#finally understood how to use queue

[einlesc]

297 Hariyama

[elysianightsss]

No because girl you NEEDDDDDD to elaborate on this -> Soulmate AU. Poly!141 x neurodivergent!reader <- I will die happily

Elaboratingggggggg🤭🫠

-

You didn’t think that you’d get this far in life, many reasons spring to mind but the main one is you’re a little different than most people. You can’t cope with certain things and struggle with change. You remember growing up your family would brush off your ‘issues’ and say to just deal with it. How little they understood you.

Moving out was the best decision you ever made, the only change you have ever been happy about. It was necessary and would make your life so much easier on a level only you could understand. You could set up your space the way you like it, the way you need it. And with just you, no one would mess with your stuff just to see you loose it as it was ‘funny’ or move things to suit them better.

This way, you could live in peace.

Task force 141 had just finished a successful mission, camping out in one of the many secret safe houses as they waited for further instructions when they had sent Johnny to the shop for supplies. That’s where he saw you, in a Sainsbury’s supermarket of all places, headphones tight over your ears to block out the world while you tried to decide if the extra two, ninety-nine was worth it or not for the soothing lavender face mask you wanted.

Johnny was quick to subtly snap a picture of you and even go as far as to follow you home before bolting it back to the guys to tell them he’d finally found you. Their last soulmate.

As soon as Johnny showed them the image of you, that was it for them. They had to have you. A burning need coursing through their veins, pumping around their bodies. Nothing would ever be enough until they had you in their arms.

But as said and as they observed themselves, you don’t cope with change.

So they had to situate themselves into your life slowly, one by one.

Johnny and Simon moved in next door to you, and lived there for seven months slowly getting to know you and obviously spying on you. They gradually began to understand you and your cute quirks. They know that you eat the same thing for dinner every night, you use the same plate or bowl and wash it straight after use to make sure it is ready for next time.

You have one set of cutlery, one glass and one mug. Two pillows though you only sleep on one and use the other to hug to sleep. And to top it all off you have one recliner chair and one massive beanbag chair that makes you feel like you’re being hugged tight each time you sit on it. It gives you the deep pressure therapy you desperately need at times.

The guys found your habits strange at first but the more time they spent with you, the more they began to understand you. Understand your need for order, for repetition. And they had experienced first hand what happens when change was forced into your safe space.

Johnny had the bright idea to gift you a set of cutlery a few weeks ago so when he and Simon came round for dinner as they did every Thursday for the past four months, they didn’t have to bring cutlery and plates from their own place, it would already be there.

Simon said it was a bad idea but he couldn’t say no to Johnny, not with how happy he looked while he picked out some pretty baby blue plates and silver cutlery with little mushrooms painted at the end. He boasted to Simon about how much you’d love them while they stood in the queue to pay.

He was wrong.

After dinner was cooked you plated up the food no problem thinking the pretty plates were from their house. Then you opened the kitchen drawer only to hear the clutter and smash of cutlery rubbing together. The sound made a ringing pierce your ears, your hands reaching up to cover them. It was like nails on a chalkboard to you. The sound you heard making you panic beyond measure, your breathing out of control as you slid to your knees.

Johnny’s smile dropped and he sprung into action using the deep pressure therapy you had told him about with your beanbag chair. Simon was quick to removed the extra plates and cutlery from where Johnny had put them and take them back to their place before returning ready to help. He knew he’d need to call John and let him know you had had an episode, but helping you came first.

So you liked constant repetition. If it made you happy, that was absolutely fine with them.

Kyle got himself hired as a barista at your favourite cafe, he learned your usual and practiced at home to make sure every morning when you stopped by on the way to work to drink your coffee and sit with your laptop for twenty minutes, you’d have the perfect drink. He made absolutely sure that it tasted the same every single time. No change.

After a couple of months of smiles and waves here and there he finally got you to open up. Baby steps. A little at a time and now Kyle was taking his twenty minute break at your table while you typed up something for work. You always worked so hard. But he managed to get a few sentences out of you each time and it made his heart sing.

And last but not least, John became your new boss after your last one mysteriously got caught for money laundering. Mr Price was an amazing boss, he didn’t ask for much and was always giving you big opportunities that you’d only ever dreamed of. You had been promoted twice since he became the CEO.

You were now executive editor under him as the chief editor at one of the best publishers in the country. Pirons Classics, number two in the UK and number four in the World. To say the guys were proud that you worked there in the first place was an understatement. Their smart girl.

He called you sweet nicknames and brought you lunch everyday. The same thing, a pesto and cheese sandwich and a snack of your choosing from the vending machines. You don’t remember when it started but you were always too shy to say anything so it became a regular thing.

If you were to sit and think real hard about the situation you would realise how changes had been introduced into your life ever since the four of them appeared. But they were subtle changes and you genuinely couldn’t remember a time when these changes weren’t normal. On top of that, these four men were the only people besides yourself, that you felt comfortable, relaxed and content around.

So for the first time you don’t sit and think, for the first time you just let it happen and you don’t notice the difference.

Johnny and Simon were more involved with you than the other two. They were the closest to you currently with the status of your best friends which Johnny most certainly bragged to the other two about. You had known them for almost a year now and they didn’t exactly hide their romantic relationship but didn’t exactly flaunt it either.

You had found it kinda hot when you saw them kiss and even though it was unusual for you, you luckily managed to keep your mouth shut about it.

You had no idea they had noticed.

[gingybimby]

Tested Patience

Synopsis: You have one final thing planned for Sylus on his birthday. You've shown each other your vulnerable bellies, so you hope he's interested in playing.

Warnings/Notes: Sylus/fem!reader, Sylus/MC (you are MC), Blatant NSFW (MDNI), BDSM themes, established relationship, dragon sylus and you know, follows after his birthday event, breeding/breeding kink, knotting, panties shenanigans, pure fluff/no angst, no use of Y/N

I didn't mean for this to be so late Q-Q Life and such and such. Same universe as the this Dragon!sylus, doesn't need to be read to be understood. They're both standalone. I didn't really edit anything. If I cross post to AO3 eventually, I'll make the effort then.

wc: 4.8k

“You look like the kitten that ate the canary, sweetie.” Sylus’s amused observation followed you into the Onichynus base.

“Who me? I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m just happy we got to spend your birthday together.” You glanced over your shoulder at him with your smile.

You were rewarded with Sylus’s soft laughter and felt delight rush from head to toe from the sweet sound. You had texted the twins to go find something better to do for the evening and they’d responded to you with a flurry of emojis and variations of “ew” and “gross” though Luke did include brief “take pictures” that had made you swallow a snort at the time. Even Mephisto wasn’t butting heads with you this time, having performed this once in a lifetime favor of queueing up a custom playlist of favorite songs. A compromise seeing as the crow couldn’t exactly get a record safely set up and you’d faint if anything happened to that custom record Sylus had made of both your favorite songs he gifted to you on your birthday.

“So the music that is conveniently a nice mix of our favorite songs is just a final piece to the day you planned?” 

Sylus was starting to prowl. You could tell in the way his gaze narrowed in on you, taking slow, measured steps to corral you against the kitchen island. The thrill of it pooled a welcome heat in your belly but you stopped him with a single finger to his chest, where you could feel his heartbeat. It was rarely ever at a slow pace, always pumping like he was mid-exercise. You wondered if it was due to his nature in these brief moments you take to notice the speed of it.

“Don’t think I don’t notice a predator that’s got me in his sights.” You hum softly to him, trailing your finger along his shirt, teasing the buttons as if you were going to undo them any moment. 

Sylus’s controlled inhale was all you needed to know that he was going to take your bait. As if there was a world where he wouldn’t. He loved it when you had these little schemes of yours. You knew how to play into his every desire just as he did yours.

“Just how do you plan to handle this predator, Miss Hunter.” Sylus’s voice had dropped to a near growl and it took all your effort to suppress the shiver that wanted to dance up your spine.

“Oh, he’ll go quite willingly into my trap I should think.” You started to circle around him, knowing it put him more at attention by reflex. “I’m just curious if his patience is deep enough to stay in it. How quickly will he break, I can’t help but wonder.”

You slip your hand into his, pulling him along behind you. He follows, chuckling in that dangerous way that makes your hairs stand on end.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, sweetie.”

“Aren’t we always? Where’s the fun if not in a little danger? I can take it, thorn or claw.”

You felt his long fingers flex in your hand briefly, things left unsaid but no less understood. You loved that about this, about him. This absent need for words when the two of you came together like two halves of a whole. No matter what he could read you, and while you still stumbled occasionally, you were confident that you could read him too.

Opening the door to his bedroom you had to contain your urge to grin. There was a very carefully placed chair as close to the center of the room as you could manage. A chair Sylus instantly recognized with a slow exhale of a chuckle. Always willing to explore desires with you, he’s tied you to the very same chair many times before. Always he’d dance masterfully along a line of pain and pleasure that left you reeling and in this floating space afterwards that he always brought you back from with such sweet words and tender care. You had no delusions of trying to replicate what he did, but you had some ideas you’re hoping he’d be interested in.

“If you wanted to play, kitten, all you had to do was ask.” Sylus purred at your back, hand nearly slipping from yours until you held tighter. He always reaches for your waist first, casually saying once that it simply was where his hands belonged.

“I do want to play.” You nodded, pulling him towards the chair before finally stopping and turning to face him, suddenly feeling your face heat up.

“While I didn’t plan for our whole talk on vulnerability earlier, I did want to try something different.” 

You struggled to speak over the forming lump in your throat and not think about how intense Sylus was watching you. He was always like that, you tried to reason with yourself, but you knew it was different. Still, you knew he waited patiently, even as your hand fidgeted in his.

“Control is important to you.” You finally manage, looking at your entwined fingers. “Important, but exhausting. Always making decisions, always thinking of every scenario, every way something can go wrong, and the steps to make sure it doesn’t. I just- I wanted you to have a moment to let go of that and… and trust me to hold it for you just for a little bit. No thinking, just feeling.” 

You felt his hand on your face and instantly nuzzled into it with a sigh, almost nervous to see his reaction to your stumbling rambles. Almost. Your eyes flicked upwards to look at him and it left your heart racing at the way his cheeks and ears had gone that cute shade of red you adored. He looked at you like you were the most precious thing in the world and it was only in these special moments that you truly felt it. You bit your lip when he breathlessly said your name.

“You’ve had control this whole day.” His gentle words made you take in a quivering breath. “Do you have any expectations for how this ends? Something about testing my patience…?”

Now his other hand was on your other cheek, cradling your face as he kissed you momentarily. Soft and sweet, all his feelings in a single action. An action of pure, unbridled love that burned his insides with its heat. A flame you willingly gave yourself to if only so the two of you could burn together.

“As long as we go to bed happy and satisfied, how we get there is part of the fun.” You affirm with his lips just barely parted from yours. His answering quirk of his lips had you buzzing with renewed excitement.

“I think we can work with that.”

You had to resist the frantic delight rushing through you as he gestured to himself as if to say “do as you please.” You first point to the chair, voice quiet and firm.

“Sit.” 

As he did, you went to the collection of playthings you prepared and slid a long, narrow piece of black silk into your hand and walked behind Sylus with it. His posture was relaxed, but you were able to see his anticipation the way his fingers drummed along his legs. You kissed the shell of his ear while draping the silk over his eyes. These eyes struck fear into the denizens of the N109 zone and anyone stupid enough to become an annoyance on his radar. For you, they were an endless expression of adoration.

“The silk one is nice.” He commented quietly. You usually asked for a linen or cotton blindfold since it felt the most comfortable to you.

“I thought you might like it the best.” 

You kissed his temple while taking your time to tie the ends together. Firm. Secure. You slid two fingers beneath the fabric before draping your arms over his shoulders to kiss the top of his head. Your hands run down his chest, toying with the buttons again.

“Good?” You asked quietly, going agonizingly slow undoing one button at a time.

“Very good.” Sylus purred in response, relaxing his head back into the softness of your chest.

“You need to wear this again. I like it.” You comment on his extravagant birthday outfit.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

You removed each accessory from his clothing with a methodical slowness, as if it were a sacred ritual. One piece at a time, your fingers trailing along exposed skin for moments longer than necessary. Your body heat would move around him, tease him with your closeness, but he kept his hands down. He didn’t reach for you, though the little twitches in his hands when you’d drag your fingernails lightly over his exposed collar bone or his wrist told you how much he wanted to. 

“You’re doing quite well keeping your hands to yourself.” You praised before kissing just below his ear, drinking in his labored inhale.

“It’ll take more than this for me to give in, sweetie.” You loved the smugness in his voice. The complete confidence. You wanted to ruin it.

“Oh I know.” 

Your words were punctuated with you easing the suit jacket off of him, treating it with extreme care like everything else. You held it selfishly close for a moment, basking in his scent that clung to the fabric. His fancy cologne was a custom mix meant to enhance his natural scent and fuck if it didn’t do its job. You could bathe yourself in this smell and still it wouldn’t be enough. There was also the barest hint of motor oil and gunpowder that always clung to his skin and even these you found yourself enjoying more than you thought possible. You loved your pistols long before him, but being reminded of Sylus everytime you discharged shots into a wanderer was a silent pleasure beyond making the area a little safer.

Hanging the suit coat up, you returned to your lover’s side and plucked the few remaining buttons loose. He always reminded you of those grand marble statues a master artist carves over the course of years to attain perfection. Sylus shivered with a quiet curse when you suddenly raked your nails down his abdomen. Hard enough to whiten the skin before blood rushed in to leave faint red lines trailing your movement. You watched him for a moment, taking in the barely controlled breathing and the way he wet his lips.

You were painfully silent. He loved to hear you be it talking, singing, or his favorite being your sounds of pleasure. His senses were already greater than any humans, so you maintained your steady breath so he wouldn’t even get the pleasure of knowing how much this ruined you as it did him. His hands were curled into fists now. Not quite white-knuckled, but you’re sure you could get there if you wanted. 

When you removed his shirt, your knee just barely nudged against the prominent bulge in his pants. Light enough that it could’ve been an accident. You grinned to yourself seeing those fists clench tighter and hearing your name on his lips so quiet like a prayer. 

Again, you were dragging your hand from shoulder, across his chest to the other shoulder. You trailed your knuckles up from there, feather-light in your drag up his neck and cheek. He turned his face into your hand, panting like he needed the contact to breathe easier.

“Put your arms behind your back, love.” You murmured to him, rewarding his careful restraint with an open caress to his cheek.

Going back to your selection of toys, you picked up blood red ropes. He’s tied you with these very same ones, forcing your legs to be spread and hands pinned to your back. He always talked you through the way he tied your body up, letting you watch. You’d spent countless nights practicing the very same ties to keep his arms behind him so when you started the careful knotting Sylus hummed.

“You’ve planned this for a while.” He murmured, starting to calm his breathing now that you weren’t touching him constantly. “You can go tighter sweetie.”

Your pause was only momentary, nodding, then going to make things tighter.

“Better?” You lifted your hand to run in through Sylus’s hair, always tickled how he turned into your touch like a needy puppy. You had half a mind to say as much.

“Mm. Let me teach you next time.” 

You grabbed his jaw to turn his head to the side, pressing a tender kiss to his lips. He tried to be greedy by biting your bottom lip and despite your grin, you pulled back with a click of your tongue.

“Naughty boy.” You hummed, watching his hands easily flex behind his back with his low chuckle.

You quietly retreated to your own personal wardrobe Sylus long since let you claim for yourself. Hidden at the bottom beneath some loungewear was a simple black box that contained lingerie you got when Tara dragged you into a boutique because she wanted help finding something cute, but sexy. You didn’t pry, but something had caught your eye. The saleslady noticed immediately and talked you into buying it. She was very good at her job.

“Changing into something? I can’t wait.” 

You stuck your tongue out at Sylus even if he couldn’t see it. Then you slid your panties down your legs and watched his whole body tense, head turning in your direction. You pulled on the lacy under-things. The sheer fabric was stitched with decorative roses and hugged your figure. Pulling on the garters and stockings it matched with, you scooped up your soiled panties to return to your boyfriend’s side.

“Kitten…” Sylus exhaled when you drew near enough. He pulled against his restraints and growled softly.

You settled onto his lap, legs straddling his thighs. His groan was instant, head dropping to land in your tits perfectly held together by the lingerie. You held in your own noise feeling his cock throbbing against your ass. Your own restraint and patience would be tested before this was done.

“You must be aching.” You coo. “Poor thing.”

You drew your hand up his side to his chest, playfully circling a nipple with your nail. It made his hips buck into yours, making you gasp softly. It was all he needed to latch onto your neck, dragging his tongue over your skin and bite into it with blunt teeth. A part of you wanted to give in then and there, let him take you, but instead you dragged your hand to the back of his hair and yanked back non too gently. Sylus whined being dragged away from your neck and feeling your weight leaving his lap. “Wait- no. Come back, kitten. I’ll be good.” Sylus panted, desperate to feel your body against him.

His desperation went straight to your core, making you want to touch your aching clit. To drag his cock from his pants and ride him stupid. You clenched your wet panties in your hand, using the hand in his hair to drag his head back again.

“Open.” You ordered, managing to sound far more authoritative than you felt. You watched his hips buck into nothing.

He obeyed, after a few moments. Perfect lips parted to open his mouth to you and you leaned in close, murmuring right against his ear.

“Be grateful for this. I was half a mind to not let you have this at all for that stunt.” You shoved your panties in his mouth, letting him have a mere taste of the want you’ve felt all day. A truly weak noise broke its way from his throat, letting you see his arms strain and hips sadly rock into nothing. You noted, however, his teeth were tightly clenched now. A beast given a toy and now unwilling to allow you to take it back. You even tugged lightly on the waistband of the underwear only to be growled at, making you grin.

“Nasty.” you whispered through your glee. “I wore that all day and you’re gnawing on it like a dog with a bone.”

Sylus was silent, save for his low growling. He didn’t care if you were right . He was unwilling to let his prize go just for the sake of a few words lest you take it away from him. Your faint touch to his thigh made him jump as you circled him again to your collection of goodies.

Your grin was positively wicked as you eased the top off a small ice box. You popped one icecube in your mouth and took another one with you as you silently put the lid back over the box. Playing with temperatures has become one of your favorite things with Sylus. The sting of hot wax hitting your skin was horribly delicious and he looked at you with such reverence painting your stomach with the quick-to-cool wax.

“You must be burning up, love. This should help.” You hummed sweetly. 

You pressed the ice cube to his beating pulse in his neck and watched his head lull to the opposite side with a groan. You could feel the accusation that you were being so mean to the needy birthday boy.

Dragging the ice down along his collarbone, you watched the melting liquid bead down his chest in tiny rivulets. Then you circled a nipple with the ice while teasing the zipper to his pants. It fascinated you to see black scales faintly start to collect along his limbs. His restraint was waning. If that hadn’t been obvious before, the way he jerked his arms and snarled slightly certainly did. You paused your ministrations, watching his chest heave with every breath.

“You’ve been so good so far, love. Is this the end of your patience?” It was an unspoken challenge. Both of you knew he could end this at any point, throw you onto the bed, and claim you again and again until you couldn’t think anymore. Still, your words seemed to remind him of himself and his worked up thrashing settled down, even if the scales remained.

You waited a few more moments before dragging the nearly melted ice cube to the other nipple, pressing in to the area until it melted to nothing while you dragged open the zipper to his pants. You drew a heart into his chest with the wetness remaining on your finger. Palming his cock through his underwear made your pussy clench around nothing. You felt ridges and heavy pulsing veins. A needy sound tore from Sylus’s throat as you touched his neglected cock, rocking desperately into your hand.

Instead, you tugged the rest of his pants and underwear down with his eager assistance. His cock throbbed against his abdomen, tip an angry red and weeping with precum. You kneeled between his legs, hands resting on his knees so he could feel you. The ice cube you popped in your mouth has long melted, but it still left it a pleasant coolness to your lips and tongue.

You kissed the underside of the tip, letting a hand settle at the base of his cock to rub your thumb lightly against the outline of his knot. His hips only twitched, moans muffled by the panties he still stubbornly held onto. That was until you dragged the head of him into your cool mouth and dragged your tongue along the weeping slit. 

His jaw dropped to make the most toe-curling groan you’ve heard from him. It made your clit pulse and ache. Nearly made you trip over your own concentration.

“Fuck. Fuck, kitten. Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.” Sylus begged you. He repeated his soft pleas, more desperate than the last, and your name. You knew he was close with the way his breath hitched and how his knot swelled slightly. You let him sit at the edge, staring up at him with a diabolical grin. Your lips left him with a soft sucking sound to be met with his frantic whining. Your hand dragged down below that slowly swelling knot and squeezed. Whining melted quickled into begging before settling back into snarling like before. 

“You’re okay.” You chided, resting your head against his knee. You felt a sense of awe and wonder seeing twisting horns adorn his head. “Wouldn’t you rather cum inside me?” Sylus settled, the ropes that had started whining in protest going silent. Only his ragged breathing filled it.

“Yes.” A single word in response, rough in a way that dragged down your spine. “I want to see you.”

You shivered. He wasn’t asking, begging, or demanding. It was a simple command that you stood up to obey immediately. You couldn’t resist when he talked like that. 

Your fingers were trembling slightly as they tugged the knot you made loose. Slowly silk dropped from Sylus’s eyes and the moment his eyes were free, they were staring at you- and it took your breath away. Red eyes burned into you, dilated pupils constricting in response to the soft light of the room. They never left your face.

You thought maybe you should say something, lips parting, but all that escaped was a shocked yelp as something curled around your waist as Sylus stood. That’s when you realized with a rising anticipation, that he’d been freed from those ropes the moment they’d gone silent. You could hardly process that it was a tail wrapping around you because he was backing you up towards the bed.

You fell back onto it with a gasp, flushing as clawed hands ran down your bare thighs to push them further apart for him to settle between. This was one of those times where he was unreadable to you. Was he upset? That was opposite of what you wanted. Uncertainty gnawed at you as you laid a single hand against his abdomen, a silent request to stop. He did, but his tail curled tighter around your waist.

“Did… did you not like it?” You hated that you sounded so small even to your own ears.

You felt his tail flex around you a few moments before he was crawling over you, settling between your legs like it was where he belonged. Your lip quivered as his hands, so gentle despite the claws, held your face. He leaned down, resting his forehead to yours, eyes closed before pulling back slightly to see you again.

“It was… more overwhelming than I expected.” He breathed quietly. “But yes… I liked it very much. Too much, maybe, because everything in me wants to act like a beast in making you mine. My mate. Mine to claim.”

Relief flooded you, so much so that you smiled and giggled, draping your arms around his shoulders and neck to pull him closer.

“Well… We did see a lot of different animals today… annddd I’m still an animal- and so are you.” You hummed, tilting your head as his face buried into your neck, the rumbles he made sounding like purring. “You showed me your vulnerable belly, I’ve shown you mine. What are we if not mates?”

Sylus didn’t really respond in words. He pulled your legs over his hips so that he could slide his cock into you in a single, easy movement instead. Bites were littered along your neck as he rocked in an almost lazy manner into you.

Your growing noises were music to his ears. Every gasp and sigh made up for the ages he’s gone without your presence. You were there, in his arms, right where you should be. “Sylus.” His name on your lips was its own blessing. One that dragged his head back just so that he could look at your flushed face, still dolled up in this pretty lace he resisted tearing apart when pushing it aside so he could slip into you.

“Does biting me act as a claim for you?” You asked, touching his face. So gentle. You were always so gentle with him.

“Yeah.” He murmured, dragging a hand up to your mark-riddled neck, tracing the harsh indents in your skin. “But so is filling you up. Claiming you. Letting the whole world see you carry my children. It drives me mad, imagining your belly round with my baby.”

You choked back a sob of pleasure as he finished his words in a growl, shifting slightly so his next thrust hit even deeper. You were clenching around him, needing him as badly as he needed you. 

You barely needed to tug at a wrist before his hand slid between your legs, rubbing tight little circles into your swollen clit. It was just the thing you needed as you started arching your back. Every inch of him was like it existed purely to please you. The ridges on his cock dragged against that delicious spot inside you that made you buck your hips in time with his. Even his knot, teasing at your entrance, drove you mad, knowing it’d plug you up with the intention of ensuring you didn’t leave the encounter without getting pregnant.

Then, Sylus practically bent you in half. His tail shifted to support your lower back as he pushed your legs up, nearly making your knees touch your shoulders. The next thrust from this made you wail, clawing your nails along his arms. The tip of his cock met your cervix and you swear you were starting to see stars.

“Sylus! Hhaa…Fuck! Fuck… close- ‘mso close, baby. Please! Wan’ you to cum with me… Sylus… need you-” You frantically babbled with tears in your eyes, overwhelmed as your orgasm was just on the cusp of hitting.

Sylus groaned deeply, watching you come apart around him. Such a sight will never fail to ruin him as his hips stuttered.

“My pretty girl… my mate…” He breathed out, shaking when he looked down between you to watch as he fucked his knot into you. It took several heartbeats before he forced it inside your tight pussy.

The denial earlier mixed with the rhythmic pulsing of your pussy made him whine as he was finally cumming in you. Greedy rolls of his hips tried to make it all go deeper, like he wanted it all right in your womb. 

He gently rolled you both so you could rest on him, knowing his knot wouldn’t be fading anytime soon. Not when his cock was still weakly spurting cum in your full pussy until it felt like  your belly itself grew taught from it all. It was like those holidays where you’d eat your fill and then some. 

As both of your breathing started to even out, you lifted your head to look at him. He was already watching you, as he always was.

“You know… I like how humans show their claim.” Sylus broke the silence with a lazy smile. “Metal bands decorated with gems. Eye catching. Obvious. A statement.” He reached to twirl some of your hair around his finger. “Would you want something like that?”

You could hit this man for the things he says like it's nothing. Instead you just gawked at him lifting your hand to push your palm against his cheek, only for him to take it and kiss it.

“Sylus!” You gasped in exacerbation, not sure if you should laugh or cry because his dick was still buried in you, but he might have just-

“Are you asking me to marry you? Right here? Like this?” He tilted his head like you were being the weird one, still sporting that lazy grin.

“I was just asking if you wanted rings. You said it yourself, what are we if not mates, hm?” He chuckled as your face scrunched up and you tried to playfully shove his face again, and again he caught your hand. This time he drags his sharp teeth along your palm.

“If you want it to be a proposal though, that’s fine too.” 

He said it so casually, but the words made it impossible to think.

“...You can come up with an actual proposal and surprise me.” You finally landed on, trailing your finger down his nose. “Since we both know the answer is yes.” 

Despite his nonchalant demenor, his face went completely red. He was so easy to read sometimes. It made you laugh softly, smiling at him as everything settled and just felt so right.

“Happy birthday, Sylus. I always want to celebrate this day with you, because you being born means I get to have you in my life.”

Sylus’s gentle eyes and smile that bordered with deep emotion left nothing unsaid as he leaned in to kiss you. You alone are the reason this day has any meaning, and he’ll celebrate it with you every year in this life and the next, because him existing means he gets to have you.

[internetdaddy98]

The Ties That Bind Us - Chapter 29

Previous | Next [Series Masterlist] Content Warning: fluff, so much fluff

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The shift had started normally enough. One stroke alert and a septic shock patient, all before 11 a.m.—the usual brand of the department.

But somewhere between Room 4’s central line and the stack of admission paperwork waiting in the nurses’ station, you caught Michael’s hand beneath the counter.

He didn’t flinch. Just looked up from his notes and arched one brow, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“What are you doing?” he murmured, low enough that only she could hear.

You leaned closer, whispering, “Trying to check your pulse.”

Robby gave a soft laugh. “You’re about to raise it.”

You bumped his shoulder with hers. “That a promise?”

He turned his head just enough that their noses nearly touched, his voice still quiet. “You’re really playing with fire.”

Y/N’s lips curled. “You love fire.”

He was about to say something—something smug, probably—but then Dana materialized in front of you with a look of no-nonsense authority and a clipboard that could absolutely be used as a weapon.

“Doctors,” she greeted, already suspicious, “why do you look like two teenagers about to make out behind the bleachers?”

You yanked your hand back as Robby cleared his throat, suddenly very focused on his tablet.

“Just... reviewing labs,” he said.

Dana didn’t miss a beat. “Uh-huh. Review them farther apart.”

You tried—and failed—not to laugh.

“I swear to God,” Dana muttered, already halfway out of the hub. “You two better not be sneaking kisses in the on-call room. That place is sacred.”

“Define sacred,” you called after her.

Dana’s voice echoed down the hall. “Y/N Williams, don’t make me assign you to the rectal exam queue for the rest of the week!”

Robby bit his lip, shoulders shaking with barely contained laughter. “You heard her. No making out in the on-call room.”

You leaned closer again, grinning. “What about the stairwell?”

“That’s definitely haunted.”

“Elevator?”

“Too risky.”

“Supply closet?”

He gave you a sideways look. “Are you propositioning me?”

“I’m being thorough. It’s called logistics.”

“You’re a menace,” he whispered.

You smiled, then brushed the side of your hand against his one more time—barely a touch. Just enough.

And later, during rounds, you slipped him a Post-it in the middle of a coffee cup.

"Break room. Five minutes. No witnesses."

His head snapped up. You winked over your shoulder as you walked off.

You were halfway through your coffee when the door clicked open and Robby slipped inside, looking like he’d just committed tax fraud.

“You realize Dana is going to hunt us for sport if she comes in”

“No, she won’t.”

“So why are we doing this?”

You shrugged, stepping close. “Because you look really good in those scrubs and I’m trying to motivate myself to survive the next eight hours.”

“Glad to be of service.”

He leaned down, finally catching your mouth with his in a kiss that was warm and brief and almost too sweet for how much you both wanted more.

And then—

“AHEM.”

Dana stood in the doorway, arms crossed.

You jolted back like you’d been electrocuted. Robby immediately picked up the nearest coffee mug and pretended he’d been deeply invested in the art of stirring it.

Dana stared at them both, expression unreadable. 

“I’m not mad.”

You blinked. “You’re not?”

Dana held up one finger. “But if I catch you two making out again while the residents are elbow-deep in a GI bleed with no backup, I will personally assign you to rectal exams until the end of time.”

Robby coughed. “Understood.”

“And use a damn timer,” Dana added as she turned away. “Five-second kisses or less. No exceptions.”

As the door closed again, you turned to Robby, eyes wide.

“She just gave us a five-second rule.”

He smiled, stepped closer again, and kissed the corner of your mouth.

“Better make ‘em count.”

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

It was almost 10 p.m. by the time they got home.

You kicked off your shoes at the door with a groan, dropped your bag somewhere in the hallway, and immediately beelined it for the couch. Robby followed, slightly more graceful, if only because he hadn’t spent the last six hours dodging ICU transfers and reminding a first-year resident not to use the defibrillator as a coat rack.

“Are you alive?” he asked, dropping the keys into the dish.

You made a noise that sounded vaguely like “yes,” but mostly like “no.”

He smiled and walked into the kitchen, rolling up the sleeves of his hoodie.

“You promised me pasta,” you called from the couch.

“I did. And I’m delivering.” He reached for a pan. “Unless you want cereal.”

“I want carbs,” you mumbled into a throw pillow. “I want sauce. I want garlic so strong it violates hospital policy.”

He laughed, grabbing ingredients. “Coming right up.”

By the time you’d changed into one of his old shirts and flopped back onto the couch, the apartment was filled with the warm scent of garlic and tomato and the quiet hum of music from the record player. You watched him from the kitchen island, brow furrowed in concentration, stirring sauce like it was a delicate surgery.

You leaned against the counter, soft smile playing at your lips.

“You know,” you said quietly, “I could get used to this.”

He glanced at you, a little flushed from the stove heat, eyes warm. “Used to what?”

“This. You. Coming home with me. You cooking for me.”

Robby set the spoon down slowly, turning toward her. His expression shifted, softened.

“I could get used to it too.”

You swallowed, the air suddenly thicker than it had been a second ago.

“I mean,” you said, a little too fast, “we already act like an old married couple.”

He stepped closer, wiping his hands on a dish towel. “Except you steal all the covers.”

“You run the shower too hot.”

“You drink half my coffee and then forget where you left it.”

You grinned. “You hum Springsteen in your sleep.”

There was a pause.

They were standing a foot apart now. Close enough for you to count the little lines at the corners of his eyes. Close enough for him to reach out and tuck a piece of your hair behind your ear.

“I—” he started.

“I think—” she said at the same time.

They both laughed. Nervous. Breathless.

“You first,” he said, voice softer.

You bit her lip. “I think I—”

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

The smoke alarm shrieked.

“Shit!”

Robby spun back to the stove. Smoke billowed from the pan like a scene from a disaster film.

You lunged for the window, throwing it open as Robby yanked the pan off the burner and cursed under his breath. The sauce was scorched to the bottom. The smell of burnt garlic filled the room like a punch to the face.

You waved a dish towel at the ceiling while he fanned the alarm with a cutting board.

“You were supposed to watch the sauce!” you yelled, laughing.

“I was busy trying to say I love you!”

The alarm finally went silent.

You both froze.

Your eyes widened.

His ears turned red.

There was a beat of silence.

“Was that—” you asked.

“Yes,” Robby said, setting the cutting board down. “Yes, I did just say that.”

You blinked at him. “You love me.”

He nodded once, nervous but steady. “Yeah.”

You stared at him, something delicate and stunned blooming behind your ribs.

“Well,” you said, stepping closer and poking his chest lightly, “I was about to say it first, but somebody burned dinner.”

Robby exhaled a laugh, caught between relief and affection and the residual stress of almost starting a kitchen fire.

“I love you,” you said, for real this time, softer. “Just so we’re clear.”

He smiled then—wide and wrecked and so full of heart it made your chest ache.

They stood there in the smoky kitchen, surrounded by the smell of ruined marinara, and kissed like it was the only thing keeping them upright.

Later, they ate slightly burnt pasta with way too much parmesan and curled up on the couch, tangled under the same blanket, as a rerun played in the background.

It wasn’t perfect.

But it was them.

And that was enough.

[luxerians]

The Last Mask (08)

Hwang In-ho/Oh Young-il/Player 001 x Reader

Chapter 08 - Distance

Story Masterlist

NEXT : Chapter 09

PREV : Chapter 07

The dormitory buzzed with the sounds of light chatter and footsteps as players moved about, their voices mingling in an uneasy hum. You lay on your bed, pulling the blanket over yourself, eyes closed in a futile attempt to block it all out. Sleep was your goal, to escape the heavy thoughts weighing on your mind, even if just until tomorrow.

The faint voice of a guard announcing that dinner would soon be distributed echoed in the background, breaking through your quiet cocoon. Then, the sound of approaching footsteps reached your ears. You didn’t bother to open your eyes.

“[Your name], are you okay?” Dae-ho’s familiar voice called gently.

You kept your eyes shut. “I’m okay.”

Dae-ho sighed as well, the sound carrying his frustration. “I’m disappointed too. Jung-bae voting for O? I didn’t see that coming. I felt like screaming, ‘Sir, what are you thinking?’ at him. He agreed with us to vote for going back home just moments before the vote.”

“It can’t be helped,” another voice chimed in. You recognized it immediately as Young-il. It seemed Dae-ho wasn’t the only one who had come to check on you. Keeping your eyes closed, you listened as Young-il added, “People tend to change their minds once they’re standing at the voting counter.”

“Yeah, in a way, I kind of understood him. Because I felt that way too by the counter,” Dae-ho agreed.

A softer voice joined the conversation.

“Big sis, are you okay?” Jun-hee asked.

You finally opened your eyes, taking in the sight of Dae-ho and Jun-hee standing on the right side of your bed while Young-il lingered quietly on the left.

Turning your gaze to Jun-hee, you offered her a faint but reassuring smile. “I’m okay.”

“And we have a pregnant lady too,” Dae-ho continued, picking up where he left off. “She shouldn’t be here any longer.”

He leaned against the pillar of your bunk bed, sighing heavily. “I understood him but… what was Jung-bae thinking?”

The weight on your bed shifted slightly. You glanced down to see Young-il sitting on your bed at the far corner near your feet. His calm demeanor radiated reassurance as he addressed Dae-ho. “There’s no use thinking about it now. The votes are done. Let’s focus on staying together and winning the game again tomorrow.”

The three of them glanced in the same direction, momentarily distracted. You were about to close your eyes again when Dae-ho straightened up, his usual energy returning as he turned to you.

“Everyone is lining up to get dinner. Come on,” he said.

You shifted onto your side, pulling the blanket closer. “You guys go on ahead. I’m too tired right now.”

Dae-ho frowned, his tone firm. “You can’t sleep on an empty stomach. You need to eat. We did the hexathlon for who knows how long and didn’t even get breakfast. You must be starving, so come on.”

“But I’m so tired,” you admitted, your voice muffled against the pillow. “I just want to rest before the next game.”

“Don’t be like that,” he urged. “You’ll end up weak and all skinny tomorrow.”

A brief silence fell before you quipped, “I’m trying to go on a diet anyway, so it’s fine.”

Dae-ho scoffed, waving off your excuse. “Haih, you look beautiful already. Now get up-”

“It’s okay,” Young-il’s calm voice interrupted unexpectedly. “You two go on ahead. The queues are getting long. I’ll persuade her.”

The sound of retreating footsteps followed as Dae-ho and Jun-hee headed off toward the dinner queues. The dormitory buzzed with chatter and movement, but your focus remained on the quiet presence sitting at the edge of your bed.

“You really should eat,” he said after a moment, his tone gentle. “You’ll need your strength tomorrow.”

You sighed, not turning to face him. “I’m just so done to even think about food. I wanted to go home really bad but we were outvoted.”

There was a pause before the bed shifted as Young-il stood up. His footsteps faded into the background, and you closed your eyes, trying to ignore the strange ache in your chest – a pang of something like abandonment. By him.

You immediately shook off the thought. It wasn’t his fault. You were the one adamant about not eating, and he had respected your decision. You had no right to feel upset, and you certainly couldn’t blame him for the fact that you had a crush on him.

Maybe he just saw you as a friend. Someone to look out for, like Jun-hee. Nothing more. It was your own fault for letting your feelings get in the way, for reading into his kind gestures as something more than they were.

You tried to tune out the chatter and bustle of the dormitory, sinking into the quiet within your mind. For a fleeting moment, you felt yourself drifting close to sleep.

Then his voice broke through the haze. “[Your name].”

Your eyes fluttered open, the sting of fatigue making them ache. You turned your head and saw Young-il standing by your bed. In his hands, he held the evening’s dinner: a round bun and a small carton of milk.

You frowned, confusion overtaking your grogginess. You had thought he left for good after respecting your persistence.

Resting your cheek against the pillow, you mumbled, “I don’t want to eat your dinner. Don’t worry about me.”

“It’s not mine,” he said, his tone even. “It’s yours.”

Your gaze shifted to the food in his hands. He held two sets of the dinner: two buns and two cartons of milk. Surprise overtook you as you sat up slowly, your blanket slipping down. “You got two?”

“I took another set on your behalf,” he admitted, a faint smile playing on his lips.

Your eyes widened. “We can do that?”

His smile grew, and there was a glint of amusement in his eyes. “We can’t.”

You blinked, completely perplexed. “Then how did you get two?”

He extended the dinner toward you again, waiting patiently.

“I know what to say to the guards. My line of work taught me how,” he said simply, leaving the specifics a mystery.

You stared at him, caught between disbelief and reluctant admiration, before reaching out to take the meal he had gone out of his way to bring you.

“Now, come,” Young-il said, gesturing toward the corner where you always hung out with Gi-hun and the others. “Let’s sit with the others.”

You glanced down at the bun and carton of milk in your hands before nodding. As you got up from the bed, you spoke to him, “But is this really all we’re getting for dinner? I thought it’d be as much as yesterday’s lunch.”

Walking side by side toward the corner, Young-il replied, “It’s a way to weaken the players and increase eliminations.”

You turned to him, eyes wide with disbelief. “Are you saying the longer we stay here, the less food we’ll get?”

Young-il met your gaze, his expression thoughtful. “It looks that way. Yesterday, we had a bountiful lunch. Tonight, it’s just a bun. The pattern isn’t hard to see.”

You sighed in frustration, the weight of his words settling in. “That makes it even more important to leave this place as soon as possible.”

Reaching the corner, you were greeted enthusiastically by Dae-ho. “You two, come sit down!”

Gi-hun had sat at his usual spot at the far end, and you settled down beside him. Young-il took the place on your other side. Dae-ho and Jun-hee were already seated on the lower steps in front of you both, their postures relaxed.

You glanced around and noticed that your group was missing one member – Jung-bae. A small distance away, you spotted him tucked between the bunk beds as though he was deliberately hiding.

You assumed he felt guilty for voting O, isolating himself from the group out of shame.

You and Young-il began eating your buns in silence. Everyone in your group was eating, except for Gi-hun. His posture – legs wide, arms resting heavily on his knees – spoke volumes about his disappointment over the recent voting results.

A loud sigh from Dae-ho broke the quiet. He stared at Jung-bae’s back for a moment, chewing on his bun, before calling out to him with the familiar hyungnim honorific. “Jung-bae!”

Meanwhile, you sighed at the meager dinner, placing your left elbow on your knee and resting your forehead against your palm. Your right hand held the bun, and you murmured, “Just this bun alone won’t be enough.”

Dae-ho suddenly stood and strode over to Jung-bae. “Hey, just come back here.”

“No, no, I’m good here,” Jung-bae replied, avoiding eye contact.

“Oh, come on,” Dae-ho said, grasping his arm firmly. He pulled Jung-bae to his feet and dragged him back to the group. “You should’ve gone farther away, then. It bugs me seeing you sitting there all pathetic.”

Jung-bae froze when they reached the group. His eyes darted between the three most visibly stressed members of the group – Gi-hun with his somber stance, you with your hand still resting on your face, and Young-il sitting with his legs spread, elbows on his knees, chewing silently. None of you looked at him.

“I’m sorry,” Jung-bae said, fidgeting nervously with his milk carton. “Jun-hee, [Your name], Young-il, I’m sorry. Gi-hun, I’m sorry.”

When no one responded, he continued. “I borrowed some emergency cash, and the creditors are harassing my ex-wife and kid. If I play one more game, I think I’ll be able to settle my debt. So-”

“Jung-bae,” Young-il interrupted, his tone calm. “You of all people shouldn’t have done it. It’s not twice as righteous.”

Young-il’s comment was a pointed reference to the meaning of Jung-bae’s name. You removed your hand from your face, took a bite of the bun, and stayed quiet.

Young-il sighed, glancing briefly at the others before adding, “But, looking at the results, even if you had voted against, we would still have been outvoted.”

“Right?” Jung-bae said quickly, leaning toward Young-il with a glimmer of relief. “It’s not entirely my fault.”

Dae-ho placed a hand on Jung-bae’s shoulder, his tone lighter now. “Alright, to be honest, I understand why you did it. The money isn’t enough for me either, so when I went up to vote, I did think about playing one more game.”

Jung-bae’s face lit up with sudden relief, and before anyone could react, he lunged forward and hugged Dae-ho head-on. Startled, Dae-ho awkwardly tried to push him away.

“You did?” Jung-bae exclaimed.

“I said I get it,” Dae-ho replied, finally managing to pry himself free.

Jung-bae turned to Young-il, sighing deeply.

“Thank you for understanding,” he said, his voice filled with gratitude. He settled on the lower staircase next to Young-il and continued, “But I voted in favor partly because I feel confident. We did so well as a team, didn’t we? If we stick together one more time, I’m sure we’ll be fine.”

He turned toward Jun-hee, his voice brimming with confidence. “Jun-hee, I’ll make sure we survive the next game-”

“The next game?”

All of you froze and looked at Gi-hun. His tone was dark. “In the next game, we might have to kill each other.”

His words sent a chill down your spine. You stared at him, horrified. Could it really come to that? Could there be games where you’d have to compete against your friends? The thought made your stomach churn. You’d barely eaten, and now even the bun in your hand felt like a weight.

Young-il’s calm voice broke the silence. “Gi-hun, that’s a bit much. There’s nothing we can do now, so let’s try to stay positive.”

Despite his attempt to ease the tension, Jung-bae had gone pale as well. He swallowed nervously, his hands fidgeting with his milk carton.

Young-il continued, his voice steady, “We should eat, pull ourselves together, and try our best again.”

But Gi-hun’s words lingered, casting a shadow over the group. Everyone, including you, sat in heavy silence, lost in their thoughts. The idea of being pitted against your teammates felt unbearable. Your appetite vanished completely, and the bun in your hand now seemed like an impossible task to finish.

Could Gi-hun have experienced such a game in his previous run? Had he been forced to turn on a friend here? The questions swirled in your mind, filling you with dread.

Then you felt it – a hand gently resting on your knee. Startled, you looked down and saw Young-il’s hand. When you glanced up at him, his expression was warm and reassuring. He gave you a small nod toward your unfinished bun and said softly, ���Eat it whole. Let’s do our best again tomorrow.”

Young-il withdrew his hand from your knee and held out his milk carton to Jun-hee. “Here, Jun-hee. You can have mine too. Hang in there until the next game.”

Jun-hee hesitated. “No, it’s okay.”

“Take it,” Young-il insisted gently. “I don’t drink plain milk.”

After a moment, Jun-hee finally accepted the milk, though her reluctance was still evident. You couldn’t help but smile warmly at the gesture. The way Young-il looked after Jun-hee was heartwarming. He must’ve been a good husband, you thought.

“Thank you,” Jun-hee said softly.

Jung-bae suddenly held out his bun to her. “Have my bread too. I don’t deserve to eat.”

Dae-ho immediately pointed at Jung-bae’s milk. “I’ll take your milk then.”

Jung-bae shot him a pointed stare, his expression caught somewhere between disbelief and annoyance.

You had just exited the women’s restrooms and stepped back into the dormitory when you saw them. Lingering near the door that connected the restroom to the dormitory stood Lee Min-jae and his two friends.

Min-jae noticed you immediately and waved. You hesitated for a moment before offering a small, uncertain wave in return. Hoping to avoid further interaction, you continued toward the corner where the rest of your group was seated.

However, your heart sank when Min-jae and his friends moved deliberately to block your path. The dormitory was vast, filled with hundreds of players, so you didn’t feel afraid. Still, you silently hoped they wouldn’t press you again.

Min-jae greeted you with a bright smile. “Hey there. I just wanted to check up on you.”

“Oh,” you replied, feigning innocence. “Hi, Min-jae.”

He stepped slightly closer, his tone friendly. “So, are you free to hang out with us now? We’ve got a spot over there.”

He paused, gesturing vaguely toward a corner of the dormitory where his group had set up.

You hesitated, searching for a way out without offending him. “I… uh, I need to get back to my group first. They’re waiting for me.”

Min-jae’s smile didn’t waver, but there was a hint of frustration in his eyes. “It’ll just be for a little while. You can catch up with them later. Come on, I just want to get to know you better in a private spot.”

“I… I don’t know. I really should-”

Min-jae’s tone grew firmer, though he kept up his friendly demeanor. “Don’t be like that. Just for a bit. It’s just us hanging out. No harm, right?”

Min-jae’s friends were watching you intently, though their expressions remained neutral. You forced a polite smile, knowing that one wrong word or tone could create a vengeful enemy in this precarious game.

You said carefully. “Maybe later. I just need to check on my group first.”

But Min-jae’s grin didn’t waver. If anything, it grew more hardened and insistent as he stepped closer to you. “Please? Just a quick chat with us. You’ve been hanging out with those uncles all day. Switch it up for a bit.”

Before you could respond, one of his friends – the tall man with number 277 – joined in. “Yeah, come on. We’re not asking for much. Just a little time to get to know you better.”

“Exactly,” chimed in the other friend, player 304. “It’s not like we’re asking you to stay forever. Just stop by. We’ve got a good spot over there.”

Their persistence made your chest tighten. You forced another smile, trying to remain composed. “I appreciate the offer, but really, I need to get back. Maybe another time.”

“Why not now?” Min-jae pressed, his tone still friendly.

As you searched for another polite excuse, a cold, steady voice cut through the conversation.

“She said no.”

You turned quickly, your eyes landing on Young-il. He was striding toward you. His gaze was fixed on Min-jae, sharp and unyielding. Although his expression seemed calm, a quiet intensity simmered beneath the surface. The restrained fury in his eyes made you speechless. It’s like he was ready to act the moment it became necessary.

Min-jae’s smile faltered slightly, though he tried to recover. “Oh, hey. We just want to have a chat with her. It's okay, right?”

Young-il moved deliberately, stepping between you and Min-jae with an air of quiet authority. His back faced you, shielding you from them. Though his expression remained calm, there was a palpable edge to his presence that made the air feel heavier.

“You’re pressuring her,” he said evenly, his voice carrying a subtle warning. “That’s not how conversations work.”

Silence settled over the group like a heavy weight. Min-jae’s friends exchanged uncertain glances, their earlier confidence clearly shaken.

You couldn’t help but stare at Young-il’s broad shoulders, struck by the way he carried himself. He didn’t need to raise his voice or show aggression; the calm intensity in his posture spoke volumes.

Min-jae hesitated, his expression flickering between defiance and calculation, before forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. With a mock gesture of surrender, he raised his hands and said, “Alright, alright. I get it. I apologize. I didn’t realize I was being forceful.”

His attempt to glance past Young-il toward you betrayed his unease, though. He called your name softly, adding, “Sorry about that.”

Young-il held his gaze, the silence stretching as he stared at Min-jae with deliberate calm. Then, with a slight turn of his head, his expression softened as he looked at you. He gestured subtly, his voice steady. “Let’s go.”

You followed Young-il as he led the way back to the corner where your group had gathered. His stride was steady, and though he didn’t say anything, his presence alone made you feel a little more at ease. You glanced back briefly to check if Min-jae and his friends were following, but they were nowhere in sight, already lost in the dormitory’s usual buzz of activity.

Just as the two of you were about to reach your group, Young-il gently grasped your forearm, stopping you in your tracks.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice low and calm.

You nodded quickly. “Yes. Thank you.”

His gaze lingered on you, his tone shifting slightly as he asked, “How does he know your name?”

There was an edge to his words, though it didn’t feel like it was directed at you.

“He asked during the voting earlier,” you explained simply. “We were in the crowd, and he came over and introduced himself.”

Young-il’s eyes studied yours, moving from your left eye to your right, then briefly to your lips. You froze under the intensity of his gaze, unsure of what to make of it. After a few seconds that felt much longer, his focus shifted back to your left eye.

He finally lowered his gaze and said firmly, “If those boys bother you again, tell me.”

For a moment, you were at a loss for words. His gesture sent a wave of warmth through you, and you felt that familiar flutter in your chest, the butterflies in your stomach. He is really worried about you.

But even as you stood there, you couldn’t forget the fact that he was married. As close as you two had become, he’d never once mentioned it to you.

You averted your gaze, creating a small but deliberate space between you and Young-il.

“Thanks, but don’t worry. I can take care of myself,” you said, your voice quieter than usual.

For a moment, he didn’t respond. The pause lingered, and though you didn’t look his way, you could feel his confusion, as if he was trying to make sense of your sudden distance. Without waiting for a reply, you joined the group, sliding into the spot next to Jun-hee. Behind you, Young-il remained standing, silent and likely still perplexed.

As the group fell into casual conversation, you focused on Jun-hee, Jung-bae and Dae-ho, purposefully keeping your interactions away from Young-il. Whenever he made a comment directed at you or tried to reassure you about something, you responded with a polite smile but didn’t meet his eyes. Instead, you turned your attention to someone else, engaging them in light talk to avoid any further connection.

This is for the best. For you, for him, and for his wife.

“Lights out in ten minutes,” the announcer informed, the voice echoing through the dormitory. “Please prepare for bedtime.”

Your group was in the middle of executing Gi-hun’s plan. The idea was to claim four beds in one spot to create a secure sleeping area underneath the beds and on the floor between them. Everyone had agreed to the plan, though not without a few questions.

The men were handling the heavier tasks, carrying and arranging the mattresses and securing the area, while you and Jun-hee carried pillows and blankets, standing off to the side as they worked.

“Is this really necessary? I don’t like sleeping under there,” Jung-bae said, his tone doubtful.

Gi-hun explained, “Once the lights go out, somebody might attack us.”

Dae-ho, crouching beside Jun-hee, looked over with wide eyes. “What? Who?”

Meanwhile, Young-il approached you and gestured for the pillows and blankets in your arms. You handed them to him one by one, watching as he placed them on the mattresses.

“The prize money still goes up if we kill each other,” Gi-hun continued. “It’s part of the game they designed.”

Young-il, now standing after arranging a mattress on the floor under one of the beds, spoke up, “Gi-hun, I think you’re overreacting. Even if that were true, people wouldn’t do that.”

Gi-hun’s gaze sharpened as he stared at Young-il. “In the previous games, dozens of people killed each other at night. Right here.”

He stepped closer to Young-il, his tone firm. “You have no idea how people can change in this place.”

You stared at them, noticing the tension in Gi-hun’s face and posture. Young-il paused before nodding apologetically. “Alright. I guess I didn’t know what I was talking about. I’m sorry.”

Gi-hun gave Young-il one last look before turning back to address the group. “We need to take turns keeping watch after lights-out. I’ll take the first watch. The rest of you should decide the order.”

You exchanged glances with the others. Dae-ho was the first to speak up. “Other than that, we have to figure out who’s sleeping where.”

Jung-bae pointed to the floor between the beds. “Jun-hee should sleep here, near the wall, surrounded by beds. It’ll be safer.”

“Then I’ll take the spot under the bed beside her,” Dae-ho said, glancing at Jun-hee for confirmation. “If that’s okay with you.”

Jun-hee nodded. “I’m okay with that.”

“I’ll take the spot under the bed on the other side of Jun-hee,” Jung-bae added. “It’s best to have two ex-Marines covering your sides.”

Jun-hee smiled in response.

Young-il turned to you, his voice soft. “Which spot do you want to take?”

You paused, glancing at the arrangement before pointing to the space directly under Jun-hee. “I’ll take the middle floor.”

That left the beds on either side of you empty until Young-il spoke up. “I’ll sleep under the bed on your left. That means Gi-hun will take the one on your right.”

“Now we just have to decide the order for keeping watch,” Dae-ho said, looking around the group.

“I’ll take the second watch, after Gi-hun,” Jung-bae said quickly.

Dae-ho raised his hand. “Third watch here.”

You spoke up just as Young-il reached to grab the leftover pillows and blanket from your arms. “Can I keep watch too?”

All eyes turned to you, surprise clear on their faces.

“How about the last watch?” you added. “I can wake up early.”

Dae-ho was the first to respond. “Ladies don’t have to. You and Jun-hee should take a full rest.”

“Yeah, no need for you to worry about keeping watch,” Jung-bae chimed in. “We’ve got this.”

You hesitated, feeling their protective tone press against your resolve.

“But it’s fine if I take the last watch,” you said, lowering your gaze briefly. “I want to freshen up before the next game anyway.”

Dae-ho and Jung-bae exchanged glances, clearly about to argue, when Young-il’s calm voice cut through. “Okay, you take the last watch.”

Everyone turned to him in confusion, while you blinked at him in surprise. Young-il glanced at the others briefly before settling his gaze on you.

“I’ll take the fourth watch, after Dae-ho,” he said evenly. “Then it’s your turn. But I’ll keep watch with you. It’s not safe for you to do it alone.”

The group nodded in agreement and that was the end of discussion. You, however, stayed quiet, your thoughts swirling. Young-il’s calm decision left you unsettled. The idea of him accompanying you brought a flutter of nerves you couldn’t quite suppress. You’d been trying to create some distance, to remind yourself of his marriage. Yet here he was, volunteering to accompany you.

It left you torn. A part of you appreciated his thoughtfulness. But another part of you couldn’t shake the complicated feelings his actions stirred, leaving you wondering how you’d handle the quiet hours of your shared watch.

A few minutes passed as the six of you settled into your designated spots. The announcer’s voice broke through the murmurs in the dormitory to announce bedtime. Moments later, the lights switched off, leaving the soft golden glow of the half-filled piggy bank overhead to dimly illuminate the vast room.

Dae-ho and Jung-bae were already lying under the beds, while Jun-hee rested on the mattress positioned on the open floor between them.

“This sucks,” Jung-bae muttered from his spot. “Feels like I’m hiding under my old desk at school.”

Dae-ho chuckled softly. “Pretend it’s a fun sleepover. We’re just missing the snacks and ghost stories.”

As their quiet exchange continued, you glanced over and noticed Gi-hun was sitting at the front, keeping watch.

Then, you felt a presence close beside you. Turning your head, you saw Young-il crouched beside you on your mattress on the open floor. He paused, glancing at you apologetically as he moved to sit down.

“Sorry,” he muttered, referring to him intruding your space.

You shook your head. “It’s fine.”

Young-il shifted onto the edge of your mattress before sliding onto his own spot under the bed beside you. You watched as he settled in before you finally lay down and pulled the blanket over yourself.

The space felt smaller now, the awareness of his presence lingering. You never thought you’d be this close to him, sharing such confined quarters. But as the thought crossed your mind, you pushed it away quickly. He’s married. You shouldn’t let yourself think about him like this.

You closed your eyes, wishing for sleep to come quickly and pull you away from your restless thoughts.

Please feel free to leave comments and feedback about my story, the characters, the "you", and practically anything! I love reading your comments, especially long ones!

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[taiga-atetheluck-boom]

how you met ~ stray kids drabbles

members: hyung line (chan, lee know, changbin, hyunjin) x female!reader

genre: fluff, platonic

warnings: period in changbin's, food (cafe) in lee know's, school/crying/love rejection in hyunjin's

BANG CHAN

As you were walking through the park, you saw a short, handsome man sitting on one of the benches by himself. He looked lonely, so you decided to go talk to him. He looked up at you as you sat down, and you immediately recognized him. “I’m so sorry! I-I’m actually a-” Chan laughed as you quickly stood up. You blushed, stuttering as you apologized profusely. You were under the impression that Bang Chan was way too "cool" and "classy" to even breathe the same air as you. He responded to your anxious rants with, “No! You're ok!” He pat the spot next to him, gesturing you sit back down. “I’d love to make a new friend!” You shyly sat down, fidgeting with your fingers. Chan tried to start a conversation with you, but you were still in shock. Still blushing and stuttering as if you're the 'y/n' in some fantasy story. He picked up on your nervous behavior and chuckled slightly. “You alright there?” he asked. “Y-yes, sorry!” You replied. “I’m actually a pretty big stay, and I'm just a little flustered.” At that, Chan's face lit up. “Oh really?” he said, intrigued.

LEE MINHO

Dashing back to your favorite café, you thought, “Crap! I left my phone on the table!” You bursted through the door and sprinted to the table you sat at. Relief washed over you as you saw it was still there untouched. Just then, one of the workers saw you and said, “Oh, I was wondering whose that was.” You glanced over at him and blushed. He was such a cute guy! You smirked at him. “Well,” you said, putting on your best flirty voice. “Since I’ve found it, could I have your number?” He looked at you, a little shocked. He then smiled and handed you a piece of paper. It had his name and his phone number written on it. He winked at you as he walked off. You grinned, very proud of yourself for actually talking to him.

SEO CHANGBIN

There you were, trudging through the mall, arms clutching your lower stomach. You had just started your period and all you wanted was to get home. You suddenly get a wave of terrible cramps, and you fall to your knees. It was embarrassing, but you didn't care right now. Someone noticed you and walked up to you. “Excuse me?” You heard. “Are you ok?” You were hesitant to express what was wrong, as that voice sounded like it belonged to a man. But he understood. He helped you up and walked you to your car. “I’m so sorry about that, thank you!” You said to him. He smiled said, “No worries!” He then gave you his number. “My name is Changbin! If anything else happens, let me know!” You blushed at he walked away. You smiled to yourself until another wave of cramps brought you back to reality.

HWANG HYUNJIN

Walking through the halls and to your classroom, you saw a cute boy walking the opposite way. He opened his locker and pulled out a piece of paper, and his stoic expression fell into more of a sad one. “Hey,” you stopped to talk to him. “Are you ok?” The boy looked up at you and replied, “oh, yes, everything's fine!” But he didn't sound fine. You glanced at the piece of paper in his hands. It seemed to be a note rejecting him. Sympathy immediately washed over your face as you looked back up at him. “Didn’t work out, huh?” you asked. He shook his head in response, wiping a tear from his cheek. “I’m sorry,” he stuttered. “This isn’t your problem, I shouldn’t involve you.” “Oh no, it’s ok!” You replied sweetly. The boy looked up at you with a hopeful expression. “Sorry, my name’s Hyunjin,” he said finally. “I’m y/n!” you replied. Hyunjin smiled at you. “Now,” you started. “What happened?”

work made by me, reblogs appreciated but please don't repost.

dividers and moodboard made by me, please don't use or claim as your own.

post date: 4/30/25

queue post date: 5/1/25

[hola-didi]

🕸️ Saints and Spiderwebs — a slow-burn Peter Parker x Reader series. Post NWH events.

Y/N has officially landed in New York City—jetlagged, starving, and already regretting everything. Luckily, her cousin shows up with balloons and zero boundaries. As Y/N settles into her new “cozy” apartment, she’s greeted by mismatched mail, questionable environment, and a surprisingly soft-eyed neighbor who’s supposed to be quiet and cryptic—but mostly just looks like he hasn’t slept since the events of the blip.

It’s her first day in motion after everything fell apart. Oh yeah, and Spider-Man has already made a special greeting.

Welcome to Queens, baby.

Prologue: Mail Mixup

Time has erased everything in my heart Every memory left by heartbreak My wings grow from the root Because I blindly believe in you

– RBD

---

You landed at JFK ten minutes early, which meant absolutely nothing.

Because those ten minutes? You spent all of them—and would undoubtedly spend more—pressing through the suffocating line to escape. It took thirty-five minutes just for your gate to open. Another fifteen to shuffle through the jet bridge like cattle, blinking under the fluorescents like you were being rounded up.

Then came the slow, buzzing shuffle through customs. The artificial chill. The TSA agent who looked at you like you’d smuggled three bricks worth of your life in your carry-on. Your suitcase came out last, obviously. The baggage carousel sputtered like it was on life support. A toddler vomited near your shoes in the rideshare queue, and no one bothered to help.

By the time you finally emerged into the terminal, the air smelled like burnt coffee, bleach, and whatever hope had been left behind by the last flight. Someone coughed behind you—deep and wet. Someone else was already shouting into their phone like the world was ending. You adjusted your hoodie, hugged your backpack to your chest, and muttered the smallest of affirmations that you’re almost out—not even full words. Just a rhythm in your throat.

You had forgotten how loud New York could be. Not the honking taxis or the man outside Terminal 4 yelling someone’s name—but the kind of loud that settled inside your chest. The kind that pulsed behind your ribs like the city was trying to rewrite your heartbeat in its own tempo. You didn’t feel ready. But then again, you hadn’t felt ready in over a year.

Estella, your cousin, had texted you something vague—“still stuck in traffic sorry ily”—so you stood there alone, hugging yourself like it might anchor you. She’d said something about an extra shift the night prior. You didn’t blame her. You didn’t blame anyone, really.

Except maybe yourself—for thinking this move would feel different once you got here.

It didn’t.

This was just for school. Maybe two years after. Long enough to collect some adult experience, maybe stop crying every time someone mentioned your life in Los Angeles like it hadn’t been carved out of you piece by piece with everything that happened. You were here because it was all you could do. You were here because going back wasn’t a real option.

You barely made it ten feet outside of arrivals when a girl bumped into your shoulder, muttered a distracted “sorry,” and kept moving. You waved her off with a tired smile, even though you weren’t sure who you were waving at.

And then you saw it.

A flyer. Slapped onto one of the terminal columns like an afterthought—cheap black-and-white ink, curling at the edges, starting to fade. A woman was missing. Not much older than twenty-seven. Pretty, with tired eyes and rose earrings you’d probably compliment if you saw her in real life. You stared longer than you should have.

Your mom used to say, “When people go missing, the world doesn’t stop. It just learns to step around the issue of the person. But it’s always a good virtue to keep an eye out. Even if it means it’s only you.”

You hadn’t understood that when you were little. You thought it was a saying about virtuous saints. Or about lost dogs. Or about watching your cousins in the grocery store.

Now you did.

You stepped back into the current of bodies—tired travelers, screaming toddlers, the scent of cheap perfumes and colognes—and let yourself be carried toward the exits, toward Queens, toward whatever version of yourself was still waiting on the other side.

You slowed near the arrivals corridor, adjusting your backpack, suddenly aware of how long you’d been standing still. Your shoulders ached from the flight. Your ankles throbbed with that dull, airplane-born stiffness. You hadn’t eaten since Denver. Even then, barely. A single bag of trail mix and a coffee that tasted like burnt paper. You didn’t feel hungry, exactly. Just…off. Like your body hadn’t caught up with where you were. Like you left something vital in the proces of coming here. You were two seconds away from shedding tired tears for no reason at all.

And then—

“THERE SHE IS!”

You flinched. A few heads turned. Then came the unmistakable thwap-thwap-thwap of balloons slapping each other into cartoon-like chaos as they bobbed above the crowd like a floating punchline. Curly hair—courtesy of being half Puerto Rican from her mother—pulled into a loose ponytail. One balloon read WELCOME HOME, another one had YOU FUCKING DID IT, which didn’t make sense in any practical way, but of course it did. 

Of course she would.

Estella.

“Move! Excuse me! Family emergency! Five-year reunion coming through!” she bellowed like she had diplomatic immunity, hauling a floral tote roughly the size of a ukulele case. You stood there—half amused, half mortified—and didn’t even get a chance to brace yourself before she crashed into you in a full-body hug that knocked every molecule of air from your lungs.

It wasn’t just a hug. It was a homecoming in human form.

“I thought you’d be taller than me,” she said, pulling back and inspecting you with all the gravity of someone inspecting a priceless statue in a poorly lit museum. Then she beamed. “Nope. You’re perfect. Never mind. Forget I said anything.”

You rolled your eyes, trying not to smile. “And I thought you’d listen when I said no surprise gifts.”

She scoffed and handed you the balloons and a suspiciously heavy bag. Of course. Estella had always been a gift-giver, even when you didn’t want gifts—especially then. Even as kids, when she visited for holidays, she was the one handing you a glittery lip gloss or a beaded skirt from Marshalls, even if it didn’t fit. Even if you fought about it later. That was her love language: small rebellions disguised as generosity.

“What’s the point of picking up my cousin after a year of not visiting and five years of being literally blipped from existence,” she said, deadpan, like she hadn’t just punched you in the chest with that sentence.

It struck a nerve. You wished it hadn’t. You blinked it off like a contact lens out of place.

“Girl, we weren’t even aware of it until we came back,” you replied, voice too casual to be real.

Estella clicked her tongue. “Yeah, well. Time is of the essence. I’m not wasting another second. I missed you.”

She kissed your cheek and looped her arm through yours like she’d never stopped doing it, like no years had passed. Like the space between seventeen and eighteen had been a nap. You barely had time to breathe. Her perfume hit you—soft, sweet, and a powdery violet fragrance. Something citrusy underneath. It smelled like memory. You couldn’t name which one.

It should’ve made you cry. But Estella, in her typical chaos, didn’t give you the room.

“Welcome to New York, bitch!” she grinned. “Come on. I parked illegally. We’ve got, like, fifteen minutes max before the car gets towed or ticketed or hit by a bus.”

You let her steer you toward the sliding doors, half-laughing, half-floating. Something inside your chest began to unclench. Not heal. Not fix. Just…shift. Like breathing with one lung after holding your breath for too long.

Outside, New York howled. Car horns. Muffled music. The screech of tires on wet pavement. The scent of hot grease, exhaust, and possibility.

And Estella—Estella was humming “Shower” by Becky G like you weren’t standing under a slate-colored sky with half-zipped luggage and seventy pounds of uncertainty. She hoisted your bags into the trunk of a rust-colored Camry, kicked the back door shut with the heel of her boot, and climbed in like she’d been rehearsing this day in her head for years.

Perhaps, to her, this wasn’t a welcome. It was a declaration.

As the car pulled away, you glanced back through the window. The interior smelled like Amarige perfume and old coffee, warm and oriental and somehow comforting. The seatbelt clicked with that gritty resistance all old cars have—like even the mechanics were tired. The windows fogged slightly at the corners where cold air met weak heat, a halo of condensation softening the outside world.

The city moved like it was always running late. Cabs honked in aggressive harmony, sirens wailed somewhere distant, and the sky hung low and gray like a blanket of grey and blue  watercolors. In the cupholders, two half-full water bottles splashed with every bump. A tiny Smiski bobblehead was glued to the dashboard, nodding with unbothered consistency like it understood the rhythm of chaos better than you ever would.

You shifted in the passenger seat, trying to find a position that didn’t make your spine throb. Queens rolled past your window—rusted stairwells, crooked scaffolding, laundry clinging to cold railings, pedestrians in heavy coats darting across intersections like they had somewhere to be at a certain time.

“So,” Estella said, flicking her turn signal even though no one in this lane gave a shit, “how’s your brother?”

You blinked out of the window’s blur. “He’s okay,” you said. “Still trying to get the shop up and running again. Business is slow, but…Diego is Diego: working hard. We both are.” She nodded, glancing at you for a second too long before returning her eyes to the road. “You two got closer after the world went to shit, huh?”

You shrugged. “It’s only the two of us now. So, yeah.”

You didn’t mention the way he’d packed your bag for you, folding each item with the quiet desperation of someone trying not to cry. You didn’t mention how long it took to save up enough to afford this flight—and how you weren’t sure if it meant freedom or abandonment. Or how you’d both pretended the hug at the airport was just a normal goodbye. All you knew was that five years vanished like a sleight-of-hand trick, and now time felt like a dare you weren’t sure you wanted to take.

You rubbed the edge of your thumb, a nervous habit you’d inherited from someone who wasn’t here anymore.

“He told me to go,” you said. “Said I deserved a restart.”

Estella smiled, but it was the soft, almost sad kind. “Considering he’s one of the only ones who didn’t fucking evaporate, I’d say that says a lot coming from him.”

You nodded. “Yeah.”

She swerved into the left lane evading a brief collisison and muttered something under her breath about drivers not knowing how to merge. The Smiski bobbled like it nodded in agreement.

“What about you?” you asked, mostly to change the subject. “How’s work?”

Estella rolled her eyes in slow motion, no venom behind it whatsoever. “Same as always. Twelve-hour shifts, aching feet, and zero thank-yous. I’m on nights most of the week. Trying to squeeze in classes between rounds.”

“You’re still in school?”

“Yeah. Picked up where I left off. Almost done now. Another year and I’ll finally be an RN. Until then, I get yelled at by old men and clean things I won’t describe in polite company.”

You laughed—real, full-bodied—and Estella grinned like she’d just won a personal bet with herself. “I don’t know how you do it,” you said. “Well,” she replied with a dramatic toss of her curls, “someone has to. Besides, the patients are sweet. Most of them. And I get free pudding from the cafeteria when no one’s looking.”

The light turned yellow. Estella floored it anyway. You barely noticed. Outside, the city shifted. Queens giving way to Midtown. The buildings got taller. The shadows longer. People moved quicker, like they’d been born walking with purpose. You leaned your forehead against the window. “How’s the city been...you know. Since everything?”

Estella exhaled like she’d been waiting for someone to ask. “Worse,” she said flatly. “For a while, it felt like things were getting better. Like maybe after the Blip, the Snapback, the cleanup—maybe we’d get a second chance. But eight months later, Spider-Man got blamed for blowing up half a block and everyone lost their goddamn minds. Again.”

You turned to her. “What? Wait—what happened?”

“Girl, do you not keep up with the news?” she said, snapping her head toward you.

“There’s always something about New York popping up on media. I can’t keep up with everything,” you shrugged.

She honked aggressively at the car in front of her. “People saw him take down, what, five villains in one night? One of them launched a bus through a window. And still, half the city calls him a menace. The other half thinks it was staged. Like he planned the whole thing for PR or something. I’m exhausted just listening to people argue about it.”

“Do they know who he is yet?”

“No,” she said, eyes narrowing as she switched lanes again. “That’s the weirdest part. There’s this weird collective déjà vu going around—like people sensing they used to know who he was. Like the name and face were out there. And then, poof. Nothing. No articles. No mugshots. Not even a bad Photoshop on Reddit.”

“That’s weird,” you said.

“Right?” she leaned in, like spilling gossip. “And it’s not just my tía’s Facebook conspiracy page. My boss—two master’s degrees—swears it’s a government cover-up or some multiverse shit. One of the patients said Spider-Man’s a clone. Another said he’s secretly a Skru—OH YOU DICKHEAD!”

She leaned on the horn as a Lexus cut her off. You chuckled.

“Anyway,” she huffed, straightening in her seat. “I think he’s a hero—granted, also a part-time walking traffic violator. But what do I know? I’ve only lived here my whole life.”

You looked up just in time to see the city open up before you—Manhattan rising like a hallucination from a Hallmark movie. Glossy glass windows. Sharp angles. That anxious, brilliant skyline that always looked like it had somewhere better to be. You hadn’t been to New York since you were fourteen, back when visiting Estella’s family meant summer break, bodegas at midnight, and trying not to look too touristy. Back before everything cracked.

Estella let out a low whistle. “Still looks the same, huh?”

You weren’t sure if she meant Manhattan or the city itself. This strange machine of people and traffic and sirens that didn’t stop moving even when half the world did.

“Yep,” you said, tugging your hoodie tighter around your face. “Same as always.”

And then—something thunked across the hood of the car.

Estella screamed. You jolted sideways, banging your knee on the glove box. Outside, through the windshield, a blur of red and blue flipped midair and landed—actually landed—on the crosswalk sign like gravity was a suggestion.

“Are you kidding me?” Estella groaned, slamming the brakes. “He does this every damn time I’m driving!”

“Sorry, ma’am!” came a cheerful voice from somewhere above the Camry, light and annoyingly sincere.

You blinked. “Is that—?”

“Speaking of,” Estella muttered, jabbing a thumb toward the windshield, “Spider-Man. As much as I think he’s a hero, I stand by what I’ve always said—he’s a part-time traffic hazard with a full-time Spider-God complex.”

Across the street, the webline snapped forward like a rubber band. You followed the motion—someone was weaving recklessly through foot traffic on what you assumed was a stolen CitiBike, a glittery pink Hello Kitty backpack bouncing against their shoulders. The thief barely made it half a block. Spider-Man swooped low, kicked off a street vendor’s cart, and yanked the bike sideways mid-air. The rider tumbled—mostly unharmed—into a nest of trash bags with a yelp that sounded like “I’m sorry!”

A few people clapped. Someone cheered. The guy behind you honked, obviously.

Estella sighed like this was a weekly inconvenience. “Anyway. What were we talking about?”

You didn’t answer.

You were watching him. The way Spider-Man knelt beside the kid—probably saying something dumb but honest—and then, without an outro, disappeared straight up the side of a building like it was second nature. Like he didn’t have to think about how to move. 

“The city,” you said finally, biting back a laugh. “Not changing.”

– – –

The apartment building was exactly as Estella had described it: dingy, rustic, and the living embodiment of crushed expectations.

It was the kind of place that made you laugh softly under your breath—not because it was funny, but because if you didn’t laugh, you might start asking what the hell you’d done.

It wasn’t so different from what you’d seen in L.A.—those chipped stucco walkups in Venice, the weirdly artistic duplexes in Echo Park, the closet-sized apartments in Los Feliz where “quirky” meant the plumbing screamed in the middle of the night. Still, some part of you had been hoping this one would feel…homey. A little lived-in. A little warm.

But so far, all it felt was tired.

Estella was still in the process of decorating your shared flat, and you appreciated that—but you already knew no amount of throw pillows could cover up the dread of the faintly haunted vibe leaking out of the stairwell. The walls looked like they’d seen things. Probably smelled them too. 

You followed her up two narrow flights, wheezing halfway thanks to your overstuffed suitcase and the stamina of someone who hadn’t walked more than a block in two weeks. “So how far’s the nearest station?” you huffed, grunting as you dragged your luggage one step at a time.

Estella, already halfway up the stairs and pulling your other suitcase with slight more ease, turned with a shrug. “Five-minute walk. Tops. I still gotta buy you a taser, though. Crime’s a never-ending musical out here, and girl—there’s Broadway but it’s not Broadway.”

You nearly topled over laughing, handing off the heavier bag. 

You were grateful for the help as the second landing finally came into view. The door to the first apartment opened just as you reached the top. A woman stepped out—maybe mid-twenties, blonde wavy hair cut into a stylish bob, the kind of cheekbones people paid good money to contour around. She had piercing blue eyes and the kind of face that instantly gave you the feeling she baked for her neighbors but had no problem keying a car if crossed.

She smiled brightly. “Stella! Hi! This a friend of yours?”

Estella waved. “Hi, Bambi. No, this is my cousin—Y/N. She’s moving in with me.”

Bambi grinned and stepped closer, her keys jingling in her hand like she wanted you to feel instantly included. “Nice to meet you, Y/N! I’m Bambi. I live down here with my two girl friends and my maniac toddler. Jordan’s three but thinks he’s thirty.”

“Nice to meet you too,” you said, reaching for the handshake. “I’m from Vernon—California.”

Bambi blinked. “Huh?”

You smiled. “Los Angeles.”

“Oh my god—no way!” Her eyes lit up. “I’ve always wanted to go. Like, ever since I saw La La Land. I mean, I know it’s fake or whatever, but like—dreamy, right?”

You laughed—soft and genuine. “Yeah. Dreamy.”

“So what brings you all the way over here?” she asked.

“I’m starting classes at SUNY.”

Bambi gasped. “Holy shit, congrats! That’s big. You’re gonna be slammed for sure. We’ll have to do a girls’ night sometime—me, you, Stella, my roommates. Maybe when Jordan’s at his dad’s and we’re not all crashing from our day jobs.”

“Yeah,” you said, still smiling. “That’d be cool.”

Behind you, Estella let out a not-so-subtle grunt as she hoisted the last of your bags up the final step. Bambi winced in sympathy. “Alright, I’ll let you girls get settled. Welcome to the madhouse!” She waved as she headed toward the stairwell, her keys still jingling.

You watched her go. For the first time since landing, something in your chest lightened. Maybe, just maybe, this wouldn’t be a total disaster.

“She’s nice,” you murmured, grabbing one of your bags.

Estella nodded, breathless. “She’s the most tolerable one out of the three. Especially on a Friday night when the hallway turns into a tequila-fueled soundscape of crying and trap music.”

You laughed again.

“Anyway,” Estella said, motioning toward the far end of the hallway with a tilt of her chin, “we’re over there. Third door past the mail slots. Hope you like yellow.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

She grinned. “You’ll see.”

You spotted it before she even said a word—the fall wreath hanging crookedly on your new apartment door. The kind with fake orange and yellow leaves and a little wooden sign that read “Welcome Fall,” in swirly script. You smiled. Not because you liked it, exactly, but because it made everything feel a little less anonymous. A marker. A tether. You were here. You had a new home. 

Estella stopped short in front of the wall-mounted mailboxes and groaned like someone had just personally offended her.

“Seriously?”

You rolled your suitcase to a pause and leaned over her shoulder. Two envelopes stuck out of your unit’s mailbox—one yellowing credit card preapproval, one with a mere name, a pizza coupon, and a tri-fold pamphlet about GED opportunities. Estella yanked the stack free like it owed her money.

“They always do this,” she muttered. “You’d think apartment numbers were rocket science.”

“Why, what happened?”

She held the stack out for you to see. “This guy’s mail keeps getting thrown in with ours. Happens at least once a week. I end up walking three flights up just to shove it back in 187’s slot.”

You raised your eyebrows, then nudged your luggage toward her. “Here,” you offered, reaching for the mismatched envelopes. “I’ll bring it to him.”

Estella gave you a long, flat look. “Y/N, you’ve been here for like—an hour and a half. You’re gonna get lost between here and the hallway.”

You rolled your eyes and wiggled your fingers in a give-it-here gesture. “I need to get familiar with my routes somehow. Might as well start now. Besides, it’s just a door number, not a maze.”

She snorted. “Regardless. I wouldn’t go making first impressions on this guy. Might scare you more than him.”

You tilted your head. “Why? Is he a grump?”

“No, not exactly,” she said, hesitating. “He’s more like…how do I put this without sounding mean? Uh—kinda…serial killer quiet.”

You blinked. “Wow. That was not not mean.”

“I’m just saying,” she huffed, tucking the rest of the mail under her arm. “Every time I run into him, he’s the same. Doesn’t talk. Doesn’t wave. Just nods, smiles maybe a bit, and disappears. Like he has nothing else to do. Super quiet.”

You shrugged. “I’m quiet.”

“Yeah, but you’re like college student quiet. He’s possible recluse hiding bodies in his closet quiet.”

You raised a brow, unconvinced. “So are you giving me the mail or not?”

Estella groaned dramatically and handed over the envelopes like they had germs. “Whatever, nena. I’m just trying to spare you the jump scare.”

You grinned at the nickname. Nena—the one she’d called you since you were nine after her mom referred to you as such when you were trying on her heels during summer visits. It was affectionate. It was patronizing. It was deeply Estella. You wouldn’t change anything about it. 

“Thanks, but spare me, Stelly. I’m eighteen, not two. I can handle myself.”

“Famous last words,” she muttered under her breath as she juggled the keys and unlocked your new apartment door with a soft click. You turned toward the stairwell with the mail in hand. “Okay. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“A minute, tops!” she called after you. “And if you’re not, I’m grabbing whatever I deem self-defense worthy and dragging your ass back down here.”

You waved a hand without looking back, already making your way down the hallway toward wherever the hell apartment 187 was—equal parts curious, tired, and just stubborn enough to commit.You walked up three flights of stairs—past peeling walls, humming radiators, and the faint smell of wall paint and something faintly burnt. It was the scent of everyone else’s homes mixed with each other. Familiar, in an odd way. Like the background noise of a city you inhabit as you walk in it.

You stopped at the landing, eyeing the identical wall of mail slots. Most were dented, rusted, or stuck with years-old stickers. You scanned them for 187 and, ironically, found it directly in front of you—close enough for it to be chest-to-chest.

You reached for the slot.

Then—

“ S’cuse me, Miss—are you dropping something off?”

You turned, half-startled, expecting Estella’s infamous serial-killer intro to come true.

But it wasn’t a grumpy old man. Or a Dahmer copy. Or anyone half as ominous as she’d made him sound.

Instead, it was a boy.

Your age, maybe a little older. Brown curls, one falling into his eyes. Warm, fast-moving eyes—quietly restless, like they were used to scanning rooftops or exits or people’s tells without meaning to. Wiry build. Runners’ body, not a lifter’s. A gray sweater hung a little loose around his frame, sleeves tugged down to his wrists. Sneakers, jeans. Nothing threatening. Just...something that suited him.

You held up the mail awkwardly. “Sorry—wrong delivery. These were in our box by mistake. Are you apartment 187?”

He glanced at the envelopes, then back at you. For a moment, it felt like he was trying to remember you from somewhere. Like he was looking through the letters, not at them.

Then he blinked and offered a quick, sheepish smile. “Yeah, that’s me. Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

You laughed once, quietly. “You didn’t. I just wasn’t expecting anyone to actually appear. My cousin said you were, like, a cryptid.”

He chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck. “Let me guess—Estella?”

“Guilty,” you nodded, handing him the mail. “She said your mail ends up in our box a lot.”

He nodded with exaggerated tiredness. “Constantly. I’ve been trying to figure out if it’s a sorting issue or bad luck.”

You laughed again—less nervous this time. “I figured I’d deliver it before it stacked up to a legal dispute.”

“Well,” he said, eyes brightening just a touch, “I appreciate it.”

You shifted your weight on your feet, suddenly aware of how empty your hands were. “I just flew in about an hour ago. Traffic was hell and we got Spider-Manhandled on the way here.”

He raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Spider-Manhandled?”

“Thunked our car. He was chasing some dude with a glittery Hello Kitty backpack. I don’t think it was a high-level threat situation, but he made it dramatic.”

He barked a laugh. “Sounds about right. Honestly, that’s probably the most New York welcome you’re gonna get.”

“I’m not sure if I should feel honored or deeply unsettled,” you said, grinning.

“Both. It’s tradition.” He paused. “Where’d you fly in from?”

“Vernon. Just outside of L.A.”

“Damn. So how are you not jetlagged right now?”

You blinked. “Who said I’m not? I’m planning to pass out with one shoe still on.”

He laughed, genuinely this time, and extended a hand. “I’m Peter, by the way.”

You shook it without hesitation. “Y/N,” you said. And it came out with a strange kind of relief—like the name was something you’d been holding in too long for the time the two of you spoke.

Then—

Frantic footsteps from the stairwell.

You turned just in time to see Estella appear on the landing, one hand clutching the railing, the other brandishing pepper spray.

“One minute, I said!” she cried, panting. “Do you know what happens when a Native-Californian gets lost in a New York apartment complex full of—”

She stopped mid-rant, eyes locking on Peter. You froze. The horror set in like syrup.

Your face flushed hot. Tomato red. Firetruck red. Embarrassment in its final form.

“Stelly,” you hissed, “I told you I’d be down in a few—oh, forget it.”

Peter, for his part, looked like he was either trying very hard not to laugh or bracing for Estella to mace him. Maybe both.

You didn’t dare meet his eyes.

You untangled your hand from his and backed away. “Nice meeting you, Peter! I gotta go...unpack!”

Your voice cracked upward like it had just hit puberty.

Peter smiled, polite but amused. “Bye, Y/N. Bye, Estella.”

You shoved Estella down the hallway. She was still gawking between the two of you.

“Not even an hour here and you’re already flirting with the neighbors?” she stage-whispered. You slapped a hand over her mouth, throwing you both off guard. “I am not!” To your unknown relief as you were both walking back, no one but the two of you heard Estella’s comment. 

By the time the both of you were past the door, Estella had already begun flinging open every curtain and turned on every light like she was warding off potential ghosts who could’ve very well been haunting the place. She was barefoot, balancing a box of assorted mugs in one hand and her phone in the other, yelling at her Bluetooth speaker to “connect already, you little shit.”

You dropped your bag by the door and exhaled slowly, letting the aroma of faint lemon-scented cleaner and Estella’s rose-scented diffuser ease you back into something that almost resembled calm.

“This is the living room-slash-everything room,” she said, gesturing like a proud real estate agent while nearly tripping over her own slippers. “I still haven’t gotten the futon cushions delivered but that’s coming Tuesday. The kitchen works but the oven hates me. And your room’s a shoebox but I put up twinkle lights, so it’s legally cozy now.”

You smiled with a roll of your eyes and pulled your suitcase toward the hallway. “Legally cozy. Wow, thanks.”

Unzipping your luggage, you began unpacking slowly—folding shirts into half-empty drawers, stacking jeans on the bare shelf, pulling out the small bag of toiletries and navigating which door was the bathroom and closet. You heard Estella clattering around in the kitchen, muttering about needing to buy salt and how the olive oil might actually be expired.

“So,” she called out from somewhere near the sink, “important things to remember as a new New Yorker: Don’t look tourists in the eye, bodega cats outrank you, and if someone starts singing on the subway—just ignore it. Do not ask questions.”

You snorted, setting a framed photo of you and Diego on the nightstand. “I grew up in a tourist hotspot too, y’know. What else?”

“Oh, and if the guy—specifically the one at the corner store across our street—calls you ‘mami,’ that’s a compliment. Not harassment. At least from him. You’ll get used to it.”

“I’ll brace myself.”

“I’m also redoing the bathroom shelves this weekend and adding more hooks in the entryway because I know you’re gonna have a hella lot of jackets. Also we’re doing brunch with my mom’s side after church. And tonight, I’m ordering pizza. But tomorrow we’re hitting up this deli to celebrate our big milestone of moving in together or I will scream.”

You smiled, the corners of your mouth twitching with something unfamiliar. Maybe comfort.

As you tucked the last sweatshirt into a drawer, you turned toward the half-covered window that overlooked the shared stairwell balcony. The city was beginning to blur into dusk—gray bleeding into dark blue.

You leaned against the wall. “Peter didn’t seem cryptic like you said,” you brought up casually. Estella poked her head around the corner, eyebrows raised. “Girl. Did we not just have this conversation?”

You shook your head. “No, I mean…yeah, maybe he’s kinda quiet. But it’s not creepy. It’s something else.”

She didn’t laugh or scoff like you half expected. Instead, she leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed loosely. “Yeah,” she said after a beat with a hint of realization. “I can maybe see what you mean. I mean, I think he has no one...Like, literally, I don’t think anyone ever comes by for him. He lives alone. No roommates. No friends. No family. No mail except junk. No packages. Just...him.”

You nodded.

The window glowed faintly now, the sky behind it tinting the stairwell in shades of steel and a lavender highlight from the street lamps. You let your fingers press lightly against the frame of your drawer where you still lingered.

“I wonder he lost someone, too,” you said, quiet and unsure if you meant it out loud.

Estella stood for a moment longer, then turned back toward the kitchen. “Well,” she said, voice lighter again, “On the brightside—that’s the first I saw him smile in the last few months I’ve been here! Maybe you showed up at the right time!”

You smiled softly.  “Anyway—are you in the mood for meat lover’s pizza, or meat lover’s pizza? Those are the only acceptable answers.”

You laughed. “Meat lover’s pizza.”

“Good. Tomorrow, we feast on Mr. Delmar’s magic sandwiches and maybe I’ll let you buy your own MetroCard like a grown-up.” 

You sat on your bed, cross-legged, as Estella rustled through the drawer for the takeout menus. You watched the light spill softly against the railing of your fireescape balcony and let your thoughts settle, for once, without rushing to fix anything. 

Outside your apartment, the stairwell stayed still. Quiet. 

Upstairs, out of sight, three floors up. Peter’s door remained closed. He was laid back on his bed, the unopened mail now tossed to the side. One envelope—thicker, familiar—he tore open slowly. Inside were photos. Ones he’d ordered weeks ago. Printed on matte paper. Grainy, imperfect, tangible.

He sifted through them.

One of May, her smile sunburned and mid-laugh with him at the corner in the familiar form one takes when taking a quick selfie. It was the day she picked him up from the airport after Europe.

The last one he ever took of her.

Peter traced the edge of the photo with a finger. Something clenched and burned behind his ribs. He didn’t let himself think past May. Not to Tony. Not to Ned.

Not to MJ.

He clenched his jaw and looked at the clock.

5:00 p.m.

Time to go. Spider-Man could start patrol early tonight.

He always could, when he didn’t want to remember.

---

a/n: Thank you guys for reading !! Stay tuned for chapter 1 !!

EDIT: I was contemplating between two songs to attribute this fic to, as well as the NAME. Originally, when I posted this, it was to Bad Bunny's "DtMF" with Saints & Spider-Webs as the Title—BUT—"Another Day That Goes," by RBD (my literal childhood) was the song I was also on the verge of choosing for both title and name. After showing this to a friend, she told me that the upcoming Spider-Man Movie's rumored to be called A Brand New Day (And the RBD song sounds almost identical to the meaning)—SO, I'm changing the song, but we're still keeping this title OG 😎

That's all folks!! Stay Tuned !!

[osiiiris]

Amsterdam ritual - final report

Pop up store

The pop-up stores are not at the concert location*. In my case it was at the opposite side of the city from the concert venue, and it opened a little late (about 20 mins delay). Prices are affordable for small gadgets and exaggerated (to me) for t-shirts and sweaters, going from 50 to 85€. I bought for myself a big back patch for 20€ and the exclusive Amsterdam t-shirt for 60€ (there is only one exclusive item, the location t-shirt. The rest is general merch). Yet they lost the chance to do a design with V smoking a “Mary on a Cross”, in my opinion.

My advice: get in line at least 1 hour before the opening. I don’t know if the quantity of items they have is limited or they have loads, but I have seen people coming out with A LOT of products. A LOT. So better if you make sure to be there early enough to find something left. Bring a bag, they don’t have any. Only the 25€ tote one.

*I don’t know if they sell the same stuff at the merch shop in the venue but I doubt it. Why making a separate shop so far away if the same stuff is at the regular merch stand.

Pre show

I met Vanessa. She wasn’t taking interviews when I arrived so we just chatted a little and gave me a sticker, saying that Tobias designed it himself and he is generally very involved in the project. (I think he is in everything that regards Ghost’s aesthetic)

Someone proposed to his partner during the queue, my queue, right in front of me. Thank you for reminding me how single I stil am after being so close to a marriage myself. It was cute tho.

The gates opened a little late and the queueing and check in (and check out) process was a little confusing and slow. The concert itself also started later than usual, which is surprising because Ghost are an extremely precise band and always start in perfect time. I can’t say how much was the delay but some guys next to me started the countdown when the concert was due to start, and it usually works perfectly, but now… nothing happened for several minutes after the end of the countdown. 

The whole upper ring (seated spots) right in front of the stage was completely empty (all the other rings were full). I think it was intentional but I don’t know the reason for it.

To my surprise, I was the closest I have ever been to their front row, and I queued later than usual. I saw everything perfectly.

Show

This is the third time and still I can’t understand what is announced right before Peacefield. There is a brief introduction between the Peacefield chorus and the start of the actual song; what I grasped till now is that the narrator presents Ghost (the concert I guess) in a very energetic way, like a football match. I think I only understood “…Ghost, the best band in the world!” But don’t trust me.

Swiss still missing, mic stand still there. During the concert I tried to check if the mic is still there because other ghouls use it during the songs, but no… nobody’s using it. It’s just there alone.

Faith instead of From The Pinnacle to the Pit, Call me Little Sunshine instead of Majesty. Let’s talk about it a moment. I witnessed the FTPTTP > Faith swap in London, then finally heard FTPTTP in Milan, and I must say, the songs are easily interchangeable. They have the same energy and impact on the audience, so I’m fine with both, but Call Me Little Sunshine instead of Majesty… it just doesn’t work for me. At all. V is still raised above the stage, but the song lacks the pathos and impact Majesty has… also the subject of the song in Majesty works perfectly with the imaginary of him standing tall above everyone else. It’s a no for me and I’m glad I experienced Majesty twice.

Another thing I have noticed during CMLS is that V’s robes are…rigid. If he moves too much, the whole vestments tremble as if it was a still structure, and that’s what I think it actually is: he just “enters” in the robe, like a shell, sill wearing his clothes, as the papal robe is very large and there is room for it. Only the arms can be moved. Thats why it’s so fast for him to change into that outfit: he just doesn’t change, probably. Plus, his image projected on screen isn’t pre-recorded, it’s live.

During Cirice there is a return of the mic stand touching and fingers “tickle”. V sniffed his fingers after the tickling.

Mummy Dust was a complete flop (not the song). I was extremely close to the stage (4 people from the front row) and the confetti barely reached the first row. There were only a few bills in the cannons, it was all confetti and I saw only one persons actually grabbing one, at my side. I think mistakes were made with the cannons charging. Mummy thrusts were very slow and timid. I think V isn’t that interested in sex.

After Mummy Dust, he made us call for Jesus (Kevin) to clean up, commenting that he wasn’t sure he would hear us there.

V repeated the joint-Mummy Dust (of course, where if not here) implying that was what people was going to do after the concert.

Rain is very hot and intimidating with his veil. Sometimes it moves too much and he has to fix it with his hands.

Dew moved a lot and was often on the left side with Rain and Phantom.

Phantom 🖤

V pouts a lot. He was in sweet mode. Very soft speeches, but he always seems like it’s hard for him to act like a normal person and it’s secretly planning some kind of crime while he speaks.

“If there was time I’d line you up… and give you a hug. But maybe a little kiss will do” before Kiss the go-goat.

During Satanized, the Latin part is sang by monk-Tobias from the videoclip, projected on the side screens. V stays bent on the mic stand, with his clasped hands over his head the whole time during the Latin part, as if praying.

In Rats he was particularly dramatic with his “no!” (After “never to return” before the solo). It wasn’t only a Copia thing.

At the end of Darkness At The Heart Of My Love, Dew adds “something” with the guitar, in a tune that isn’t in the original song. I don’t remember hearing it before. V didn’t ask the crowd to do that “pfff” sound as he used to do at the first concerts and started the song straight away. He gave up.

During Monstrance Clock I keep getting distracted by the red orgy images on the big screen. They are really well animated and hypnotizing, and I honestly think Monstrance is the best live song. Dark, a melody that sounds like a lullaby, easy to sing along, good to dance to, very good projections on screen in line with the song (animated lyrics in the end aside). I just loved it so much. It really sets the atmosphere… Infestissumam is such a great album in this.

During Year Zero, towards the end, the chorus are more audible. I think I heard a “Christis” but again don’t trust me.

I don’t know if it was already said by someone but during the He Is refrain, the central beam of the Grucifix produces a light shot similar to a shooting star. It’s a very beautiful effect and I think it recalls the shooting star we see in the He Is videoclip.

V pointed out that Dew broke his foot twice, not just once. Dew proudly showed his cast, placing it on the ampli before him. V and Dew hugged briefly before Square Hammer.

Generally, in all concerts I have seen, V does the same kind of speeches, changing some details depending on the city. Here a recap:

First speech: comments on the temperature and “Are you in heat/moist/cool?” kind of teasing.

Before Future is a Foreign Land: “[…] Times are dark now, but remember that the future is always a foreign land.”

After Mummy Dust: comments on what people is doing after the concert. Rolls a mummy dust and throws it at someone.

Before Kiss the Go-Goat: “If I had time I’d line you all up (with some variations. Sometimes he quotes Copia’s parking lot joke) and give you a *something* (in Amsterdam was a hug, other times he just let the joke incomplete), but maybe I can give you a little kiss.”

Before Monstance Clock: some memories of the times the band played in the city. He may or may not mention past papas (“the other guys”) and the relationship with them (“uncles” for the first 3 brothers and “dad” for Nihil). He finishes with “Conclusively, I give you…”

Before the Encores: “Someone told you that if you stay here and ask for it, we’d come out and give you more songs. And do you think it works…? …Well, it does. Just one song for you to pack your shit and go.” 

Before Square Hammer: I have absolutely no idea, the screams are usually too loud during that song. He usually praises Dew.

My job here is done. I’m a bit sad that my Skeletour is over… I was starting warming up to V. “Conclusively”:

The new songs are very well received by the audience, very rhythmic and easy to sing along to. 

My personal favorite moment of the show is the stained glass reveal during Cirice.

Monstrance Clock is the best live song in set list, to me. Just let it pervade you.

I hope the “floating papa” moment stays majestic and never gets replaced by CMLS again. 

I have noticed that the only concert he asked the audience to bark was Milan (of the ones I have been at least). He knew we were the only crazy enough to get along with that.

Past reports here: London, Milan.

Ps for my fellow Terzo’s widows: his supremacy is intact. His image is everywhere. I personally made that clear too 😉

[mammomlette]

"𝙸 𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚠𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚕𝚍 𝚋𝚞𝚛𝚗

𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝙸'𝚖 𝚠𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚎𝚛."

-'𝙵𝚎𝚛𝚗' 𝚋𝚢 𝙰𝚕𝚎𝚔𝚜𝚒𝚊𝚑

Synopsis: Satan’s world used to be burnt by hatred, but recently he can’t seem to stop the warmth he feels when around the human exchange student.

Genre: Fluff?? None? (Romantic)

Warnings: One of the last paragraphs is a littleeee bit suggestive, not proofread

Notes: Satan x MC, I made this at midnight as I do most things so I blame low quality stuff in that🧍‍♀️also I haven’t wrote in ages ok so give me mercy, MC is referred to with they/them pronouns!! ‘Her’ is used in the title because that’s the song lyrics, but MC is gender neutral :)

Word count: 754

For a long time, all Satan saw was the flames burning through the Devildom. Looking out of the civilised areas and into the land past the denizens and watching as the natural flames of the Devildom overtook trees and small animals, growing higher and higher and killing more and more.

Or even if he looked within the walls of the city and into the halls of RAD, even within the perimeter of his own home, there was the omnipresent chaos that comes with a demons nature. Fires, all around, some extinguished and some fed, but fires none the less.

There were the screams. The damned souls or the unfortunate lower demons stupid enough to venture out of the safety of the more civilised Devildom. The shrieks of pain and agony, cries for their long gone family and careless friends to try and save themselves from their own self-inflicted wounds and shenanigans.

All of it was the norm to Satan. He was a demon, and unlike his housemates, he wasn’t turned into one. He was made as one. It was in his very blood since the moment of his very creation to feed on the cacophonous screams of terror and to admire the bright flickering lights in the distance, to bask in its attack and glory.

The burning hurt, but it was part of a demons nature to touch fire.

Never did he long to seek out the daylight his brothers described from their celestial days nor did he yearn for peace and tranquility that the celestial realm presents.

So why now was it that he spent so long yearning for a human?

Horrible choirs of unwilling participants being replaced by the sweet harmonies of their laughter, the fires causing chaos in the distance being replaced by the flush on your cheeks when he gets to close or says something in that’s hushed manner, disrupting his heart instead of those of the innocent.

Never had he felt so in tune with his brothers. He has always been different to them, knowing they have different origins, knowing they have different powers, knowing they have different thoughts and feelings- However now, he finally understood them. The way they, among other demons, would turn their heads as you walk past and the way people would whisper about how sweet you seemed (In what way, he wondered)

He, liked the rest of the crowd, followed you around helplessly after you slowly made your way into his heart and combined your souls into a beautiful pact mark on your skin.

The way you would stop and look at him, for even a second, when with someone else while they were talking. The way you would turn to him and stifle a laugh whenever someone was making too much of a fool of themselves at an important meeting or during a lesson, biting your lip or hiding your face while your shoulders shook. The way you would always ask what he wanted whenever you were going up to buy something, even though you both knew he had more money than you and wouldn’t mind queueing on his own if he wanted something so badly.

The little things showing you cared.

The way you would spray yourself in human body sprays to create such an artificially sweet smell or the way you licked around your lips after chugging a drink or shoving too much food down your mouth was utterly tantalising. Did you even know?

Did you know how he wanted to eat you up, give in to his demonic nature and devour you in so many ways, like a cannibal? Know how badly he wanted to taste your food on your tongue and smell your body spray from his head planted right in your neck?

Did you even know how badly he wanted to put you on a pedestal, high above everyone else for the three worlds to see, and did you know how much that thought fought with his urge to keep you to himself like a collectable, delicate and gorgeous and all his?

His yearning was indescribable, but he would never stop pining after you even if he could. Because the way you look back at him and offer your hand with the slightest shake in your smile and the smallest blush on your cheeks gives him the slightest flicker of hope that you might just yearn for for him like he yearns for you. And a little flicker is always capable enough to turn into a flame.

[zoandreez]

the stars keep on calling my name, pt 1: ikran flying ⋆·˚ ༘ *

pairing: sully reader x ao'nung

summary: after spending your time in the awa'altu clan with the metkayina children, you've feel a bit homesick and decide to run back to what you know. a suprise comes to you when a special visitor wants to tag along. how long can he survive on an ikran?

word count: 798, a short one

warnings: if ur an avatar nerd, this doesn't really make sense plot-wise. sorry. (i don't care.)

a/n: sorry for taking 8 n a half months to make something but i got a few things for yall.. i hope. and yes i know this fic is kind of unrealistic but aren't they all? emd.

you were sick.

not literally, god no. you'd rather the sky people take your life now than show sign of weakness on this godforsaken water park. you hated it here.

your disdain for this place ran deep. you’ve endured nearly a year at awa’altu, long after the war had ended. don’t get me wrong, the clan's hospitality was great. you cherished the friendships formed over the year and were awestruck by the ocean's beauty. however, your heart longed for home.

the forest.

the trees you grew up with, and the familiar vines and cliffs you've climbed your entire life. and just suddenly, without warning, your father uprooted us all and relocated us to a barren land of wet sand and peculiar fish. and of course, you understood why we were doing this. you didnt want to hurt your clan by staying with your omaticayan family, and with the sky people haunting you, it seemed more than likely that staying with tonowari, ronal, and the rest of the metkayina was your best option. but still, it hurt. so,

you were leaving.

you finally mustered up the courage to sneak out of your marui that was wonderfully woven by the women of the clan, just for you and your family. it was late, so you didnt have to worry about your family seeing you as you continued to walk past the other pods.

lo'ak knew about your plan. tuk cried the night prior, but your feathered kisses to her forehead and promises to come back for her seemed to soothe her. kiri was upset that you didn't take her with you. neteyam would have told mom and dad, so he's oblivious to it all.

the stars glimmered in the night, making your bioluminescence shimmer in a way that made you look beautiful. as your feet left marks through the sand, your stride was confident. it was a way he had never seen before.

ao’nung.

you and ao’nung never had the best relationship, especially with you being from a foreign clan and even having the slightest bit of demon blood, even though it didnt show through your three fingers. he despised you and your family. except,

he couldnt get your beauty out of your head. he never could, and yet now, it was even worse.

striding down the wet sand, you could almost feel it turn into the mud and grass you would feel if you were back home. you could smell the mist, although it didn’t have a particular scent. it just smelled.. home-y. you took your ikran by its queue, the same way you would tug on a vine while climbing a tree, and hoisted yourself on before making the bond.

you had to feel the agitation in your ikran before you noticed ao'nung pathetically attempting to crawl onto her tail. she began to screech and flail her tail around before you protested.

"wait!" you whisper-yelled as he almost went flying into the ocean.

"where do you think you're going??" ao'nung said in a mocking tone. he was teasing you, but you weren't kidding this time.

"i'm leaving."

a moment of silence rolled over. ao'nung's face contorted in a way you'd never seen before. surely he'd run to tell your dad. but then.. his lips curled on his face. was he.. trying to smile? regardless, it wasn't a good look for him. after a while of you blankly staring back at him, he stopped.

"you're serious?"

"yes." you said before you turned away, shifted your posture, and your ikran stretched its wings. you leaned forward before the first flap into the air lifted you to home. the wings lifted..

"wait!" he shouted over your ikran's rustles.

"what?" you said agitated. now that the idea was taking place you couldn't wait to leave.

"take me with you."

now it was your turn to laugh. it was also your turn to ask if he was serious. and you still didn't believe him as he half-ass climed his way up onto your ikran.

"ao'nung, get off. i'm leaving."

"no."

"..suit yourself," you muttered. fly as reckless as you can, knock him off. your inner thoughts amused your ikran as she flew off as steep as she could.

ao'nungs screams could have been heard throughout the whole kingdom, if they weren't thousands of feet in the air. he held on to you as hard as possible as your ikran made short stops, dives, and spins you didn't even know she could do. your hair flew behind you into his face, so every now and then the putters of him spitting out a few lost strands made you laugh. eventually you told her to settle down.

out of breath, a smug ao'nung commented, "are you done trying to get me to fall off now?"

"yeah," you giggled through his sighs.

my short apology

... my bad cuz

[ask-felix-aberg]

[Polyjuice Swap 2024!]

(Thank you @lil-grem-draws for being the mad genius behind this very special event!)

── ⋆⋅🎃⋅⋆ ─☆:⭑🍂🍁🦇🍁🍂⭑:☆─ ⋆⋅🎃⋅⋆ ──

── ⋆⋅🎃⋅⋆ ─☆:⭑🍂🍁🦇🍁🍂⭑:☆─ ⋆⋅🎃⋅⋆ ──

Felix could hardly contain his excitement as he entered the grand ballroom, a smile tugging at his lips as he admired the scene before him. William had been talking about this event for days, practically glowing with pride as he reminded anyone who'd listen that it was his "expert negotiating skills" (and a very generous anonymous sponsor) that had made this magical night possible.

The Ravenclaw was thoroughly impressed - it seemed as if every prefect had poured their heart and soul into the preparations. Festive lights cast an enchanted glow across the entire room, flickering candles and dark webs drifted above, and enchanted pumpkins floated along the walls, their carved faces casting eerie shadows over the guests.

He marvelled at the marvellous array of costumes. His fellow students had truly embraced the spirit of the evening. And even though most of the faces were hidden beneath spooky masks and fancy cloaks, the Ravenclaw still managed to recognise some familiar faces, though none of the ones he was really looking for.

Felix' eyes drifted toward a small line of eagerly waiting students near several rooms to the sides, each one set up for the Polyjuice Potion event. Excitement started to spread across the face of the blond boy once again as he approached one of the queues, anticipation bubbling up in him as he waited for his turn.

── ⋆⋅🎃⋅⋆ ─☆:⭑🍂🍁🦇🍁🍂⭑:☆─ ⋆⋅🎃⋅⋆ ──

A few minutes later, Felix found himself face-to-face with the cauldron of Polyjuice Potion, wrinkling his nose in disgust. The liquid had an unappealing green-khaki colour, thick and unpleasant, bubbles foaming up from the surface and emitting a particularly pungent odour that had him breathing through his mouth. It was all sorts of awful, Felix understood now why they would use separate rooms for that.

Taking a steadying breath, he raised the mug for a hearty gulp, immediately regretting the decision as the taste hit him - a repugnant mix of salted liquorice, vinegar, and something that resembled rotting eggs.

Felix winced, fighting the reflex to gag. The urge to use the vomit bucket beside the cauldron was tempting, to say the least, but Felix swallowed, squeezing his eyes shut. He knew Polyjuice was an ordeal, but trying it firsthand was something entirely different. The young wizard forced himself to hold it down as he waited for the transformation to take hold.

The changes started slowly. Felix watched his hands as they began to prickle and grew larger, the skin shifting in both texture and tone, his fingers and wrists extending in a manner that felt distinctly wrong. He could feel his face beginning to rearrange itself painfully, his bones feeling like they were being pulled and stretched in impossible ways.

The sensation was nearly enough to make him reconsider the whole idea, but just as he felt he couldn't bear it a second longer, the pain finally began to ease, replaced by an odd sense of familiarity. He glanced into the mirror in the corner, where an enchanted gargoyle gave an appreciative whistle. "Handsome, aren't we?" it teased.

Felix squinted, blinking in surprise before a chuckle escaped him as he recognised the familiar face staring back. Monty? He'd turned into @ask-andrew-montrose ! So Monty had signed up as well! Felix grinned, running a hand over the now scruffier hair, touching his transformed features, thoroughly impressed by how flawlessly the potion had worked. Not bad at all.

"Looking sharp, aren’t you?" commented the smug mirror gargoyle. Felix stifled another chuckle, rolled up his sleeves, and loosened his tie as he gave his reflection one last look. This could be fun, he thought to himself as he headed out of the room to find the others.

As Felix made his way toward the snack table, he nodded and smiled at a few passing students, only to be met with frowns, raised brows, and puzzled glances. Suddenly, it clicked - he was supposed to be in character! Andrew would never do something like that, Felix scolded himself and quickly adopted a more serious expression.

Finally reaching the grand buffet, he sighed softly in relief, this could be harder than he expected to be. Perhaps something light would help settle his mind and stomach after that dreadful potion. He reached for a bright orange cupcake, taking a bite, his nose brushing the creamy frosting as he glanced over the spread, already considering what else might wash away the lingering Polyjuice taste.

For a fleeting moment, he even thought he saw Allegra on the far side of the table, but before he could get a better look, a voice broke his focus, calling out to him...

[annes-room]

💖 April 23, 2025

My Semester In Review!!

I am finally done my 4th year of university!! only one year left and then I'll be free 🥳

this year had the usual ups and downs, but I wanted to make a post to summarize my thoughts on how it went 💗

fun stats to start because I'm a stats major ✨ (all grades in percentages)

classes taken: 4

lowest grade across all: 74

highest grade: 100

total graded assignments (not including finals): 29

unweighted mean of grades: 93.84

percent of 100s in total graded: 44.83

Stat 413:

# assignments: 4

# midterms: 1

unweighted average: 85.9

course review: I thought the material would be interesting, and some of it was, but I disliked the prof so much 😭 I genuinely don't feel like I learned anything in that class. the only thing I really truly understood was the unit on optimization, but that's because I learned most of it in an earlier calc class 🙃 I was expecting the material to be a perfect blend between my stats and compsci programs but, as much as I did enjoy expanding my skills coding in R, it was a flop overall. we learned a lot of things just at the surface level and I didn't feel like we really dove deep into anything. very blah class overall. I also didn't really like the prof 🙃 he was very unserious and it didn't feel like he cared if we were actually learning as long as he just got to talk at us. I'm glad it's over!

rating: 0 stars 🕳️

Cmput 204:

# quizzes: 4

# midterms: 2

unweighted average: 94.5

course review: a solid course overall. I really liked learning about the different algorithms for sorting and searching. personally I think Merge Sort is my favourite, even though she needs some extra space, we can't all be perfect ✨ we ran out of time to learn about Hash Tables, but I think I would've liked them too. the profs slides were really messy, but it was a good opportunity to make summary notes and pull out the most crucial information. using pseudocode was also fun 😊 the practice questions for the quiz were overly juiced, but actual tests were not that difficult thankfully :)

rating: 4 stars 🌟🌟🌟🌟

Stat 371:

# assignments: 10

# midterms: 2

unweighted average: 94.5833

course review: it seemed really daunting at the start of the semester, and I probably wouldn't have done so well without my best friends in it, but I actually really liked the material! the last chapter, on queues, was fascinating! I can definitely see the use in models based on arrival and waiting times. the chapter on Bernoulli counting Processes and Poisson Processes were also very fun! the formulas looked overwhelming, but so nice to plug numbers into 🤩 I think 10 assignments was a bit much, since we still had one due each week even when we had the midterms, but I managed to push through it 😤

rating: 4 stars 🌟🌟🌟🌟

Stat 361:

# assignments: 5

# midterms: 1

unweighted average: 98.3333

course review: easiest course by far!!!! literally plug and chug. we learned about 4 different sampling techniques and how to estimate population sizes and it was just so easy and fun 😂 it ended up being my favourite this semester 🥳 assignments only took ~2 hours to do each time and there was almost no manipulation needed for the formulas. our exam formula sheets were extremely comprehensive too which is always nice 😊

rating: 5 stars 🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟

Study times:

total (tracked) study time: 272.8 hrs

average per month: 68.2

I have no idea what happened in March that made me study that much because most of my midterms were in February 😅 I do remember being super tired last month though 😂 I'm hoping the numbers won't be as high next year as I'll be taking fewer classes 😅

total (tracked) reading time: 29.55 hours

average per month: 7.3875

that number is definitely off 😂 I could not have read 2 books a month with only that amount of time 😅 I wish though! I'll make a post later this year about the books I read and I'll probably make more review posts through the summer 😊

overall I think this semester went well. just another one to shelve away as something I accomplished and I'm proud I made it through 💪😤

if you read this far, thank you :) I hope your studies/work/hobbies/life is going well and that all your hard work pays off 💗

here's to a good summer!!

[junianashore]

I seem to have messed up the queue timing for this post, but regardless: onto the first Trimax volume! Even though this is a vastly different canon from Tristamp, we’re leaving the boundaries of my vague familiarity with the plot. I can only imagine being an original reader and finally getting to return to the story after a hiatus.

-I love how easily this page gives us a sense of the intervening two years spent with Lina and her grandmother. Has Vash ever settled down with anyone for that long before…and now that I think about it, has Wolfwood? He apologizes for breaking up their little family when he probably has no idea what it’s like himself : (

-Meryl is back! And she’s spent the last two years defending both Vash and her chosen line of work. In this canon they spent four months together before the two year time skip (I think in Tristamp it’s only about two months, most of which we don’t get to see.)

-Well this poor woman is traumatized for life. A normal day in town, getting crushed by a stranger falling from an exploding building into your car. Also, Vash has a rather skewed idea of the average insurance agent’s capabilities now, doesn’t he?

-100+ years of insane training gets you this, apparently. I am picturing teenage Vash surrounded by shattered wine glasses.

-Unlike the insurance girls, Wolfwood hasn’t quite mastered the art of tailing Vash yet. Got to start waking up at 4 am!

-I mostly understood what was going on here, which is wonderful! All of the action is neat, even if I hardly ever have comments on it.

-This arc was quite the interesting moral quandary. I like how Brad and Doc neatly summarize Vash’s philosophy in terms of Wolfwood’s “Even people who will never fight would pick up a gun if their loved ones were killed” quote. For him, the whole world is classified under the category of loved ones who deserve the extra mile when it comes to their safety and happiness.

[letmewriteinpeace]

" No work, only cuddles " || FNaF nightguards + reader

Title: “ No work, only cuddles ” Characters: Caregiver!Mike, Regressor!You, Big/Caregiver!Scott(mention) Genre: Fluff Warning(s): [N/A] Extra Notes: Hi Friends! I’m back and with the requests finally getting done and worked on. There’s lots more in the queue and requests will be becoming my top priority soon enough since school’s calming down and I have more time to write. 

Also! I used the nickname ‘Bubba’ for Mike, since I felt it fit him perfectly, and he uses the nicknames ‘Bean’, ‘Kid/Kiddo’, and ‘Little One’ for you. 

Word count: 906

   Mike laid on the couch, a very small you laying on his chest with a pacifier bobbing up and down contently in your mouth. A cartoon you seemed so invested in played on the small T.V. Mike had set up in his living room only a few weeks earlier. He'd zoned out from whatever cartoon was on, humming softly with a hand patting your head and running his fingers through your hair gently which was very much appreciated by you. 

   His eyes drifted over to the clock that sat on the wall. '11:17' He had to get to work soon, which meant he needed to get you a babysitter. No way you could stay home alone in such a small, fragile mindset. He reached for the phone on the table beside the couch, hearing a soft whine come from you as he moved. "Hey, hey, it's alright. I'm not leaving yet, Kid." He grabbed the phone and settled back down again, you getting back into your comfortable position and continuing to focus on the cartoon. 

   He carefully dialed up Scott, putting the phone up to his ear and letting it ring. Eventually, the other picked up and a rather passive conversation ensued. Basic 'hi', 'hello', 'how are you?' small talk went on for a little while, the conversation going nowhere until Mike finally asked. "Hey, you think you can watch this little one? I gotta go to work soon and they can't be home alone for so long -- Yeah, yeah, them. They regressed earlier and have been cuddling with me for awhile, I think they're awfully small right now -- No, I got supplies, don't worry. I gotta go soon so, please hurry."

   You'd been focused on the cartoon, dismissing the conversation your caregiver was having. That was until you heard him say he had to leave soon. That didn't go unnoticed, that worried you. Why'd he have to leave? He couldn't leave, you were cuddling! It was just rude to leave during cuddles. You whined loudly, nuzzling into him causing him to focus all his attention onto you and dismiss himself from the idle conversation with Scott. "Hey bean, what's wrong? Hm? What's with the fuss?" he kept his tone as light as he could, hoping it'd soothe you in some way.

   You only whined louder as if it would somehow tell him what was wrong. He hummed as if he understood, frowning worriedly. "Yeah, Scott? I'll talk to you in a bit -- Mhm, bye." He carefully reached over to put the phone away, but you took that as he was gonna leave and hugged his torso, attempting to hold him in place. He stayed where he was, stretching himself so he could put the phone back without moving that much before settling back down again. 

   "Kid, I can't help you if I don't know the problem. You think you can try to help me figure it out?" You shook your head, too upset to do much of anything besides cuddle. He sighed softly, "Alright Kiddo, but I can't help if I don't know. Are you hungry?" You shook your head. "Thirsty?" Another shake. "Want a toy?" You shook your head again. "Sleepy?" You shook your head violently causing him to hum softly. "Then what's wrong?" "No go.." You nuzzled your head into Mike's chest as he raised an eyebrow.

   "No go? You don't want me to leave?" You nodded, cuddling deeper into his chest. He sighed fondly, smiling down at you and patting your head. "Alright little one, alright. I'll see what I can do." He moved to grab the phone again, dialing Scott once again and continuously patting your head to hopefully keep the displeased whine and sounds at bay. It rang for a bit before Scott picked up. "Hey Scott, yeah -- I know, don't worry about watching after them though. I just -- Yeah, please? That or find someone else to. -- Yeah, I know I owe you and I'll -- Yup, I'll watch him. Sound good? -- Thanks Scott, see you Monday." 

  You hopefully looked up at him once you felt him reach to put the phone back down. "Bubba no go?" "Bubba's not going anywhere, bean. Bubba's gonna stay right here with you." You smiled widely, nuzzling into him affectionately which made him chuckle softly. "I think it's getting late though Kiddo, it's almost midnight. Much, much too late for a little one like you to be up, hm?" You whined softly, enjoying the cuddles and not wanting to move. "No bed.." "Yes bed. Not right now though, you still have a few minutes Kid. Okay?" "Okay Bubba.." 

   The two of you relaxed for a little bit, cuddling on the couch until Mike deemed it too late and began getting you ready for bed - much to your displeasure. Bath, pajama's, bottle, pacifeir, and of course, your favorite plush. "Night kiddo, sleep tight, okay?" He patted your hair down gently after he made sure you were tucked in and comfortable. "Mhm, night-night bubba." He smiled, walking over and turning off the room light while keeping the smaller night-light on for you, and closed the door almost completely before going and beginning to clean up the rest of the house before heading to bed himself. 

[tenaaay]

Inside Out 2: An Emotional Roller Coaster Experience

The long queue, the pricey tickets and the uncertain chance to make it to the last show - were all worth it. The Inside Out 2 film was able to take me on an emotional rollercoaster; I was crying the whole time even with the funny scenes. I was moved in ways I could not even explain . I felt seen, heard, and understood. The anticipation for the sequel for years, the thrill when the trailer was eventually released, the long line despite not knowing if I'll be able to secure a seat, and even the expensive tickets—it was definitely worth the wait.

I was surprised to hear someone behind me attempting to explain the different emotions to the child next to me as I waited patiently for my turn to pay for my ticket. I could tell by just glancing at them that the boy was his son, listening intently to him at that moment. In my experience, it is quite uncommon to come across an adult male who is outspoken about his emotions. Not to stereotype, but when it comes to talking about topics like this, women tend to be more vocal. I was secretly applauding the father for his efforts in an attempt to educate his son.

At that point, I thought of how wonderful it would be if my parents had been able to explain to me as a child the different kinds of feelings. Maybe I was able to regulate my emotions pretty well. Nevertheless, I am deeply grateful that my parents were able to raise me and teach me in their own unique ways.

I hope to someday be able to teach my future children the three valuable lessons I learned from the movie:

Everything is always bound to change.

As a chronic overthinker, I find it so hard when things are beyond my control. Just like Riley, the main character of the film, she was scared when she found out that she and her friends were no longer attending the same school. The idea of going forward without them is somewhat heartbreaking since they have become her home. Riley's anxiety made her withdraw from her friends in an attempt to lessen the weight of feeling alone. But that was a temporary defense mechanism. Riley finally had to discover the value of embracing and accepting change in order to get past the unwanted shift in her life. Hence, we just need to recognize the beauty of change. That would allow us to face the uncertain times ahead of us with hope.

2. Pressure is good; perfection isn’t.

I learned from a former co-teacher that pressure is good. She explained to me, using the diamond analogy, that feeling pressure over something is okay as long as it's a good form of pressure. Since diamonds are created under pressure, fire is the only thing that can make them precious and beautiful. We need pressure in life to help us distinguish between things that are and are not significant. However, striving for excessive perfection in our lives, careers, and relationships may only lead to frustration. I have overdone life by trying too hard to be ideal, only to fall short in so many ways. I learned that meaningful lessons are more important in life than flawless ones.

3. Life is too short to keep everything inside.

To always communicate your feelings and to be careful with them is the humblest lesson I have learned in life thus far. We sometimes have a tendency to lose wonderful things because our anxieties constantly stand in the way of our ability to keep them. Riley was in denial that the idea of her friends making new friendships and interests would not hurt her, and as a result, she was close to losing her friends. Unfortunately, hiding her feelings caused her more anxiety and confusion. Honest communication is crucial. As a future counselor, I want to inspire others to speak up about their feelings no matter how reluctant they are to be vulnerable. People are not mind readers, and thinking that they should be aware of our emotions would only lead to possible conflicts. We would never run out of reasons, it's true, but we must also keep in mind that we would run out of time eventually. Since life is too short to hold everything inside, speak your truth and handle situations with care. Honesty saves time.

I sobbed with understanding after watching the movie. I really hope you watch it and let me know what you think!

[demystifiedstardust]

Dream log 2

Okay, to be fair, I've been taunting fate on this one for a while. The fact that it took literally over 3 years to happen is a little weird, though. Bumping this up the queue because dream log.

Readmore for length and possibly disturbing dreamlike situations.

The start of the dream was me as Aether exploring an abstract Khaenri'ah-ish realm (not unlike the final layer of Nahida I quest dream but featuring deep blues and magentas). I was with Mona, Arle, and Klee. It's an unusual combination and I honestly think this posse was just grabbed randomly from my subconscious, because this layer was very definitely not real. It had a dreamlike aura about it that was gradually stripped away as the dream progressed. We found a form-fitting bracelet-ring at some point. I instinctively gave it to Klee, although I shouldn't have according to the others. I had picked up its pair previously before the dream started. I think my logic was the other two could protect themselves, but they seemed to work like a signaling device and I wanted a beacon to her in case she needed help. The other two argued the rings' properties were poorly understood, but it wouldn't come off, so that was that.

We found a portal at one point and collectively understood it to be a great trial to be undertaken alone. From that point on, every time the scene shifted it would become more and more "real". It's ah, hard to explain. The portal spat me out in the house of a man. He lived alone and seemed happy to take care of me (I had become a child), but it eventually became apparent that this was a Toriel-situation where I had to escape if I was to complete the trial. I stole his car, but he had a motorcycle unbeknownst to me and would rubber-band to me and take me back when he caught up. Not sure if it was cheekiness or frustration, but after a few loops of this I simply crashed the car into the snowy mountain this guy lived by and killed myself.

I honestly expected the loop to reset normally after that, but it didn't. Now Lumine was in the place of where I was, and I was... incorporeal? I could do frustratingly little to make her realize that this was only a trial. The most I could do was move certain "set pieces" around and cause the man to scramble around to try and fix it before she put the pieces together. This incorporeality wasn't particularly distressing as this is how my dreams often are, but Lumine being the one I needed to help did make it stressful. She eventually figured it out and also left, albeit in a more sneaky manner than I, and with her trial complete, the scene changed again.

It was the past. We were together. We were pulling together pieces of the world that belonged together, creating reunions in star-crossed reincarnated lovers, and more worldly changes along those lines, and it was beautiful. But there was a faction of powers that be that did not appreciate our meddling in their perfectly ordered world (which very much wasn't from my (our, I assume) point of view. It was sterile and full of setting up everything in little isolated boxes (metaphorically speaking, not invoking the unknown god here) where people and things that should meet never would. It was painless, but also devoid of all positive emotions as well. But I digress).

They would try to catch us, and we would have to get sneakier. Hiding the chaos within the order. Like (metaphorically) an elaborate set of dominos that would require but a push for everything to change, and we would be long into hiding before we got to enjoy the conclusion, but that was okay. This domino effect also included a lot of death, so um, in retrospect I can see that there was a lot of pain along with the joy we brought. Although we couldn't resist hiding nearby at a vantage point sometimes to observe our handiwork, and that's how we were eventually caught.

The scene shifted and we were no longer wearing a social "skin" to remain in the ordered world, but were instead stripped away into our pure forms. If you have played or seen Omori, it was a little like Something. An amorphous void of shifting color that multiplied into itself to form a mass quite dark at the core and colorful around the edges, that stretched along and strung out somewhat as we moved. We each had a single eye.

The "ordered" retained their worldly forms, however, and there were three different classes of them with different abilities that worked in tandem to catch us, restrain us, and change us into a neutered threat.

We were sewn together by order into a gold plush-like form, sort of pokey like a many-tailed fox or starfish. I was chosen arbitrarily to be sewn into the 'eye' lobe and became the only one who could "see". Lumine was sewn into the 'core' lobe. She was capable of thinking and moving, but could only see me. Order also sewed a third part, a golden, ordered "skin" to bind us together that also had a personality separate from either of us.

And then I woke up. Now I'm back and I feel like I peeled back a layer of the universe's skin and got a peek at underneath before being shunted back into the waking world. Took a while to readjust. Would you believe me if I said I don't do drugs? Please believe me 😭

Illustration available on request but idk if I feel like posting it publicly right now.