#and you don't get to determine what we are

[shomatoriashi]

01/01/25; 12:00am

sylus x fem.reader / mc.reader

notes: despite how much i adore night of secrecy, it left a lot to be desired, so i’ll be doing a thirstier rewrite (⺣◡⺣)♡ and have this be my first post to welcome in the new year ♡

obligatory tag: @voidsylus (⺣◡⺣)♡

extra notes: it’s still not showing up in the tags, ;; but i will reblog this story periodically under an icymi tags so you readers can at least see it on my blog.

update as of 04:56pm: FINALLY ITS IN THE TAGS!! 😭🙌🏻

[ minors don’t interact; by choosing to interact with this content, you have consented to viewing something n-fw despite the warnings. ]

the tension was thick in the air, and you had a hunch that sylus had lost your little “gun assembling” contest on purpose. looking down at his deft fingers and witnessing the millions of times sylus polished his weapons with a calculating touch-

it was painfully obvious how you couldn’t have won that easily.

and the epiphany of it all was enough to make a surge of warmth course through you.

shaking your head, you get back to the situation at hand, playfully pressing the muzzle of the gun against his chin. "i won." you tell him in a breathless whisper, watching sylus as he raised his hands in mock defeat while meeting your gaze. "and i lost. go ahead. ask your question."

letting out a shaky breath, you take a moment to admire the firelight and how it painted sylus in golden hues, captivating you in every sense of the word as you lowered the gun.

“i’m sleepy…"

clearly caught off guard by your words, sylus narrows his crimson gaze in response, remaining silent as he allowed you to speak once more.

"can you tuck me in tonight?” you finish, your eyes meeting with his as a sense of determination courses through you.

a rich chuckle was heard coming from sylus, "heh, and i thought a certain relentless hunter would ask about my destination. or did you finally heed those words... curiosity killed the cat, kitten?"

a wistful smile paints your expression as you shake your head at him, "i care more about the present than an answer i can get. so... are you doing it or not?"

you wait with bated breath as sylus lets out a huff, coming closer to you while framing at your face, "of course, kitten." without hesitation, he stands back to his full height all while taking you within his embrace, carrying your shoes in his free hand while walking with you toward one of the master bedrooms located on the second floor. "this request is way more powerful than that little gun."

as he held you, you cling to him, arms wrapping around his neck while basking in his warmth. with the bedroom in sight, he tosses aside your heels while settling himself against the armchair. hiding your face within the curve of his neck, you feel the sensation of sylus's lips brushing against your cheek. "if you don't want to lie down, i can keep holding you until i leave."

"what if i don't want you to leave...?" you tell him with a whisper, shivering when sylus brushes his lips against your skin once more, "then... we better make the most of our time before dawn."

a painful ache was felt between your legs when you suddenly surged forward, capturing sylus's lips in a kiss that takes his very breath away. while you desperately tried to deepen it, you could feel sylus smiling against your lips, whispering huskily to you, "you really don't want me to leave?"

by now, the ache between your legs was too much to bear, with you pulling away from the kiss first. your head gestures over to the king sized bed, "sylus, over there..."

"looks like we're on the same page when it comes to not wanting to waste time." with a grunt of your name, he picks up your pliant form like you weighed nothing at all. with your limbs wrapped around his powerful body, sylus settles you against the silken sheets, with your hands now wrapped around his neck to pull him achingly closer to you.

you trail your eyes off to the side, only to feel sylus gently gripping at your chin while telling you, "stay focused, kitten. don't look."

his hot breath was felt against your ear when sylus covers your eyes with his large hand while gripping at your hand with the other. swallowing thickly, you intertwine your fingertips with his, giving it a squeeze just as sylus gives your lips a searing kiss. you moan into his kiss, allowing your tongue to meet with his as they clashed, fighting with a gentle dominance that makes your mind go hazy.

when the need for air proves to be too much, you pull away from the kiss first, hands delving into his silken locks of hair, "am i being too greedy... if i ask you to keep your eyes only on me?" you trail your fingertips from his hair to the side of his face, gently framing at it all while trembling when he presses a kiss against the palm of your hand. "you always had that right. which means... you can be even greedier. tell me- do you want it, kitten?"

was that even a question at this point? yes was the single word that comes from your parted lips-

and that was all the urging sylus needed to awaken the beast in him.

a growl was heard when his large hand grips at your knee, ready to spread your legs with a shake of his head, "you haven't changed your mind, have you...? you just said yes." a sense of desperation was heard in his voice when he pulls you by your ankles, pressing your clothed center against the straining erection within the front of his pants. "i'm hoping yes is still your answer because... i just can't hold back anymore."

you wanted to tell him how you couldn't hold back either, yet found that your voice was lost the moment his lips captures yours once more, pressing your body against his naked chest, the material of his shirt already unbuttoned as you felt his muscles rippling against you. you allow him to swallow your moans with his fervent kiss, feeling like you were melting against him.

"s-sylus, i can't breathe..." you tell him while greedily taking in gasps of air, a hand settled on his chest damp with sweat. with a gentle touch, sylus brushes aside your hair, fingers already descending down upon you, settling the palm of it between your legs as he moves aside your soaked panties, dipping a single digit within your slick folds.

a pumping motion was felt within your aching walls, making you grip at his biceps as you fell back against the bed, becoming subjected to his ministrations. your pants and sylus's grunts echo throughout the room, and you let out a hiss when you felt sylus gently bite down against the waistband of your panties before pulling it off of you in one, swift motion, "h-hey, don't bite there-"

however, your words of protests falls on deaf ears, morphing into a breathy moan when sylus presses his lips against your cunt. his tongue traces at your pussy lips, collecting your arousal while basking in the pure taste of you. with a few more licks and a pinching sensation felt against your hardened clit succeeds in helping you climax, your hands gripping at his hair, earning a grunt from sylus.

once he was finished, sylus pulls away from the spot between your legs, licking his lips while meeting your gaze with a huff, "first you want it rough, now you want it soft... i thought you would be tough to please tonight, kitten. however..." he trails off while licking at his lips, "perhaps i was wrong in believing you were hard to please since i got such an intense taste of you."

you pout at him, ready to bite back with your own words when they suddenly became lost against your lips. you feel sylus lean over you, trailing kisses down your neck, as if apologizing for teasing you. "what do you really want? won't you be honest and tell me like you just did?"

your eyes met with his within the intimate lighting, trembling at the sound of his seductive voice dripping with honey. you lick your own lips in response, gently pushing him back down against the bed as the palm of your hand cups at his clothed erection, "i'm not falling for your tricks."

teasing him, you bite down at your bottom lip and trail your fingertips down his chest, "i told you before that hunters like me don't like being passive."

with a shake of his head, he lets out another chuckle, "so, you want control. unfortunately, i can't give it to you. not yet, at least." his hands wrap themselves around your waist to lay you back down in bed, touch filled with reverence as he trails his fingertips down the length of your body before telling you, "don't run."

"you're so... demanding... hah... it's annoying." your hands claw at the sheets settled below you, earning a smirk from sylus, "i won't deny it. i guess you can say i lied. tonight, you're not the only one feeling greedy... and i won't be leaving until this greed is completely satisfied."

you became dimly aware of the sounds of shifting fabric, making you look down as your cheeks were felt blossoming with heat. settled between your legs was his cock completely hardened and ready for you, making you gasp when he manages to brush the tip of it against your soaking heat. "ah, i misspoke."

"w-what?" by now, sylus was tracing his cock against your outer lips, teasing you when he caresses at the hardened bundle of nerves as well. he continues to give you a smug expression, licking his lips while teasing you with his cock, "greed can never be satisfied... but you can temporarily soothe it."

taking a hold of your hand, he kisses it while asking once more, "say it again, sweetie, do you want it?"

meeting his gaze, you lean closer to him, conveying your need for him in yet another passionate kiss. delving your fingers into his hair, you give those moonlit strands a gentle tug while murmuring against his lips, "this is my answer."

and that was all the confirmation your lover needed.

your broken moans suddenly pierces through the silence of the night, tossing your head back the moment sylus completely sheathes his cock within your walls. he sets a rapid pace, making the bed bounce in tune with his movements. no words were spoken when sylus grips at your lower back, pressing you oh so much closer to him.

while you were writhing against the bed, you felt sylus reach parts of you that you didn't know existed, the pleasure taking on new heights with each tilt of his hips. the sounds of your copulation echoes throughout the room, causing your mind to go hazy as you take in every inch of him over and over again.

and when you felt the familiar twitching of his cock, you wrapped your legs even tighter around his waist, allowing his seed to paint your walls white, relishing in his shuddering breaths of your name when he captures your lips, making sure that you were forever connected while the red hot pleasure courses through your veins...

{ ... }

the rays of sunlight felt hitting against your closed eyelids was the first thing that woke you up-

the second was the disappearance of sylus and the sounds of a shower running from just a few feet away from you. feeling like you were caught in a dream, you get out of bed, naked while allowing the sheets to fall off your form.

curiosity paints your expression when you jostle the bathroom's door, smiling upon realizing it was unlocked as you stepped inside. the mist left from the hot shower surrounds you, making the anticipation course through your veins upon seeing sylus's silhouette against the glass pane of the shower.

letting out a purr of his name, you join him in the shower, earning a smirk from him when he faces you. "i was wondering when you'd wake up, kitten."

with a roll of your eyes, you get on your knees, taking in his cock within your awaiting mouth while basking in his broken grunt. "sweetie-"

when you manage to stroke his cock to full hardness, you hum against his erection, purposely tracing against the veins felt pulsating down his shaft before playing with his tip with your tongue-

thanks to this sudden shower, you figured you could tell sylus how you had no intention of letting him go off alone,

that you had every intention of staying by his side later on-

after your much needed quickie with him.

end notes: highkey what i wanted to happen lmao infold let me be one of your writers pls.... 🫠🫠🫠 anyways, this is my first post to welcome in the new year! 2025 will be amazing; i truly believe it. here's to a million more daydreams to come 🥰

all stories are written by rei; please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works!!

[idkyetxoxo]

Jacaerys Velaryon - Between Fear and Trust

Summary - Grappling with the potential harm to her unborn child and the overwhelming anxiety of her protective husband, their love and trust are tested in a fragile dance of reassurance and emotional turmoil.

Pairing - Jacaerys Velaryon x reader

Warnings - Pregnancy anxiety, injury

Word count - 2032

Masterlist for Jacaerys • House of the Dragon General Masterlist.

Jacaerys Velaryon was a protective man, often to the point where his vigilance bordered on excessive. His concern, though rooted in love, sometimes felt stifling.

"I don't think you should be doing that," Jace said, his voice gentle but firm. I sighed softly, setting down the needlepoint in my hands before turning to face him.

"And what harm could possibly come from needlework?" I asked.

As he approached, I gestured to the fabric spread out on the table, the intricate design slowly coming to life.

"Look, it's Vermax," I said, pointing at the olive green and pale orange dragon that was beginning to take shape on the black tunic. 

The dragon's fierce eyes and outstretched wings were just starting to emerge from the fabric. I felt a swell of pride as I watched his eyes follow the delicate work.

Jace's expression softened into a tender smile as he looked at the half-finished dragon, and then back at me. The sight of my enthusiastic face, so absorbed in the craft, caused a wave of affection to surge through him. His gaze lingered on me, a mixture of admiration and concern.

"You're straining yourself," he said softly, his tone a blend of warmth and insistence. 

He stepped closer and gently helped me to my feet, his hands moving with a practised tenderness. His fingers brushed lightly against my swollen belly, and he began to rub it in soothing, circular motions. 

"Jace, you must cease this," I said with a gentle smile, placing my hand over his. His frown deepened, and I could see the concern etched into his features. "You're becoming overbearing."

He swallowed hard, his eyes searching mine. "I only want to keep you safe, to keep our child safe," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion as he cupped my face in his hand.

"I can't walk through these halls without feeling like I'm doing something wrong," I confessed, my voice tinged with frustration. "I care deeply for this babe too, but your constant worry... it frightens me."

Jace exhaled slowly, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly as he leaned forward to press a gentle kiss to my forehead. When he pulled back, his frown remained, but there was a softness in his gaze.

"I don't mean to cause you distress," he said quietly, his voice laced with regret. I nodded, understanding his intentions even if they sometimes overwhelmed me.

After a moment of silence, I shifted slightly "I could use some tea though," I said, trying to lighten the mood. Before the words were fully out of my mouth, Jace was already moving to stand.

"I'll get it for you," he said quickly, his voice filled with determination but I reached out, placing a hand gently on his arm to stop him.

"No, Jace. I think I can manage to fetch some tea," I said, my tone gentle yet firm. 

His hesitation was palpable, a visible battle between his desire to protect me and the recognition that I needed this small act of independence. His eyes flickered with concern as he looked at me, and I could see how difficult it was for him to let go.

"It's just tea," I added softly, attempting to soothe his worries. 

Finally, with a reluctant nod, he stepped back. "Just be careful," he murmured, his voice almost pleading as he watched me.

I gave him a reassuring smile, appreciating his concession. "I will," I promised, as I turned and made my way across the room.

As I reached the door, I glanced back over my shoulder, my thoughts drifting to a happier distraction. 

"Perhaps we could visit Vermax when I return," I suggested, my voice carrying a hopeful lilt. "I miss him dearly."

I heard Jace's quiet laughter from behind me, a sound that was both tender and indulgent. 

I knew it would take a great deal of convincing for him to agree to let me see the dragon again, especially considering my condition. But the thought of visiting Vermax seemed to lighten the mood, if only slightly.

Jace's voice followed me, a mix of amusement and exasperation. "You'll have to charm me into it, I suppose" he called out with a fond chuckle. 

I smiled to myself as I stepped into the hallway, the soft glow of the sconces casting a warm light on the stone walls.

The castle's usual grandeur was eerily muted, the soft thud of my footsteps on the cold, echoing stone a lonely sound in the vast, empty hallway. Each step seemed to reverberate with an ominous, hollow note.

The familiar surroundings, normally comforting, now felt like a path strewn with obstacles as I descended the grand staircase. 

The slight twist in my ankle was so sudden, so unexpected, that I barely had time to react before I felt myself falling. One moment I was moving cautiously, and the next, I felt my body lurch uncontrollably.

I tumbled down the last few steps, the world around me spinning in a blur of stone and panic. 

The impact was jarring, pain radiating through my body as I came to a stop on the cold floor. My ears rang, a sharp, disorienting sound that drowned out everything else. 

A thin, red line of blood trickled from the gash on my forehead, warm and sticky against my skin but all I could think about was the deep, gnawing fear that gripped my heart.

Anxiety clawed at me as I lay there, my breaths coming in short, frantic gasps. My hands flew instinctively to my swollen stomach, pressing down as if to protect the life within me.

"Please, please be okay," I whispered, the words trembling on my lips as I tried to steady my racing thoughts. 

I needed to get up, to find Jace, to reassure myself that everything was alright but I couldn't move. I was paralyzed by fear, by the pain that coursed through me, and by the overwhelming dread of what might have just happened.

"My lady," a voice gasped, cutting through the haze of my fear. 

I blinked, trying to focus on the figure rushing toward me. The armour clanked loudly in the quiet hallway, the sound harsh against the silence.

"Ser Erryk," I mumbled weakly, recognizing the Queensguard as he knelt beside me, his expression stricken with concern.

"My lady, are you hurt?" he asked urgently, his eyes scanning me for injuries. His hands hovered, unsure of where to touch, or how to help. 

I could see the panic in his eyes, the same panic I felt bubbling inside me.

"My... my head," I whispered, feeling the warmth of the blood trickling down my forehead. "And my ankle... but the babe..." My voice broke, and tears welled up in my eyes. "Ser Erryk, please, I need to get to Jace."

Without hesitation, Ser Erryk scooped me into his arms, lifting me as if I weighed nothing. 

The movement sent a jolt of pain through my ankle, and I winced, clutching my belly protectively as he began carrying me back to my chambers.

The journey was a blur of worry and pain, every step echoing my pounding heartbeat. The closer we got to the room, the more I felt the weight of what had just happened pressing down on me. 

By the time we reached the door, I was trembling, my mind a whirlwind of fear and guilt.

As Ser Erryk pushed the door open with his shoulder, Jace shot up from his seat, his face instantly pale with alarm when he saw me cradled in Ser Erryk's arms, blood smeared on my forehead.

"What happened?" Jace's voice was sharp, edged with panic as he rushed to my side, his hands immediately reaching for me. He looked between Ser Erryk and me, desperation in his eyes. 

"What happened?" he repeated, his voice breaking.

I couldn't hold it in any longer. The tears I had been holding back burst forth, and I began to sob uncontrollably. 

"I'm so sorry, Jace," I cried, my voice trembling with guilt. "I fell—I shouldn't have gone—I'm so sorry." The words tumbled out in a frantic rush, my apologies intertwining with my sobs.

Ser Erryk quickly explained, his voice steady but grave. "She lost her footing on the stairs, my prince. It was an accident." 

His words were meant to soothe, but they did little to ease the storm of emotions that swirled within me.

Jace's eyes softened with anguish as he knelt beside the bed where Ser Erryk gently laid me down. He cupped my face with trembling hands, his thumbs brushing away the tears that streamed down my cheeks.

"Shh, it's alright," Jace murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. 

"You're alright, and that's all that matters." His fingers were gentle as they stroked my hair, trying to calm me, but I could see the fear in his eyes, the same fear that was consuming me.

"I was just so scared," I choked out, my hands still clutching my belly as if to reassure myself that our child was safe. "I should have listened to you... I'm so sorry."

"Don't apologize," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "None of this is your fault." He pressed a tender kiss to my forehead, his lips lingering against the cut there as if he could kiss away the pain.

But the guilt still gnawed at me. "I just wanted to walk... to feel normal," I whispered, the words heavy with regret. "But I've made everything worse."

Jace shook his head, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. 

"You didn't do anything wrong. I just want you and our child to be safe. That's all that matters to me." His voice cracked as he spoke, and he wrapped his arms around me, holding me close as if to shield me from everything that had happened.

I buried my face in his chest, my tears soaking into his tunic as he rocked me gently. His heartbeat was strong and steady against my ear, a constant reminder that I wasn't alone, that we were in this together.

"I'll take care of you," Jace whispered his voice a soothing balm to my frayed nerves.

"We'll call for a maester," he continued, his tone steady and reassuring. "Everything will be alright." His gaze shifted to Ser Erryk, who stood nearby, concern etched into his features. 

With a nod of understanding, Ser Erryk left the chamber to fulfil Jace's unspoken command, the door closing softly behind him.

But as the door clicked shut, a fresh wave of anxiety washed over me. I pulled away from Jace's embrace, my hands trembling as I looked up at him, fear gripping my heart. 

"Jace... what if I've done something?" The words came out in a shaky whisper, my voice barely holding together as I voiced the deepest of my fears.

His expression softened immediately, his eyes filled with a mix of sorrow and determination. He cupped my face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away the remnants of my tears as he searched my eyes for the pain that haunted me.

"My love," he said, his voice tender but firm, "you've done nothing wrong." His words were like a lifeline, pulling me back from the abyss of my worries. 

"We must trust that the gods have good intentions for us. We've been blessed with this child, and we will see them into this world together."

Despite his reassurances, doubt lingered in my heart. "But what if—"

"Shh," Jace interrupted gently, pressing a finger to my lips. "No 'what ifs,'" he murmured, his gaze unwavering. "We cannot let fear dictate our lives. Whatever happens, we will face it together, as we always have."

He leaned in, his forehead resting against mine, and I closed my eyes, letting his words sink in. The warmth of his breath against my skin, the steady rise and fall of his chest, and the strength in his embrace all worked to calm the storm within me. 

Slowly, I began to breathe easier, the frantic pace of my thoughts slowing to match the rhythm of his heart.

"I'm here," he whispered, his voice a gentle echo in the quiet room. "And I always will be."

As the moments passed, the tension in my body began to ease, replaced by a tentative hope that maybe, just maybe, everything would be alright. 

A/n - Inspired by that one scene of Meredith falling down the stairs in Grey's.

[joemama-2]

velvet lies

pairing: gojo x fem reader synopsis: crippling debt and possible evictions have ruined you. working two jobs with no downtime, and a five-year-old son, you really don't know the meaning of taking a break. after continuous questions about his father, you have decided to finally let your son meet his dad. only thing is, he has no idea said son exists. and to top it off, you have not a single clue about what kinds of things will transpire from this sudden revelation. wc: 7.4k (shorter chap woop) tags/warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, fluff, romance, alcohol, classism, mom! reader, lying, abuse, MAJOR angst, slow burn, exes to lovers, (mentions of) cheating, scandals, death, blood, drugs, drama, family drama, miscommunication, blackmail, unhealthy coping mechanisms , depression, manipulation series masterlist < previous chapter < next chapter

Year: Early 2018

He hasn’t been answering your phone calls. Or your texts. A growing sense of anxiety and worry forms in your gut. You've trained yourself to push down the more insidious thoughts that threaten your already deteriorating relationship. It’s been a long day for you. From work, to your annoying mother, and now to your M.I.A boyfriend. You wanted to relax at home with a movie and soothing music, maybe even food. However, it’s been hard to eat for the past few weeks. 

The last place you wanted to be was at some house party with snobby people who probably never have realized the true meaning of a dollar. The music is loud and the blue lights do nothing but further annoy you, reminding you of just how much you hate parties. Pushing through the throngs of people, either too drunk to high to give your rudeness a huff. 

It’s not hard to spot him, but the sight makes you dig your nails into your palms. Feeling bile rise in your throat when a girl—one you’ve never seen before—is getting too close and personal with your man. And worst of all? He’s not even pushing her away. He’s obviously drunk. Still, you assumed he would have that much decency to push back flirting advances from random girls. He always did.  

But things have been changing recently, slowly but surely. Ever since that happened. 

Your feet work quickly, forcing yourself to stay determined and not break down and cry right now. You’ve been doing too much of that. “Satoru.” You call out, voice loud and firm enough that he swivels his head to meet your eyes on just the first try. The girl does so also, head tilting in a scrutinizing way that you hate. “Are you drunk?”

The tint on his cheeks is proof enough. But so is his lazy grin. “What do you think?”

The girl giggles, leaning into your boyfriend’s arm. Watching her do so sends a wave of fury down your spine. You would have stepped in if it weren’t for Satoru finally being a decent man and pulling away from her. “Sorry, you gotta go.”

“Excuse me?” The girl huffs, scowling in disgust. “For what? I thought we were having a good time.”

So, they were together the whole night, huh? They probably would have stayed together if you didn’t make an appearance. What if they would have taken things further? What if Satoru imitated something? You can already feel the familiar tingle at the back of your throat, turning around and heading back for the door. He follows, grabbing your arm in an attempt to stop you. “Y/N—“

“Don’t.” You grit, yanking your arm away and pushing your way back out to the front of the large house, ignoring some of a drunken couple’s protests as you ruin their make-out session. When you make your way onto the sidewalk, you feel a more insistent tug at your wrist that causes you to face him fully. Meeting his glazed-over eyes with your own teary pair, biting down on your quivering lip. “Why didn’t you answer your phone? Why are you ignoring me?”

He sighs, running a hand down his face when he lets go of you. “I’m not ignoring you, Y/N. I’m sorry, I should have told you I’d be out. But it was last minute.”

A scoff falls from your lips. “Last minute, huh? Is that what you call it? Hanging around some random girl and acting like you don’t have a worried girlfriend waiting for you?”

“Y/N—“

“Did you cheat on me?” You ask, voice cracking. Your tears now flow freely down your face, eyes red. The expression you adorn does nothing but break his heart. He hates seeing you cry, he always has. And the small, sober part of him is cursing at himself for being such a jackass tonight. But the dominant, drunk side wants no part of an argument tonight. 

“No, I didn’t. I’d never.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Y/N.”

“I want you to be a good boyfriend for once!” You croak out, pushing him back by his shoulders. “Y-you know what I’m going through, you know how hard it’s been. And what do you do? You go out and party, you don’t tell me, and I find some random girl all up on you. And then you smiled like it was funny. D-do you know how much you’re hurting me even more, Satoru?” The trembling of your voice pokes at his heartstrings. 

Satoru stares at you, his expression faltering. For a moment, you think you see guilt flicker across his face, but it’s quickly replaced by something colder—defensiveness. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen, alright? I was just...blowing off steam.”

“Blowing off steam?” you repeat, your voice rising as fresh anger bubbles in your chest. “You call this blowing off steam? Ignoring me? Letting some girl throw herself all over you? You’re unbelievable.”

He rakes a hand through his hair, frustration clear in his movements. “What do you want me to do, Y/N? Stay at home and sulk all the time? I can’t—” He stops himself, biting his lip, but you know what he was going to say. 

“You can’t what, Satoru?” Your voice cracks again, but this time it’s laced with more rage than sorrow. “You can’t deal with me? With everything I’m going through? You promised you’d be there for me. You said we’d get through this together.”

“I am here for you!” he snaps, but the slight slur in his voice takes the edge off his words. “But you’re acting like I can’t breathe without you questioning every little thing I do. I’ve been going through shit too, Y/N.”

You suck in a shaky breath. “That’s not fair,” you whisper, your fists clenching at your sides. “You know it’s not. If I didn’t care—if I didn’t love you—I wouldn’t be here, trying to fix this.”

He exhales heavily, his shoulders slumping. “I didn’t cheat on you, Y/N. I swear I didn’t. But I—” He hesitates, his gaze dropping to the ground. “I don’t know how to handle all of this, okay? It’s a lot.”

Your breath hitches, his words cut deeper than he probably intended. “You think this isn’t a lot for me too?” you ask, your voice trembling. “I’ve been trying so hard, Satoru. To hold on. To be strong. For both of us. But you’re slipping away, and I don’t know how to bring you back. I know how to handle things just as much as you do.”

He looks up then, his blue eyes clearer now, filled with something that looks almost like regret. For a brief second, you think he might apologize—might say the words you so desperately need to hear. But instead, he shakes his head and says, “Maybe we just need some space.”

The world tilts beneath you. His words echo in your mind, louder than the music still blaring from the house behind you. “Space?” you repeat, barely able to say the word. “You want to take a break?”

“I don’t know,” he admits, his voice quiet, almost defeated. “I just...I think we’re both hurting each other more than we’re helping.”

You laugh bitterly, wiping at the tears streaming down your face. “No, Satoru. You’re hurting me. You’re the one who stopped trying. You’re the one who’s giving up.” He flinches at your words, but he doesn’t argue. And somehow, that hurts even more. You shake your head, stepping back from him. “If space is what you want, then fine. But don’t expect me to be here waiting when you figure yourself out.”

You turn and walk away, your heart shattering with every step. This isn’t how you imagined the night would go. It isn’t how you imagined your relationship would go. But as you leave him standing there on the sidewalk, you can’t help but wonder if this was inevitable all along.

The same song begins to play. Because soon,  his arms are wrapping around you before you even know it, shoving his face into the side of your neck. “No, no, I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. I’m drunk, okay? Please don’t leave, please. L-let’s just go home, my parents aren’t there. Please, Y/N. I’m sorry.”

And like a broken record, you give in. Because the broken part of you still craves him. His touch, his comforting hugs, his words. His everything. You feel like a puzzle with pieces too big or small to fit, some pieces lost. But with Satoru, he makes them fit. He finds those pieces of you; the ones you can’t find yourself. In a way, you know things are failing and falling apart. 

But you’re laying back in his bed, feeling the constant vibration of your phone. Texts from your mother and you have no doubt she’s blowing up your phone about the way you snuck out and demanding to know where you are. It’s interesting, you’re twenty-one but she treats you like a kid. All because you still live with her. 

Your heart feels heavy, your stomach twisting with nausea and you’re not even the drunk one. His hands hold your teary cheeks, meeting your gaze with watery ones of his own. Combined tears wet his pillow until there’s no more to give out. He’s been crying with you, but sometimes it feels fake. 

“Did you cheat on me?” You ask again, whispering in a shaky tone. 

His lips purse and he shakes his head. “…no, I didn’t. I told you, I’d never.”

You search his face, looking for cracks in the foundation of his words. His sorrowful eyes, flushed cheeks, and trembling hands—all of it feels sincere, but it doesn’t feel like enough. Not so much anymore. “You’re sure?” you whisper, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart. 

“I’m sure,” he says, his voice soft but firm. “I swear to you, Y/N. I’d never do that to you. Never.” His thumb brushes away a stray tear on your cheek, and for a moment, the warmth of his touch almost convinces you.

Almost.

You close your eyes, exhaling shakily as his hands cradle your face. You want to believe him. You need to believe him. But the doubt lingers like a shadow, clawing at the edges of your mind. “Then why do I feel like I’m losing you?” you ask, your voice breaking.

Satoru flinches, his hands momentarily faltering before steadying again. “You’re not losing me,” he says quickly, almost desperately. “I know I’ve been...different lately, but it’s not because I don’t care. I just—” He pauses, his gaze dropping as if searching for the right words. “I don’t know how to handle this, Y/N. I don’t know how to be what you need right now. There’s so much and I…” his voice trails off, fearing he’s saying too much and it’ll only make you feel worse. Make himself feel worse. 

Your chest tightens, his confession cutting deeper than you expected. “I don’t need you to have all the answers, Satoru. I just need you to try. To be honest with me. To stop shutting me out. You…you’re the only one—you’re all I have right now.”

“I’m trying,” he insists, his voice cracking under the weight of his emotions. “I swear I’m trying. But it feels like...like no matter what I do, it’s not enough. And I hate it. I hate that I’m hurting you.”

The rawness in his voice pulls at something in you, making it harder to keep the walls around your heart intact. You open your eyes, meeting his gaze. For a moment, the vulnerability in his expression mirrors your own. “I don’t want to lose you, Satoru,” you say softly. “But I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep feeling like I’m the only one fighting for us.”

“You’re not,” he whispers, his hands tightening slightly on your face as if afraid you’ll slip away. “You’re not, Y/N. I know I’ve messed up, but I’ll do better. I promise. Just...don’t give up on me. Please.”

The plea in his voice, the tears in his eyes—they’re enough to make the broken pieces of your heart shift, trying to fit back together even if they don’t quite align. Against your better judgment, you nod, letting out a shaky breath. “Okay,” you whisper. “But this is your last chance, Satoru. I mean it.”

“I know,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “I won’t mess this up. I promise.” But Satoru isn’t the best at promises. He’s only good at making them for others, not keeping them for himself. 

As he pulls you into his arms, holding you as if you might vanish, you can’t help but wonder how many more promises you’ll let him break before there’s nothing left of you to give. But for now, you let yourself sink into his embrace, hoping—maybe foolishly—that this time will be different. Because he’s all you have. All you know. He knows you inside and out—the way your voice wavers when you’re holding back tears, the way your hands fidget when you’re nervous, the way you laugh like it’s the only thing keeping you from breaking. And you know him just as deeply. Every freckle on his skin, every scar that tells a story, every mole you’ve discovered in moments of intimacy. You’ve memorized him like a favorite book, reading him over and over until the lines blur but still feel familiar.

You two are like each other’s canvases—painted with touches, kisses, and shared memories, even the messy ones. Every fight, every tear-streaked night, every whispered “I’m sorry” adds another layer to the masterpiece that is you and him. But lately, it feels like the colors are running, bleeding into one another until the picture is unrecognizable. And you don’t know if you can fix it, or if you even should. Never did you think that things would change so much, and all because of one failed situation. 

What a weak body you have, what a weak person you are. 

He holds you tighter, his fingers threading through your hair as if grounding himself in your presence. “You’re everything to me, Y/N,” he murmurs, his voice so quiet you almost don’t catch it. “I know I’ve been a mess, but I swear I’ll fix this. I’ll fix us.”

But his promises feel like paint on a waterlogged canvas—fading, smudged, and far too fragile. Still, you nod, letting the comfort of his warmth lull you into silence. Because no matter how fractured you feel, no matter how much the doubt weighs on your chest, he’s all you have. You can’t handle the thought of facing everything alone now, can’t handle the thought of not having someone to hug you when you burst down in tears. 

You hate the way things are now, but you’ve sunk too deep into him. And him the same. Over time, you feel like he will retract his hold from you before you do so yourself. You can almost feel it coming, one way or another. It’s why you’re holding him tighter, pressing your body deeper into his. Because you know you wouldn’t be able to do it yourself. Awaiting the inevitable hurts so bad. Knowing that no matter what, your end is visible. You can see the finish line just a few yards away. It’s like a race, and you’re letting Satoru win. Envisioning him running his long legs to the checkered line with a smile on his face like he’s happy—relieved. You don’t want to hold him, that’s the last thing you want to do. However, you’re being as selfish as you can be right now. Before every privilege is stripped from you in a cold manner that will leave you shivering for warmth. But his presence is something. And for now, that’s enough to keep you here and sane. 

Little did you know, you'd win that race before he did. You just needed that little push. He's the hare, and you're the tortoise.

You stay in his arms, the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek a constant reminder of the closeness you’ve always shared. It feels almost like an illusion, the peace between you both. But underneath, there’s a tension that hasn’t quite loosened, a thread pulled tight between the two of you, holding you close but threatening to snap at the slightest tug. His grip tightens, his fingers threading into your hair, pulling you closer as if trying to fuse your two worlds together. The quiet hum of the room feels almost suffocating now. Your phone continues to buzz with your mother’s increasingly frantic texts, but you can’t bring yourself to care about that right now. Not with Satoru’s breath warm on your neck and his hands gently caressing your skin. Not when it’s easier to let him hold you in this fragile moment of peace. 

You close your eyes, your fingers curling around the fabric of his shirt. The quietness stays for a long moment, But when he speaks, it’s almost a whisper, like he’s afraid of the truth that might spill out.

“I’ll try. I’ll be here for you, Y/N. I swear it.”

You wonder if you can truly believe him this time. If you can let yourself hope that things might really change. But the doubt is a familiar companion, lingering in the shadows, waiting to remind you of the cracks in his promises. Still, for tonight, you let it go. You let yourself sink into him, giving into the small piece of comfort he offers, hoping that maybe, just maybe, this time will be different.

You wake up in a cold sweat, dried tears staining your cheeks. Your stomach feels sensitive, nails already digging into your palms so hard that the skin is growing red and prickly. Every emotion you felt from that dream—nightmare—whatever it was feels ten times more real. You don’t know why you’re having these weird dreams about something from years ago. 

But it still hurts all the same, nonetheless. 

You still feel hollow, drowned, and ready to pour your heart out into your pillow. But it’s morning and time to get up for bed. Christmas Eve is in three days and you’re just counting down until when you won’t have to go into work.  Going through your routine, getting Koji ready for the day, opening the door for Sana. Leaving your place of solitude, it feels like you barely even lived through this morning. 

The chill of the morning air hits your skin as you step outside, tugging your coat tighter around you. The weight of your dream lingers, like a fog that refuses to lift. You keep telling yourself it was just a dream, just a memory from a time you’ve tried so hard to bury. But it clings to you like a ghost, whispering doubts into your ear, even as you force yourself to move through the motions. you can’t help but glance up at the sky, the gray clouds reflecting the heaviness in your chest. Christmas Eve is in three days, and you can’t wait to take a break from not just work—from everything.

If only escaping your past was as easy as flipping the calendar to a new year.

Satoru texts you around the 2-hour mark that he’ll be going over to your place soon to see Koji and bring the gifts he got. You let Sana know of the change, she replies back with a simple ‘okay!’

You sigh, willing yourself to forget about the drama your life entails, and focus on your work. 

However, another thought is creeping in through the door, and this time—it’s not such a bad one. You feel a fluttering sensation in your gut, holding back a peal of stifled laughter as the memory of last night makes its presence known. After the whole shirt incident, Suguru stayed. He kept his word about not making anything weird, and you two ended with a simple chat and a movie. It felt nice.

Of course, there were hints of lingering peeks, that strange tension tossed up in the air that neither of you fully addressed. But it’s fine, it didn’t mean anything at the end of the day. Although, when it was time for him to leave, you did have a second of hesitation about whether you should hug him or simply say goodbye. He decided for you when he carefully opened his arms up, you followed suit. 

Inhaling his scent felt heavenly. Manly, but also feminine at the same time. An earthly scent that felt like hints of incense. The memory of his embrace lingers like the faintest trace of his cologne, warm and comforting. It wasn’t just the way he held you—it was the way he made you feel. Secure. Understood. Like you weren’t just surviving, but living, even if just for that moment.  

You haven't hugged a man in so long. You forgot how good they hug. 

You shake your head, a small smile pulling at your lips despite yourself. It wasn’t anything. It shouldn’t be anything. Suguru’s always been like that—gentle, kind, and just a little too perceptive for his own good. He knew exactly when to stay and exactly what you needed without you even having to say it. Still, you can’t ignore the way your heartbeat picked up when his arms wrapped around you, the way your cheek brushed against his shoulder, and how your fingers had almost lingered a little too long against his back. It felt natural, but also entirely new. 

Suguru’s presence was so easy, so effortless. It felt like slipping into an old favorite sweater, soft and familiar but with a spark of something you couldn’t quite place. You’d been so wrapped up in keeping everything together, in pushing through every day for Koji’s sake, that you’d almost forgotten what it felt like to be seen.  

You wonder if Satoru holds the same longing you do. 

You shake the thought away as quickly as it comes. Don’t think about him. There’s no point in overthinking any of this.  

“Hello, you must be Koji’s father.” Sana greets Satoru who stands in the doorway. With him, two armfuls of gifts. Even more on the floor next to his feet. 

Simply nodding and looking over her shoulder to see Koji eating his lunch. “And you’re the babysitter.” Without much else, he carefully pushes past her, bringing in the gifts. “Mind getting the rest? Thanks.”

She nods, grabbing what was left on the floor before bringing it in, closing and locking the door. When she turns back around, Koji is in his father’s embrace. She smiles at the scene. “Ms. Y/N told me you’d be coming. He’s been good so far, he’s just eating his lunch now.”

“That’s good to hear,” Satoru replies, pulling away from his son. Doing a quick scan of the place before his eyes land back on the young woman. “How long have you been watching my son again?”

“A couple of years.”

He hums, walking closer to her. “And you’re how old?”

Sana blinks, surprised by the question. "I'm twenty," she says cautiously, her polite smile wavering slightly under his scrutiny.  

Satoru raises an eyebrow, his gaze sharp but unreadable. "Twenty, huh? Pretty young to be taking care of kids."  

“I’ve been babysitting since I was sixteen,” she replies, straightening her posture. “I’m studying early childhood education, so it’s not just a job to me. I care about Koji.”  

His expression softens a fraction, and he glances back at his son, who’s happily munching away at his sandwich. “He does seem to like you,” Satoru admits, his tone less probing now.  

“He’s a great kid,” Sana says warmly. “Very smart, just like his mother.”  

That earns her a faint smile. “Yeah, just like his mother.” He crosses his arms, leaning casually against the counter. “So, Y/N told you I’d be stopping by today?”  

“Yes, she mentioned it when I got here this morning.” 

Satoru nods, tapping his fingers against his forearm thoughtfully. “Good. Thanks for helping out today. I know it’s probably not easy juggling school and babysitting.”  

“It’s manageable,” Sana replies, sensing a subtle change in his demeanor. “Koji makes it worth it.”  

Satoru’s gaze lingers on her for a moment longer before he straightens up. “I’ll take over from here. You can go ahead and clock out early if you want.”  

“Oh, are you sure?”  

“Yeah,” he says, waving her off. “Enjoy the rest of your day. I’ve got this.”  

Sana hesitates briefly, glancing at Koji, who’s still blissfully unaware of the conversation. “Alright then. Have a good evening, Mr. Gojo.”  

As she gathers her things and heads for the door, she feels his eyes on her. It’s not hostile, but it’s assessing. Like he’s trying to gauge something about her. She doesn’t dwell on it, though—whatever it is, it’s not her place to question. “Oh!” She turns around as if she just remembered something. “Ms. Y/N leaves a list. It’s taped to the—”

“I don’t need a list to take care of my son.” He cuts her off smoothly, his one eyebrow raising. “Thanks again, have a good day.”

She falters, once again caught a little off guard. This is her first time meeting him, and while she’s of course seen the articles and comments about the drama surrounding the small family, she has no bias. In fact, she sympathizes greatly with you for going through all this alone. As she’s leaving the apartment, she can’t help the small opinion of Satoru that he’s already given her. 

He’s so intimidating!

After she leaves, Satoru focuses back on his son—this shitty apartment. He hasn’t explicitly voiced his opinions out to you—of course you already know what they are. And as you said before, it’s all you could afford, and Koji’s happy. However, he can’t stop himself from grimacing at the so-called ‘decorations’. This place needs some serious revamping. 

“Hey, buddy?”

Koji looks over, wiping his mouth. “Yes, Papa?”

“When you’re done eating, want to help me with something?” And Koji doesn’t need to be told anymore. He loves helping—especially his mother and father. So he nods excitedly, practically scarfing down the rest of his sandwich. Bubbling with giddiness only a child could have. 

Satoru chuckles at his son’s behavior, heart warming. This is the first time he’s doing something festive with Koji. The bitter part of him tells him that he could’ve had more chances to do so if it weren’t for your cowardness. But he shoves that away, focusing on the jolly joy the holidays can bring. 

Today was more tiring than usual, with the cafe gaining more attention, there’s been rush after rush after rush. You can handle it, but that doesn’t mean it won’t wear you down by the time you clock out. And your day isn’t even done yet. Slugging your way to your front door, lazily opening it with your key. Tossing your coat on the nearby rack, your bag with it. 

“I’m ba—”

You sniffle. One. Twice. 

A pinecone-y scent fills your nostrils. Which is strange because you know you have no candles that house that aroma. Confusion, but wariness takes over your senses. Following the sound of laughter down the hall until you’re standing in the living room. 

The sight you see is more than startling. 

Your eyes dart around in a frenzy, landing on one new thing after the next. The small, simple Christmas tree you’d put up last week? Replaced by a towering, impeccably decorated monstrosity with shimmering lights and a star that looks like it came straight out of a luxury catalog. It barely even fits in the room. Luckily, the small picture ornament of you and Koji is still there. But it looks so out of place.

The garlands you’d strung across the walls? Gone, swapped for lush, sparkling ones adorned with oversized ornaments. Even your modest stockings have been replaced with personalized velvet ones embroidered with gold thread, hanging perfectly above a faux fireplace setup that definitely wasn’t there this morning.

It’s like a winter wonderland exploded in your living room, and you’re not sure whether to laugh or scream.

Koji is sitting on the couch, giggling as Satoru playfully pretends to tangle himself in a string of fairy lights. Your son’s laughter is contagious, but you can’t shake the growing irritation bubbling inside you. When Koji notices you, his eyes brighten even more. Gaping and rushing over to your leg, hugging it. “Mama! Mama! Look what Papa and I did! It’s so pretty and there are so many presents!”

There is. There’s a lot of presents. Practically stacking on top of one another under your refurbished tree. Hidden somewhere in the splurge are the gifts Suguru got for you and Koji. 

Gulping, you feel your throat tighten. You feel nothing but overwhelmed. But in the face of your son, you can’t exactly show that. You force a smile as you ruffle Koji’s hair, trying to push down the irritation clawing its way to the surface. “Wow, it’s… definitely something,” you say, your voice strained but managing to sound somewhat amused for Koji’s sake.

Satoru, now untangled from the lights, looks up from the couch with that boyish grin of his. “Do you love it or do you love it?” he asks, gesturing to the extravagant decor like he’s unveiling a masterpiece. 

You blink at him, incredulous—but still attempting to keep yourself calm.  “What… what happened to the decorations we already had?”

“Oh, those?” He waves a dismissive hand. “Let’s just say they weren’t really up to par. I mean, come on, Y/N. That tree you had? It was like something out of a Charlie Brown Christmas special. I couldn’t let Koji’s holiday spirit suffer like that.”

Your jaw tightens, the forced smile threatening to slip. “So, you just… decided to replace everything? Without asking me?”

He stands, brushing off invisible dust from his jeans as if the weight of his decision is nothing. “You were busy, and I figured you’d appreciate coming home to something nice for once. Besides, look at Koji—he’s thrilled!”

Koji tugs at your sleeve, his wide-eyed excitement piercing through your annoyance. “It’s so cool, Mama! Look at all the shiny ornaments! And Papa let me pick out the star!” Your son runs over to show off a few of the many, many presents he has. Showing extra excitement for the heavier and larger ones. “Papa says it’s magical. I want to have a magical Christmas every time, Mama.”

The words, innocent but heavy, almost make you physically kneel down. You feel your chest tighten, your throat closing up even more. The lump that forms is difficult to swallow down. The implication of Satoru’s and your son's words feels a bit degrading. And you don’t blame it on Koji, he means nothing malicious. But for some reason, being faced with the physical line of difference between you and Satoru, watching your son’s face light up in a way that you’ve never seen before…

It reminds you that your enough has never been enough. Each Christmas, it’s dull. Your Christmases aren’t magical.  Your life isn’t. 

You feel the weight of it all crashing down like the oversized star on the new tree is pressing on your chest. Satoru's extravagance, Koji's innocent excitement, and your own feelings of inadequacy swirl together into a storm you’re barely holding back.  

Your forced smile falters, but you quickly kneel to Koji's level, brushing his hair away from his glowing face. “It’s beautiful, sweetheart,” you say softly, voice trembling but steady enough to reassure him. “I’m glad you had fun with Papa.”  

Koji beams, and for a moment, his joy is a balm to your frayed nerves. “It’s pretty, isn’t it, Mama?”  

You bite the inside of your cheek. “So pretty.” Standing slowly, your hand lingers on Koji’s shoulder. “Really pretty,” you repeat quietly, not committing to anything. You can feel Satoru watching you, his casual demeanor only adding to your irritation. The worst part of it all is that it seems like he genuinely has no idea what he did wrong. 

In hindsight, maybe he didn’t. It wasn’t his intention to make you feel like a shitty mother, but Satoru is good at pointing out the differences in his own ways. 

When Koji bounds back to the pile of gifts, you finally let yourself meet Satoru’s gaze. “You really didn’t think to talk to me about this?”  

His grin fades just a fraction, replaced by a look of confusion. “What’s there to talk about? I wanted to do something special for Koji. And let’s be honest, Y/N—this is special.”  

“It’s not about the decorations, Satoru,” you snap, your voice low but sharp. “It’s about you making decisions without considering how I might feel about it. Again.”  

He tilts his head, the glower returning, though it feels sharper now. “You’re overthinking this. It’s just Christmas decorations, Y/N. Look at Koji—he’s happy. Isn’t that what matters?”  

You clench your fists, the tightness in your chest threatening to spill over into something you can’t control. “You don’t get it, do you? This isn’t just about the decorations. It’s about you coming in here and acting like everything I do is subpar. Like I’m not enough.”  

The words hang heavy in the air, and for a moment, Satoru’s expression falters. But he recovers quickly, shoving his hands into his pockets and leaning against the arm of the couch. “Y/N, no one’s saying that. You’re reading too much into this. I just wanted to make things nice for Koji, that’s all.”  

Your laugh is bitter, and it catches even you off guard. “Right. Because your version of nice is always the right one. I’m just the placeholder until you decide to step in and fix everything, aren’t I?”  

Satoru’s eyes narrow slightly, the playful spark he had with Kojidimming. “That’s not fair.”  

“Isn’t it?” you counter, your voice breaking despite your effort to stay calm. “You swoop in with all your money and your grand gestures, and I’m supposed to just smile and be grateful. But do you even realize how hard I’ve worked to give Koji a Christmas he’ll enjoy? How much I’ve sacrificed just to keep things normal?”  

His silence stings more than any retort could.  

Koji’s laughter in the background feels distant now, muffled by the sound of your own heartbeat pounding in your ears. He’s too distracted with the tree, his presents, everything. You inhale deeply, trying to steady yourself, before forcing a calmness you don’t feel.  You won’t fight in front of him. 

“I’m going to get changed,” you mutter, not waiting for a response.  

As you leave the room, Satoru calls after you, his voice softer but no less exasperated. “Y/N, come on. Don’t make this into a bigger deal than it is.”  

But to you, it already feels like a chasm. One that grows wider with every passing second.

You shut your door, leaning against it with your forehead. Breaths coming in short, hands trembling slightly. Biting your quivering lip, you maneuver your body to change into your uniform. All the while, tears are getting on your hands and clothes. Accidentally, you let out a small, broken whimper. 

 Quickly, you place a palm to your mouth, stifling and quieting your soft cries. Once you’re done changing, you fall back onto the bed. Curled up with knees drawn to your chest, as the burden of your own self-consciousness rains down on you. The room feels suffocatingly small, your emotions clawing at your throat, demanding to be let out.

The tears come harder now, soaking into the fabric of your uniform as you press your hands to your face, muffling the quiet sobs. You hate this—how easily Satoru gets under your skin, how he makes you feel insignificant without even trying. You thought you were past this. Past him. But somehow, he always finds a way to remind you of all the ways you’ve fallen short. Or at least, all the ways he makes you feel like you have.

There’s a soft knock on the door.

“Y/N?” His voice is muffled through the wood, quieter than usual as if he’s trying not to disturb you. “Are you okay?”

You don’t answer, biting down on your lip to keep from making another sound.

“Look,” he continues, his tone hesitant. “I know I upset you. I didn’t mean to. Can we just… talk?”

For a moment, you consider staying silent, letting him stew in his own discomfort. But the tension is too thick, and you know Koji is just down the hall. With a shaky breath, you push yourself to your feet, wiping at your face in a futile attempt to erase the evidence of your tears. Wiping your face and straightening your clothes, you open the door. “I have work.” You mutter, expertly enforcing a placid emotion. “Will you watch him?”

Without waiting for a response, you walk past him. But he grabs at your wrist, instinctively you pull away. “Stop, just stop, okay? Let’s not fight. We’re adults, we can talk this out. I don’t mean to make you feel less than, I just wanted to make Koji happy.”

“And do you think he’s not happy with me?” You snap back, looking up at him. Feeling your vision already beginning to blur. “Do you? Do you think he’ll be happy with you? I-Is that it?”

Satoru’s eyes widen slightly at your outburst, and for a moment, he doesn’t respond. The air between you feels like it could snap under the weight of everything left unsaid. His hand hovers near his side, as if he wants to reach out again but knows better now. “No,” he says softly, his voice steady but lined with regret. “That’s not what I meant. Koji is happy with you. He loves you more than anything.”

“Then why do you keep acting like what I do isn’t enough?” you whisper, your voice trembling as you maintain eye contact with him. “I’ve been doing this alone, Satoru. Every scraped knee, every fever, every night when he cries because he’s scared of the dark—I’m there. Not you. Me. So don’t you dare come in here, throw your money around, and act like you can just fix everything with some… Christmas wonderland.”

“But you didn’t let me come in sooner, Y/N.” He replies, exasperation in his voice. 

“I know that, and I’m sorry. I know I fucked up…”

“Then stop getting mad at little things.”

Your fists ball up, your expression growing firmer by the second. But so is the need to cry again. He’s right, everything he says is right. It’s your own fault that you’ve been forced to handle everything alone. But, don’t your feelings matter just a little bit in this situation? Is he allowed to just come in and fix up everything you have? What he thinks is a mess, it’s something that holds significance to you. What he thinks is a little thing, it’s a big one in your eyes. 

So while this scenario is blowing up into something bigger, your decorations are something you have control of. You only have control over so many things in your life. 

He exhales slowly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m not trying to take anything away from you, Y/N. I swear. I just… I wanted to give him something special. Something I never had growing up.”

It makes you feel even more guilty. You can’t find it in you to say anything else, turning back around and walking to the living room. “Goodbye, Koji. Mama will see you later.” Giving him a brief hug and kiss, you hurriedly grab your coat and purse, exiting your apartment just as fast as you came. 

Unbeknownst to you, Koji is left staring at the closed door. His head tilting in curiosity, while a frown pulling at the corner of his lips. He looks up at his father when he enters the living room again, the two owning matching guises. “Why’d Mama leave so fast? I wanted to show her the drawing we did.” The white paper in his hands pictures three figures. Each one smiling, the smaller boy in the middle holding hands with his two parents on either side of him. He even drew blue snowflakes. 

There’s a red heart around them with the words My family! at the top. 

Satoru stands there, staring at the door you just closed, feeling the weight of Koji’s innocent question settle on his shoulders. He sighs, running a hand through his hair as he glances down at his son, whose big, curious eyes are filled with disappointment.

“She’s just tired, buddy,” Satoru replies, crouching down to Koji’s level. His tone is softer now, more measured, as he tries to mask the turmoil bubbling under his calm façade. “She’s been working really hard, you know? Grown-up stuff.”

Koji’s frown deepens, his little brows furrowing. “But we worked hard too! We did the tree and the presents and everything!” His tiny hands gesture to the decorated room, his frustration clear. “Mama’s s’posed to be happy.”

Satoru feels his chest tighten at the words. He places a hand on Koji’s shoulder, squeezing gently. “She is happy, Koji. She just… needs some time, that’s all. Grown-ups can be funny like that.”

Koji looks down, fiddling with his fingers before glancing back up. “Is it my fault?”

Satoru’s heart aches at the question, and he immediately shakes his head, pulling Koji into a firm hug. “No, not even a little bit. You didn’t do anything wrong, Koji. Don’t ever think that, okay?”

Koji nods slowly against his father’s shoulder but remains quiet. Satoru pulls back, cupping his son’s face in his hands. “Mama loves you so much, Koji. More than anything in the world. Don’t ever forget that.”

“Okay…” Koji mumbles, still not entirely convinced. He inhaled deeply, then spoke again. “Do…does Mama love you too?”

The question catches him off guard, putting an even bigger weight on Satoru’s shoulders. He should’ve expected it, Koji is a curious kid who still doesn’t completely grasp the complexities of his parents’ relationship. Satoru smiles faintly, kissing Koji’s cheek. “Mama has a lot of love.”

The answer satisfies Koji. For now. 

Satoru ruffles his son’s hair. “How about we finish that drawing? We’ll save it for her when she gets back.”

Koji perks up slightly, nodding. “Okay! But you gotta color inside the lines this time, Papa.”

Satoru chuckles, relieved to see even a small smile return to Koji’s face. “Deal. But only if you promise not to make fun of me if I mess up. I’m sensitive.”

Koji giggles, taking his father’s hand to lead him back to the small table. As they sit down to continue their drawing, Satoru steals a glance at the door again, his smile faltering for just a second.

He’s trying—he really is. But he wonders if it’ll ever be enough. It’s like no matter what he does, you don’t like it; and vice versa. He’s being as understanding and nice as someone in his situation can be. At times, he feels he’s being even too nice to you. He knew things wouldn’t be easy, but he wants to spend time with his son. Make up for all the lost time, and even the littlest moments. It’s almost a little bit unfair of you to throw the fact that he has money and you don’t in his face like that. He didn’t ask to be born rich. Just like you didn’t ask to be born…like that. You’re the adults in this situation, there’s a kid involved. So truly, he wishes he could just have a single conversation with you that doesn’t feel anger-surged or bitter. Of course, it’s hard because of what has happened before, but there’s a time and a place, is there not? 

Whatever. He’s more than happy to color with Koji and do whatever the little boy asks while you have your own moment. Satoru knows best of everyone else you like having space. And while many years have passed and his feelings for you have grown less than savory, he stills wants to respect your wishes after an argument with him.

He can’t help but think the obvious, though. Is it even worth attempting to mend whatever little shards of semblance there is left with you?

Probably not. Because after all, he’s here only for Koji. 

Right?

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[dilf-docs]

Le Pedí Al Mar Y Al Sol Que Te Trajera

pedro pascal x younger!reader

summary: vacations are supposed to be fun! and with a hot older famous boyfriend? now we're really talking.

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap (yum), pwp, p. in v., fingering, pussy spanking (ooc i'm sorry i just want a man to do this to me), creampie, virgin!reader (sorry if this is kinda unrealistic for a first as i two i'm a virgin; in the curb we all fam), aftercare, spanglish ofc!!!

word count: 2,865 words

side note: so, i modified the request a bit bc idk pedro's friends like that (i just know omar apollo can tower over me wait what). check the og request here. reqs still open as we enter 2025! happy new year, dilf town citizens: pushed this drabble last minute as a lil' gift for you before the year ends! :) thank u sm for being part of it, my journey on tumblr is just getting started!!!!!!!!!!

Hace tiempo que quería yo sentir esto que siento.

They say dating a star and having to share him with everybody else is the hardest part, but to you, it's having both of your vacations occur simultaneously.

Finally, after months of shooting so many projects for the next year, your boyfriend is free.

Vacations are fun! They're supposed to be relaxing, especially after leading such a busy life as yours: juggling between work, studies and a relationship with world-renowned actor, Pedro Pascal. Yet, you can't help but feel nervous, fiddling with the loose strands of your skirt.

Pedro wants you to go alone, which means just the both of you: a little escape before Christmas Eve, as he and his friends have already planned their holiday together.

Doesn't matter how many times you tried to excuse yourself, he was determined to make you go with him. Besides, let's get real: it's not like you can say no to him. So now here he is, both of your passports in hand as you both are ready to board your plane to Mexico, where the rest of his friends will meet you a week later. Yes, more nerves to add on the schedule.

"If you don't quit that shaking of yours, I'll extend our vacation two more weeks" Pedro threatens once you're seated, but it's devoid of any malice. He's a bit far from you (he also insisted on the VIP flying part; you're just fine flying tourist, but can understand why he isn't), so you can't count on his touch to comfort you. "Didn't know you were afraid of planes"

You sigh, "I'm not"

"Ay, cariño. Are you afraid of me then?"

"No" you laugh nervously. You are, but not for the reasons he thinks.

It's the very first time the two of you will be fully alone. For obvious reasons, a whole week at the beach is much more intimate than just the dates you've been in. But here you are, already seeing the sand and water beneath you.

"Like what you see?" he jokes.

"Yeah" you look back at him, sincerity washing over the expression on your face. "I do"

If there is one thing you're sure of, is your love for Pedro. You'll just have to wait and see how this goes.

As of now, everything has gone well: sun, water, diving and lots of new photos and videos on your camera roll. You've gone swimming and danced on the bar of the hotel you're staying, some extra drinks on your system. You've also sunbathed under the same sun you've watched go down, in the most beautiful sunsets you've ever seen in your life.

But here comes the hardest part: the night. Sharing a bed isn't hard: it's something that's happened before, one time even staying in his house for two days, all because he insisted.

This time is different: the way his gaze lingers over your bare legs, the same way he's looked at them when the droplets of water slide down them. The way he licks his lips, like he's starving and the most deliciously tempting meal stands before him. Mantaining eye contact like it's some kind of dare, just as he's done since you've landed, using it to disarm you little by little.

You don't think you can't take it anymore.

You lay down on the bed, and he leaves the book he's reading on the night table next to him, all his attention directed towards you. Yeah, you're afraid, he can sense, but apparently not that afraid to wear a dainty nightwear that gives a delicious peek of your breasts.

"Something you want to say?" you ask, almost daringly so.

"Say no" voice low, barely a whisper that could come across a breeze of wind entering through the open window as it stirs the courtains. "Want, yes"

You gulp. "What do you want, then?"

Shouldn't taken the bait.

"You" comes quick, like it's the easiest answer there ever is.

The rest of his answer comes in the form of hungry lips capturing yours, devouring them in a clash of desire against your own, even struggling to breath due to the animalistic borderline savage way Pedro's eating you out, his tongue battling inside your mouth while trying to explore every corner just to taste all of you on his palate.

"Pedro" you moan his name out when he bites your lip with a bit too much force, metallic filling your taste buds. It's all so hot, and you're too turned on to think.

His roaming hands itch to touch every available spot of soft skin your body offers, tracing first through your collarbones, and then leaving the task for his lips to complete. There goes a trail of kisses that go down your neck, teeth nibbling the sensitive skin until it turns red. You whine against his hold, big hands keeping you under him, back pushed against the soft mattress and silk sheets.

You gasp for air, lost in the fire, when suddenly his forgotten hands touch you down there.

"Wait!" you shout, mentally slapping yourself.

"¿Qué pasó?" he exclaims, scared. "Did I hurt you?"

"N-no" you're quick to deny, voice wavering as you seat up on the bed. Your cheeks soon flush, as there's regret when you say. "I'm sorry"

"Sorry for what?" he tenderly cups your cheek. "Just tell me what happened"

"What happened is, I fucked up the vibe. I'm sorry, P. Didn't mean to stop you like that"

"¿No te estaba gustando, cariño?" he's questioning again.

"No" your answer is more firmly this time. His face morphs into a bit of hurt, and then you think your answer a bit more. "Ah, no. I mean, yes! I was liking it. I meant no as in no, it's not that why I stopped you"

"Then, why is it?" he grows a little impatient, but shows no such thing, rather focused on helping you out. "You know you can trust me, right?"

"I know" you smile sadly, insecurities washing over you like cold water.

"Then, tell me" he scoots closer, his perfume getting in your nostrils. Had he wore it again for this? God, what an evil little horny creature.

"I'm scared" you confess finally, the warmth of his receptiveness giving you a sense of security. His brown eyes soften, and you feel tears brim in the corner of your eyes.

"I know" he repeats your words, kissing you softheartedly, nothing compared to as before.

"No" you look directly at him, ready to take in every reaction his face will have. "I don't think you do"

"Amor, por favor-"

"I'm a virgin" you cut him off, panic rushing your answer.

"You are?" almost immediatly, giving no opportunity for silence to settle in.

You nod, slowly.

He sighs, sounding relieved. "And here I thought you didn't love me. Que te daba asco acostarte con un viejo como yo"

"No!" you deny hastily, then laugh. "Of course I love you, P. On the contrary, I was the one scared. Don't want to fuck it up on my first"

The energy changes again, as a flame sparks within your orbs. He looks surprised.

"Just because I said-" he cuts himself off. "Look, y/n, mi vida. I don't want to force you, yeah? I didn't know you hadn't- Listen, if you aren't ready, I'll understand"

"I am ready" clear and convinced, without a doubt.

His eyes circle between lust and love, "You want me to be your first, mmh baby?"

You nod, and he's back at the kissing and nibbling on your neck and collarbones.

"Please say it"

"I want you, Pedro. Quiero que seas mi primera vez"

Those sweet words of yours, an invitation not even the strongest man could deny.

"Let's start slow, yeah?" his fingers travel down to your panties under the nightwear, removing them and tossing them out of the bed, even with your pout. He kisses it off, wasting no time after to see your clit exposed. "Looking so sweet, angel. And needy" he gets closer, taking a better look at the wet mess that coats in between your thighs. He takes a whiff, intoxicated with the smell of your arousal dripping in waiting need. "Tell me if this is okay, yeah? I'll stop if it hurts"

Your breath hitches the moment his middle finger touches your puffy clit. Pedro runs his finger up and down, not adding much pressure to let you get used to it (kissing and eating each other out was all you had ever done). You whimper at the feeling as he repeats his action a few more times.

"Please, keep going" you plead, barely managing to not squirm at the overwhelming new sensations that shoot right through your cunt.

He begins to rub slow circles, making sure to add the right pressure onto your clit, then circling it, all while keeping eye contact, adoring the new expressions and sounds he's getting from you. You realize and shy away, embarrassed all of the sudden at the way he looks at you.

"Don't" he holds you by your chin with his free hand, "I want to know how you look when I please you"

You whimper, letting him do his own thing. He starts leaving sweet little kisses around your quivering pussy, enjoying the sight of your hole clenching at nothing.

"Think you can take more?" he asks, "want more?"

Two of his fingers dive straight in between your folds, coating them with your juices.

"Good girl" he praises when you only yelp, savouring the new feel of his digits inside of you. Then, he drags his fingers back to his mouth, tongue licking them clean. "Taste so sweet too"

"N-need more" you whine, desperate beneath him.

"Yeah?" This your first and you're already this greedy? I think I can get used to it" he laughs in adoration. "Let's try something better, yeah?"

Your body suddenly jolts, his big palm flat against your pussy. Pedro circles his whole palm across your cunt, middle finger pressing tightly onto it. You moan, back arching at the overstimulation.

He feels a little pervy, enjoying the way your tiny young body squirms beneath his caging body for of him. Nonetheless, he continues to rub you while you release more dirty sounds cascading out fo your filthy greedy lips. Your arousal keeps dripping like a broken pipeline, now smeared all over Pedro's palm, filling the room with slippery sounds.

"Mhm" you can't even speak, the exquisite combination of pain and pleasure reducing you to a moaning mess.

Pedro slaps your pussy twice, wet smacks bouncing off the walls.

"That's my girl" he then gently blows on your swollen bud, pressing a light kiss on it after. "Ready for it?"

It meaning his hard tent hidden under his underwear. You gulp, afraid you might not take it. He sees the hesitation in your eyes, but you're quick to dissmiss it.

"Are you sure you are ready?"

"Just do it" you demand, without knowing the consequences of your words, or the effect you have on him. Overall.

With needy fingers, you're fast to strip him out of it, admiring the size as much as you admire his now sculpted body. Jesus, you could build a cult out of it.

"Now" he cups your cheeks, fingers digging onto the skin, "I want you to look at me when I fuck you, yes? Don't dare to look away"

Pedro positions himself between your legs, aligning himself with your entrance. Then, he thrust inside you, filling you completely. You cry, trying to adjust to his size while your nails dig on his broad back, as he claims you, makes you his. Only his. Pedro'hi's hips snap forward with precision: every thrust is deliberate, each movement calculated to make your first as pleasurable as he can, despite the pain that's shown in your tears or the little drops of blood that fall onto the sheets.

"Shit" he pants, "tendremos que pagar por eso"

He grips your thighs, holding you steady as he pounds into you.

"Fuck, you feel so good" he moans, your tight untouched walls now stretching to adapt to his girth, "like you were made for me"

You cling to him, legs wrapping around his waist as he firmly holds you. Your vision goes foggy, mind numb at the burning and pleasing sensations. Despite that and lack of experience, you meet his every thrust, your bodies moving as one.

Your core contracts around him with every motion. "You fuck me so good" you mewl, music to his ears.

"I know, baby" he chuckles, "sólo lo mejor para mi princesa"

Fingers dig into your skin as he guides you with precision, right as he wants you to be. You feel the intensity of his deep inside of you with every movement, his hot laboured breath against your ear.

"Doing it so good" his voice is low, almost a growl, sending shivers down your spine. "Just for me"

"Just for you" you mindlessly pant out, the sensation of having all of him inside you, nothing separating the skin from skin, igniting a fire that spreads through your core. Your breasts bounce with each motion, Pedro's eyes never leaving yours, dark orbs locked onto your gaze as you urge him to go faster, drawing in a sharp breath as your body adjusts to the new rhythm he's providing, rapidly obeying.

The room is quiet except for the sound of your bodies clashing onto one another, flesh against flesh echoing softly.

"Your body is perfect, so wet, so tight for me" His words send a wave of pleasure crashing over you, making you moan loudly, your head falling back, "me tienes loco"

Pedro's weight grounds you as he begins to thrust deeply, each movement deliberate and unrelenting.

"Tell me you want this, us" the words catch you off guard. "Will you take all of me?"

"Yes" without a thought or doubt, answering as you whine and clutch at his shoulders with his more urgent thrusts. "All of you, always"

You notice his hips snapping forward, more energy as he pounts into you. "Good girl" praising you again, voice thick in arousal and rough, "so good for me"

Despite being your first, you can feel what would be your orgasm building, closer and closer until there is no holding it back.

"Pedro!" you scream his name, body collapsing around him as you come, stars reaching your closed eyelids.

His movements become more intense and sloppier, breathing ragged as he chases his own release.

"Espérame. Stay there for me"

You cling to him, legs wrapping tighter as he continues to pound into you. "Ya casi" his thrusts become erratic as he nears his climax, "almost there, baby"

You feel his body tensing as he comes inside you with a deep groan, seed spilling into you without wasting a drop.

"That's right" whispers against your sweet neck roughly, voice breaking as he collapses over you, trying to level his breathing. "Eres mía, only mine"

You're whimpering, body exhausted from the whole session you had.

"You okay?"

"Yeah. Just tired" you sigh, "but I don't think I can walk"

"We'll get you a wheelchair someway" he jokes.

"You think is funny? Ruining my holidays?"

He leans down to press a sweet kiss on your forehead. "Come on, we'll get you cleaned up" you mumble out a tired no, but Pedro's picking you up with his strong arms, taking your body to the bathroom. You wrap your legs instinctively around his waist, face hidden in the crook of his neck.

"You know what? Your fans were right: you do have a slutty little waist" you mock.

"Right" he blushes, embarrased as he takes you inside the bathroom, then placing you on top of the toilet. "Open up, baby" he grabs some tissues, trying to clean up the mess you've made between your legs. "Así, justo así, bebé" he parts your hair to the side lovingly, fixing it for you before pressing a kiss on the crown of your head. "Done, my pretty baby, look at you"

You hum, eyes threatening to close.

"I see you're not an after-sex talker. Come on, I'll take you back to bed" he picks you up again, your head leaning against Pedro's V line as he caresses your head. "Hope you don't mind the smell"

"I love how you smell" you mumble out in a drunk like state.

"Okay then" he chuckles, "let's go back to bed" taking you out of the room, gently placing you the mattress. He then pulls a pair of fresh panties from your suitcase, dressing you in them. He coos at the sight of you, sleeping peacefully despite what you did before.

He finally lays next to you, lovingly lifting up your arm to put it around his waist. He pulls the sheets over your bodies to keep you both warm, in the chilly room thanks to the beach's air.

He feels you move, snuggling closer to his chest to seek warmth.

"I love you" whispered, not expecting you to answer or hear it.

When you snuggle closer, he's sure you do.

[reem-reem-0]

Currently at $7734 (CAD) Only $266 (CAD) away to 8k

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Please take a few minutes to watch the video and read this post.

I am writing these words after losing hope in everyone… except for you, my friends. Tumblr has a very large number of users, estimated in the millions . That’s an enormous number! But imagine, with all those of people, how would you feel if people saw you and ignored you? You’d feel deeply disappointed, right? Or maybe you’d even wish for death.

Have you ever wished for death? For me, I feel like I’d rather die than be ignored by everyone. If I wasn’t in desperate need of help, I wouldn’t ask anyone for it. I really need help.

Imagine for a moment that you have a small child you love dearly, and you’re forced to watch her suffer in front of your eyes. This isn’t just an imagination for me; it’s my reality. My family and I live this pain every day.

The Rafah crossing will open its doors for travel a month from now. If we do not collect enough money for all of us to go out, we will be forced to separate and the family will be dispersed. Please stand with us and do not allow us to separate and our family to separate. We all want to get out of here.

Please, be our hope. Be our voice. Be the ones who save us from despair. Don’t ignore us. Donate, even if it’s just $5 .

There are so many people reading this post right now. I beg anyone who sees these words to donate if they can, and if not, to share this post. Please, don’t leave us behind.

Be our family, or think of us as members of your own family, and save us from this suffering.

No matter how small the amount, your help means the world to us. And if you can’t donate, share this post and add a few kind words to inspire others to help.

Thank you so much, everyone. I wish you all the best.

Tagging for reach 🙏🏽

@timetravellingkitty @deathlonging @briarhips @mazzikah @mahoushojoe

@sar-soor @rhubarbspring @pcktknife @transmutationdice @sawasawako

@appsa @anneemay @commissions4aid-international @wellwaterhysteria

@mangocheesecakes @kyra45-helping-others @turtletoria @tortiefrancis @ot3

@amygdalae @ankle-beez @communistchameleon @dykesbat @komsomolka

@notallmensheviks @riding-with-the-wild-hunt @heritageposts @stuckinapril @lacecap

@determinate-negation @deepspaceboytoy @paper-mario-wiki @kibumkim @neechees

@chilewithcarnage @ghelgheli @sayruq @rooh-afza @shesnake

@emil @side-sidecast @brokenbackmountain @turian @buttercuparry

@littlegermanboy @imjustheretotrytohelp @writerofweird @voicetalentbrendan @schoolhater

@transmutationisms @feluka @anneemay-blog @7bitter @aristotels

@neptunerings @watermotif @mavigator @socalgal @himejoshikaeya

@upontheshelfreviews @greenwingspino @thebigdeepcheatsy @one-time-i-dreamt @tenaflyviper

@akron-squirrel @what-is-my-aesthetic @ifihadaworldofmyown @justice-for-jacob-marley @franki-lew-yo

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@bellybuttonblue2 @andiv3r-reblogging @sillyseer @cloudedcari @stealthjet

@pinnyy @sivavakkiyar @chronicowboy @bi-worm @ydic74the

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@manletwizard @2blushie @antiauteur @pompompotato @purpupa

@cherrysnax @hisui-zorua @kalosbian @90-ghost @palms-upturned

@wakimakiplus @w0rld0flight @evileyeamulet @justsomeoneunordinary @i-think-i-will-watch-leverage

@newtlesbian @communistkirby @txttletale @lesbianalism @bite-my-grimy-fleshy-ass

@angelicguy @bulliness @harrowharkist @soup-mother @cardassian-artistry

@wolfertinger666 @the-big-iron-official @timequangle @libertineangel @isopod-lesbian @maowives

@plum-soup @spaghettioverdose @thementalistscandidate @gopostal @casketofstar

@dykeredhood @sluttynurse @smoqueen @piralea @viciar

@momxijinping @the-nyanguard-party @zorotlekuykauo @hustlerose @lesbianchemicalplant

@meaganfoster @kyra45 @criptochecca @bilal-salah0 @iguanodonwildman

@skipppppy @killyourhistory @yamada-ryo @chussy @grahamkennedy

@im-smart-i-swear @transformers4palestine @kifaprokumiv @chingaderita @palidoodles

@communistchilchuck @stil-lindigo @palestine @thenewgothictwice @licencetokrill

@petracourtjester @golvio@leftismsideblog @star-and-space @agentfascinateur @queerstudiesnatura

@nabulsi@sayruq @oopollo-blog @fireyfobbitmedicine @interfacefox @cosmic-collectivesystem

@finnslay @walking-polyp @autisticexpression2 @bisexualchemistry @violetclowns

@beefybutchboy @feefal @mobydyke @genderfluidgothwitch @sleepyseaslug

@urfavhatesthehungovt @riding-with-the-wildhunt @muchmossymess @rez-urrection @morallyrainyday

@olovelymoon @jannahswaiting @beesofink @curiOuscreature @orchidvioletindigo

@sunclownsblog @ragingbullmode @theneutral-zone @thevalaxy @gorillawithautism

@seafoamwoman @iznabl @selamat-linting @velvetys @terroristiraqi

@soracities @trans-axolotl @bedufairy @starstrucksnowing @handsworthsongs

@libraryposting @geeseareassholes @edwordsmyth @psychotic-gerard @bringmemyrocks

@arslanjae @reduxskullduggerry @sharingresourcesforpalestine @littlestpersimmon @lukewarm-lesbian

[archangeldyke-all]

Sevika idea? Modern AU. Sevika and Reader (mostly reader because Sevika just grumbles about it) decide to take Jinx and Isha to an amusement park for the first time. Sevika is..... okay with it? But it's not her thing..

..That is until they get there and Sevika goes into full dad mode when she rides a rollercoaster with the two and now she can't stop because she wants to ride everything with them.

GOD GOD GOD i love fluffy fluffy fluff like this omg

men and minors dni

the girls sit you down one evening, both of them wearing determined looks and wearing one of sevika's old ties around their neck. jinx does most of the talking while isha hands out brochures and drawings.

"ladies, thank you for coming to this meeting." she greets. sevika rolls her eyes.

"you both forced us to come sit on the couch."

"shush." jinx flips sevika off quickly, before clearing her throat and continuing. "you may be wondering why we've asked you here today--"

"dragged." sevika corrects.

"hush!" jinx stomps her foot. isha glares at sevika. you elbow her. she sighs.

"fine, go."

"we have a business proposition for you." jinx announces. "in exchange for a month's allowance, we'd like you to take us to, drum roll please..."

isha pats her lap, giggling as you join in.

"randy's rollercoasters!" isha does a little twirl for emphasis.

sevika groans. you chuckle. isha hands you two brochures for randy's rollercoasters.

"now, hold on a second." you cut in. "we give you an allowance in exchange for your chores. you're telling me you'll clean the toilets without any pay? all month?" you ask.

jinx and isha nod, and isha crosses over her heart as a promise.

sevika grunts beside you. "and what are we supposed to do there while you two go on all the rides? stand in the hot sun and wait around all day?"

"oh, come on, sev! you can ride with us!"

"fuck no!"

"they sell beer." you mutter under your breath, pointing to the drinks and food section of your brochure. "we could just get tipsy and make out in dark corners while the kids ride."

jinx sticks her tongue out at the suggestion, but sevika seems intrigued. isha's blinking up at both of you with her hands folded under her chin, her gold eyes wide and watery as she waits for an answer.

sevika sighs, then groans. "fine."

the girls burst into cheers.

that's what you think will happen-- that the girls will have a great time and you and sevika will make the most of your day loitering around the park.

but then you get there, and isha gets spooked seeing how big the rollercoasters really are, and you and sevika promise to go on her first ride with her to show her it's safe.

but something about the thrill and watching her girls squeal with fear and excitement makes sevika all giddy and excited after the first ride.

it's adorable.

"have you never been on a roller coaster before, babe?"

"it's been almost twenty years!" she laughs, hoisting isha onto her shoulders. "okay, which one are we hitting next?" she asks jinx. isha squeals with excitement. you pout.

"we!? what about me?! i'll get sick if i go on another one of those rides."

sevika turns to you with a pout. your heart swells in your chest.

"c'mon, baby, please? just a few more rides, and i'm yours for the day. i just wanna do the log flume. and maybe the one with the loops."

"and the death dropper." jinx adds on. sevika nods.

"yeah, and the death dropper."

you examine your wife, laughter bubbling up in your lungs as you take in the excited, childlike glimmer in her eye. she's just as excited as isha and jinx. "you kids go have fun. if you need me, i'll be by the funnel cakes and beer." you say, shooing your family away toward the rides.

sevika grins, kissing your cheek and taking off with jinx at her side, isha cackling as they run toward the next ride.

so, you don't get to make out with your wife much. but you get a whole bunch of fun pictures of your family on the rides, a lot of cotton candy, and three million watt smiles from your girls and wife every time they come off a ride.

when the day winds down and the girls get tired, you walk around the carnival booths on the park grounds, letting isha and jinx play games and win bears.

sevika's got an arm slung around your shoulders, a smile on her lips. "'m sorry i abandoned you today." she says. you laugh.

"are you kidding? i had a blast today. getting to watch you three have all that fun, snacking and drinking to my heart's content-- we should do this every weekend." you suggest.

isha and jinx both perk up at that. sevika cackles. "no! no, we can not afford that. but, we can come back for isha's birthday." she suggests.

isha wins you a teddy bear with one of the darts games, then sevika gets jealous and tries to win you one of the strength testers. only, she hits the hammer so hard it's handle snaps in half, and the attendant has to close the stand for the night.

you buy the girls slushies then pile into the ferris wheel.

the sun is setting on the horizon, lighting up the little cart the four of you sit in. isha and jinx are chattering to themselves with their faces pressed against the glass, giving you and sevika some semblance of privacy on your little seat.

"you really had fun today?" sevika asks. you smile and nod.

"it was amazing. i love hearing you all laugh like that. especially you." you say.

sevika grins and swoops in to kiss you, just as your cart reaches the top of the wheel.

the girls 'ooh' and 'aah' and the height and the sights, and then they both groan when they turn around and find you two kissing.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@kissyslut @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@lavenderbabu @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @my-taintedheart

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp

@iamastar @sevikitty @mascdom @nhaaauyen @annesunshiner

@mirconreadzztuff22 @veoomvroom @lushh-s3vik4s @katyawooga @lesbodietcoke

@strawberrykidneystone @sevikasfan @fict1onallyobsessed @dvrkhcld @sweetybuzz25

@sluttysierraaa @snake-in-a-flower-crown @ruiwonderz @littlemisszaunite @biblicalcrybaby

@blackgaladriel @nightlyconfusion

[couldtheybekira]

Catching Kira is overrated. Let's talk about not getting caught as Kira.

This is the reverse of @couldtheycatchkira where I give you a character and you determine if they could survive as Kira.

Important note: Assume the character is completely willing to be Kira. @wouldtheybecomekira already exists.

There are five categories:

Never caught or suspected: Not only does this character live to actually create their new world, but nobody ever suspects it was actually them! I better not see you vote people into this category just because you like them or it'd be funny. Actually it being funny is valid

Suspected but never caught: It's about a five percent chance. They live to make their new world, and while people have certainly suggested it being them, and some believe it, there's just not enough evidence to convict them

Suspected only by whoever caught them: The general public was fooled, but someone, likely an enemy of that character in their canon, caught on to them and brought them to justice.

Suspected and eventually caught: Look, not even Actual Kira was perfect. They slip up little by little, and they get caught.

Caught almost instantly: Oh, all of that character's worst enemies die day one? Yeah, if they don't stop to think, it's pretty easy to lead investigators straight to them before Ryuk has the chance to not tell them some critical information.

(Results/Unqualified To Say): If you don't know, don't answer. I do try to include supplementary information when I know the character, and get it out of the submitter when I don't, though.

Additionally, just for funsies, any character who causes notable engagement, and did not have the last option as the most voted will be eligible for two bonus polls regarding the Shinigami Eyes Deal and Relinquishing the Death Note and your memory of it.

For the Shinigami Eyes Deal:

Takes the Eye Deal instantly: As soon as it's on the table they accept. Yes, they did hear the part about losing half their remaining life span. They said they accept.

Takes the Eye Deal eventually: They'll come around to it, or if they think they don't have that long a natural lifespan left anyway.

Takes the Eye Deal due to desperate circumstances: They're forced into a bad spot and just need to get someone off them right now, or their life is gonna shortened by a lot more than half.

Uses someone else who took the Eye Deal: You can choose who, and what circumstances allow this to even be possible.

Never takes the Eye Deal: They just don't. Ever. It's either not worth it, it's too easy, whatever.

For Relinquishing the Death Note

Relinquishes Death Note permanently; no longer needs it: They've done what they needed with the notebook. I know I said we're assuming they're completely willing to become Kira, but we never said anything about staying Kira.

Relinquishes Death Note permanently; only way to survive: Investigators are getting too close to their trail and if they're interrogated they'll definitely crack. It's possible they also make someone else become Kira, but this is a one-way street. They do not remember this, ever.

Relinquishes Death Note temporarily; never regains it: It's very hard to stick to a plan you don't remember making. They relinquish the notebook with the intent of getting it back, and simply never do. Either to a change of heart, circumstances not allowing it, or what have you.

Relinquishes Death Note temporarily; regains it: The perfect alibi, perfectly executed. You can fill in the blanks for what their plan was and how it works, they're Kira, they'll do it.

Never relinquishes Death Note: Again, they just don't.

Submit characters of your choosing to have them be posted and judged. I'm most likely going to get to every character submitted eventually, but characters I recognize, or that have good supplementary information included are more likely to be picked earlier.

[ginnsbaker]

All Of Your Pieces (9 - The Sokovian Witch)

Chapter Summary: It's Halloween, and Wanda provides just enough distraction to make you forget the incident of crossing the Hex's barrier, but it inadvertently leads you back to the same spot as a Night Patroler, determined to keep your family safe. Meanwhile, Monica and Jimmy must face the consequences of their defiance. Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Female Reader Chapter word count: 3.2k+ | Chapter Tags/Warnings: None

A/N: Happy New Year! One more chapter to go, and we'll see what really led Y/N to Westview :) and yeahhhh totally forgot to queue this for last night lol // More author's notes here.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

“Isn't this beautiful?”

You're walking hand in hand with Wanda through a sunlit meadow. Wildflowers stretch out in every direction, and the sky's the bluest you've ever seen. Everything feels perfect. Wanda turns to you, her eyes reflecting the clear sky, and smiles.

You squeeze her hand a little tighter. “It is. But not as beautiful as you.”

She laughs lightly, the most melodic sound in your ear. Being with her like this, you can't imagine wanting anything more. She's not just the light of your life; she's the reason you exist. 

As you walk, you notice how the sunlight seems to glow a little brighter around her, as if she's the source of it. The thought crosses your mind that maybe she is—that without her, none of this would exist. It's a strange idea, but it feels true somehow.

But then the sky begins to darken. The colors start bleeding out, and a chill creeps into the air. Wanda’s hand in yours starts to crumble, grains of sand slipping through your fingers.

“W-Wanda?” You try to hold on, but she's disintegrating, pieces of her caught in a wind you can't feel.

“I'm sorry,” she whispers, eyes full of something like fear. You reach out to touch her cheek, but your hand passes through her like smoke. 

“Don't go,” you say, but she's already gone.

You're alone in a field that stretches forever, under a sky that's the color of nothing.

“Mom!”

The sound pulls you back. Your eyes snap open to see Billy and Tommy bouncing at the foot of your bed, both dressed in their Halloween costumes. One's a pint-sized wizard, the other's a little speedster.

“Finally! We thought you'd sleep all day,” Tommy says.

You rub your face, trying to shake off the dream. Heart pounding like you've run a marathon. 

“What time is it?”

“Time to get candy!” Billy grins, eyes bright.

“Right,” you say. “Halloween.”

As you make your way downstairs, the warm smell of pancakes and cinnamon greets you. Wanda is in the kitchen, humming softly as she waits for the toasts to be ready. She looks over her shoulder and gives you that radiant smile. 

The same exact one in your dream.

“Morning, sleepyhead.”

“Morning,” you mumble in reply, pouring yourself a cup of coffee. You watch her for a moment, taking in the way the morning light catches her hair. She's so effortlessly beautiful, and for a second, you forget about your dream.

“Kids are excited,” Wanda says, setting a plate of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches on the table.

“Yeah,” you mumble distantly.

“Everything okay?”

“Just a weird dream,” you say, taking a sip of your coffee. It’s too bitter, but you don’t mind. You need something strong to wake you up more fully.

“Want to talk about it?”

You shake your head.

Wanda watches you for a moment longer, but you’re too dazed to notice. She’ll accept your silence in the meantime. “Breakfast is ready,” she says, moving on. 

As you all sit down, the conversation revolves around candy and costumes. You cut the sides off your sandwich, while the boys do most of the talking. Wanda laughs along with them, and you’re there but not there.

After breakfast, the twins don't waste any time heading out to compare notes with other kids in the neighborhood. You start clearing plates. Wanda comes up beside you.

“You're quiet today,” she says.

“Just tired,” you tell her, before wincing at your sorry excuse. Tired at eight in the morning? You could do better than that.

She touches your arm. “You sure that's all?”

The contact coerces you to consider it—consider telling her everything. How she disappeared in your dream. How it felt like losing the only thing that matters. How sometimes it feels like she's the center of everything, like without her, you'd just stop existing.

But you don't.

“Yeah,” you lie. “I'm good.”

She doesn't look entirely convinced but nods anyway. “Okay. Let me know if you want to talk.”

You watch the boys through the kitchen window. They're tearing around the yard, laughing like nothing else in the world matters. You want to keep it that way. Make this Halloween one they'll never forget.

“Do I really have to change into a costume?” you ask, glancing over at Wanda.

She giggles, pinching your cheek. “We talked about this, honey.”

“Now?”

“It’s a whole day's event, you know that.”

You groan, make a big show of it, drying your hands on the towel. “Fine, but only because it's for the kids.”

“I'll be right there with you! Make sure you wear everything—cape and all!” Wanda calls after you as you head upstairs.

Your footsteps fade up the stairs. The moment you're out of earshot, Wanda's smile falls. She grips the edge of the sink, her knuckles turning white.

Last night was too close. You almost broke through. Beyond the boundary, your body started to come apart, unraveling like a loose thread pulled too hard.

She can't let that happen again.

She closes her eyes, takes a deep breath. Red energy crackles at her fingertips, as she tries to keep herself calm and in control. The nightmare she slipped into your mind should be enough. Enough to keep you from remembering. Enough to keep you here.

“Mom!” Billy's voice shakes her out of her thoughts. “Are you coming?”

“Be right there!” she calls, forcing brightness into her tone.

She takes a deep breath, wipes any trace of worry from her face. By the time you come back down, awkwardly adjusting the cape around your shoulders, she's composed again.

“You look amazing,” she says, her eyes warm but hiding so much.

“Yeah, yeah,” you mutter, fiddling with the costume. “Let's get this over with.”

For now, the day ahead seems promising. Everything has to stay perfect. 

She won't let it be any other way.

—

Agnes stares out her window, eyes following the charade playing out on the street. Kids in costumes wander by, the whole neighborhood stuck in a loop of synthetic joy. She drums her fingers on the windowsill, impatience eating at her.

Messing with things from the shadows was entertaining at first. A glitch here, a nudge there—watching Wanda, supposedly the most powerful witch she'd ever met, none the wiser. For someone twisting reality itself, Wanda's awfully oblivious and somewhat naive. 

Agnes snorts to herself. All those years buried in the Darkhold, chasing after scraps of forbidden knowledge, and she never touched this level of power—actual reality manipulation. Near-perfect autonomy. It's like Wanda's playing god without reading the instruction manual.

But the novelty is wearing thin.

She needs to find out how exactly Wanda is doing all of this and tap into the source of her power. Maybe even claim it for herself. The thought sends a thrill through her veins. But first, she has to get Wanda alone, away from the distractions of her playground.

And so, a plan starts to form.

It shouldn't be too hard. She knows how to play the nosy neighbor, the concerned friend. It's worked before.

Agnes steps back from the window, a sly grin creeping across her face. She grabs a plate of warm cookies—props help sell the part—and heads for the door.

“Time to drop in on dear Wanda,” she mutters.

Tonight, she’ll make her move.

—

Back at the base, the wind knives across Monica’s face as she walks toward the Command Center. Ever since the incident, things have been... quiet (especially without Darcy’s chatter every minute). Not calm—it’s never calm given the situation—but it’s like everyone’s holding their breath, waiting for the next explosion. Monica knows that if Hayward chose to back down, they'd all be scrambling for cover in no time.

Jimmy walks beside her, hands shoved deep into his coat pockets. “It’s like a ghost town in here,” he mutters under his breath.

Monica gives a curt nod. “Hayward's up to something. I can feel it.”

At the checkpoint, two guards block their way. Stern faces, their hands near holsters.

“Agent Rambeau, Agent Woo, Director Hayward wants a word,” one says.

Monica arches an eyebrow. “Funny, I was just looking for him.”

The agents don’t smile, don’t offer even the hint of small talk. Instead, they turn sharply, motioning for Monica and Jimmy to follow. Inside, Hayward stands at the center of the room, assessing the damaged drone Wanda threw at his feet. He turns as they enter, offering a tight-lipped smile.

“Monica, Agent Woo. Glad you could join us,” Hayward says.

Monica crosses her arms. “We need to talk.”

“Yes, we do,” he replies smoothly, nodding to the guards. They take a precise step back, but they remain close——close enough to remind Monica and Jimmy they aren’t free to move as they please. 

Hayward clasps his hands behind his back, his expression pulled tight with feigned regret. “Effective immediately, you’re being removed from this operation.”

Monica’s brows knit together. “Excuse me?”

“You're off this case,” he states flatly. “And you can take the FBI with you,” he adds, his eyes darting to Jimmy, dismissing him with a glance. “The FBI has no jurisdiction here. This is a S.W.O.R.D. matter.”

“With all due respect, Director Hayward, the safety of American citizens is our jurisdiction. And last I checked, this entire situation is happening on American soil.” Jimmy says. 

“Not when it involves phenomena like this one. This is above your clearance level.”

“Whatever you're planning,” Monica starts, “you can't outgun Wanda. Antagonizing her is only going to make things worse.”

Hayward shrugs, casual in the face of her warning. “We’ve assessed the risks.”

“Have you?” Monica challenges, stepping closer. The agents around her follow, startling Monica, though manages to keep her composure. “None of know what will happen if Wanda dies or loses control.”

But her words bounce off him like rain against steel. “You're becoming an impediment to this mission,” Hayward continues,“constantly advocating on behalf of super-powered individuals.”

“I’m advocating for a solution that doesn’t leave a body count in its wake!” She fires back. “If Wanda is our problem, she has to be our solution.”

Hayward lets out a short, humorless laugh, his eyes glinting with something almost cruel. “This isn’t about peaceful resolutions, Monica. This is about neutralizing a threat.”

“Your fear is clouding your judgment—”

Hayward’s eyes narrow dangerously. “Careful, Captain Rambeau. Your history with Carol Danvers is well-known. Your affinities—”

“Leave her out of this.”

Hayward tilts his head, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, clearly savoring her reaction. “You’ve always had a soft spot for the enhanced. But the world doesn’t run on goodwill and second chances, Monica. Sometimes, things need to be burned down to be rebuilt.”

“Director, ignoring Monica’s insight is a mistake. She’s the only one who’s managed to make any connection with Wanda inside the Hex,” Jimmy explains in a placating manner. 

Monica shoots Jimmy a sharp glare, irritation flashing in her eyes. She hates the way he’s playing the good cop, even if she knows it’s probably the right move. What she wants is to tear Hayward apart, drag him in front of a tribunal, and make him answer for every reckless decision he’s made.

Hayward looks at Jimmy with a bored expression. “And look where that got us. An agent compromised. A situation spiraling out of control.”

“You’re not listening!” Monica yells, fists clenched tight at her sides. “We have a chance to fix this—without more people getting hurt.”

“Enough.” 

Hayward's voice drops, cold and final. He signals to the guards flanking the room. 

“Arrest them.”

Monica instinctively takes a step back. “What?”

“You heard me.” His stare doesn't waver. “You're both under arrest for insubordination and obstructing a tactical operation.”

Jimmy’s hand twitches at his side, inching toward his belt. The guards move forward, guns raised—not aimed, but ready. He scoffs in disbelief. “You can't be serious.”

“Oh, I'm dead serious.” Hayward's smile is a thin blade. “Hand over your devices.”

Monica’s eyes dart to Jimmy. They’re cornered, outnumbered, and every exit is covered. Resistance will only make things worse. Slowly, they remove their communication gear—phones, earpieces, anything that connects them to the outside world—and place them on the table.

“You're making a dangerous mistake,” she warns Hayward, but looking at all of them in the room.

“The only danger is letting you interfere any longer,” he replies, and then turns to his men. “Lock them up. They'll stay secured until the anomaly is resolved.”

The guards close in, securing their wrists with zip ties.

“This isn't over,” Monica asserts as they're led toward the door.

Hayward smirks as he finally reveals his true colors—so far removed from the man she’d known five years ago. For the first time, Monica realizes how completely she'd misjudged him. 

“For you, it is.”

—

Halloween—the one time of year that feels like pure magic, even if the other celebrations are a little hazy in your memory. The town square's a carnival of fake cobwebs and carved pumpkins, strings of orange lights draped between lampposts, jack-o'-lanterns grinning from every doorstep. 

You’re standing beside your wife, who’s dressed as a Sokovian witch—though you’re pretty sure real Sokovian witches didn’t dress like that. Not that you’re complaining. Honestly, you’re just glad the other guys in town seem distracted because you haven’t been able to stop staring since she slipped into that costume.

Billy and Tommy are off to the races, dashing back to doors they’ve already knocked on, hoping for extra candy. They compare their haul with other kids in costumes, trading them like astute business men.

Watching your family, the nightmare from last night becomes a little less real. 

“Hey there, neighbor!” Agnes materializes out of the crowd, wearing that smile of hers—one that, admittedly, is starting to creep you out. She's decked out in a witch costume, pointy hat and all. How original.

“Agnes,” you say, forcing a polite smile.

“Wanda, darling! Love the costume,” she gushes, then turns her attention to you. “We're a bit short-handed for the Halloween patrol tonight. Too many tricksters, not enough treaters, you know?” She throws you one of her signature, overly exaggerated winks. “Think you could lend a hand?”

Wanda's smile falters. “Oh, I don't think—”

“Sure,” you cut in. “Happy to help.”

Wanda looks at you, partly annoyed that you’re about to ditch her out of nowhere. “Are you sure? We were going to take the boys to the haunted hayride.”

You shrug, ignoring the nagging sense that this might lead to an argument later. “It won’t take long. Besides, better safe than sorry, right?”

Agnes beams, evidently pleased. “Fantastic! Meet us by the gazebo in ten minutes.” With that, she vanishes into the crowd as quickly as she appeared.

Once Agnes is gone, Wanda turns to you, her hands on her hips. “What's that about?”

“I just feel like... it'd be good to keep an eye on things. Make sure everyone stays safe.”

It’s a weak excuse, and you know it. Wanda knows it too. But you’re too desperate for a moment alone to clear your head.

Wanda watches you closely—suspiciously. “Is everything okay?”

“Just thought I could help out. It's a big night. Lots of kids running around.”

She reaches for your hand. “You know you can tell me if something's bothering you.”

“I'm fine,” you say, mustering a smile that wobbles at the edges but manages to settle just in time. “Really.”

“Alright,” Wanda sighs. “Just be careful.”

“Always,” you say, turning away before the doubt in her eyes anchors you.

At the gazebo, a motley crew assembles—neighbors you recognize but don't really know. Agnes flits around, assigning everyone in pairs despite some groans and protests.

Agatha eventually reaches for your arm and starts dragging you to someone. “You're with... her!” she declares, practically pushing you towards a woman adjusting a pair of oversized glasses. Agnes leans in and whispers, “I don’t think I’ve seen her around before, but I think you can handle a complete stranger, am I right?”

You're puzzled why Agnes thinks you're the best choice to pair with a newcomer, but you can't complain. It's the perfect cover to snoop around without Wanda wondering where you are.

“Hey, I’m Jane,” your newly-assigned partner says, offering a gloved hand. “Looks like we're stuck with each other for tonight.”

“I’m Y/N,” You shake her hand, a sense of déjà vu washing over you. “Have we met before?”

“I don't think so. I'm new in town.”

“Oh? Well, welcome to Westview.”

“Thanks! Happy to be here,” she says brightly. “So, where should we start our patrol?”

You glance around, considering. “Maybe we should stick to Main Street? That's where most of the activity is.”

She leans in conspiratorially. “How about we head to the southern boundary instead?”

You raise an eyebrow. “The southern boundary? That's pretty far from all the festivities.”

She shrugs with a grin. “Exactly! The perfect spot for mischief-makers to hide. We wouldn't want any trouble brewing unnoticed, right?”

Her suggestion is oddly specific, but you can't fault the logic. “Alright, southern boundary it is.”

—

“Been in town long?”

Jane sits beside you in the passenger seat, fiddling with the radio that's only picking up static and oldies. She hums along to a tune you've never heard. Despite your repeated reminders, she hasn't buckled up. Instead, she's sitting casually with one foot on the seat, as if you two have been driving together like this forever.

She turns to you with a half-smile. “Just moved in yesterday.”

“From where?”

She freezes, hand hovering over the radio dial. The silence stretches uncomfortably. It's like watching a video buffer, stuck in that endless loading circle.

“From... another town,” she finally says, the words feeling rehearsed.

You glance at her. “Which town?”

She blinks rapidly, as if rebooting. “Just a small place nearby,” she says, a little too quickly.

The conversation stalls. As you drive, the houses grow sparser, streetlights fewer and farther between. You feel like you've been here before—in a distant dream. You're starting to question whether joining this patrol was the right choice instead of enjoying the night with Wanda and the kids. Actually, it's not doubt but a strange dread you're feeling now, like this is the last place you should be or there will be dire consequences.

“You sure we haven't met before?”

She gives you a non-committal look. “Pretty sure. Why do you ask?”

“It just feels like I’ve seen you before,” you say, “and like I’ve driven down this road, but I can’t remember when…”

She chuckles softly. “Maybe I just have one of those faces.”

“Maybe.”

Suddenly, a figure darts across the road.

“Watch out!” Jane yells.

You slam on the brakes. The tires screech. Jane lurches forward, her head smacking against the dashboard.

“Shit! Are you okay?” You reach over, but she pulls back, touching her forehead where a thin line of blood appears.

She sits back, eyes unfocused. “Oh my God,” she whispers. “Oh my God.”

“Let me see,” you say, but she seems more rattled by the second.

She turns to you abruptly, eyes wide with recognition. “It's you!”

“M-Me?” You're baffled.

“You’re Y/N!” She screams.

You back off a little. She's starting to act crazy, and you're preparing to bail if she turns out to be dangerous or violent. “Uh, yes. I told you my name earlier,” you say.

She shakes her head slowly. “No, I mean... you're Y/N!”

“That's what I said.” You frown. “Are you sure you're okay?”

She takes a shaky breath. “Sorry, yes. I'm not Jane. My name is Darcy Lewis, and boy, do I have something to tell you.”

[solarkness]

Okay but 32 is actually really annoying. 30 is just, whatever, it's a clean number that's low, "people aren't going to spam the same person THAT much"-thinking. 32 adds "ooooh binary numbers so we can just use exponents of 2 :D" to it... which has MULTIPLE ISSUES!!!

First off, what if there are NO notifications? Do you still want there to be a 1 because you have no 0 case? No? You wanna use a boolean whether notifs are there at all in general? Congrats you just added another bit in storage as its own variable for *1* state. Which would be an additional 32 states if you made it part of your notification number. Okay, so, you look up how integers work and what numbers represent and do what most programmers would do: You start counting with 0 and end up with a max of 31 notifications, because 0-31 is 32 possible states. Great, first issue fixed.

Second issue! 32 isn't really used a lot as the max number chosen. Why's that? I mean, 16 is popular enough, you basically can't avoid 256 if you start looking, and even 64, just one additional power of 2, is very popular in Minecraft! So what's wrong with 32? Well, it's 2^5, AKA 2*2*2*2*2. That means you need 5 bits (with 2 possible states, 0 or 1, each) to represent it. Seems easy enough. Until you realise that now you're probably claiming a specific byte in storage, which is 8 bits, and are only using 5 of those! 3 are being wasted and sure, you can probably reuse them if you write your program's functions to access and categorise the storage it is using... but that's a lot of work that you can very, very easily fuck up. It's easier to just go "fuck it, we use the whole byte" and go for 256 possible states (or 255 as max number of notifications). 16 is exactly 2^4, so half a byte - At that point, you can get TWO variables out of each claimed byte, and then it's worth to optimise it a bit on the side of the program by telling it to cut the first or last 4 bits when looking for either of the variables hidden in the byte. (Nowadays, this is less likely to be done because storage is cheap and abundant. Games used to perform miracles on fractions of the storage because they had to in order to exist; A LOT of storage was reused for multiple different variables at different times, which is why so many weird skip glitches exist where you for example instantly beat Pokemon Blue. Using the same storage for multiple different variables of different types is pretty much illegal nowadays, as the high-level languages do their best to keep you from shooting yourself in the foot with needless optimising of plentiful storage.)

So why does Minecraft use 64, which is 2^6, for its stacks? I don't know. If anybody knows, please tell me; But I'm guessing it's just the closest power of 2 to the amount that works best balance wise. More interesting is why it uses 64 instead of 63, since I suggested using 31 instead off 32. Minecraft has a lot of different items that could be in that inventory slot, so it needs an item ID to know what is in there. The case of NO item is handled through that ID - If there is effectively no item ID, it's an empty slot. So the integer that counts the amount doesn't need to account for it not being asked. (This is similar to adding a boolean for no notifs, except it covers more states by covering all possible items, working together with the integer of the amount to determine the actual content of the inventory slot.) So it doesn't need a 0 state, instead it can start with 1. For the notification system, we can only ever have notifications and no, I don't know, alarms or something that are separate but clog up the same system while overriding the notification counter. So the notification system will only deal with notifications, and only ever count how many there are. A separate variable for 0 is pointless when it will always add atleast 2 possible states, when you can just count 1 less and have your 0 state built-in.

Of course, all of this is pointless if you just use regular unsigned 32-bit integers that have a max count of 4,294,967,295 (starting your count with 0). (For the amount of bits, we don't run into the issue of 2^5 with 32, because 32 is a multiple of 8 - The amount of bits in a byte. So we just use 4 bytes for the integer.) At that point, fuck it, just let the notification counter go up to 999 or whatever amount of digits doesn't break your UI.

The fact that Bluesky's "pending notifications" counter only goes up to 30 suggests some very specific things about the usage patterns its designers were expecting.

[pureastrologywisdom]

𝔄𝔰𝔱𝔯𝔬𝔩𝔬𝔤𝔶 𝔒𝔟𝔰𝔢𝔯𝔳𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫𝔰

And welcome to 2025 everyone!

Aquarius placements learn to detach themselves in order to feel control. For example if someone has an Aquarius Moon they often detach themselves from their emotions in order to feel as if they are more in control of their feelings. They don't like to feel overwhelmed by their feelings or like their feelings are controlling them instead of the other way around. People forget that in Traditional Astrology Aquarius is ruled by Saturn which is all about containment/restriction and control.

People talk about how Leo placmements are incredibly magnetic and often attract a lot of attention, which is true, however we often underestimate Cancer placements when it comes to their personal magnetism. They attract people in a different way then Leos, they seem less attention hungry sometimes, often its their caring sweet nature that draws people in. After all the Moon may not shine as bright buts it's still as luminary.

The smartest people you know will have Mercury and Jupiter aspects in their chart. Specifically you want to look for Conjunction, trine, sextile, quintile and biquintile. These people are not only driven towards learning and expanding their knowledge, but also wonderful at being able to teach others what they know and relaying this information. They communicate very eloquently.

Taurus Mars is one of my favourite mars placements. Though this may sound backwards as it is in detriment in taurus, I have seen how people with this placement are amazing at getting the results that they want. Though they may not be the quickest at getting things done they are the most stable, stubborn and determined. When they set their mind to something, They are dedicated.

Moon in the third house often represent having a sibling who is incredibly nurturing and caring, however you also may have seen them as very emotional, and maybe even a little moody or volatile sometimes.

Thanks for reading everyone,

wishing you good luck in the new year!

PureAstroWisdom

[peachhcs]

through the years with them

hughes!sister x will smith au (samy + will)

quinn, jack, and grace have always been in charge of luke, samy, and will growing up. whether it's in toronto, michigan, or massachusetts, it was always 3v3.

wc: 3.9k

happy new year everyone!!! wishing you all a beautiful and safe and happy 2025🩷 after writing flashbacks in my christmas fic, i was inspired to write more memories between the hughes-smith siblings growing up all together

au masterlist

WINTER OF 2011

it was the first real snowfall of winter which meant all the kids raced outside to play in the fluffy powder. ellen and colleen worked to bundle up all of their kids to make sure no one got frost bite while also lecturing at quinn to make sure everyone kept their hats and gloves on even if they didn't want to.

"yeah, mom. i know," the twelve year old rolled his eyes watching his little sister struggle to zip her coat before he went over to help her with it. samy grinned. "thanks q," she mumbled and grabbed her hat from ellen.

"you guys are all in charge of the little ones, okay? make sure they behave and if you go on the ice, be careful," it was all stuff the three older ones heard before.

"yeah, mom, don't worry. we'll keep the monsters in line," jack grinned and ruffled up luke's curly blonde hair. the younger boy swatted his hand away. "don't do that."

once everyone was bundled up, the kids were set loose into the hughes' backyard. toronto winters were a lot colder compared to boston winters, so will and grace weren't used to such frigid temperatures when they got outside. luke made a break for the rink as usual, so jack followed after him. will followed after them which meant quinn had to follow them too. grace helped samy through the piles of snow, always wanting to follow her brothers and do what they were doing.

"i wanna shoot," luke said, grabbing his stick from the fence. he just got on with his boots because he slid just as easily as he would on skates.

"let's do a game," jack suggested since that was something all six of them could do.

"no, last time we did it with all six of us someone got hurt," quinn immediately shot down the idea being the older brother he was. he was not about to take the fall again if someone got hurt because last time, moose nearly broke his arm and quinn got blamed for it when it wasn't even his fault, moose was just clumsy.

"come on, q. we'll be careful. we can't even go that hard with six year olds with us," jack looked over at will and samy.

"i heard that!" her little voice said and the middle hughes just shrugged.

"fine but if someone gets hurt, it's not my fault," the oldest hughes finally gave in and grabbed his stick. they split the teams so each of them had a fair advantage which meant quinn and jack were on opposite teams. quinn took his little sister and grace, who actually wasn't half bad considering she didn't even play. jack had luke and will, confident in their abilities to take down quinn's team filled with all girls.

the kids slid across the ice in their boots, occasionally falling down because they couldn't stop as easily, but it was still fun nonetheless. there wasn't a time those kids weren't out on the homemade rink their parents built for them. it was definitely a huge attraction whenever friends came over.

jack tried crowding quinn. the older boy passed over to grace who successfully skated passed luke and put it into the back of the net. she lifted her arms in victory.

"nice! we're up 2," quinn smiled, the two high fiveing as he slid by. jack let out a frustrated groan.

they set back up and went again. luke started getting a bit more aggressive as he tried pushing past the girls this time. he was very determined to score at least one goal.

"moose, eyes up or you're gonna hit someone not looking," quinn called as he watched his little brother run across the ice.

"my eyes are up!" luke yelled back, but as soon as he said that, he lifted his stick to take a swing at the puck that samy had. unfortunately, luke's eyes were not up and his stick flew right into samy's chin.

the girl fell over and tears immediately pooled in her eyes. the others' eyes widened as grace and quinn raced over to her. "oh shoot. shoot. she's bleeding," quinn panicked and cupped her chin where the blood dripped onto his glove.

"we need to get her back inside," grace said and the two helped the girl up.

jack, luke, and will stood there in shock as the blood dripped everywhere from the rink to the snow as grace and quinn rushed her back inside.

"come on," jack mumbled and pulled the other two back up to the house.

"am i gonna get in trouble?" now luke was crying because he didn't wanna get in trouble.

"mom!" quinn yelled as soon as they were inside. the urgency in his voice made ellen come running from the kitchen where her eyes widened seeing so much blood on both of her kids.

"what happened? is she okay?" samy was still crying as ellen grabbed her from quinn's arms.

"moose accidentally hit her with his stick," quinn explained as jack came in with luke and will.

"she's bleeding so much. jim! jim, get in here," ellen called and then colleen, bill, and jim were rushing into the foyer where the kids watched the scene unfold.

"i'll get her a cloth," colleen said.

"we should take her to the emergency room," jim said as he inspected the deep incision.

ellen and jim rushed around to get their coats on while quinn finally went to a still crying luke. "hey, it was an accident. it's not your fault," he tried shushing the younger boy.

"i didn't mean to hit her. is she gonna die?" the second youngest cried.

"no, she's not gonna die, moosey, don't worry. she'll be okay. mom and dad are gonna take her to the emergency room where they'll make her better," quinn reassured.

"we'll be back, kids, colleen and bill are gonna watch you," ellen said to her kids before her and jim hurried out the door with samy.

"it's okay, luke. it's not your fault, okay?" colleen came to comfort the boy too. she swept him into a hug where he cried into her shoulder.

"why don't you guys find something to do in the meantime? i'll let you know what your mom says," she said and the others nodded. quinn led them to the basement where jack immediately turned on the ps3.

"she'll probably just need some stitches and she'll be fine. it's like when i needed stitches in my finger after accidentally cutting it with a knife," jack shrugged, always the calm one in these situations.

"you were really lucky you didn't lose a finger," quinn mumbled.

"it didn't look that deep, so i'm sure she'll be fine. she'll be in high spirits once she gets back," grace said.

"i knew we shouldn't have played," the oldest hughes was still mad because he literally said something like this would happen and they still played anyway.

"are you blaming me now? it's not my fault. i wasn't even going that hard. luke was the one not looking," jack quickly shot back hearing his brother's words.

"you're the one who suggested playing. i didn't even wanna play!" now the brothers were arguing and grace quickly mediated.

"it's no one's fault, okay? no one's mad and no one's blaming anyone. just a freak accident," she said firmly which made the older boys finally ease off one another.

almost two hours passed when ellen and jim returned. they hurried upstairs to greet them where samy now had a large bandaid across her chin, but at least she was smiling.

"tell them how brave you were," ellen smiled as she helped get her coat off.

"i was super brave and i got candy after!" samy exclaimed and proudly showed her brothers the bandage. luke was hiding behind colleen's leg still feeling guilty about the whole thing.

"hey, now you'll have a wicked scar and you can tell people you fought a bear or something!" jack exclaimed making the others laugh. samy saw luke hiding and went over to him where he nervously stepped back afraid he would hurt her again.

"i'm okay, moosey, see?" the brunette showed her brother her bandaid proving she was okay. luke stared at her for a moment before pulling her into a hug.

"i'm sorry i hit you. i'm glad you're okay," he said.

"it's okay. i forgive you," samy said and the parents smiled watching the two make up.

"now remind me that you guys aren't allowed on the rink unless we're out there with you," ellen squeezed quinn's chin who flushed.

"right," the older boy mumbled.

SUMMER OF 2014

"oh, why are you so dressed up?" jack teased as quinn raced by everyone sitting down in the basement trying to stay somewhat cool. the past week had been boiling and after doing all of the outdoor activities that could keep them cool, everyone was now inside in the air conditioning attempting to stop sweating so much. jack watched his older brother run by looking rather nice for the late afternoon.

"none of your business," quinn mumbled as he stopped in the mirror to look himself over, fixing his hair.

"he's got a date!" samy exclaimed after eavesdropping on her brother's phone call the other day. everyone's eyes widened while quinn quickly glared at his sister.

"a date? no way," jack mumbled, sitting up more so he could watch his brother.

"is it with that girl you were flirting with at the bonfire the other night?" grace chirped making the middle hughes quickly snicker. now that they were getting older, the parents were finally letting the older three go out more with the neighborhood kids. there had been a bonfire a few days ago someone was hosting that quinn, jack, and grace attended.

"oooh, i knew you had eyes on her!" jack exclaimed making quinn's blush even worse.

"do you guys ever mind your business? especially you, samy. i thought we talked about eavesdropping on other people," the older boy mumbled in annoyance. the youngest hughes had been having a really big problem with eavesdropping lately and she was entering her tattletale phase that quinn dreaded because he already dealt with it three times.

"you were talking loud. what was i supposed to do? not listen?" samy shrugged.

"yes, not listen," quinn said.

"it's gonna be fine, don't worry. she seemed to really like you," grace hummed as she got up to help the dark-haired boy with the last of his buttons in his haste to fix his hair.

"you think so?" quinn wondered feeling some self doubt in himself. he'd never really been on a date before, but he did know that he had to pay for her things and hold the doors open for her and possibly hold her hand if that's what she wanted.

"i know so because she even asked me about you when you guys were done talking. i said you're a really cool hockey player and one of the best big "brothers" i have," grace's words brought a smile to quinn's lips hearing her say that. a bit of relief flooded his system.

"thanks, gg," the boy smiled down at her as she finished his last buttons.

"looking spiffy. hope you guys kiss tonight!" jack exclaimed making the other littles chuckle.

"shut up," quinn rolled his eyes and looked at himself one more time.

"when are we gonna be old enough to go to bonfires?" luke complained, his face in his hands.

"when you're twelve," jack said with a snicker, always boasting about his privileges that he had that his younger siblings didn't.

"so next year!" luke exclaimed with excitement.

"aw wait, that means you're leaving me with will," samy made the realization and the younger blonde made a face.

"hey, rude," will rolled his eyes.

"maybe that means you guys will finally get along if you spend some time together," jack mumbled and slid back into the couch to continue gaming.

"whatever," samy mumbled and rolled her eyes. she definitely took after jack's sassy attitude.

they all wished quinn goodbye as he rushed out of the house a few minutes later. while we was gone, grace and samy decided to bake cookies while the boys stayed downstairs playing on the wii. the oldest hughes didn't return until a few hours later where a very lovestruck expression sat on his features.

"so? how'd it go?" jack exclaimed when caught sight of his brother.

"did you kiss??" luke added.

"oh they definitely kissed," jack commented when he saw quinn's rosy cheeks.

"it was great. she was really nice and we're gonna try and hang out again before summer ends," the older boy explained briefly.

"ooh, someone's in loveeee. quinn and rachel sitting in a tree. k-i-s-s-i-n-g. first comes love, then comes marriage, then comes a baby in a baby carriage," the youngest hughes brother teased making quinn smack his arm.

"shut up," the boy grumbled. the others just laughed as quinn ran upstairs to hide for the rest of the night and text rachel. being a teenager first meant all of the younger ones had a million and one questions for quinn when it came to dating and just being a teenager in general.

SUMMER OF 2020

samy came down the stairs, her phone in hand and ready to walk out the door when quinn, who caught a glimpse of her outfit, immediately stopped her.

"where are you going?" he crossed his arms and the girl rolled her eyes.

"i'm going out," she shrugged and the vagueness nearly pissed the older boy off. the others caught wind of the conversation and poked their heads out from the kitchen.

"out where dressed like that?" quinn asked again. her shirt was cut low and the skirt she had on was way too short for quinn's liking because he was not letting his baby sister leave the house like that.

ellen, jim, colleen, and bill were gone for the weekend up north for a wedding which meant quinn, jack, and grace reverted back to their roles of being in charge with them gone. quinn was the first one to crack down and the younger brunette huffed as she eyed grace watching the exchange happen a few feet away.

"just out. will and i were invited to this bonfire. i don't know what the big deal is," samy began and tried looking at grace to back her up on this one and get quinn off her back.

"will's not the one dressed like he's gonna get laid," quinn shot back.

"okay, that was a bit much, q," grace finally cut in.

"what? look at her outfit! she's not fooling anyone," the older boy stepped aside so everyone else could take in the youngest girl's outfit choice for the night.

"this is literally what you were doing when you were my age, i don't understand why you're being a brat right now," samy argued back and quinn's gaze snapped back to her.

"you're the one being a brat, not me."

"okay, okay. where are you guys even going? who's bonfire is it?" the older blonde stepped in to mediate like always. she glanced between her brother and samy.

"it's literally two doors down from here. it's a five minute walk," samy said and looked at will who nodded.

"is that tommy's house? me and him used to be close," jack chirped up.

"yeah, his sister is hosting a small thing for people in the area. it's not even gonna be big. there won't be alcohol," samy added and quinn scoffed.

"i've heard that one before because i've used that one before," he mumbled.

"you're not even my dad why are you acting like this? i thought siblings were supposed to like..cover for one another and shit. did turning 21 get to your head?" samy turning fifteen had been rough on everyone. it wasn't that quinn didn't trust her, it was that he didn't trust other people because he lived through all of this already. he just wanted to look out for her so she didn't make the same mistakes he did when he was fifteen.

"someone's moody.." luke muttered under his breath making jack laugh and grace hit his arm to shut up before it set either of them off anymore.

"what if luke goes? will that make it any better?" samy pointed at her brother standing off the the side. the second youngest immediately shook his head.

"no, no don't bring me into this. i don't really wanna hang out with fifteen year olds," luke mumbled.

"ouch," will joked.

"you know what i mean," the curly brunette said.

"what will make it better is if you change your outfit. i don't approve of this," quinn eyed his sister's shirt and skirt again, shaking his head.

"why? this is literally what grace was wearing when she was my age three years ago. it's not even that bad. it's hot out," the older siblings exchanged a glance while they figured out what to do.

"what if we compromise? you're wearing a zip up hoodie with that and you and will are not to leave without one another, got it? you have to come back here together, no excuses," grace finally said and looked at quinn for approval. the older boy rolled his eyes but nodded.

"ugh, fine. whatever," she ran back upstairs to find a hoodie. quinn breathed out a sigh while jack and luke just snickered.

"god, i hate it here," the older boy mumbled and grace reached over to rub his arm with a small chuckle.

"teenagers, am i right?" jack snickered, reaching over to nuzzle his brother's head.

"don't talk to me about teenagers right now," quinn said and they heard samy's footsteps on the stairs again. she came back with a black zip up hoodie over her shirt.

"better?" she asked and quinn finally nodded.

"better. thank you. be safe, be good. don't do something stupid. look after each other. call if you need anything," quinn said to the two as he sent them on their way.

"yeah, we know. bye q, bye guys," samy rushed will out the door before they were stopped again and the oldest hughes blew out a sigh. he glanced at the others who laughed.

"do i remember being 15," jack shook his head slightly and wandered back into the living room.

"what a horrible age," quinn mumbled.

FALL OF 2022

thanksgiving was in michigan this year. the smiths flew over a few days before and while samy was out on a date, the other kids were at home catching up. it was still a bit foreign to have the youngest hughes out on a date the night before thanksgiving, but ellen cut the chirping from her brothers and let her go. while they talked about samy's date and mumbled things about how grown up she was now, will stayed silent.

the idea of samy out on a date bugged him way more than he wanted it do and the feelings he'd been having the past month and a half were confusing him still because on one hand, samy was still his best friend and the girl he grew up with. on the other hand, she was starting to become all the blonde could think about.

luke noticed his friend's quietness first. anytime they talked about kevin will would go silent. they didn't know about the jealousy brewing between the two boys over the youngest hughes nor did will really wanna tell them.

"you're being weird and quiet," luke being luke though always pointed it out. quinn, jack, and grace's gazes snapped over to the younger blonde.

"you okay?" grace asked her brother and he shook her pestering hand away. "yeah, i'm fine," he mumbled.

"i've heard that one before," jack teased a bit.

"what's up? do you not like kevin or something?" luke poked some more and the blonde's face burned.

"you could say that," he mumbled embarrassingly and that made the other siblings raise their eyebrow.

"oh?" they all quickly became curious in what will was thinking, but the blonde didn't wanna explain because explaining meant admitting the possible feelings he felt for samy and he was not about to do that in front of her brothers.

"i just don't really like him. simple," will shrugged and hoped that would get them off his back. he walked away before they could interrogate more too. that made the four exchange a glance at the younger boy's strange behavior.

"what was that about?" jack mumbled when will was out of earshot.

"he's been weird lately. i don't know why," luke shrugged but he didn't know anything more and also never poked to ask more.

quinn, being the observer he was of all of his siblings, had a feeling he knew exactly what was on will's mind. he's seen it before because he's felt it before. being 17 and having obvious feelings for someone was pretty easy to see, at least that's what quinn thought.

later, he found will on the back deck on his phone. quinn approached carefully, "hey," the older boy said. will looked up at him, curious, "hey?"

"your little..whatever earlier..i know how you feel," the older boy sat down beside will for a moment and the blonde's cheeks flushed. he avoided his gaze.

"you do?"

"come on, smitty. i was 17 once too," a small laugh left quinn's lips.

"i don't even know if i like her. it's been..weird these past few weeks," the blonde finally admitted like he was embarrassed even though there was nothing to be embarrassed about.

"you know if anyone was gonna catch feelings between all of us i had a feeling it would be you and samy," the dark-haired boy laughed to himself.

"what does that mean?" will pinched his eyebrows together.

"i don't know. you guys have grown pretty close over the past few years. i remember when you hated one another and then suddenly all you did was hang out together. it's not hard to tell, will," the older hughes poked will's arm and he flushed again.

"oh."

"i also don't like kevin. i'd definitely prefer you if anything did happen.." quinn said with a smirk.

"uh..well i don't even know if samy likes me. she probably doesn't so i wouldn't get your hopes up about that," the blonde said.

"i'm just saying. you never know. things happen. things change. either way, i get how you're feeling and if you ever need to talk about it, i'm here," quinn didn't wanna poke will too much about it so he left it at that as he got back up.

the blonde was left to think about the older boy's words until samy got back home an hour later. he joined her brothers in asking her out the date went to which she said it went fine.

"you guys are annoying," the brunette mumbled as she snacked on some chips.

"we're just nosy, actually," jack snickered to himself.

"yeah, really nosy. i'm gonna change," samy rolled her eyes and disappeared upstairs. will met quinn's glance who winked and the younger boy flushed.

if anything, all the older siblings noticed will's longing looks and eventuall samy's as the year went on, they just chose not to say anything because after years of thinking the other had cooties, it was hard to believe there might've been feelings there.

[fairyminnie444]

What’s the “secret”?

I'm not a coach. And don't get me wrong, I love answering your questions because it makes me "reaffirm" myself too. I'm just like you, I just want to live my life on easy mode and having everything I want, is our right.

So what makes us different from coaches? What's their secret?

Nothing. The concept they teach (not that I've ever bought anything into it, but it's obvious) is the same:

Assume you have it.

I don't judge those who want to make money and live their lives teaching about LOA, and I also don't judge those who buy it, if it will give you more conviction and determination like any method, do it. I want to buy Edward Art's book, because I'm very inspired by the way he talks about the subject, and that's so fine.

But change your perception about having something bigger that you haven't caught yet, change your vision about those who have several success stories, stop comparing yourself and see that WE ARE ALL THE SAME.

There is no deep secret and no difference.

Your perception, your vision, the meaning you give to circumstances, the feeling is what shapes your reality, and deep down you already know it.

The only thing that "separates" you and the coaches is that they are applying and living this with all their soul to the point of being able to teach and guide others. Because they ALREADY ARE this, they already live what they want because they DECIDED and didn't go back.

They decided PERMANENTLY, they won't keep looking at the clock or the calendar, they won't keep checking their bank account if they already know they have all the money they want, they won't keep waiting for a message and checking the notifications from SP if they already know they have already received it and that they already have it.

Do you understand now?

[ace-of-bass]

Reblogging this amazing addition because my first suggestion when trying to determine if something is Reliable Research(TM) is to search your terms in Google Scholar rather than Google/DDG/etc and this is way more comprehensive than I could've done. Adding another resource here on how to read scientific papers - this is how I learned to read and take notes on neuroscience papers for my PhD. Neuroscience is not the same as nutrition, but is also filled with a ton of pop science bullshit and I find that by consuming mostly the scientific papers it helps cut out a lot of said bullshit.

Also, if you are reading articles that are coming from the media vs a scholarly journal, check and see if they cite the studies! If they don't cite the studies, then be skeptical. If they do cite the studies, then look them up and evaluate them yourself.

A more pop-sciency source for food nutrition that I like is the podcast Maintenance Phase, which debunks a lot of myths around diets and nutrition. I started listening to them around the time I took a graduate level research methodology course, and a lot of the things I learned in that course (which are also things homoeroticismforthewin has brought up) are things that Mike & Aubrey talk about. They wisely don't offer advice on their show beyond "you eat what you like - we don't judge because we are not professionals!" but can help you learn what is mostly bunk.

Oh and lastly - I am still in my PhD program and planning on staying in academia so if you get paywalled on a scientific article I can see if I have institutional access.

Hi, I share your strong pro-medicine, pro-vaccines, anti-woo beliefs. I also have chronic digestive issues and insurance that won’t cover the useful specialists. The gastroenterologists I’ve encountered are helpful for making sure my insides look okay but they don’t seem to have much training around nutrition and food science. Nutritionists are unlicensed and I find them about as trustworthy as chiropractors, and I can’t get insurance to cover a registered dietician. The internet is saturated with pseudoscience junk and “miracle cures”, and in moments of desperation I’ve fallen for some of them. Luckily I haven’t been harmed by anything so far, but I don’t think they helped much either.

I was wondering if you or your followers have any resources on IBS and/or GERD that are scientifically sound and written for a general audience? Or advice for identifying when pop-sci-style “food science” articles are a scam?

I deeply regret to inform you that I was so annoyed by this exact problem that I literally went back to school to start working on getting a degree in nutrition and got two and a half years into a second bachelor's degree before realizing I wouldn't be able to get into any programs in my area that I could afford because the local state schools aren't accepting second bachelor's applicants. (Cal State Chico, I love you and you are too far away, it's not meant to be)

Nutrition information online is completely infested with woo and I am hesitant to point people toward one of the good resources I used to reference because it is politically batshit.

If you are looking at a food science article on the internet and are trying to figure out if it's a scam the big red flags to look out for are:

anything claiming to be a silver bullet; there are no silver bullets, no magical treatments, no one weird food that will fix the problem or one weird supplement that will make everything better.

Over-emphasis on a specific type of diet (diet as in "all the food that a person consumes" not as in "weight loss tool") for a general population. It's irresponsible to recommend a rigorous, restricted diet to a wide variety of people because people are so different that one diet that works for one person (say a vegan diet) might be unhealthy or difficult to manage for another person who would thrive on a different diet (low fat, low carb).

Anyone who tells you to cut out an entire food group or macronutrient is a liar who is trying to get your money. Unless it is your personal medical doctor who is saying "you need to stop eating grains" you do not need to stop eating grains and should not stop eating grains. You also do not need to stop eating fat, or eat only protein, or cut all fruit out of your diet. (caveat: there are some conditions that require a very low fiber diet, but even on that diet there are some fruits you can eat)

Beyond that, what you can do to make sure you're getting the best information possible is:

look up the author of any article you're looking at and see what else they've written; check what their qualifications are. See the people they interact with or have collaborated with. If they work heavily with people who are, say, antivax or proponents of raw milk, you should not trust their work.

If you see something that claims to treat your condition or help with nutrition, search "[subject] research study" or "[subject] scholarly research" and see what comes up. Read at least a few papers on the subject and see if there's a consensus or if there are broad disagreements. Get into the habit of looking up the impact scores of journals and researching the history of the journals.

Learn to recognize the woo keywords with your particular illness. For celiac that's "leaky gut," and any article I come across that discusses "leaky gut" gets extra scrutiny because sometimes there are legitimate reasons to describe a "leaky gut" but more often there are woo nonsense reasons. One really good way to figure out what the woo keywords for your illness are is to search "[your illness] + [woo huckster]", so "celiac + joseph mercola" or "celiac + the food babe." (those are good starting places to see what woo is popular around anything nutrition based, really; nothing those two say is trustworthy) you can also try "[your condition] + [specific type of medical woo]" with, like, "chiropractic" and "homeopathic" and "holistic" in the second box.

Be wary of positive assertions without evidence. If someone is making an affirmative statement and they aren't providing a citation, be suspicious.

Anyway. Good luck. It sucks out there.

[miriamladyvoid]

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Always an Angel, Never a God

"Sometimes, she felt as if her heart were a dying star, flickering weakly in the vast darkness of the sky. Always present, but barely noticeable among so many other, brighter lights, beautiful in its light, but always seeming to be just a heartbeat away from going out".

✧I will no longer write something so ambitious again; it was so complicated to cohere all of this because I didn't want to discard any character from each dorm. So I hope the pace of the reading doesn't feel weird. The tone was supposed to be more hopeful, but I started to feel a little sad at the end.

✧Fem Prefect, the reader is the Ramshackle prefect.

The nights in Twisted Wonderland had always been a refuge; from the window of the Ramshackle Dorm, the prefect watched the firmament with a mixture of longing and melancholy. It was in those moments of stillness, under the immense night sky, that she could allow herself to breathe. The stars always seemed to offer her a companionship her friends could never fully provide. Not because they didn't love her, but because, at the end of the day, she was different. Twisted Wonderland, with all its magic and twisted wonders, was a fascinating place, but it was not her home. Her days passed in silent repetition.

First there was Ace, always quick with a joke, but his words sometimes hurt her more than he knew. "Prefect, what would we do without you?" he said half-jokingly and half-seriously. But those words, they hurt. What would they do without me? But what am I beyond solving their problems? Riddle, with his severe look and devotion to order, came to her when Heartslabyul fell apart under the weight of his own rules. "You're reasonable; I'd rather trust you," he said, like it was a compliment. However, in his eyes, she was only another piece in his perfect order, a resource to use when the rules were not enough to maintain the order.

Trey, always kind and calm, offered her small comforts in the form of candy and kind words. “Don’t worry so much,” he would say as he handed her a freshly baked cookie, as if sugar could sweeten the bitterness she felt. It was as if Trey treated her with the same kindness one gives to a stranger, someone you want to please but not let get too close to. Cater, always smiling and with the phone ready, seemed to see her in a brighter light, at least on the surface. “This is going straight to Magicam, but make sure you give your best smile, okay?” he exclaimed while making sure she was well framed in his selfies. But once the photo is taken, she becomes a memory that faded away among filters and irrelevant comments.

Deuce was different, and maybe that's why it hurt her more. "Prefect, I'll do better next time," he'd say after some disaster, his eyes filled with determination and guilt. In his clumsy way, he always wanted to prove to her that he could be better, that he could be up to it. But in those desperate attempts to prove himself, she couldn't help but feel responsible for the insecurity he carried. It was as if, instead of supporting each other, he was running after a difficult goal, looking for validation in a place where she herself couldn't find it.

The moments with Leona were like shooting stars: brief flashes of connection that illuminated the darkness, only to quickly fade away. He was a dying star, exhausted and unwilling to shine for anyone else. Sometimes, it seemed she managed to truly see him, glimpsing something beyond his usual indifference. His distant gaze made her feel like a powerless spectator, unable to stop his inevitable collapse. "Don't try so hard," he would tell her, yawning with squinted eyes. "You don't belong here anyway." His carefree words always cut deeper than intended. Jack, despite his loyal and protective nature, saw her as someone he always had to take care of. "You're strong, but sometimes you get into too dangerous situations," he would say, his tone full of concern. His protection was comforting, but also a chain that kept her anchored to a dependency she didn't want. By his side, she felt like a star whose shine depended on the protection of others, trapped in an orbit that eclipsed her independence.

Ruggie, on the other hand, viewed her through a more pragmatic lens. "If you ever need anything, you know, just ask," he would tell her with a mischievous grin. But there was always a transaction behind his words, as if she was just one more on his list of favors, something he could cash in when it was convenient. To him, she was like a distant star, useful insofar as she could offer something, but always interchangeable. "Don't take things so personally, Prefect. We're all looking out for ourselves here." That raw truth, stripped of sentimentality, was a brutal reminder that, in this world, no one shone without a price to pay.

Azul saw her as an opportunity. He always had a deal or contract at hand, waiting for her to fall. “You can always count on me for a fair price,” he would say, with that calculating smile that never revealed his true interest. Like the ocean that reflects the stars but never touches them, she never felt like more than a surface he turned to when he needed something. She was not an equal. And though she knew his words were double-edged, there was a strange comfort in being valued, even if it was for her usefulness. Floyd was a fickle tide; he was unpredictable, and his light always seemed to flicker between whim and disdain. “Shrimpy, you’re fun! You don’t bore me as easily as the others!” he would say with a smile that failed to disguise his capricious nature. Sometimes he would smother her with his attention, with brusque hugs and laughter that lashed like a violent tide, but his effervescence had an edge; when he grew bored of her company, he would abandon her without hesitation.

Jade, always his brother’s elegant shadow, would approach with his serpentine calm and eyes that seemed to unravel secrets. “It’s always a pleasure having you around, Prefect,” he would comment with that polite smile that never reached his eyes. His tone was always wrapped in impeccable politeness; she felt like his words were more of an assessment than a compliment. At his side, she felt like a star trapped in a jar, admired only as long as it served to feed his curiosity.

Kalim, with his bright optimism, was perhaps the one who treated her with overflowing kindness, but even warmth could be blinding. "You're a great friend," he would say sincerely, but something in those words made her hesitate. He would seek her out when he wanted to share her joy, but he could never quite grasp her sadness. Sometimes, being by his side was like floating in a sky lit by fireworks, dazzling and joyful but a light that fades when the sun makes its appearance. With Jamil, the connection was more complicated, a precarious balance like that of a star orbiting dangerously close to a black hole. Always trapped in Kalim's shadow, his own struggles overshadowed any support she might need. “It is better that you do not get too involved,” he warned her with his cold tone, his gaze fixed on a point beyond her, as if she weren't even there. Despite that, she sometimes lent him a hand in his duties with Kalim. But she knew that, for him, it was nothing more than a satellite, a secondary star without its own brightness, destined to revolve around something bigger and more important than itself.

Vil was a supernova, bright and blinding, consuming himself in his quest for perfection. “Beauty takes effort, Prefect,” he told her with brutal frankness, his critical eyes seeing each of her imperfections as something that needed to be corrected. His words, wrapped in the confidence of someone who had always been admired, only reminded her how imperfect she felt around him; his words, though well-intentioned, left her feeling more dulled than enlightened. Rook, the hunter whose love for beauty was as great as life itself, saw the prefect as a masterpiece. “You are so fascinating, my dear Trickster,” he exclaimed, his poetry as intoxicating as it was confusing. His words were a hymn to her uniqueness, but behind his admiration was a disturbing curiosity, as if he wanted to decipher her and reduce her to a simple piece of his endless collection of discoveries and beauties.

Epel, determined to prove his strength, kept her at a distance. “I don’t need you to babysit me like a child,” he insisted. She admired his determination, but she couldn’t ignore the pain his words left behind. His distance was a reminder that even among the lost, vulnerability was a burden few were willing to share.

Idia kept to himself, always hidden behind the screen of his tablet. “I like having you around,” he had once told her. They shared the strangeness of not fitting in, but even in that shared solitude, she felt a distance. “We’re like NPCs, you know? The ones on the outside, the ones who don’t count,” he had once joked. Despite his isolation, Idia shone, albeit in a dim, reserved way. He took refuge in his solitude; she desperately sought to be seen, to be understood. Ortho, on the other hand, was always an unwavering warmth. His innocence and curiosity radiated a light reminiscent of a young star: bright, pure, and free of the shadows of a life that never came to be. “You’re my brother’s friend, so you’re my friend too!” he would say enthusiastically, in that tone that made his every word seem like a gift. She knew that, in Ortho’s eyes, she was someone special. Yet she couldn’t help but wonder if her worth depended solely on the connection she shared with Idia. Would he still view her with the same affection if her bond with his brother disappeared? Would she still matter if that thread unraveled?

Lilia was like a dying star, its light still shining brightly, but hiding the imminence of its extinction. "Ah, Prefect, you still have much to learn," he would say with a soft smile, as if he knew something she could not understand. To him, she was a curious flicker in time, something to cherish while it lasted, but without the depth to leave a real mark on his long-lived existence. Like a reminder of what is fleeting, an echo of the lights he had seen go out countless times. Sebek, with his fiery passion, treated her as if she were a star that had strayed from its course, something that needed to be guided back into place. “Though you are a human without magic, you have some worth!” Though his words often carried reproach, beneath was a misplaced devotion that she could not ignore. To Sebek, she was a lesser star, one that existed only to reflect the greatness of her lord. Even his attempts to protect her felt like an extension of his own obsession, leaving her trapped in his shadow. Silver was the stillness of a dawn before the sun rose, a soft glow that always seemed on the verge of fully awakening. “Prefect, your presence always brings peace,” he said in a sleepy tone, as if he saw her more as a whisper in the background of his reality than as a clear voice. Yet his perpetual drowsiness created a barrier between them, as if he were trapped in a dream from which he could not wake. To him, she was a star that illuminated his path, but whose light barely managed to penetrate his own lethargy.

Finally, on one of her darkest nights, when the weight of her isolation was almost unbearable, she found Malleus on the outskirts of Ramshackle. He was there, like a majestic shadow under the starry sky, the king of the firmament, an imposing force that always seemed on the verge of consuming everything.

“Why do you think the stars stay there, so distant, instead of falling and disappearing?” he asked, his gaze fixed on the infinite. His voice was quiet, with an echo of melancholy that resonated in the cold night air.

She hesitated before answering. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s because… they have nowhere else to go.”

For an instant, he wanted to say something, anything, to fill the void her words had left. But he didn’t. Because, although Malleus would never say it directly, there was something in his voice that seemed like an invitation. As if, in the midst of that immensity that always separated them, he was telling her that her light was enough, too, even if she didn’t see it yet. But there was always a chasm between them, a constant reminder that her light would never be as eternal as his.

The weight of all those glances, of all those words, was building up in her chest as if an invisible hand was squeezing her heart. It had been a long journey, one filled with unforgettable moments, but also marked by a loneliness that no one seemed to notice. Memories of each interaction passed through her mind like a cruel parade. She forced herself to breathe deeply, her trembling hands touching the window glass as her eyes sought solace in the stars again. Yet her mind, treacherous, found one last wound to open. One sentence, cold and implacable, echoed in her memory like a definitive sentence:

“There is no place in this world where this soul belongs. NONE.”

The words of the Mirror echoed in her mind, an irrevocable sentence that pierced her heart with the precision of a dagger. She had wanted to prove him wrong. She had tried to fit in, tried to find a place among the people she had come to love and admire, even as each interaction reinforced the truth she so feared. The thought cut through her like a knife, and with it came a single certainty: her presence here had never been wanted. She was no heroine, no savior. She was just a nobody who had fallen into this world at the whim of a mirror.

The sentence continued to echo in her head, stealing the air from her lungs. Her chest tightened, her throat closed, and before she could stop herself, tears began to flow from her eyes. The crying began as a silent tremor, a muffled gasp as she buried her face in her hands. She covered her mouth, desperate not to wake Grim, her little companion, who slept peacefully in the bed. Cruel irony that he, her faithful friend, was not there to notice the sadness of his henchman. The same sadness that she had always hidden behind a smile and an ill-timed joke. Her breathing was irregular, ragged by the effort to contain the sobs that threatened to break the silence of the night. The world seemed to have shrunk to that small corner of her bedroom, where only the stars were witnesses to her vulnerability. Sometimes, she felt as if her heart were a dying star, flickering weakly in the vast darkness of the sky. Always present, but barely noticeable among so many other, brighter lights, beautiful in its light, but always seeming to be just a heartbeat away from going out.

The crying continued, each tear falling in a desperate, muffled silence. For once, she couldn't even find solace in the stars. Only curses. She cursed her weakness, her loneliness, but most of all, she cursed the day that damn mirror had made her fall into Twisted Wonderland.

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Banners created by miriamladyvoid© Feel free to use; please, reblog, and credit banners.

©Miriamladyvoid 2024. do not steal my work plz…☕︎

Language of the flowers of each Banner:

First Banner: Cyclamen: Resignation. Second Banner: Bramble, Rose: Envy. Third Banner: Lobelia: Splendid Misery.

[nimbusclan]

Moon 4

[Previous] [Start] [Next]

Happy New Year!

///

“We would've had our warrior ceremony by now.”

Fogpaw groans at his sister, pushing past her as they climb higher up the mountain, paws farther from their territory than they've ever been. The terrain and the scents are unfamiliar and the rock is hot under their paws, baking in the greenleaf sun. They can’t go back, so they press on. “Don't start with that. I'm not in the mood for reminiscing right now.”

“No, no, listen to me.” Moonpaw bounds ahead of her brother, cutting him off and leaping atop a large rock. She puffs her chest out, head held high. “It's been twelve moons since our kitting, right? That means we should have our warrior ceremonies.”

Fogpaw eyes her dubiously, but Moonpaw spies the small smile that creeps across his muzzle. She grins, feeling flush with victory.

“What do you think Pitchstar would’ve chosen for our warrior names?”

“Why don't we pick them ourselves?” Moonpaw’s tail wags playfully. Fun and ceremony like this feels sorely needed after their long, lonesome travel. It's been four moons since their camp caved in and the two of them were forced to head out on their own. It's about time they have some fun. “I'll pick a name and you can name me,” Moonpaw says, patting the rock she stands atop with a paw, “and then we swap – I'll give you the name you pick.”

“Okay,” Fogpaw laughs. “I want to do yours first. What's your warrior name going to be?”

“Moonpool.”

“You didn't even have to think about it?”

“I’ve been thinking about it,” Moonpaw says, and it’s true, she has. She’s had a long, boring few moons to mull it over in her mind. “Okay, swap with me, give me my name!”

Laughing, the apprentices trade places, Moonpaw hopping down from the rock so Fogpaw can scramble atop it and look down at his sister.

“I, Fogpaw of NimbusClan, call upon my warrior ancestors to look down upon– what're the words?”

Moonpaw rolls her eyes. He should have let her go first. “Look down on this apprentice,” Moonpaw recites easily. She's been looking forward to this since her nursery days. It’s not anything like how she dreamed it would be, but having Fogpaw smiling down at her makes the unorthodox celebration worth it. “They have trained hard to understand the ways of your noble code, and I commend them to you as a warrior in their turn.”

“Wow, you seriously have that memorized?”

Moonpaw carries on, ignoring him. “Do you promise to uphold the warrior code and to protect and defend your Clan, even at the cost of your life?”

“Well, do you?” Fogpaw leans down on the rock, gesturing to Moonpaw.

Emotion swells in Moonpaw’s chest. “I do.”

Fogpaw smiles warmly at her and sits upright. “Then by the powers of StarClan, I give you your warrior name. Moonpaw, from this moment on, you will be known as Moonpool.” Fogpaw cocks his head at her, a considering expression on his face. “StarClan honors you for your judgment. We welcome you as a full warrior of NimbusClan.”

Fogpaw leaps down from the rock to rest his muzzle atop Moonpool's head and she licks his shoulder in turn, eyes misty with emotion.

“Thank you,” She whispers when he pulls back.

He grins at her. “Don't get sappy just yet, you have to do mine now!”

“Right, right, okay.” Moonpool hops up onto the rock, the greenleaf sun warming her shoulder blades. “Did you think of a name?”

Fogpaw's eyebrows draw down in thought. “Hmm…”

“How about Fogfreckle?” Moonpool suggests, pointing at him with her tail. “On account of your markings?”

He looks over his shoulder at his dappled pelt. “Okay. Yeah, I like it.” He turns back to smile up at her. “Fogfreckle it is.”

Moonpool grins, then draws in a deep breath and recites the ceremonial words once more.

“By the powers of StarClan, I grant you your warrior name. Fogpaw, from this moment on, you will be known as Fogfreckle.” She watches as Fogfreckle swells with determination. Her eyes shine, and she continues without hesitation. “StarClan honors your courage. We welcome you as a full warrior of NimbusClan.”

She hops down to rest her muzzle atop Fogfreckle's head, and then both cats tip their heads back and bellow across the mountain.

“Moonpool! Fogfreckle! Moonpool! Fogfreckle!”

Filled to the brim with excitement and ceremony, the pair of them chase each other around the mountain, laughing and leaping at each other and wrestling across the warm ground.

“So, are we going to stand vigil?” Fogfreckle asks, panting with exertion from their play fight.

“Stand vigil where? We don't have a camp to guard.”

“Wherever we find to sleep tonight,” Fogfreckle shrugs, a smooth roll of his shoulders under sun-warmed fur. “We can take turns, like with the names. I'll guard you first, and then you can guard me. We're warriors of NimbusClan, and we protect each other.”

Moonpool smiles at him, having to fight back the beginning prickle of emotion behind her eyes. “Pitchstar would be proud of you, you know. Not only as your mentor, but as leader.”

Fogfreckle grins at her. “You basically mentored me the rest of the way.”

“Me?” Moonpool is surprised, her eyes widening. “Hardly! You didn't need any of my help,” she laughs.

“I learned a lot from you. I'm still the better hunter,” he adds without an ounce of modesty, and Moonpool laughs and throws her shoulder against his, “but I don't think I could've done this without you by my side. You’re… I really look to you for guidance. I probably would've been killed by those cats if you hadn't come to rescue me on the border that day. You're more… you think first, which I’ll admit I don’t always do. You'd make a good leader, I think.”

Moonpool is shocked, embarrassed, but nonetheless pleased. “Come on. I got scared by a mouse earlier. That's hardly leadership material.”

Fogfreckle shrugs, but he's smiling. “Leaders can always use a bit of humility. Either way, you'll make a great warrior, Moonpool.” His smile turns teasing. “Especially with me by your side.”

She knocks her head against his affectionately and then races up the mountain, calling after him to chase her.

[Previous] [Start] [Next]

[aheathen-conceivably]

Grandma used to say that no Nistrom who spent the night in our ancestral home made it out alive. He's strongest there, under the pale light of the moon. When you hear something like that, what can you do? I turned to books, hours upon hours in a library, determined to find comparative examples - cross cultural references and similar legends - just to make any of it make sense.

But how far can written word really get you in the face of a claim like that?

It should have been downright terrifying, but a small part of me had always found it fascinating. How could I not? When the voice saying it had been positively awestruck, it’s usual warm familiarity transforming into something fearsome and promising at the same time.

Especially because her voice only sounded that way when she spoke of veiled prophecies and superstitions, you sitting there at her feet like it was just a bedtime story, all the while others laughed her off nervously.

Seasons don't fear the Reaper Nor do the wind, the sun or the rain We can be like them

Where can books get you then? No, really, there was only one way to know even after all those years. So I closed my eyes to the darkness.

When I opened them again, there was light. Not sunlight like you would imagine. More like perpetual moonlight, only brightened to signify that the day had come. It was as bright as the day ever got here.

If there was a curse, perhaps I could consider it broken. Yet I wasn’t sure if I was relieved or disappointed.