interloper in it all, the outlying number in the equation.

So you quietly understand that there’s hurt involved on their side around her death- whether they’re being loud about it or not- and choose not to tally it against them.

…Perhaps, you think, it’s high time for you to retire your childhood grudges, anyway.

You close the book, smoothing over the cover.

If the five-second rule applies— you use four and a half to pick up your pieces off the floor and formulate a reply, not hiding how crestfallen you are.

“No. I… I haven’t even went shopping yet. I mean, I figured-“

A thick swallow on your end- and an exhale that sounds more like the stirrings of a panic attack and the boys are at your side in a moment. Their softer facets coming through as they join you on the loft window.

Luke takes the worn stuffed animal he almost crushes, dutifully ignoring its matted fur, and places it in your lap to distract you as you struggle to articulate your emotions. Kieran does his best to not scrutinize you too much, knowing you typically don’t like the attention, while you fidget with the plushie and give them an odd show of vulnerability.

I mean, fuck it. They see you as their sister, and you’re tired of pretending to be too tough to rely on them as your brothers, so—

“I- I figured we had two whole weeks, you know? And… And that’s plenty of time to just get a dress later. Have- Have you two gotten everything ready for it?”

“Yeah,” Luke murmurs back, taking your hand in his to swallow it up in warmth. It surprises you but you don’t make a comment. As if wanting to be included as well, or maybe he’s just mad his brother beat him to the punch, Kieran quietly nudges the plushie from your other hand and intwines his fingers with yours.

Your cheeks warm.

Your heart, ricocheting in your chest, whispers something you don’t quite catch as one of them sluggishly props his chin on your shoulder, mumbling a hey, it’s alright as you furiously blink, and you’re inundated with a foreign sense of- of—

Security? …Is that it?

“We went with dad yesterday to buy the suits.”

“Before he picked you up at the airport,” Luke clarifies in a light tone.

At your back, the sun glares over a chilly courtyard, lighting the fountain and iron-wrought gates with liquid, reflective gold. It only makes the near identical visages either side of you look all the more daring and impish— boyishly handsome— as dusk washes its hues over the three of you.

It’s just a little jarring.

A set of knuckles, almost experimentally, caresses your toasty cheek.

…For perhaps the first documented time in history, you don’t bite.

“We can take you, if you want? There’s a place in town that can tailor something perfectly for you. We can go tonight to get your measurements, sis, what do you think? Just get it done?”

It’s… not a bad idea. Far from it, actually.

You’d be able to quiet the restless part of your mind. Accomplish this seemingly easy task that’s become gargantuan in your head all within the span of just one night. To top it all off, it’d be with the added bonus of the twins’ brotherly support.

“A-Actually,” you start, lifting your chin to look at Luke, and then Kieran, voice thin, “I was, um, wondering if you two could take me somewhere else.”

They wait, owlish.

You meekly continue, “I’ve already read all the books I have here. I was thinking if you could drive me to that store downtown, just so I can pick up a few. Something to, um, fill in the time while I’m here, you know?“

Kieran blinks at you, dark eyes examining your face carefully, like he’s taking it in in a new light. You’re sure they don’t know what to make of you right now: for most if not all of your teen years, you played the part of distant stepsister very well, never wore your emotions on your sleeve and hesitated to be open with any of the members of your stepfamily.

Perhaps they think you’re taking a page from their book— setting them up for some grandiose joke so you can cackle in their faces.

Luke, smiling faintly, nudges your shoulder with his and leans in. “Sure, sis. Me and Kieran will take you. I guess you haven’t changed too much while you’ve been gone, huh? You’re still a big bookworm.”

“A big nerd.”

“Alright, you two,” you chuckle lightly, jabbing them both playfully- to which they both offer up a fake, dramatic grunt of pain to- before wiping the tear that almost beads at your eye. You hope they don’t notice. But if they do, they don’t make any sly remark about it. For that you’re thankful.

It seems you’ve all matured quite a bit since pre-adulthood, but it’s somehow more obvious this time around.

This visit is different from the last in more ways than one.

Looking between them both, hardly able to hold their respective gazes as your pulse swings in your throat— “Thank you”— you murmur, gentle.

For as embarrassing as it is to be vulnerable, you let yourself be just a little sweet with them... Considering your mother is gone, and the unsteady grounds you stand on with Sylus especially- the veritable owner of this home- you think you’re less of an inhabitant here and more of a… guest.

Once these two weeks are up and the funeral concludes, you’ll be going away again. Probably for the last time. Nothing will call you back.

(You’d been such a brat. What would want to?)

The twins, unable to hide the little, genuine smirks rippling across their faces, regard you inquisitively when something like sadness flashes across your gaze.

You clear your throat. That thought of finally escaping your stepfamily- your stepfather and all he represented- for good shouldn’t make something in your heart tremble. But oh, it does.

Politely, you brush off their hands and rise to your feet. You’re not sure what’s gotten into you, but you plaster on an awkward yet no less friendly smile and cross your arms.

“So, boys? You ready to go now? Or…?”

Kieran, the utter moron he is, comments something about how he was born ready, jumping up, and then they’re ushering you out the door and into the hall, towards the stairs, in a two-person stampede.

✦

You buy a book.

Three, for good measure, each thicker than the one before. Just something to occupy your mind in the windows of silence you’ll no doubt spend idling around the mansion before the ceremony.

On the way back, the sky is black underneath a cladding of clouds. Ash as far as the eye can see. The stars are hiding, but you lean your cheek against the car window and look up as if trying to spot them, anyway.

Lost in your mind, your own musings holding you close as the bag sits atop your lap, you don’t pay much attention to the boys when they ask if you wanna stop somewhere to eat because they’re getting munchy.

Without looking, though, you do tell them ‘no thanks, you’re getting kind of sleepy’ and Kieran makes the turn home— albeit not without a dramatic sigh.

It’s… pleasant though, surprisingly. Being with them.

It’s like luck is finally shuffling over to your side. Like things are finally looking up- no matter how trife or trivial they seem. For as shitty of a week it’s turned out to be, you need all the silver linings you can get. So (although with some reluctance, some… confusion) you’ll count this time with them as a small blessing.

Maybe, just maybe, this impromptu trip to Linkon is finally taking a turn for the better. Maybe each and every one of your efforts to remain patient and open-minded and mature with your stepfamily have actually begun to pay off. Maybe you won’t be tearfully pulling hair from your scalp after all, driven mad.

The twins’ harmless griping is a backdrop you smile at as the gates of the estate come into view through the woody road.

In the warmer seasons, it’s a monolithic modern thing erected atop rolling lawns striped green. As it stands now, though, the courtyard is a dull, frosted sage, quiet and cold. The fountain will need to be turned off soon before everything freezes, before the snow comes. You vaguely wonder if one of the workers or bush trimmers that come along every week or two will remember before Sylus even gives them the order. It’s likely.

A thud. “Are you sure, sis?” Your door closes behind you.

Hand still on the wheel, Kieran waggles his eyebrows as his sibling hollers from the passenger seat, thinking you’ll take his lilts as an invitation to get back into the vehicle.

“I’m sure,” you murmur fondly, actually stopping at the driver’s window for a moment to hear them out. You adjust the plastic bag in your grasp and throw a look down the rest of the driveway, towards the house.

“You want us to bring something back, at least? We found this cool new place that opened up that has the best—“

A chuckle. “I’m alright, really. We had lunch and dinner together, ‘member?” Then, you give your throat a soft, innocuous clear, scuffing your shoes over the pavement. “By the way, uh… Do you think your dad’s home yet?”

With the garage closed, the path empty and only the lights you left on in the house warmly shining through, it’s hard to tell if anybody else has come by.

Kieran actually snickers at your hesitance, the little bastard.

You reach forward to flick his forehead and he reels away with an excited shout. “Calm down, sis, I didn’t even say anything!”

“Yeah, but I see you laughing you dummy-“

“It’s just cute, is all. You’re always so worried about our old man and what he’s up to.”

You huff at that, maybe even visibly fluster. But before you can say anything, hop to your own defense, a puckish voice overlaps yours. “If you were in a cartoon, you’d have steam coming out of your ears right now.”

“Ugh! You two are unbearable-!”

“Hey, Kieran said it, not me-“

“But you thought it, didn’t you? You two share the same handful of braincells after all!!”

They both laugh, more endeared by your insults than offended- much to your dismay- and you put your tongue in your cheek. Your narrowed eyes drift back to the titanic of a home. Maybe it’s your imagination, but you almost swear you see a shadow flutter by one of the floor-to-ceiling windows on the bottom level and—

“Did you see that?” You untuck your arms from their weave at your chest and squint. The boys, still sniggering, follow your gaze. “I think he is home.”

A beat of silence passes.

You turn over. Luke faces ahead in his seat, wetting his lip wordlessly, but Kieran dangles his arm out the side of the fancy, sleek car (that his father surely bought for him as a toy) with his eyes set on you.

Holding your gaze with a shake of his head, his smirk is a tenuous thing, but it’s there. “Nah, I’m pretty sure he’s gone, sis.”

If you ever write a guide on surviving the Qin family, the first page would say: step one, do not believe the twins if they utter anything even a stone’s throw from the two words—

“Don’t worry.”

You frown, uncertain.

He laughs at your pouting. “Kieran- just tell me the truth-“

“I’m serious! He’ll be back later tonight, probably midnight. You know how it is. His schedule is spotty.”

A wind sweeps through and you shiver ever so slightly, clasping either of your arms as you hug them close to your body. Your lips are getting that uncomfortable dry feeling but you know it’ll only worsen if you run your tongue over them. So you don’t.

You eye the lavish, yet unassuming front of the home, ruminating. “Kieran-“

“Now go back in before you catch a cold. Dad will really kill me and Luke if he finds out you were standing out in the dark just to bicker with us.”

“I’m innocent in this,” his brother murmurs before exaggerating a yawn.

You analyze the crafty duo one more time before sensing no dupe on their end and sighing, marching up towards the house.

“Fine,” you call over your shoulder, just a little testy. You don’t want to be fooled, but there isn’t a big reason for them to lie about whether their dad’s returned or not- and even if he did make it back already, it’s no major thorn in your side. There’s a fat chance you’ll just casually, quietly, pass him by as you head to your room- and that’s even if you bump into him in the first place. The place isn’t exactly small or conducive to chance meetings.

“But if you’re lying,” you start, before blushing because you can’t quite think of a good threat. “You’ll- you’ll regret it.”

The engine purrs and the car pulls off- thank God- carrying the harmless yet bothersome mocking words of your stepbrothers with it. “Ohhhh so scary! See you later!”

You cluck your tongue, shaking your head at no annoyance of theirs in particular as you hop up the steps and fish for the key in your pocket.

Giggling under your breath. Idiots.

✦

You’re not giggling when you enter the open foyer, locking the door behind you, and spot a figure in the living room, splayed out on the large L-shaped sofa.

No, you’re not even thinking about the boys anymore, just the dilemma laid out before you as you press your lips together in a thin line and turn your feet into feathers to begin making your way through.

God’s hand must be over your life though, because upon closer, very furtive inspection, tiptoeing towards the archway, he’s…

Asleep.

You let out a soundless sigh of relief at that, shoulders slumping.

…And you should take the opportunity- glad it’s even come to you- and go, you know. It’s as good a moment as any to slip off, undetected, and retreat into the privacy of your bedroom.

It’s all but waiting for you.

What you told the twins was as much of a truth as it was a good excuse— you’re tired and it’s encroaching on that time where you want to plop into bed and curl up under the covers.

Not because it’s past your curfew or anything, no- honestly, you usually have a penchant to stay up late- but because you’re still a little jet-lagged from the flight and you’d prefer to sleep instead of loaf the evening through with the unwanted company of whatever thoughts that might creep in.

You’re not… incredibly close with Sylus. Unbidden feelings of safety and peace in his presence nudged aside, you’re not chummy with the guy and you really have no reason to stick around especially when you’re growing tired but—

Approaching the archway, you slowly reach a hand to rest on it, and you watch.

A half-touched mug of coffee sits on the table before the couch. Strewn beside it is his laptop, mousepad and mouse, and one of those yellow, lined notebooks that you quirk a brow at only because it’s deceptively cheap for a man so expensive.

It’s closer to something your own father- your real, now deceased one- would use to mark out measurements for his woodworking projects, or keep on the fridge under a magnet as a note to himself.

…Huh.

A mite amused by the sight of your generally very awake, proactive stepfather, you fight off a grudging smile- all too entertained by the languid display- and rest your shoulder against the wall.

Dim, golden lights fall over him in a gentle haze, but the shadow cut by his bumped nose is sharp.

You know they’re not related, Sylus and his unruly sons. The twins are splitting images of each other, but they mirror nothing of Sylus’s face— so when you heard the casual murmurs between him and your mother behind closed doors one evening about their ‘adoption’ long ago, you shouldn’t have been surprised. Yet you were.

For as much as you disliked him, it was never because he was a bad father.

The opposite, if you’re completely honest.

He’s always been good to the boys. Nothing short of nurturing (in his own indirect way, of course), paternal, and teacherly. Offering a hand of guidance where it was needed but never ironlike or suffocating with how he used it. If anything, he was even a smidgen lax with them- which you’d quietly admire but only in absolute secret.

Every parent has their faults, that’s a given.

Sylus had very little.

A head full of silver (and some grey, albeit it’s hard to notice his age just because he handles it so gracefully, so boldly) tipped against the back of the couch with an arm resting on the side of it- the shaggy throw blanket on his lap with the wintry chill kept in mind— he’s more than just peaceful. He’s…

Domestic. Relaxed.

This is his territory, you’re reminded again.

You’re just passing through it.

A five o’clock shadow dots the slant of his jaw. His lashes don’t even flutter in his sleep; you reckon he’s deep into it. A pen hangs between his fingers, limp.

Interest dashes through you as you quietly observe him.

You’re not… spying, per se, it’s just- You’re just curious, alright? And to be fair, he wouldn’t have any right to call you out on your observation even if he wanted to, because the number of times you’ve felt and ignored his patient, hopeful, or outright (for whatever reason) amazed stare is too high to be logged.

A pair of glasses rests on the tip of his nose, sloping off. There’s no way to tell just when he got home, but it’s obvious he had been hard at work with something on his computer.

Humming thoughtfully, you pull your gaze away before sluggishly pushing off the threshold.

You shake your head at yourself, readjusting your bag as you find the trace of humor in your desultory actions. Why you let your curiosity get the better of you, you don’t know. It’s very possible at this point that something’s possessed you. Either that, or your cold, guarded heart is thawing out at rates National Geographic needs to get an angle on ASAP.

In any case- you really ought to head up for bed now.

Quiet as a mouse, careful lest you wake and alert him to your presence, you pad behind the couch and across the width of the massive living room to the just as opulent stairs.

You look up to them—

Looming. Dark.

In your mind’s eye, so unrealistically steep- so dangerous—

Breath suddenly hitching, you glance down to your feet, planted firmly beneath you- unmoving- and remind yourself of good things. Other, things.

Puppies. Kittens. Rainbows with pots of gold waiting at the other end with leprechauns to greedily guard them- varying flights of fancy.

Awfully enough, in all your attempts to distract and soothe yourself, four portraits pop up into your brain and three of them belong to none other than your stepfamily.

You want to be callous. But it’s not working this time around.

This wound of yours that your mother’s death left behind is too open, too fleshy, for you to pretend that your skin is so hardened.

Reopening your eyes, you swallow down the bad gut feeling that twists like a knife- the inexplicable unease disappearing as quickly as it came- and reach a hand for the railing.

Bed. Bed. Clearly, you need the rest—

“Kitten?”

A groggy voice. That, and a shuffle.

You flip around.

You’re too shocked to even remember you’re meant to dislike him, hand flying over your heart in a trice. “Y-Yeah?”

Your stepfather, looking sideward over the couch at you, blinks away sleep casually.

Oh, God. It’s just him…

“Oh,” he mumbles, “Sorry, Sweetie. I didn’t mean to scare you…” lazily tossing a glance to the unoccupied space around him, even the banister overhead; checking for something, you realize as your heart slowly takes its foot out from your throat.

You sigh out, visibly deflating.

You think you see his gaze drop to the bag in your hand, giving you a once-over, but his ruby eyes are catching the light in a way that makes it near impossible to discern. You can only tell he’s looking at you because he’s facing you.

“Where’s the boys? You left with them, didn’t you?”

Your lashes bounce against your cheekbone, rapid as you collect your bearings. “Oh, they…”

His tone gets a little stern, then, his eyes a little clearer now as he dips his chin and quirks a searching brow. Incredulous, very. “Is… everything alright? They behaved themselves, didn’t they?”

“Yeah, no- the boys were fine,” you shake your head, rubbing nothing from your eye. Fatigue, maybe, as it drapes itself over you. It takes a second for you to remember the events that led you here before opening your mouth to speak on them. “Um, they just wanted to get a snack and I wanted to be dropped off, so…”

He takes a moment to ponder that.

Unconvinced, “But everything went well?” His attention skims over you hastily. You see that, now. The intense glitter in his eye, wholly transfixed, as the dregs of his slumber wear off- however, the gravel in his voice is more stubborn to go.

He sighs, long-suffering. “You can tell me. I won’t let them know it was you.”

You struggle to imagine how that would go, but shake your head in the next moment anyway.

“Really, it was fine. Everything went well.”

“Good.” He hums, then, seemingly satisfied.

He pores over you, curious all over again as a tiny bunch forms between his brow, wrinkling it slightly. “You’re… heading up for the night now, I guess?”

Oh, yes actually, you think to yourself in time with his reminding you of it- but you go to reply and hold off on it when he glances down at what you correctly assume to be his wristwatch, pausing thoughtfully.

“Oh, my. It’s gotten pretty late out now,” he drawls. “Hm. I must’ve drifted off while I was waiting for-”

You quirk a brow. “Ah. Waiting for this spreadsheet to get interesting,” he smoothly chuckles, looking at the screen of his computer and the low battery sign that pops up as a window on it.

Before you can think to respond- “Goodnight then, Kitten,” he lilts as high as his sleep-addled voice will allow, “I’ll see you in the morning. Should I,” a pause again, “wake you for breakfast?”

You swallow, momentarily glancing at the top landing of the stairs. “No thanks.”

“Are you sure?” He breathes.

Persistence is needed in business, you know that; it’s why you don’t hold it against him when his first instinct is to push rather than pull away. His realm is different than yours. And anyway, he’s just being polite— playing the part of the concerned, doting, yet nonetheless hesitant stepfather who is terribly uncertain with how to best handle his grouchy stepdaughter. He does it well.

“You’re not afraid of missing out?”

You offer a mildly amused huff, choosing to indulge him just this once- just for these two weeks. “On my sleep, maybe.”

He chuckles. It’s a full and rich sound. There’ll come a day where Luke and Kieran will coax more of the same out of him, and you’ll give them genuine, congratulatory claps on the back each for the achievement.

For now, though, that feat is yours and yours alone. Not that you’re… exactly proud of it.

“Alright, alright, I get the hint, little miss night owl… I won’t disturb you tomorrow. You have my word.” He smirks just barely. Just safe enough.

“Sleep tight, Sweetie.”

The ice is melting between you both, yes- a phenomenon you both curiously, warily observe— but he will watch his step.

You set your foot on the first stair, “T-Thanks. You too.”

…As will you.

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