#granted this is is only 14 seats but still

[returquoise]

Finnish votes after about 60% of votes have been counted

(Parties in order: National Coalition, Left Alliance, Social Democrats, Centre Party, Green League, Finns Party, Swedish People's Party, Christian Democrats)

The darker colored blocks and +/- beside them indicate change from 2019 European elections.

Centre Party is in Renew Europe, Christian Democrats in EPP, and everyone else matches their EU group colours. Edit// actually they don't because apparently the national broadcaster has better colour coding than official European Parliament website ahahahaha. ((Swedish People's party is also in Renew Europe, National Coalition is in EPP, Finns in ECR, red parties and Greens can be matched by names)

Current Finnish Parliament majority/government parties: National Coalition, Finns Party, Swedish People's Party and Christian Democrat. This government took power in Spring 2023.

[yerimbrit]

lovergirl : m. danielle

synopsis: even after she left you, you still came crawling back.

# : pairing ! danielle marsh x gn!reader

# : tags ! angst with a happy?? ending, this is set in like 2026, i'm... sorry(?), part 2 here

# : wordcount ! 3.6k

# : warnings ! none i think just swearing

do you know why you're at the airport?

you're 21. she's probably 21 around this time too, since her birthday was last month. you wonder where she is now, if she's doing well. but knowing her, she's probably thriving, unlike you, stuck behind deadlines and finals.

you see her everywhere. not just on billboards, advertisements, and songs, but also in the little things around your neighborhood. the small candy shop around the corner, where your parents took you and her when you behaved. the local family-owned diner, where you and her stopped by on the weekends. the playground that connected to the park in the heart of the city, where you and her played on the swings after curfew.

instead of elation that hit you when you saw these things, though, it was bittersweet nostalgia. 

...she didn't even say bye before she left.

it's not like you could blame her, though. she knew that you would convince her to stay, to not leave you alone because she was your everything. that you would take her hands in yours and look at her like she puts the stars in the sky, whispering sweet nothings into her ears like the world was going to end after midnight.

she wasn't there for graduation. or at least, you didn't see her there—she was promoting her first comeback album, or so you've heard. you'd muted nearly everything that had to do with her. it was cruel, you know that, because she hasn't even done anything wrong. but it was for the sake of your heart. you never did get to confess to her properly.

sheltering your heart was the least you could do, in the process of recovering from your heartbreak. but if you knew if you saw her again, that shell would be broken instantly.

so no, you don't know why you're at the airport, on the way to seoul to go to some fansign that you heard about just two weeks ago. 

the air of the crowded gate is suffocating, a reminder of how you felt whenever a video of her showed up on your for you page before you blocked the fan account and muted all the tags.

you breathe in, hearing a familiar-sounding laugh behind you, and you whip around only to see two random strangers talking to each other. 

'not good,' you grit your teeth. if you saw her right now you would've broke down. 

cacophonies of conversation between the crowd rang in your ears, and you groan, covering them. you couldn't wait to get on the plane so you could put on the noise-canceling headphones that you'd bought specifically for this 14 hour flight.

thankfully, your wishes were granted, and you were allowed entry onto the plane. it was a cheap economy seat—you were still a student, after all. your parents offered to pay when you told them you were going to korea, but by then you'd already bought the ticket. 

two hours in and it hits you that you're an idiot. a big idiot. you know nothing about the group she's in. buying multiple albums to go to a fansign for a group known worldwide, without even knowing the names of the members? 

you pull up their page on kprofiles and start reading, assimilating yourself with the world of... kpop. yeah. you've never bothered with kpop, even though she was an idol. it's not like you hated it, you just didn't bother getting into it. plenty of your friends were avid listeners, pouring details after details about their favorite groups to you, and that was fine. you didn't mind.

'kim minji,' you read to yourself. 22, the oldest... representative animal is a bear... yeah, you can see it. the next was hanni, the vietnamese-australian member of the group. two aussies? what a coincidence.

you read on, studying each member thoroughly before moving to the next. you make a note to watch videos on youtube about them when you get to the hotel. you read about haerin and hyein, the youngest members, then scroll back up to the member you skipped.

'danielle marsh.' 

you knew what she looked like already because of how popular the group was, but…

'she still looks the same after all these years.'

the same smile, the same eyes. you wonder if anyone else has ever seen the way her eyes twinkle under the moonlight after dark.

'hobbies: drawing, listening to music, swimming... guess she's the same girl after all.'

your seatmate nudges your shoulder, and you almost jump. "hey, are you interested in newjeans?"

he looks at you excitedly. he seemed about the same age, maybe a bit younger than you. figured there'd be at least one of their fans here. why'd you have to get seated next to one of them?

"um," you hum, "something like that."

you don't bother to tell him about your past with one of the members, or the fact that you bought albums for a chance to see them without any knowledge of who they were, because it was none of his business. god knows what would happen if you told him the truth.

he starts blabbering about how he was a fan since debut, and you tune him out, closing your eyes and putting on your headphones. it's not like he noticed, anyway. maybe you can catch up on some sleep you missed while studying.

you dream of her during your impromptu nap, waking up with tears in your eyes. the guy next to you stopped talking too, fortunately. at that rate, you thought he would've continued after the flight. 

you check the time on your phone. surprisingly, a few hours have passed, and the flight is almost over. you must've passed out completely once you shut your eyes. the flight attendant comes by to remind you to unplug your phone from the power outlet, and you patiently wait for your plane to land.

one look outside and you could see fluffy white clouds perfectly set in the air, like a painting or piece of art you could find on social media. you swear you see a rabbit shaped cloud. or maybe you've been staring too hard.

("look, y/n! doesn't that one look like a bunny?

"nah, it's definitely a cat. where are you getting bunny?"

"where are you getting cat? it's most definitely a bunny!"

"okay, okay, fine. you're right, it does look like a bunny, dani."

"see? told ya!")

'fuck,' you shake your head. you try to think about something else. the seat in front of you. the loud sound of the airplane taxiing on the runway. the aircraft marshaller directing said plane.

breathe in. one, two, three, four, five. breathe out. one, two, three, four, five.

you and your seatmate get up to exit the plane, and he flashes a polite smile at you. you offer a tight-lipped one back. the aisleway is cramped, as it always is when you fly economy, and you bump into some people. there's a gross spark of electricity every time you brush shoulders with someone, and you shiver, suddenly reminded of the need to shower when you check in to your room.

the first thing you notice when you step into the airport from the ramp is that there are many products with an idol's face plastered on the front. twice on a candy bag, bts on a bag of chips, le sserafim on a sports drink... the list goes on. it's like they worshipped these people.

...whatever makes them happy.

a crowd comes stampeding towards your direction, causing your survival instincts to kick in. you take refuge in a nearby gift shop to avoid them. the airport was already loud, but the noise increased once the crowd came bursting through.

"minji-ssi, look here!"

"hanni! i love you!"

"please do a heart pose with haerin, danielle!"

"hyein-ssi, over here please!"

your hand twitches. it's not like they were going to see you, but you inconspicuously make your swift escape anyway. there's a bittersweet twist in your stomach at the mention of her name.

instinctively, you whip your head around just in time to make eye contact with her. her mouth is agape and her eyes are widened, and she looks as if she were going to say something, but you turn back around and start power walking to the nearest exit.

does she still remember you? maybe she does, considering the expression she made when you two met eyes. and you can't help but to think, 'does she miss me?'

does she think of you the way you think about her, 24/7, 365 days a year? does she remember the memories you made together, all those years ago? and does she treat them like precious jewels in a well-kept box, or like a constant reminder of what could've been, like you do?

but you also can't help but to think about how beautiful she looked. she's matured, something that you could only sense outside of the pictures provided by the internet. and she holds herself in a poised manner with an air of elegance, but also with a sense of cheeriness and innocence well-placed.

it has been 6 years since you have seen danielle in person.

6 years since you have lost the light of your life.

and you would do anything to change that fact, but, alas, it would never come.

you think you've memorized all the members by now, binging videos of them for three days straight. of course, you went out and explored, since you were in a foreign country, but even when you were out you were still trying to learn everything you could about the group that she's in.

the night before the meeting, you don't sleep well. you wake up on your back, sweating, because you've just had a nightmare. a nightmare where you reunite with her, but she said that she never liked you, and walked away. with every step you took, the distance between you two only increased.

wiping your sweat, you take a few gulps of water from the bottle on the nightstand, taking deep breaths to try and calm your heart. it's around 7 am, looking at the digital clock on the table. the meeting starts at 12, and you have to get there by 11 before it gets too busy for you to even get in.

you walk over to the bathroom with a sense of dread, intending to take a refreshing shower to clear your head.

(it did not help. your mind remains clouded with thoughts of her. impending doom awaits you in four and a half hours.)

not knowing what else to do since you woke up too early, you get dressed and go for a walk. there's a nice, humble café two blocks down the street from your hotel, and you get a warm welcome when you walk through the doors of the establishment. the bells chime in a familiar tune, lifting your spirits ever so slightly.

of all the places you've been to since landing in korea, more than half of them have played at least one newjeans song as background music. and, lucky for you, this one is not. although it is a bit jarring to hear smooth jazz rather than the energetic voices of the girls you've been seeing everywhere.

the café is mostly quiet, aside from the clacking of the dishes and the soft chatter of the few customers also spending their morning here. you mark it as somewhere to visit again, if you ever come back to korea.

with every sip of coffee, there's an added chill to combat the blazing heat that the sun is emitting outside. the sun reminded you of her, who shines just like the sun that breathes us life. the moodmaker between the two of you, who cheered you on even on days where it felt hopeless.

but the iced beverage also filled you with energy, giving you confidence to make it through the big obstacle of the day. (and also the entire reason you even came all this way) you could face her. it's been 6 years. and, well, if it doesn't go well, then at least you'll have an excuse to never come back.

with newfound courage, you exit the café with long strides and return to your hotel room, preparing for the journey ahead. a charger, cash, and a water bottle are all secured in your small crossbody bag.

it's 10:15.

your uber comes in around 10 minutes, and you decide to wait outside in the front to save time.

the drive from the hotel to the venue is about 30 minutes. during that time, you listen to the playlist full of newjeans songs that you made on the day you landed, and take a brief power nap. 'hurt' is the last thing you hear before you drift off to sleep.

you don't feel like you belong here. there's dozens, maybe around a hundred fans talking amongst themselves. from your limited korean, you could tell they were talking about their excitement for the fansign that's about to start in 15 minutes. you really wish you could share the feeling, even though you tried to get into them for three days straight.

a fan approaches you, tapping your shoulder, and you jolt. what is with people and sneaking up on you?

"hey!" oh, they're speaking in english. that makes this easier for you.

"hey," you echo, waving to them. upon closer look, you could see that their tote bag is decked out in merch, from keychains to stickers and a... hanni photocard? you think it's hanni. it's hard to tell when they change their hair colors every comeback.

they notice you staring, and smile at you. then they reach into their bag and pull out a clear goodie-bag containing some stickers and a lomo card.

"would you like one? i ran out of the others, sadly, but i do have hanni and danielle," they say, pulling out another bag which you presume has the other member mentioned.

the iridescent glow of the transparent bag shimmers in your eyes, and you blink. "oh," you start, "i think i'll have hanni."

the goods are handed to you, and you exchange friendly goodbyes. you wistfully look at the card inside the bag, mixed feelings swirling in your gut. it's for the better.

you have a couple more interactions with other fans, some giving you freebies like the first one, and some enthusiastically chatting to you about the group. your initial feelings of discomfort, are, admittedly, still there, but there's an added layer of pleasantness on top now.

weaving through the crowd to get to your assigned seat, you clutch the strap of your new tote bag containing all the things fellow(?) fans have given you.

the tote was another one of the things given, and you think the design is pretty neat, with a nicely placed logo and slogan in a chic style. you might actually use it after today, too.

the announcer calls for the fansign to commence, and five girls file in from a side entrance, their managers and bodyguards following alongside. immediately, the venue erupts in cheers from the audience, shouting affectionate phrases to the members, similar to what happened at the airport.

influenced by the majority, you cheer as well, although it was cut short when you realized that internally you were so out of place.

the group begins with some simple conversation starters, such as 'how are you' and 'have you eaten?' with as much energy as when they came in. you don't exactly know what's happening, so you sit and wait patiently for the event to start. everything seems so daunting.

finally, after around 5 minutes of greetings, the actual signing is starting. you're seated in the middle, which works out in your favor; not one of the first ones to come up and have to face her, but also not one of the last ones and lose your courage. you watched the interactions, the delusion-inducing actions that each of the girls provided, and the poses that they did together. the people around you were either taking videos, pictures, or excitedly talking to their friends beside them.

as the amount of rows in front of you remaining to go up and talk to the girls dwindles down, your heart sped up, thudding against your chest. an even bigger sense of dread instills in you, legs unmoving when the row directly in front of you comes back to sit down. you get nudged by the person next to you to move, and you shakily bring yourself to apologize and get a move on.

what would her reaction be? would she be shocked? happy? maybe mad, because if she actually wanted for you to be involved in her life all this time she would've said goodbye to you, or kept in touch. maybe you should just leave. you got yourself in this whole predicament, anyway. no one even told you to do it.

your palms are sweaty as you make your way down the velvet stairs, and you wipe your hands on your pants in nervousness and fear. eventually, the line slows down once your row reaches the table that the girls are sitting at, and you take it as a chance to try to relax.

breathe in.

five things you can see. seats, the person in front of you, the ground you are standing on, the album that you're holding to get signed (in your extensive research, people usually brought theirs to be signed on), and the table that seems so close yet so far from you. okay.

breathe out.

four things you can touch. the album, your shirt and jacket, and the bracelet on your wrist.

in...

three things you can hear. the increasingly obnoxious whirring sound of the air conditioning, the buzz of the audience, and...

fuck.

"hey, how are you?" a somewhat familiar voice asks. you say somewhat because you've only heard her voice in videos. you find yourself now kneeling in front of minji, the oldest member of the group. she's a lot prettier up close, all of them are, but it's a bit jarring to suddenly see her with your own eyes.

you clear your throat, blinking rapidly to try to focus yourself on the girl. "i'm, i'm gooth-"

...you bit your tongue. you try to laugh it off, awkward giggles slipping from your lips, and thankfully she joins you in laughing.

"that's good," she smiles, and it puts you at ease. no wonder people idolize these girls. she signs the front of the album, asks about your life, and you tell her about your school and how you're a newer fan. she waves at you with another gummy smile once your two minutes are up.

the next is haerin, who is the more reserved and quiet member of the group. there's a pair of cat ears sitting on her head, probably a gift from one of the previous fans, and she blinks at you owlishly, almost like she knew you, before a small smile settles on her face.

it is slightly unsettling, but the more you converse with her the more that feeling dissolves. she really is reserved, and the two of you exchange witty remarks with knowing grins. she signs your album just before the two minute mark.

hyein is super friendly, very high energy. you feel like she'd be a great person to be around on any given day. your conversation with her is mostly centered around food, and how she wants to visit australia again once you mentioned where you're from. she signs the album in the middle of your discussion about the best korean foods to try during your stay.

your time with hyein ends with a staring contest. (she won) and you give her a handshake after, joking about how you would win the next time. you think the sparkles in her eyes are very endearing.

hanni signs your album as soon as you set it down on the table. she's a very likable person in general; you think you could've been friends with her if she went to the same school as you. you also share the same music taste, spending your time together talking about the latest sza album and comparing hand sizes (yours were bigger, unsurprisingly)

but nothing could prepare you for the girl at the end of the table. her laugh rings in your ear from diagonally across from you, and you get a splitting headache. you mask it well enough for hanni not to notice, though, and you're able to finish the interaction smoothly.

how could anyone ever hate danielle? definitely not you. as much as you had reasons to hate her, you just couldn't bring yourself to do so much as dislike or be angry towards her. instead, you just drowned yourself in your sorrow and confusion.

she's perfect. the exact opposite of you, and yet she stayed with you until she didn't. those memories that you have together, they're so engraved in your mind, and you don't even know if she feels the same.

you slide over to the next slot, keeping your head down as you placed your album back onto the table.

heartbeat thudding in your chest. cold sweat running down your cheek. teeth biting your lip. is this the end for you? because it sure does feel like it.

when you finally do look up, and make eye contact with danielle, it feels like time has slowed even though it's really only been five seconds. her expression is mirroring yours: widened eyes, lips slightly parted. you gulp.

tears well in the corner of her eyes, and fuck everything, because you made her cry.

she blinks them away, and clears her throat, taking a second to regain her composure, and timidly calls out to you.

"y/n?"

a/n : 🤗 not the best at writing angst i hope this is ok !

[cffeelia]

divine, divine | k. namjoon

“you are my pain divine, divine.”

summary: your long time boyfriend is the leader of the biggest band in the world. you’d imagine he would have some more time for you now that the group was temporarily disbanded, but he’s still busy with an album, leaving you to feel unwanted and lonely. it’s only a matter of time before he leaves for the military and all you want is to see him do anything but fall asleep in his studio.

kind of angsty but pinky promise it ends on a good note 🙏🙏

2022

bts has become apart of your life as much as it’s apart of your boyfriend’s, seeing as he’s the leader of the group. for the past 4 years, youve grown closer to the boys, growing a special relationship with each of them. from sitting backstage on tour, to placing blankets over them as they slept in their studio. you’ve seen all of their highs and lows, seeing as their moods basically determined your boyfriends.

namjoon lives vicariously through his band mates, if they were upset, so was he. 2020 was a rough patch for everyone, but namjoon took it so harshly. that was the first time you’d ever seen him sob, hands running through his bleached hair as he fell to his knees in your shared apartment.

“what am i even good for if it’s not music? and i can’t even get anything out in this time where everyone needs me. ____, why am i even here?”

all you could do was tuck his head into your chest, your mouth lightly parted as tears fell silently while he cried into your shirt. he’s never crashed this hard before, you needed to say something, anything.

you managed to calm him down after about ten minutes, the night ended with him wrapped in your arms, eyes puffed from his sobs.

thankfully, that year never repeated. you learned a lot about namjoon, his moods, how to comfort him. he wasn’t always a touchy guy, opting for words of affirmation both to you and to receive, but this year taught him how much he loved to be held by you. he would never take that for granted.

things went back to normal after about two years, and bangtan was excited to perform again for their permission to dance tour, though it wasn’t to the scale of the one they originally planned. however, the tour was successful, and definitely memorable for not just you, but your boyfriend and his band mates as well. you can still recall the night they closed off the tour, ‘mikrokosmos’ always would hold a special place in your heart, this group really loved their fans, it’s so admirable to see an artist hold that much love for people simply because they enjoy their music.

nothing good lasted forever, though.

june 14, 2022, during 2022 festa, bangtan officially announced their hiatus. you knew this news was coming since january of that year, but this wasn’t the bad part. if anything, you were excited to spend more 1-on-1 time with the love of your life, and for his close friends to get a break from the spotlight, but it wasn’t what you thought it was.

immediately after this announcement, namjoon was working like crazy on more music. their repackaged album was already out, and the busan concert went well, so why was he still calling you from his studio to tell you he wouldn’t make it for dinner again? that’s how you ended up in your car, trying not to violate traffic laws as you angrily drove to the hybe building.

“mr namjoon, someones here for you.”

the studio door opened to reveal a staff member, namjoon got up groggily from his seat, a little pissed of that his flow was interrupted.

taking the elevator to the first floor, he imagined it was probably some producer offering their beats again. why wasn’t security listening when he said he knew what he was doing for this album?

he wasn’t expecting you, hair braided out of your bare face. you wore his white tshirt and loose fitting jeans, clearly you rushed out of the house.

“hey baby. what’s up?” he slowly made his way to you.

“don’t ‘hey baby’ me, are you seriously doing this again?” you took his hand, dragging him back to his studio.

“what do you mean?” he struggled to keep up as you paced into the elevator, jamming the floor seven button

“____, hey, what’s going on? are you ok?” he cupped your face, dark circles hung along your eyes, your eyelashes poking straight out instead of their usual curled position. were you crying?

“no namjoon, im not! i thought you were done working on music, i want you to come home!” dramatically flinging your hands around, you looked longingly up to your boyfriends eyes, his hand still caressing your cheek.

“i’m sorry, i didn’t tell you. i’m preparing another album before i have to go to the military this december.” he smiled softly to you, but you didn’t return it. your face lost all emotion, turning back to the buttons on the elevator.

“i’m going home then, goodnight.”

“what? hun, what’s wrong? i’ll come home this wholeeee week. i promise, i just got a late start today babe.”

he grabbed your hand to stop your from pressing the lobby button.

“baby, look at me.” turning your head towards his smiling face, you knew you were in for it now. you planned to tell him off, and get him to come home. now you felt bad for interrupting his music process, and couldn’t keep up your angry girlfriend act any longer.

“just let me wrap up, ok? you can come with, there’s still some takeout in my office. give me thirty minutes i promise.” your eyes fell to his pinky, sticking out for you to interlock yours with and seal his promise.

you pecked his lips, looking away embarassed that he sweet talked the anger out of you.

“i love you, you’re real cute.” he whispered as he lead you into his studio.

2023

so much for the stupid fucking pinky promise, once again you were left alone in your bed. namjoon was surprisingly here tonight, but he had barely said a word, his exhaustion took him over, and he almost fell asleep in the shower if it weren’t for you coming in to brush your teeth.

now he was sleeping at your side, head skimming your shoulder as you sat, propped up on your pillows, scrolling mindlessly on your phone. it was supposed to distract you, but your for you page wanted you to remember everything that you were missing out on. you know this is a hard time for bangtan, but what about you? namjoon was overworking himself as if he didn’t have ten whole months before he would have to enlist.

you wanted to feel bad for him, it’s so selfish to tell him to abandon his work to come spend time with you. but seriously, what the fuck? you didn’t even get to kiss him on new years, he spent it with jhope, in their stupid fucking studio.

your phone flashed all colors of purple and white, the tiktok video was from an army recounting their concert memories from 2019 during the lysy tour. you remember that night, hearing thousands of english speaking armys defy the boundaries of language to sing in korean for bts. it made you cry too, but this video inflicted both frustration and sadness in you now.

you turned your phone off, tossing it to the side and climbing into your sheets, head facing namjoons as he slept. you let a tear roll silently down your cheek, you wish he could care as much as he used to. he unconsciously grabbed your arm, barely awake as he interlocked arms with you, and shuffled higher on the pillows. he basically was inviting you into his arms. hesitantly, you scooted until you were in his chest, you arms naturally reaching up to his neck.

that one tear became two, then three, then you lost count. hopefully he wouldn’t notice how soaked his shirt was, you sniffled lightly, careful not to wake him. you had almost drifted to sleep, exhausted from your heavy breathing while you let your emotions fall from your heavy lids. namjoon pulled you into his chest tighter, feeling the wet stain of your tears startled him awake.

he gasped lightly and groggily sprung up from bed

“what? what’s wrong?” you asked, flipping a lamp on, your voice hoarse as you tried to wipe your tears discreetly.

“what, what, is this you?” he pointed to the dark circle staining his loose shirt.

this only earned a sniffle from you, everything fell out all at once, snapping joon out of his sleepy trance, he listened as close as he could, extremely sleep deprived and barely even awake.

“i miss you so much joonie, it’s- it’s- like, not the same anymore!” you sniffled “all i want is to just enjoy waking up with you and going out to cute cafes again without music being behind it! please,” your hands slapped into your eyes, “please joonie can you just, just come back to me once in a while? why am i competing with your music? shouldn’t you prioritize me? i feel so unimportant.” your voice died down, namjoon wasted no time in tucking you back into bed, he let you roll onto his chest.

“hun, you should’ve spoke up. i broke our promise, i know i did, i should’ve apologized princess.” he kissed your temple. “i’m so sorry, ____, i’ll spend more time with you baby. it’s been so hard huh?” he tilted his head back to see your relaxed face, still leaking tears onto his shirt.

“yes, i just wanted you to come home, i feel like i’m loosing it, i haven’t even showered for the past three days, i didn’t wash my face joonie everything’s just a fucking task right now.” you let out another sniffle before looking back into his eyes. “when will you just be how you used to again?”

he felt himself recharge as he looks into your beautiful eyes, though half lidded. he felt like he could sleep in your eyes, they were truly heaven. so much so he forgot to reply, “i know baby. it’s ok, you’re ok, i’ll find a way to stay home more often, that sound good?”

you nodded, puckering your lips lightly, he kissed you once, then again, and again, then your cheek, ear, neck, then back to your lips.

it pained him so much to see you hurt over him, especially when he knows you’ve been innocently waiting like the perfect girl you are for him to say something to you.

after a while, the two of you fell asleep, arms crossed around each other as he caught up on some much needed rest. neither of you woke up until 2pm, joon replaced himself with a pillow, letting you sleep some more while he walked to the living room. his guitar sat in the corner of the room, where it had been collecting dust for two years now.

he rushed back into the room to quietly grab his laptop, also stealing a soft kiss on your lips, before he sat down on your shared couch. he knew what he wanted this song to sound like, he just needed lyrics and now, he finally found them.

copying your words, he began to play quietly. it took a while, but he got the premise of the song eventually, deciding to put the guitar down to cook the two of you some breakfast. he turned the stove on, getting to work making pancakes.

the smell woke you up, even though the food had been made, your boyfriend knew it could be reheated. if you weren’t ready to wake up, he wouldn’t come get you. so, he settled back down with his guitar, playing his untitled song.

it was the sound that lulled you out of bed. despite what you’d said last night, you loved to hear namjoon singing. you stumbled into the living room, sitting down beside namjoon as he continued his song, eyes skimming over you. the smile in his voice was audible. you layed your head on his shoulder, letting the vibrations of his voice relax you.

this was exactly what you missed, just quality time with the light of your life. you had never felt better than at that exact moment, it was the peak of your relationship.

just like his lyrics, it was divine, divine.

i have ideas for a part two if anyone’s interested 😽😽 lmk!!

[circeyoru]

Collection of Overlords _ Part 13 = Requested

[Alastor x Soul Owner of All Overlords!Reader]

Part 1 — Part 1.5 — Part 2 — Part 3 — Part 4 — Part 5 — Part 6 — Part 7 — Part 8 — Part 9  — Part 10 — Part 11 — Part 12 — Part 13 (here) — Part 14 — Part 15 — Part 16 — Epilogue

The moment has come. Everything, from the moment you’ve return to now, has been for this very entertaining event. A legendary event where the biggest change in your collection will be announced to the entirety of Hell by the end of it, a show of the approved Overlords

Of course, your existent was never announced. The Sinners were all under the impression that to gain the title of ‘Overlord’ the previous Overlords that are still in power must approve of them, that was how the Overlords grow, decrease, or change from time to time. That was also the reason why during Carmilla’s Overlord gatherings, some self-proclaimed Overlords would show up to prove themselves

In the past, because such an event was announced to all of Hell, some daring souls made their way to the meeting to showcase their potential. The first few times it happened was amusing so you allowed it and let your Overlords have free rein over the consequences of such trespassers. Soon, it annoyed you how your Collection fell for bribes and selfish deal makers, so you put an end to it

The only few that survived your wipe out was Zestial, Carmilla, and Rosie. They were also the only ones of your current collection to have attended this meeting. You knew for a fact that Zeezi heard about it from them, as did Alastor hence why he had the guts and knowledge to ask you about it

You figured the next time this meeting would be held was for some interesting matters. You’ll be thoroughly entertained for sure. A name Zestial suggested for such an occasion stuck with you and you’ve come to call this ‘Feast of the Unwanted’

An idea click in your mind and a paper and quill formed beside you, your finger twirled as the quill moved along the blank sheet of paper, ink marking the page at your command and thoughts. A smile spread, yes, let’s make this day as entertaining and dramatic as possible

“My, my, looking rather dashing if I do say so myself.” Alastor grinned while his head tilted to the side, his eyes narrowed at the appearance of the winged cat demon before him. “Dressed to impress I see.”

“Well, I gotta.” Husk grinned back. The training and support from Alastor made him turn over his impression of his soul’s owner. A second chance granted to him with something he desired on the line for his success. While your presence wasn’t always there to guide him, Alastor was and did more than he expected. It wasn’t a bad thing, in fact, it was perfect for him to hone his skills once more and build his strength. Still, it was unnerving that Alastor was treat him like an equal. “Can’t put this chance to waste.”

Alastor’s form turned sinister as voodoo symbols appeared around him, “Disappoint My Liege under any circumstances and you will regret having wasted by time catering to you.”

“Understood.”

Alastor snapped back to his usual form, “Lovely.” He raised his card that glowed with an aura, his powers seeped into it and turned into an Aconite flower to which he placed in his chest pocket. It glowed and a vortex appeared before him. “See you on the otherside.”

Bells chimed, signaling the arrival of another participant. The seated individuals looked up from their refreshments to the direction where the entrance they appeared through were. Alastor paid his respect to you with a bow before greeting his fellow Overlords seated around you in their little booth that hovered over the ‘floor’

You gave Alastor a knowing smile and directed to his booth that was near to your throne. He took his time walking to his place, his shoes clicking the surface he walked over. The said surface was just a transparent floor that encased screaming and crying souls you have no time to care for and discarded them to endless limbo

The room seemed endless and confined at the same time. With the booths all designed to their seater’s theme, it all made a circle before you to see everyone. Within their little booth was their own chair and a table of refreshment that would refill everytime something was consumed

Noticably, there was one dull looking booth amongst the ten booths. Those that were present before knew of its meaning and those that are certaintly not dumb would also be able to guess its meaning. Yet, there were two familiar themes that some would expect to sit in the same booth but was now separated

And the one theme that no one expected would make a comeback

Another chime of the bells made everyone look to the entrance with interest and eagerness. Who was it? Who would be the last to make their appearance?

The vortex appeared and a figure stepped out of it. While Alastor’s grin grew, the rest gasped and their eyes widened. As surprised and shocked as they were none dared to open their mouths in question after they eyes landed on the flower peeking out of the coat pocket. A lotus flower. The first time in history, a discarded soul is returning to the collection

Husk approached your throne and kneeled before you, bowing his head low. You hummed in delight, Alastor has taught his alleycat well, it was as if this Husk was different from the one you’ve found. You dismissed the changed demon to his booth while everyone watched with piercing gaze

Now there was one demon missing from the grand play

Soon enough, the bell chimed its last ring. Everyone perked up as another vortex materialized before the star of the feast appeared. Everyone’s eyes honed in on the flower on their person. A singular Appleyard London

Zestial, Carmilla, and Rosie all shared glances behind their cup of beverage, knowing full well the meaning behind all the flowers you picked out for your invited souls. While Zeezi and Alastor could guess from their prior knowledge in the language of flowers. Velvette and Vox, however, felt like they both dodged a bullet when they instinctively eyed their flowers

Valentino gave you a bow as he stood in front of you, after being directed to his lonely booth, he turned his heel and made his way there. Not even hiding the anger and betrayal he felt when he saw Velvette next to Carmilla’s booth and Vox’s place next to Zestial. Valentino’s booth was right between Rosie and Zeezi

But there was another detail that didn’t escape even Valentino

“What?! What the flying f*** is this sh*th*le doing here!?” Valentino pointed an accused finger at Husk who merely took a sip from his glass. 

“I was invited. Just like you.” Husk answered with a grin. “Say, are you lonely without your buddies?”

“You definitely sneaked in here…” Valentino growled, he smirked as he pulled out his smoke pipe, inhaling a puff of smoke, “Let me deal with you.”

Before the exhaled gas could even do its damage, Husk’s wings expanded as he got up from his seat, his wings made a powerful flap that diffused the coloured gas within seconds. “Gotta do better than that. Loser.”

Valentino growled, “You piece of—”

Clapping sounds halted the little spat. You continued to clap your hands together slowly while everyone’s attention turned to you, and they immediately noticed the smile on your face. “Not even a word from me to signal the start of today’s gathering and there’s already an immature argument happening.” Your head tilted toward Husk, “I’ll forgive you since it’s been a while, but…” Your face turned in Valentino’s direction, your tone dropped to a chilling danger, “Have you learned nothing from the last time?”

“Mmm!” Valentino was pressed into the ground like the insect he was, his wings spread open while his entire body was forced down. He choked out as best he could, “I’m s- I mean… My deepest… Apologies…!”

Husk bowed with his wings lowered around him, “I apologise for lowering to Valentino’s level.”

With the wave of your hand, they were wordlessly made to return to where they were assigned. When everything finally calmed down, you clapped your hand just once. All refreshments disappeared and luxurious silverware replaced them, everyone was sitting on the longer side of a long table in their custom chairs

Your line of knight puppets appeared, all holding onto a dish with a mouthwatering aroma. The knights’ clanking armours were the only thing making any form of noise, they stopped between everyone’s seats and placed their respective dishes in the empty space on the table. Your doll puppets appeared next and placed an assortment of drinks on the table by the dishes

You held up your glass and proposed a toast, everyone hastily following suit. You officially started the “Feast of Desire”, ommiting the name of the gathering and just calling it a feast. Then you welcomed everyone to partake in the dishes before them

You made sure to have everyone’s prefernce on the table, including Rosie’s cannibal meals and Alastor’s deer dishes. As time went on, more dishes were placed on the table and the cleaned plates were removed to make more space

The former participants of your feast started making conversation, showing the new members what was allowed and what wasn’t. Soon, small talk was all around. You’ve inputted your thoughts and responses here and there, but it was mostly your Overlords that did the talking

This session used to be put to the end when all your matters were resolved and there was a number for this particular gathering. But you thought it would be more amusing to watch who was included in conversation and what was excluded. There was a reason why you’ve placed Husk, Velvette, and Vox in the middle and next to one of the more favoured souls, while Valentino was casted off to the far end

It was obvious that Valentino tried to join in or be involved, but it was all for not since none of your wise souls were falling for the obvious pity route that could put them in a bad position

This gathering was more than a meeting, chat, and meal together, it was a gathering where the biggest change is set. Those with a poor position is at risk of a fall out, but it doesn’t mean those of favour can stay indefinitely. Since this is where your judgement is passed without delay or mercy

Once the meal was done, all hell breaks lose

You hummed with a cruel smile. At the llight ring from the contact your spoon made to the glass, all whispers and conversations were put to a halt, and all attention was on you while your puppets cleared the table. “Now, let this little… Judgement Day begin.”

Flower Meanings: Aconite flowers are highly toxic and have been historically associated with death and danger, symbolizing the pain of toxicity or harm The Lotus flower is immensely spiritual and can represent rebirth and resurrection. It can subsequently be used to celebrate a range of new chapters and journeys Their colour may chiefly be associated with sunny optimism, but in the language of flowers, yellow carnations represent disdain, disappointment and rejection. The striped variety signifies refusal

Note: The meeting's underway!! This series is reaching its end cause there's not much left now. I think it'll end at 15/16, plus an Epilogue. Then idk about the continuation after Hazbin Hotel's second season cause this series' ending changed a lot of stuff. Anyways, what you think of this one?

Part 14 is done, but I'll give this part some time to become more known before I update again.

Circe Y. 

My Works: MASTERLIST

Taglist: (those that don't specify to being in all the works' taglist will automatically be assumed to be in whichever series they comment on)

@aconfusedwonderland @crowleysthings @donustellaron @mistpurpl3 @lucifers-silhouette @fluffy-koalala @snowy-violet @charlottesskiss @plutobots @ray-rook @thealienartist @serenity-songbird @galaxydreamer468 @raynerrold @wen01203 @hikari-michiko @colecreo @myromanempiree @xsamkuro @yourdoorisunlocked @clavelina @jono723 @cursedcattalastor @an-idyllic-novelist @flamiohotman2024 @rea-grace @myromanempiree @veroneverleft @lousypotatoes @crazysuityouth @jellyedkazoo @wat4r @kiraisastay @thealienartist @chefysawesomeideas @wtvbabes @patronizingbitch @koshi-kazu @craftyperfectiontragedy @scr4luv @chrollobb @mysterypotatoink @callmefe @dokukg69 @ratchetprime211 @freejayde @prettyprincess-ily @cgmajor @mook14 @ace-spades-1 @yuuandtheghost @abbiesxox @martinys-world @kiraisastay @umbreon-worshipper @crimsonflameproxy @the-gay-trash-gremlin @ratchetprime211 @soggyb0nes @newkatzkafe2023

[snowysosturn]

Speeding Car - Matt Sturniolo Part 9

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29

Pairing : y/n x Matt Sturniolo

Summary : After six years with your boyfriend Alex, you start to mentally check out. At a UCLA party, Alex reconnects with his childhood friend Emily, who proposes a double date with her boyfriend Matt. Your attraction to Matt grows as he pays you the first real attention you've had in years, sparking a complicated emotional journey.

Warnings : MDNI, guilt, thoughts of cheating (I dont condone), building resentment, controlling nature, jealousy, light use of pet names, mentions of injuries to wrist and ribs

Matt’s POV

The drive home from Y/n’s apartment was quiet, too quiet. The only sounds were the rev of the engine and Emily’s soft breathing as she dozed off in the passenger seat again. The drive went by in a blur, and I couldn’t shake the sinking pit in my stomach. My mind kept circling back to the moment in the living room earlier. The moment we almost kissed.

I gripped the steering wheel tighter, trying to push the thought away, but it was useless. All I could think about was how close we’d been, how the world had seemed to shrink down to just the two of us. What would’ve happened if Nick hadn’t checked his phone at that time and came in? Would we have crossed that line?

The worst part was that I wasn’t sure I would’ve stopped it. In that split second, it felt right, like something inevitable. But why? I loved Emily, didn’t I? Then why did it feel like I was being pulled toward Y/n by some invisible force, something I couldn’t control.

And then there was Alex. Seeing him so affectionate with Y/n in the hospital had evoked something deep inside me. He was the one she was supposed to be with, the one who made her smile, but all I could focus on was how he had hurt her earlier that night. The way she had prepared everything, put in so much effort, only to be let down, saying she was used to it. It made me angry. Y/n deserved better than that. She deserved someone who wouldn’t take her for granted, someone who would appreciate every little thing she did. Someone who would never put anything above her.

But I wasn’t sure if that someone was Alex. Shit, I wasn’t even sure if that someone was me. But the idea of Y/n being with anyone else, especially someone who didn’t see her worth, made my stomach turn.

I glanced at Emily, who had shifted slightly in her seat, murmuring something in her sleep. She looked peaceful, innocent even, but her words from earlier were still repaying in my ears.

“Did you two come here together?”

The suspicion in her voice had been clear, and it had thrown me off balance. Why had she reacted like that? Would it have really been so strange for me to “pick up” Y/n on the way to the hospital? Or was there something more beneath the surface, something neither of us had dared to say out loud?

We pulled into the garage of my place and I cut the engine, the sudden silence in the car almost deafening. Emily suddenly woke beside me, her eyes fluttering open as she groggily took in her surroundings.

“We’re home” I said softly, unbuckling my seatbelt.

She nodded, yawning as she fumbled with her seatbelt. “Thanks for looking after everyone Matty.” she mumbled, still half asleep. When did she ever call me that?

As we made our way inside, Emily stumbled a bit, her steps unsteady. I caught her by the arm, guiding her up the stairs and into the house. Luckily, Chris was sleeping in Nick’s room, so the noise wouldn’t wake him. The familiar space of my home should have comforted me, but instead, it felt suffocating. My thoughts were too loud, too chaotic.

Emily collapsed onto the couch, her head leaning back as she let out a deep sigh. I hovered nearby, unsure of what to do with myself. Part of me wanted to escape to my room, to hide from the mess of emotions swirling inside me, but something kept me rooted in place.

“Matt.” Emily said suddenly. Bluntly. Her voice slurred with exhaustion and alcohol.

“Yeah?” I turned to face her, noticing the serious expression that had crossed her features.

“I don’t want you and Y/n hanging out alone together. At all.” she said, her words cutting through the fog in my mind.

Had she caught on?

“It’s different with me and Alex. We’re childhood best friends. But with you and Y/n..I don’t know, it just feels.. off.”

I stared at her, the weight of her words sinking in. “Emily, what are you talking about? We’re just friends” I said, but even as the words left my mouth, they felt hollow, unconvincing.

She shook her head, her eyes narrowing slightly. “I don’t like it, Matt. I know it’s never happened before and I never want it to happen. I will leave you if you do.”

There was a tightness in her voice, a seriousness that made it clear she wasn’t just speaking out of jealousy or drunken paranoia. She genuinely didn’t want me spending time with Y/n and that realization hit me like a ton of bricks.

“Okay” I said quietly, my mind still reeling. “I’ll respect that.”

Emily nodded, satisfied, before closing her eyes again and drifting back to sleep on the couch, the same place that Y/n was sat only hours earlier. But I couldn’t move. I just stood there, staring at her, trying to make sense of everything that had happened tonight.

Why was I feeling this way? Why was it Y/n’s face that kept flashing through my mind, her voice that replayed in my mind? And why did Emily’s request, something that should’ve been simple and easy to agree to, feel like I was losing air?

It wasn’t until I heard a creaking noise come from upstairs, probably Nick going to use the bathroom, that brought me back to reality.

As I made my way to my room, I couldn’t humble the feeling that things were changing, that something had shifted in the dynamics between all of us tonight. And I wasn’t sure if any of us were ready to deal with the fallout.

Lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling, all I could think about was Y/n. The way she’d looked at me in the hospital, the sadness in her eyes, and the way my heart ached seeing her hurt. What was I supposed to do with that? All I could do was replay the events over and over in my mind, the demons in the dark. The tension between what I felt for Emily and what was building with Y/n pulling me in two different directions.

In the end, I wasn’t sure where I stood with either of them anymore. All I knew was that things were more complicated than they’d ever been before, and there was no easy way out.

Y/n POV

I woke up the next morning to the sound of Alex groaning beside me. His arm was in a sling, his face showing discomfort as he tried to shift positions. The events of the previous night flooded back, hitting me like a tsunami. The hospital, the fight, the drive home with Matt. The way we almost kissed. The way Alex clung to me, a mix of drunken affection and painkiller induced haze, it all felt distant now, like something from a dream.

But this was my reality.

I pushed myself out of bed, forcing the thoughts of Matt to the back of my mind. I had more immediate concerns. Alex was hurt, and with a sprained wrist and bruised ribs, he was out of football training for the foreseeable future. It also meant he couldn’t do much for himself, and that I had to step up. Whether I wanted to or not, I was now his carer.

"Morning" I whispered as I leaned over to check on him, my voice thick with sleep.

"Morning" he mumbled back, his voice groggy and weak.

"How are you feeling?"

"Like I got hit by a truck" he winced as he tried to move his injured wrist.

"Try your best not to move too much. I'll get you some breakfast."

I got up, quietly changing out of my pyjamas and into something more practical. I wasn’t thinking about Matt, or the tension that had lingered between us the night before, I couldn’t afford to. My focus had to be on Alex.

My work schedule had to be changed completely. I called in to let them know the situation and that I’d need to have certain shifts for the foreseeable, making sure I could be home when Alex needed me most. It meant taking the less favorable hours, either really early mornings or really late nights, but it was what had to be done. There was no other option.

I spent the next three weeks catering to Alex’s every need. I made all of his meals, helping him dress, driving him to and from campus, and even doing his assignments. It wasn’t just exhausting, it was draining. Every time I looked at him, I remembered how he’d brushed off our plans so easily, how he’d prioritized everything else over us. But now, here I was, putting him first like always.

Emily dropped by the apartment a few times. It was strange seeing her after everything. She was bright and bubbly, the same as ever, like nothing had changed, but I couldn’t help feeling like she was being extra nice to me. The three of us hung out together in our apartment, Matt unheard of. I tried to keep things light within the trio, but there was an undertone of something else, something unspoken between us. I led on to be normal, to smile and laugh, but it was hard. My mind kept wandering, and I found myself glancing at my phone more than usual, hoping to see a message from Matt. But there was nothing. Radio silence. It confused me, the way he’d pulled away.

Did he regret what almost happened between us? Did he not like my company after all? The last time I saw him he told me he was there if I ever needed anything, but now, when I felt more alone than ever, he was nowhere to be found.

It hurt more than I wanted to admit. I thought back to the way he’d looked at me, the softness in his eyes, the way he’d listened when I talked about my struggles with Alex. It had felt like he understood, like he cared. But maybe I was wrong.

I had to realise I had more important things to focus on. Alex needed me, and that was all that mattered. At least, that’s what I kept telling myself. But in the quiet moments, when it was just me and my thoughts, I couldn’t help but wonder..

Why did Matt’s silence hurt so much?

Why did it feel like I’d lost something I never really had?

a/n : two parts in less than 24 hours let’s gooooo, emily’s basically barred matt from seeing the reader :/ butttt i know what happens next and yous don’t heehee

taglist : @muwapsturniolo @anitahunt @sturnfannn @jayde510 @chrissfavhoe @babyalliah-777 @v33angel @urmom69lol @willowrites @ribread03 @2muchofaslvt @sturnsaver @sleepysturniolo @jcsturniolo11 @jessie-essie @hoeforchrizz @mynbbys @sturniolopanini @mattsturnxoxo @delicatechrry @t77te @sturnsyaper69 @hotdismylife @maggot3647 @ivysturnss @noplaceissafeanymore @mattssgf @hottiirr @maethem0nth

*also v v sorry if you tagged tagged in this 30 million times my taglist is still acting tf up (if u have a newer account or don’t post at all it’s not giving me an option to tag you :( )

[gael-garcia]

SAG-AFTRA deal on AI is looking terrible, actually 😬

#SAG Actors, I want to make you aware of some of the language in the #AI portion of the tentative SAG agreement.

Though SAG leadership made much effort to protect members in AI, there are many issues you should look at. I have saved the most serious issue for the end. 1/

If a “digital double” is made of you during a film, they must get your consent and inform you of their intentions for its use, EXCEPT "when the photography or sound track remains substantially as scripted, performed and/or recorded.”2/

This is going to be left up to the studios/streamers’ interpretation. And so, any subtlety regarding how you chose to look or move for the character during the shoot could potentially be changed. Your hair, your clothes, your make-up, etc. 3/

Also, your physical placement in a scene can be changed, like your nearness or distance from another character, or even moving you from the front seat of a car "to the back seat of the car." This suggests not much agency on your part to control your character or performance. 4/

Under “(Digital Double) Use Other Than in the Motion Picture for Which the Performer Was Employed,” it says that "No additional compensation shall be required for use of an Employment-Based Digital Replica that was created in connection with employment of a performer who was… 5/

… employed under Schedule F.” It appears that if you were paid Schedule F for the first film, you don’t get paid for the sequels, where they’re just using your digital double instead of you. I suggest members get sharp clarity on this. 6/

If a “digital double” was made of you in a separate manner (on another film or privately made by you), it's referred to as an “independently created digital replica” (ICDR). There is no minimum compensation listed for studios/streamers to use an ICDR of you in… 7/

… any film they want; only consent. You will apparently need to negotiate any compensation on your own. 8/

Neither consent nor compensation is necessary to use your “digital double” if the project is "comment, criticism, scholarship, satire or parody, a docudrama, or historical or biographical work.” So, you could find yourself in a project you never consented to… 9/

…doing things you never were informed of, for no compensation at all. This is the “First Amendment” argument the #GAI tech companies are fond of trotting out. 10/

Another consent exemption is granted to "adjusting lip and/or other facial or body movement and/or the voice of the performer to a foreign language, or for purposes of changes to dialogue or photography necessary for license or sale to a particular market. 11/

The substitution of swear words is not new, but that your “body movements” would be changed suggests you’ll be used like a type of rag doll in post-production. 12/

There are still a few concerns with the Background Performers’ details, but there’s one that stands out as especially sad. "If the Producer uses a background actor’s Background Actor Digital Replica in the role of a principal performer, the background actor shall be paid… 13/

…the minimum rate for a performer… had (they) performed those scene(s) in person.” So, if an extra is “bumped up” to a principal cast member, they never get to experience that position on a set. But you get a check after the fact. 14/

And the most serious issue of them all is the inclusion in the agreement of “Synthetic Performers,” or “AI Objects,” resembling humans. This gives the studios/streamers a green-light to use human-looking AI Objects instead of hiring a human actor. 15/

It’s one thing to use GAI to make a King Kong or a flying serpent (though this displaces many VFX/CGI artists), it is another thing to have an AI Object play a human character instead of a real actor. To me, this inclusion is an anathema to a union contract at all. 16/

This is akin to SAG giving a thumbs-up for studios/streamers using non-union actors. This would be like the @Teamsters putting in their contract that it’s A-OK for the employer to utilize self-driving trucks instead of them. 17/

@Teamsters I find it baffling that a union representing human actors would give approval of those same actors being replaced by an AI Object. And don’t forget, those AI Objects are a mash-up of all actors' past performances, adding insult to injury. 18/

@Teamsters Bottomline, we are in for a very unpleasant era for actors and crew. The use of “digital doubles” alone will reduce the number of available jobs, because bigger name actors will have the opportunity to double or triple-book themselves on multiple projects at once. 19/

@Teamsters The use of these “digital doubles” will most likely preclude the need of a set or the use of many @IATSE crew and @Teamster drivers. 20/

@Teamsters @IATSE @Teamster Audition odds will change. Winning an audition could become very difficult, because you will not just be competing with the available actors who are your type, but you will now compete with every actor, dead or alive, who has made their “digital double” available for rent … 21/

@Teamsters @IATSE @Teamster … in a range of ages to suit the character. You also will be in competition with an infinite number of AI Objects that the studios/streamers can freely use. And a whole cast of AI Objects instead of human actors eliminates the need for a set or any crew at all. 22/

@Teamsters @IATSE @Teamster You are a complex & remarkable human. Don’t let the CEOs convince you otherwise. Seek out filmmakers & showrunners who value your basic worth & committed to human workers on their projects. These are the ones who will make work that matters. We’re going to be OK. Just hold on. /

[pastanest]

Spencer Reid x she/her!reader

A/N: this just might be the steamiest thing I’ve written since I was a 14 year old on wattpad doing god’s work. anyway, merry christmas sluts x

warnings: suggestive but not outright smut, use of petnames, soft!dom Spencer

Orbit

Prison can have longterm effects on a person, regardless of the duration of time spent behind bars. If you were to ask Spencer Reid what aspect of him was impacted most greatly by his sentence, he would tell you it was his brain; more specifically, his ability to think. Now, he finds himself taking 60 minutes to make deductions that previously would have taken him 60 seconds. Time spent locked in a cage has left his mind feeling like it never left; his skull no longer feels metaphorically big enough for him to organize his thoughts, separate them for long enough to distinguish them. The incredibly open mind that Spencer has always had is most often a jumbled, frustrating mess, which only exacerbates the frustration already found there. That is, until you enter a room.

He hasn’t said it to you explicitly, but if anyone asked, Spencer would be unable to deny your innate ability to help him. It’s almost poetic, the way he views you, like you’re the moon to his planet of thoughts; you calm his tides simply by being in his orbit. By existing in his space, you soothe his mind enough to just think, and he’s incapable of ever taking that for granted.

While he can’t spell that out to you without risking mortification over your natural assistance to him with a brain function that should come naturally to him, you are a qualified profiler who has come to understand - in your own way - that Spencer just needs to be around you, sometimes. And he acknowledges that you have an understanding of this, of course. So, when there’s a knock at your hotel room door at 2am, and you scramble out of bed, throwing on an oversized t-shirt and running to the door to find him standing on your doorstep, the surprise that flashes across both of your faces is not something Spencer had predicted.

You are surprised because you can’t help wondering if your thoughts inadvertently summoned Spencer to your doorstep, still wearing his button-up shirt, tie and suit pants that you’d seen him in when working the case together today. On the other hand, Spencer is surprised to find you standing before him wearing nothing more than an oversized t-shirt, from what he can see, alongside the visible signs of you appearing to be…flustered? Your chest rises and falls with heavy pants, your cheeks are flushed, and your pupils are dilated in a way that perhaps only Spencer would notice, but he most definitely notices.

“Spencer! Wh- Come in!” You stumble over your own words, stepping aside to grant him passage into your hotel room.

He strides past you, a firm frown etched on his face. He had thoughts he needed to organize, hence his untimely arrival, but now you have presented him with an entirely new enigma that is his personal mission to crack.

Spencer takes a seat on an armchair in the corner of your hotel room, while you sit on the edge of the bed, notably turned almost completely away from him while you fight to regain some composure; a futile effort, because Spencer has already ruled out exercise (determining you wouldn’t be exercising at this hour or in this room), stress (because he’d have picked up on an irregularity when working alongside you at some point today), and a medical issue (much to your own present demise, you default to him for any questions regarding your health because you trust his expertise) as probable causes, which leads him to a particularly interesting conclusion, in two seconds flat.

“Is everything…okay?” You manage to ask him, and it’s as though you added that shy inflection to your voice just to tick another box on the list in Spencer’s mind, confirming his previous hypothesis without ever intending to.

“Yes, I just needed to think.” What he previously thought he needed to think about is entirely irrelevant now, but he digresses. “Are you…okay?” Spencer returns your question with the same wording, but without the shyness you so graciously included. He’s still making deductions, because he can’t risk acting on his current conclusion until he knows it to be true beyond reasonable doubt.

“Me? Oh, yeah! I’m fine!” You laugh lightly.

Overcompensating, Spencer makes a mental note, ticking another box on the list found in his mind.

A silence settles between you, one that he enforces with purpose. From where he sits in the corner of the room, he watches you like you’re the most fascinating study in human history. Which, he would argue, you are. The way you squirm, aware of Spencer’s gaze on you despite not even looking at him, has him fighting a smirk. There’s a shared awareness in the silence, an acknowledgement of the fact that you and your…chosen activities, are completely exposed to him in this moment, and he’s letting you simmer in that reality for a moment, allowing you time to adjust to that.

The next words Spencer speaks are very carefully chosen, and in that, they knock the air from your lungs.

“What were you thinking about?” The subtext is so clear he could have left the guise of a question out entirely, but there’s an air of respect in that he elects to ignore the access he has to completely embarrassing you. His voice is too quiet for anyone in the next rooms to overhear, so his respectfully tame phrasing is for your benefit, alone, but the answer he’s searching for is clear.

You swallow, hard.

There is no use in lying, not to a man currently counting the microseconds between every breath you take to accurately profile your body’s responses to this interrogation.

“You.”

And never before has Doctor Spencer Reid had a single word eradicate all 187 of his IQ points. It’s as though he can feel them stacking themselves back up in his brain in a frantic, trembling mess. Obviously, that was the answer he had hoped for, but to actually hear you say it goes far beyond any ability he has to accurately predict his own response, particularly when you spoke with a submissive tone that was not possible for him to miss.

5.7 seconds later, when Spencer has regained control over his motor functions, he clears his throat, grateful that you aren’t looking at him to have seen him lose his own composure momentarily.

“Is this the first time you’ve thought of me outside of a professional capacity?” And the award for least seductive means of phrasing an otherwise very erotic question goes to…

In Spencer’s defense, it is much easier for him to speak so formally and from a more analytical standpoint. If he lets his emotions take hold now, he may miss a piece of information from you that could be crucial to maximizing this opportunity for you both.

“No.” You answer, your voice more timid now, barely above a whisper.

In your defense, you wouldn’t even regard it as thinking of Spencer ‘outside of a professional capacity’, because you have a running hypothesis that he’d be a professional in that area of life, too.

Still, Spencer hears the anxiety building in your words - or lack thereof - and what they confess to him. The last thing he wants is to overwhelm you. At least, not like this.

Rising from the armchair he’d been occupying, he takes the few strides necessary to stand in front of you, towering over you while you remain sitting on the edge of the bed, your head hanging in shame.

“How many times?” Spencer’s voice is also quieter now, softer, but it’s far from timid. He’s being gentle with you, but his question is a demand for an answer.

You shrug without meeting his gaze, and Spencer raises an eyebrow down at you.

“Words, baby.”

And those two words are enough to make your breath catch in your throat.

“I-I don’t know, haven’t kept count.” You stammer, heart spluttering in your chest.

“Let me do the math for you, then.” Spencer muses, tucking his hands into his pockets as he observes you with a soft smile and darkened eyes. “When was the first time?”

You gulp.

“Do I have to ask for your words again?” That’s a warning.

“N-No, I’m just trying to think.” You try to defend yourself, your face feeling hot.

“You don’t need to do any thinking right now, baby, that’s my job.” Spencer soothes you. “Was it during your first week with the BAU?” He questions softly.

“…Yes.”

And that ignites Spencer’s synapses.

“From your first day, we were sent on a case that we worked tirelessly on. The first night was spent on the jet, second night you were so exhausted you slept on a couch in the office while I carried on working, third night I had to wake you in your hotel room at 3am due to a development on the case and I could tell you were in REM sleep by then, so you wouldn’t have had time that night, either. That means it was either the fourth night after we met, in your hotel room, or the fifth night after we arrived back home. Do you remember which?” Spencer asks gently, this time crouching down to be eye-level with you, looking at you with what you can only describe as puppy-dog eyes.

“…In the hotel.” You admit bashfully, meeting Spencer’s gaze for just long enough to see a flicker of his resolve crumbling.

You couldn’t even wait until you got back home? Bad girl. But he’ll keep such a notion to himself, for now.

“That’s good, thank you for telling me,” He praises instead, tucking your hair behind your ears from where he crouches in front of you, while you remain seated on the edge of the bed. “And since then, would you say it’s been once a week, or more?”

Your eyebrows furrow at this question, and Spencer is quick to amend it.

“Do those choices for answers not suit you, sweet girl?” He coo’s, watching you fall into a submissive headspace like it’s second nature for you.

“No…Once a week, but not just…one time.” You struggle to say, your voice sounding small, but you’re melting into the sensation of Spencer’s fingertips dancing over your cheek.

“I see,” He muses, trying his best not to reveal the fact that his brain is short circuiting over that information. See? Imagine if he’d rushed into this and missed out on hearing you admit that! He’d have rather been shot. Again.

“How many times is it usually?” This question has piqued Spencer’s interest more than he cares to admit, but he conceals that well.

“…Three.” You breathe.

“And how many times tonight?” His own voice is a whisper now, his fingertips trailing down your neck.

“Two,” You begin to say, and Spencer’s mind is already sounding like a casino with every machine hitting a jackpot in unison, before you add. “…and a half.”

It takes Spencer a solid second, and a second of being solid, to process that.

“I interrupted you?” There’s a huskiness to his voice that was not there before, and when you nod, he clears his throat. “Oh, I’m sorry, baby. Can I make it up to you?” And while he stands back up to his full height to lean over you, you instinctively fall back against the bed in what appears to be a practiced mating dance between you, despite it being the very first time.

“Can I?” It’s only when Spencer repeats his question that you realize you are yet to respond. In your defense, you had forgotten your own name because of the hazel in his eyes.

“Yes.” No sooner has the breathy word passed your lips, than his lips descended on the side of your neck.

Spencer’s stubble maps a trail down your throat, gently scratching at the skin while his lips leave tingling kisses in his wake. But if you think Spencer Reid’s mind has stopped working just yet, you are sorely mistaken.

“You said usually around three, implying that is your minimum,” His voice is deeper than you’ve ever heard it, his lips nipping at the shell of your ear. “-so that’s a minimum of three orgasms a week for the twenty weeks since we met, that’s a total of 60, but we should leave room for anomalies, so let’s round that up to 70, just to be as accurate as possible.” Spencer murmurs. “Is it always me you think of?” He’s incapable of masking the hope found in his own voice.

You nod frantically.

“Words, baby.” This time, that reminder is punctuated by a soft bite to your neck.

“Y-Yes, you, always you, every time.” You shudder. And who can blame you, when you’ve always known him to be capable of this?

“So I’m responsible for approximately 70 of your orgasms, without ever having touched you.” Spencer almost can’t believe it, but he can hear how smug he is in his own ears.

One of his hands presses into the sheets beside your head, holding himself up, but his other hand squeezes at your waist through the fabric of your oversized shirt, and he groans into the crook of your neck in approval.

“So soft.” He praises, wanting nothing more than to worship at the altar that is you.

Spencer’s fingertips trace the hem of your oversized shirt, the warm skin of your thighs tempting him beyond his previous ability to comprehend.

“May I?” He requests, ever the gentleman.

“Please.” You answer with the best synonym for ‘yes’ in this context that Spencer could have hoped for.

And he doesn’t hesitate. Long fingers slowly raise the hem of your shirt, bringing it up until it’s just above your belly button, and he lays his palm flat against your stomach, the skin fluttering under his touch. While his lips continue to lavish your neck, collarbone and ear, his free hand descends to the band of your panties, but doesn’t slip beneath it. A whine passes your lips when his hand continues its path south, and you feel him smirk against your neck, until his own breathing shudders.

“Oh, baby…” He groans, having never been more thrilled to feel a soaked piece of fabric in his life. “Look at you, look at the mess you’ve made of yourself. Poor little love.” Spencer coo’s.

But when you shake your head, he halts his movements completely.

“What is it, baby? You want to stop? That’s okay.” He immediately falls into a softness intended to comfort you, not wanting you to feel even remotely uncomfortable or upset. His kisses move to your cheek, each one an act of devotion. “It’s okay. Being in a submissive headspace can be incredibly overwhelming at times, and you can always tell me if it does. We don’t ever have to do anything that you don’t want to do, sweet girl. In fact-“

It’s only when you turn your head to meet Spencer’s lips with your own, that you manage to stop his ramble and his entire train of thought.

“It’s not that.” You’re quick to reassure him, not wanting him to overthink about having breached your boundaries.

“Then…what?” Spencer asks, looking into your eyes with the most sincere concern.

“I just wanted to correct you, because I didn’t make a mess of myself. You made a mess of me.” You smile up at him, and the sweetness with which you say something so sinful is enough to make Spencer’s heart drop right out of his chest.

In all his years, he has never understood the sensation of blood rushing away from his brain, more than he does right now.

His gaze softens with both relief and arousal, a sigh passing his lips that evolves into a light chuckle, before his lips fall to yours again, meeting you in a heated kiss. And when Spencer’s hand continues its previous path, he feels your thighs part, and a growl of some description rumbles in his throat.

“That’s my girl.”

That possessive title causes a delighted shudder to rock through you, which Spencer makes a prominent mental note of.

“70’s the number to beat.” He whispers in your ear seductively, and your jaw falls open.

“In one night?!” It’s more of a squeak than a question, but it makes Spencer laugh into the crook of your neck as his lips descend it.

“As much as I’d love to ruin your body for anyone other than me, I think that just might ruin you entirely, which isn’t my aim. But…” He bites at your neck. “I can promise you, you’re getting more than three.”

From where you lie, you can feel something pressing against your thigh that tells you it’s going to be a very, very long night.

[d3adlyromb3ar]

✰ sinking lily pads

— synopsis. he thrived in the sorcerer world, she was forced into it. how could two people that strayed so differently from each other become so close?

— pairing. gojo x oc!fem!reader (main), toji fushiguro x oc!fem!reader

— word count. 4k

— contents. heavy child abuse, torture, neglect, abandonment, angsty asf, injuries, blood/gore, depressing thoughts, suicidal ideation, dissociation, ptsd, mentions of death, jjk violence/fighting

— notes. italics are flashbacks 🤍

series masterlist | previous chapter

✰ chapter three. no point in forgetting

June 10th, 1999

The wood traced her exposed back, the end trailing down her spine. Her hands gripped the bars tightly in front of her— palms squeezing the cold metal so tightly it threatened to burst.

I know it’s in there somewhere.

The bad man had said. Tsking in disappointment as she had failed yet again in perfecting her rising technique.

She had just discovered the mere sensation and instincts of something new— yet the bad man had demanded she perfected the ability. It seemed unfair, but she also knew that she failed.

Again and again the bad man forced her to focus and tried desperately to pull the technique out of her. Unbeknownst to him, it just didn’t work that way.

Quit holding back, it’s only gonna make things worse for you girl.

The bad man would taunt, every threat causing goosebumps to cover her flesh.

It didn’t matter. No amount of screaming, training or torture would bring it out. But in the man’s eyes, she failed— and she deserved to be punished.

The wood leaving her skin brought her back to reality, remembering her position and how badly she wished to escape from this situation.

“How many hours of failure today?” The bad man spit, his eyes glaring into the untouched skin of her back.

She forced her lip to stop quivering, needing herself to answer strongly.

“14.” She whispered, voice still weak.

The man leaned down and swept her hair off her neck, his lips dangerously close to her ear as he hissed his next words.

“Then that’s how many you’ll get.”

The words were enough to bring tears to her eyes, shivering in disgust as his voice almost sounded excited to inflict such damage. She couldn’t find it in herself to be ashamed of her state, she wailed and screamed— but not once did she let go of the bars. Staying completely still.

She felt his presence leave her, and knew that the little shuffling sounds indicated he was pulling back the stake. Her body could only tense up as she prepared herself for hell.

“I’m very disappointed in you Miss Dair.”

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。

“I’m very disappointed in you Miss Dair.”

Yaga’s voice boomed. Although he was speaking at a normal frequency— she couldn’t help but wince as the words rolled out.

“I thought I could count on you to be honest with me. With your classmates…” He paused and looked at her more intensely, “With your friends.”

Moon narrowed her gaze slightly at him, knowing he was trying to get some kind of reaction— but she had none. She knew he had the right to be upset, as she was upset with herself just as equally.

“It’s important you inform me of details so severe as your life. You do realize not to take your 9 lives for granted, yes?” He questioned, more like interrogated.

Moon’s eye twitched.

“Yes sir, I understand.” She replied almost robotically.

Yaga wasn’t have any of it though.

“No, you don’t understand. That’s the issue I’ve realized,” He stated bluntly, “You don’t value your life, and it saddens me.”

Moon’s jaw dropped and she went silent for a few moments. Watching Yaga lean back in his seat and cross his arms.

It was her turn to lean forward.

“Principal Yaga, I do value my lif—”

“We can cut the bullshit.” He interrupted harshly. “Really Miss Dair? Do I look like someone you should lie to right now?”

Moon clenched her jaw, her nose burning with a familiar sensation that tears were threatening to come.

“With all due respect sir, I didn’t intend on dying. It was a mistake and it won’t happen again.” She voiced lowly, not even believing herself.

Yaga scoffed and shook his head, but he wasn’t trying to seem rude. He was worried deep down and extremely disappointed in this change in his student.

His silence gave Moon time to overthink, and she couldn’t stop herself from speaking.

“Do you… do you think I meant to die?” She asked, wondering just what it was he was thinking.

Yaga adjusted his glasses, before leaning his elbows on his knees.

“I don’t think you did, I just think you don’t care that you did.” He told her.

She found herself stuck in a tough spot. Her body wanted to escape, to run away and hide from the truth that was being spat at her. Another part of her realized just how right Principal Yaga was.

The principal watched as Moon was left speechless, fiddling with her fingers in her lap anxiously— as she couldn’t come up with anything.

It only saddened him more. A part of him wishing that it wasn’t the case.

“What’s going on?” He asked her, his voice softer than earlier.

Moon didn’t know why she felt like she could talk openly with him. It wasn’t like her to express herself— at least not anymore. Although, it was hard to forget what Yaga had done for her, and maybe that’s what forced her to talk to him.

Yaga had saved her from the horrid clutches of the Zenin Clan, to which now she felt like she owed it to Yaga to at the very least— talk with him. He deserved that, and of course so much more.

Moon took a deep breath, tucking a fallen strand of hair behind her ear.

“I never asked for this life.” She whispered, just barely loud enough for him to hear.

But he did.

“I know you didn’t.” He agreed gently.

“So you understand.” She assumed.

“Understand what? That getting yourself killed is supposed to be okay?” He spoke, voice rising but still trying to remain calm.

Moon sighed, throwing her hands up in frustration.

“No— I…” She trailed off, “You know what… forget it.” She had more words to say but held herself back from voicing them.

Yaga narrowed his eyes.

“Moon,” The principal started, grabbing her attention seeing as he rarely called her by her first name. “I know you’ve been through a lot, and whether or not you ever fully open up to me about what exactly they did to you. I know they hurt you. In ways I’ll probably never understand.”

The burning sensation within her nose grew stronger from his words.

“But everything they did to you, everything that happened— you deserve to live a happy life.” He told her, wishing so badly that she could believe the words he said tonight.

“You’ve told me this before.” She whispered, her gaze focused on the floor.

“Because it’s true, and I need you to believe it.” He pushed, his voice softer again.

She shook her head, her vision blurry with tears— but she’d be damned to let them fall.

“Life has been cruel to you, but it doesn’t have to be anymore.” He told her, “I want you to live and be happy, because it’s what you deserve.”

She stood up from her spot and turned away from him, not walking away— but she couldn’t allow him to see the tear that managed to slip down her cheek. She wiped it away, before facing him again. This time she stayed standing.

“It’s difficult to live a happy life when I’m stuck doing something I don’t want to do.” She spoke carefully, turning defensive from his kind words.

“You’ve never been forced to do anything here.” He stated calmly.

“Then let me leave.” She argued.

“No ones stopping you.”

She felt her tongue become led in her mouth, swallowing as yet again— she was left speechless. It was cruel in a way that Yaga was always right, and he was.

Not once was Moon ever forced to go to school here. Not once was she forced to fight, to spar, to train. Not once was she forced to exorcize curses— it was all her choice. Yaga made sure of that.

He also knew that deep down under that facade of the girl she presented, the one who wishes to run away— to hide. He knew she was still a good person, someone who couldn’t walk away from the opportunity to help people. To save people.

He knew she was more at a battle with herself than anyone else.

“If that’s all sir, I’d like to be excused.” She muttered quietly, clearly finished with the conversation.

He let out a breath, knowing it wouldn’t be that easy to convince her of all he said today.

“One more thing and then you may leave.” He stated and she looked up to him, “There is an upcoming mission, one where you will work with your classmates. It’s important and I suggest you screw your head on straight before you take it on.”

She nodded in understanding.

“More information about said mission will be provided tomorrow. I suggest you relax today, get lots of rest.” He recommended sternly.

Something about his words made it sound like she was going to need her rest for this mission. At that, she became intrigued with what this mission was exactly. Time would tell.

“You can leave now.” He said lastly, his attention back in front of him.

Moon bowed her head lazily, making her way out of the room. She had a lot of thinking to do— a lot of reflecting. Yaga’s words weren’t said to deaf ears, and now they swirled around her mind.

I want you to live and be happy, because it’s what you deserve.

Those words specifically echoed throughout her head, the kind sentence causing her to scoff.

What did I deserve?

She wondered bitterly.

The school grounds were quiet and calm today. Usually the ambience of people wandering about, the different conversations being held— it was comforting. But the silence wasn’t unwelcome, and it seemed rather peaceful.

The dark haired girl made her way down the steps of the school, when a familiar voice caught her attention.

“Well well, look who it is.” The white haired sorcerer acknowledged from his spot under a tree— relaxing in the shade.

Moon glanced at Shoko and Geto to his right before meeting his eyes through his glasses.

“Hope we weren’t missing out on important information about our upcoming mission just now.” Geto teased.

Moon wished to of gone back to her room to rest, but couldn’t think of an excuse to leave them now that they spotted her. Plus, she wanted to see them.

She shook her head, walking over to the trio.

“Nah, just Yaga being… well… himself.” She mumbled.

Geto snorted, always finding Moon and the Principal’s relationship silly. He knew that Yaga had taken you in when you were young, but he didn’t know any further than that.

“Don’t disrespect the man.” Gojo commented.

Moon turned towards him, giving him a glare. Shoko chuckled at her reaction, her cigarette resting in between her fingers as she observed her friends.

“C’mon Satoru, be nice.” Shoko warned.

Gojo looked around dramatically, lifting his hands up in the air. The whole act only causing Moon to roll her eyes, even though deep down her lips threatened to curve.

“I didn’t even do anything!” He whined before locking eyes with Moon. “Right Nines, y’know I was just joking if anything.”

Even though she told him not to use that nickname anymore, she couldn’t find it in herself to care at the moment.

“It’s fine.” She shrugged, taking a seat next to Geto.

Furthest away from Gojo, causing him to pout slightly. Unnoticed by everyone.

“So what do you think this big mission Yaga keeps mentioning is about?” Geto wondered.

Gojo sighed loudly, gaining everyone’s attention. Typical.

“Who knows, probably a small job.” He assumed.

“You think so?” Geto asked, and only received a shrug back.

Moon let her classmates voices turn into background noise as she got lost in her thoughts. She knew better than to be hanging around them, trying to steer clear of getting close with anyone. But every interaction, even the tiny ones that led up to this point— she clenched her jaw in defeat. Whether or not she wanted to believe it or not— she had already created bonds with these people.

She only felt one thing for herself: disappointment.

“…right Moon?” Geto’s voice suddenly registered.

She glanced to the three who were now staring at her, clearly waiting for her answer. It was evident that she hadn’t heard a thing they said.

“What’d you say?” She asked, a little embarrassed.

“I said given the choice pairing up with me or Satoru for the mission, you’d pick me right?” He asked again, a grin on his face.

Despite his concerns for his friends behavior.

Moon scoffed but had a playful grin.

“Oh yeah, no question.” She played along.

Gojo pushed his glasses back up to cover his eyes completely, rolling his eyes behind the black lenses.

Moon smiled wider at his reaction, lowering her gaze to the grass. Missing the way Gojo was staring at her lips.

It was easier to pretend nothing was wrong sometimes, these lighthearted moments almost convincing her to quit her efforts to keep them away completely.

Your friends worry about you. Yaga’s words from a previous conversation, echoed through her head.

It wouldn’t be wise to head into a mission with everyone’s heads in the wrong spot. Maybe she needed to do her part, and reassure the ones she was surrounded by. It wouldn’t matter if she didn’t believe any of the words she said— she just needed them to believe it.

“Hey,” She nudged Gojo’s leg with her foot, “Take a walk with me?”

His head had leaned forward again, allowing his blue eyes to peak over the tops of his shades. He studied your expression, making out one thing quickly— genuine.

“Sure Nines.”

The two promised to come back to Shoko and Geto.

As soon as they made it far enough, where soon it was just them two secluded— Gojo was the first to speak.

“Gotta say I’m a little surprised.”

Moon turned her head towards him, confusion washing over her features.

“Surprised?” She asked.

“Well yeah, you’re actually talking to me. Correction— you’re talking to me first. Without me starting the conversation, like I always do.”

“Okay, I get it.” She stopped him, the corners of her mouth turning up.

“So what’s with the sudden change— ya know not that I’m complaining or anything. Just curious.”

Moon walked with even steps, keeping up with his larger strides as they traveled deeper into the woods.

“Well, I needed to apologize to you.” She uttered quietly.

Gojo tilted his head slightly, confusion washing over his features this time. He kept his gaze on his feet in front of him.

“Apologize for what?”

Moon swallowed, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear nervously. Or was it guilt?

“I’ve come to realize that I’ve been making you… unfocused.” She was careful with her wording. “I’m sorry for any stress I’ve been causing you, as for the others as well.”

Gojo stopped walking, causing her to stop and turn towards him as well. He didn’t know why her apology was ticking him off. Mainly because he didn’t see a good reason why she was apologizing in the first place.

“Making me unfocused?” He asked carefully, making sure he heard that right.

She nodded shamefully, the action making Gojo’s cheekbone twitch in irritation.

“Nines, you do realize that you shouldn’t be apologizing to me right now.” He surprised her.

“Wha— why not?”

“Because you just shouldn’t be.” He argued.

She was silent for a moment, gazing deeply into his shades— desperate to see his eyes. Knowing that it was the only way to depict how he was truly feeling.

“You have been so stressed out lately.”

“Yeah but that has nothing to do with you.” He lied.

Yes he was stressed, and yes maybe you were in a way the cause of it— but only because he worried about you too much.

“Listen Nines,” He took his glasses off, looking down to lock eyes with hers. “Anything that’s going on with me, isn’t your fault. So don’t start beating yourself up.”

“How can I not? With the mission coming up, I don’t need you to be distracted— and getting hurt because of it.”

He smirked slightly, unable to control himself.

“Weird, for a second there— it kinda sounded like you cared about me.”

Moon rolled her eyes.

“I’m serious Gojo.”

“And I’m serious Moon, you shouldn’t be apologizing.” He tried to convince her. “Plus, I’m not unfocused… if it’s anything, I’m just worried about you.”

She knew he was, but it was completely different hearing himself say those words.

“You don’t need to be worried about me, I’m fine.”

“That’s just the thing you don’t understand Nines,” He trailed off, taking a few steps closer to her. “I’m always gonna worry about you.”

His words had her shuttering, her chest warm with an unfamiliar sensation. She couldn’t confirm whether she enjoyed the feeling or felt indifferent about it.

“Why?”

He stepped closer again, and had to think of his words for a moment as the view from his perspective of her— distracted him. Her eyes were round and slightly glossy as she gazed up at him.

“Why wouldn’t I? You’re important to me.”

She felt her chest tighten slightly, one of her hands lying over her heart. This wasn’t what she was hoping would come of this conversation. But she also knew that these talks were almost inevitable.

“Don’t seem so shocked. You know that I care about you.” He added, her silence irritating him.

She swallowed, needing a moment to clear her head.

“You shouldn’t. You need to focus on the mission.” Was all she came up with.

“I can do both. I’m a great multitasker.”

She huffed and let her eyes drop to the grass, focusing on the grass blades instead of his intense blue eyes— she found it hard to focus when she gazed into them.

“This is pointless…” She muttered under her breath, which Gojo didn’t miss.

“Ouch.”

“I’m serious, this isn’t some kind of game—”

“I am serious Moon,” He repeated himself, growing agitated, “God, why is it so hard for you to understand that people care about you?”

She could only stare at him, coming up with nothing to say. She really found it hard to believe people cared about her. 

“I know I’m not the best at expressing emotions, but fuck— I hope that at least my friends can see that I care.�� He huffed, turning away from her. 

She felt bad for making him frustrated, that wasn’t her intention— it never was. It seemed she was always causing him to be though. 

“You’re fine Gojo, I’m sorry. I don— I didn’t mean to make it sound like that.”

He turned back towards her, gazing into her eyes and taking in her shameful expression. 

“Why is it so hard for you to understand that people care about you?” He asked again.

She swayed in her spot and debated whether she should cloak and run away— it was always the first thing that came to mind when she was put in these situations. Although, she couldn’t bring herself to leave him. Not when he sported this kicked puppy look— it had her feeling all that more guilty. 

“Moon.” He got her attention again, watching as she spaced out. He walked closer to her until there was a little space in between them. It had her craning her neck up to meet his eyes bravely. “Why?”

“I don’t know…” She whispered, her eyes dancing just below his eyes to watch the muscle in his cheek flex. “There’s something wrong with me.”

His gaze softened as he found her telling the truth. 

“There’s nothing wrong with you Nines.” He started and thought about the line he was dancing on, “You just need to be nicer to yourself.”

She scoffed and lowered her head, her stare on his shoes. 

“It’s not that I… I just feel like I don’t work right. Like… I don’t know.” She tried to explain, but grew frustrated when she couldn’t voice what she wanted. 

She felt slender fingers grab her chin gently, and tilted her head up so that she was looking back into his eyes. She couldn’t ignore the flipping sensation in her stomach from the gesture. 

“You’re not broken like some toy, Moon.” He tried to tell her.

“Maybe not physically but, it just feels like that. Like everything I went through with the Zenin Clan…” She rambled on, catching herself before she could say anymore. 

Gojo knew she was saved from the Zenin’s clutches— but he didn’t know of the details. Nobody did. The only person who knew a little more was Yaga, but even then he didn’t know everything. She had never uttered a word to anyone of her experience. 

“It’s okay, you don’t have to tell me.” He reassured her, noticing her nervous look. “But you can if you want.” 

She gazed into his eyes and found herself reliving the same exact sensation she got the very first time Gojo tried to… kiss her. She didn’t know why she felt it— especially when he wasn’t showing any signs of leaning closer to her. It was after a couple seconds stuck in her thoughts, when she realized she was the one who was moving towards him. 

She stopped herself instantly, swallowing harshly when she still felt his fingers on her chin. 

“I know deep down that people care about me. It’s just hard to truly understand that.” She answered his question, not going into her past. 

He let go of her chin, letting his hand slide down her arm as he grabbed her hand. 

When was he this touchy? She wondered. 

She didn’t stop him, or pull away as she let herself enjoy the comfort his touch brought. She’d usually stand a little farther away than necessary— keep her distance. But she was starved and let herself have this moment— this sliver of affection. If that’s what it was. 

“So deep down, you understand that I care about you right?” He asked, his eyes glancing back from one to the other. 

She’d never seen him look so— desperate. 

The question circled within her. Yes, she knew he cared. But no matter how much convincing to herself— she’d always have that doubt in the back of her mind. The one the Zenin’s damaged to a pulp. 

“Yeah, I do.” She told him, the words feeling bitter coming off her tongue. 

She watched his shoulders sag with a huge breath he had been holding in, and she didn’t know why the little act had her heart hurting. The fact that even in this gentle moment— she was still causing him pain. 

“Good.” Was all he found himself saying. 

He wasn’t sure if this version of his Moon would stick around— whether or not she would revert back to her isolated self. But he would appreciate her in any form she presented herself in— he was learning quickly that his sorcerer friend was right. 

Our Moon is very much there.

Geto’s words finally made sense as he realized that maybe things wouldn’t go back to the way they were— but he still had her. That was enough for him, and he’d stick by her until the end. Now only if he could voice those words to her. One day. 

He smiled at her and let go of her hand, despite him not wanting to— he didn’t want to overstep. 

“Come on, let's head back.” He told her, starting to walk back to Shoko and Geto.

Moon followed after him, her shoulders feeling a bit lighter— her mind feeling a little more at ease. She wondered why the sudden change in how she was feeling— but couldn’t care enough to complain. Her feet moved quickly, keeping up with his long strides. All while there was a small smile on her lips. 

Maybe things weren’t so bad after all. 

— ending notes. pls lmk what you think of this series so far, feedback always appreciated 🤍

[mariacallous]

Well, if you’re just joining us, the nation has delivered an all-night victim impact statement. Labour has won a landslide and the Conservatives have suffered their worst ever general election result. Keir Starmer – the prime minister – has promised “national renewal … to fight until you believe again”. Liz Truss has failed to save South West Norfolk, let alone “the west”. That is the big picture (if not the whole picture, with turnout and Labour’s vote share notably low). Meanwhile, it’s incredible to think that only a short while ago we thought we’d eradicated measles and Nigel Farage. Both have now been brought back, largely by the same people.

But look, after the 3am to 7am shift, no one will be able to say the right doesn’t do comedy. There were moments worthy of entire Netflix specials as in sports halls and community centres various Dickensian grotesques were ushered into their Christmas future, live on stage. Alas, it was going to take more than buying the Cratchits a turkey to get out of this one. Jacob Rees-Mogg heard his fate standing next to a candidate wearing a baked bean balaclava. He’ll be crying into Nanny’s starched bosom today. Committed sewage apologist Thérèse Coffey was pumped into the sea in Suffolk Coastal. Andrea Jenkyns had the middle finger given to her by the voters of Morley and Outwood. In Welwyn Hatfield, Grant Shapps chanted “supermajority” five times into the mirror, and then it came for him.

Then again, Michael Portillo losing his seat was supposedly 1997’s big moment. So perhaps the question is: in two years’ time, which current hate figure will be presenting a cosy travelogue on Europe’s most picturesque illegal migration routes? Alternatively, do remember that one person’s onstage humiliation is another person’s milk round for directorships in the arms trade.

Speaking of absolute weapons, hat twat George Galloway wimped out of his own count in Rochdale, presumably out of fatigability. He lost to Labour. There was jubilation for the Lib Dems, who finished not a million miles behind “the natural party of government”, and for the Greens, who won all four of their target seats. The SNP can now squeeze its MPs round the flip-down dining table of a motorhome. Referendum arguments may move to Northern Ireland, with Sinn Féin now that nation’s largest Westminster party.

As for Reform … Farage won in Clacton, a constituency for which he will now have to hold surgeries, presumably by Zoom link from his hot desk in the US presidential colon. Or as he put it in his victory speech: “This is the first steps of something that is going to stun all of you” – at least confirming his political abattoir will be bolt-gunning its victims unconscious first. Farage is the horror version of Inside Out, where Mendacity is only just holding off Racism at the control console. His cultural hinterland extends to a single Goodbye, Mr Chips DVD he got free with the Sunday Times in 2008, and the idea that this hollow chancer should still be one of the most significant politicians of the age says everything about the age.

Anyway, back to the Conservatives’ four-hour in-memoriam reel. Penny Mordaunt, Jonathan Gullis, Michael Fabricant, Gillian Keegan, Steve Baker, Alex Chalk, Johnny Mercer, Michelle Donelan, Victoria Prentis, Liam Fox, Mark Harper … all out, along with many more. So many cabinet ministers fell that the ones who live may actually develop survivor guilt. It’s currently unclear how gruesome things will be among the extant Conservatives in this post-apocalyptic world. As a fictional president once wondered of Dr Strangelove, will the living not end up envying the dead? Far from it, Strangelove reassures him, forcing down an involuntary Nazi salute. What will abound is a spirit of bold curiosity for the adventure ahead!

Speaking of which, 13th fairy Suella Braverman finally turned up, holding on in Fareham and cooing: “I am sorry that my party didn’t listen to you. The Conservative party has let you down.” Expect to see her humbly attempting to disembowel fellow survivors Jeremy Hunt and James Cleverly in the forthcoming trial-by-combat for what convention demands we style as “the soul of the Conservative party”.

At his count, Rishi Sunak explained he’d already conceded the election in a congratulatory call to Keir Starmer, adding, “I take responsibility for the loss.” In Downing Street, he confirmed he would be standing down as Tory leader in some sort of due course, stressing, “I have heard your anger.” Then, instead of yet another speech straight from the Tortured Prime Minister’s Department, this one offered humility and magnanimity, as well as a pointed reminder of the positive (and fragile?) progress that saw him become the UK’s first British-Asian prime minister. What a contrast to the relentless negativity of his past six weeks. Sunak’s campaign was conducted like a gender-reveal party where the device that’s meant to release the puff of blue smoke accidentally functions as a pipe bomb and burns the house down.

It also closed out several years of mindboggling chaos, dysfunction and national decline. They won’t be playing anything from this album on the Conservative party’s Eras tour. The Tories have cycled through five prime ministers over the past eight years, to the point where they were recently found going through the rubbish, pulling the first guy back out, thinking, “Actually, he doesn’t look half bad now,” and making him foreign secretary. This is the behaviour of addicts.

Not that they have the monopoly on erraticism. Any dispassionate view of these results suggests the fabled post-Brexit “realignment” is more of a dealignment – the huge sweeping gains of this or that political moment able to be reversed in previously unthinkable timespans. Volatility might now be our defining electoral characteristic, and a rise in sectarian politics cannot and should not be ignored. Because hey – what’s the worst that can happen with that one? Meanwhile, many people who derided the simplistic “Get Brexit done” slogan in 2019 have pretended not to notice that the winner here went out under the even more gnomic banner of “Change”.

Yet in the wider global context, what a win. One summer evening in 1914, the foreign secretary, Edward Grey, famously remarked: “The lamps are going out all over Europe.” In our own times, a darkening has recently felt at hand, as hard- or extreme-right parties have gained ground across the continent, to say nothing of the US. But here – in this country, in this moment – a different direction has been taken. That matters today, and anyone not on the wingnut fringes, who hopes to avoid those gathering shadows, should wish Keir Starmer good luck with his task. For plenty who would snuff out the lamps are also rising – increasingly, they walk among us.

[seekers-who-are-lovers]

What a fool

Using the @flashfictionfridayofficial’s prompt #FFF257 Count the days, I have written Wakamiya/Nazukihiko’s POV of the terrace scene. Thank you Flash Fiction Friday for this opportunity.

Fandom: Yatagarasu: The Raven Does Not Choose Its Master

Characters: Wakamiya/Nazukihiko, Yukiya, mention of Lady Azusa and Shiratama

Word count: 919

Warning: if you haven’t seen the 10th episode let me tell you that there are a couple of spoilers ahead.

LIKE everything else, Wakamiya could sense it when someone was in the Main Shrine. The palace had become a part of him akin to a heartbeat that he knew it at once if there was an intruding presence.

Carefully treading the wooden steps to the rooftop terrace, he caught a glimpse of a figure wearing a sky-blue kimono lounging on the railing. The way it leaned on the bamboo terrace was familiar. It still surprised him that Yukiya willingly went up there without any qualms. Something bothered the boy.

“Yukiya,” the prince softly called his attendant’s name lest the pubescent would think of jumping to the ground and injuring himself in the process.

“Your Highness?!” Yukiya’s big midnight blue eyes shone in the pale moonlight. They fascinated him.

“Did I startle you?”

“You did and I was ready to run away!”

Wakamiya did not know why but he found the statement so funny that he let out a half-suppressed laugh. He knew the many times Yukiya would love to hit him in the face. Too bad for the boy because he knew how to defend himself.

There was brief silence between them when he remembered Lady Azusa’s letter of request if he could give Yukiya a few days off to celebrate his 14th birthday coinciding with the Lunar Festival.

One of the princesses, Shitarama, Yukiya’s cousin, turned 14 when she arrived at the Sakura Blossom Palace to join the rite. However, it was strange to refer to Yukiya as a mere child when his cousin was already regarded as a woman when their birthdays were only a few months apart. Unbeknownst to everyone, the girl already had a lover back home.

“Cannot sleep? Is everything all right?” This was unusual. Staying up late was not on Yukiya’s routine since he started working for him.

“My mother asked me to visit them for the moon-viewing in a fortnight.”

Ah. Of course, the only thing he must do is ask me. Or better yet, tell me in my face that he is going to visit them without expecting if I would give my assent or not. Why is he so reluctant?

“It is also your 14th birthday. It is only proper to grant the Lady Azusa’s request even if it means you are going to leave me for a few days.”

He could not help giving off that sadness on his voice which made Yukiya turn to him.

“Your Highness?”

The prince shook his head. At the age of 14 he was somewhere else away from Yamauchi because every day he had to be mindful of his life not to be in danger. Once when the Empress called his audience, a few minutes seated before her, he sensed the numbness on his fingers and toes, was sweating and could not stand up. Breathing became laborious. He asked to be dismissed at once. When Natsuka found him in his bedchamber, he noticed that his little brother did not look well.

The cause of it all was the karon incense that the Empress was so fond of. Calming at first, but deadly with the large doses if the human body was not used to it. For years, he developed ways to withstand the sedative effect of the incense that could only be imported from the Southern Territory.

Yukiya then looked at him with the pain in his eyes that the Crown Prince could not discern if it was pity or affection.

“You need me,” the boy said. For now, there was a change on Yukiya’s vocal cords. A slight one, nonetheless. His physique gained a bit of muscle mass as his sparring with Sumio became more intense wanting to know if there was anything else to improve. He observed the boy practise every day, who never shied away from what he was capable of. He knew that if another attempt again would ever happen, he could rely on Yukiya to defend him or fight with him on his side.

“I do,” he said softly. Suddenly, the urge to reach for him, to touch the boy’s face, was so strong but the way he looked at him with so much intensity stopped him from doing so. Alas, their kimonos touched. Wakamiya counted the days until he could ascend to the throne. It was a requirement that Yukiya as his kin’ju to move in to one of the rooms in the upper floors of the Main Shrine, close to the emperor’s suite, like it had always been thousands of years ago.

A thought came up to him: What a fool to put all his trust to one person.

He wanted to tell him how in diverse ways he was important to him. The teenager, on the other hand, turned red on the face and leaned his arms on the handrail.

And now you are hiding away from me.

Wakamiya’s left hand was an inch closer to Yukiya’s hair. He heard the boy whine softly as if in pain.

“Your bed is calling for you,” Wakamiya could only say.

“I will come back per our agreement,” Yukiya assured him.

“Of course. I expect you to.”

The boy wished him good night and headed toward his bedchamber.

As the sound of footsteps slowly ebbed away, Wakamiya started to shiver as the biting cold filled his lungs. He then inserted his hands inside his kimono sleeves to warm them up and let out a sigh that he was keeping for so long.

He waited for the sunrise to come.

tbc

—

So enamoured of the Yatagarasu universe I don’t blame everyone who’s enchanted by it. This is Yukiya’s POV. Full AO3 link here.

[mysticalsoot]

Now here me out-

wils in the kitchen doing something and your in the couch either watching tv or writing

“Wil?”

Nothing, so you look over to see wil still in the kitchen.

“Wilbur?”

Again nothing

“Daddy?”

“Yes baby.”

Do as you will-

i love you, you know?

➸ note; so i can soothe my anxieties, if you don't like it, don't read it. thank you. anyways- anon I love you so much holy shit im- thank you. i wrote this so quickly but its also based off one of my drs so- not surprising there

➸ pairing; labrat dr!wilbur x gn!reader (its not cc, i just don't know how to classify this vers of him otherwise bc- its like three different will characters in one in my dr so)

➸ summary; you cant find wilbur anywhere and he isn't responding to his name yet once you do find him-- you manage to playfully threaten him into not shaving :)

➸ warning; sfw playful uses of daddy (literally the whole point of the fic), maybe swearing, mentions of burning alive (its a joke i-), threatening wil to not shave! beardbur coded bc- I love it (the last stream's beard specific), mild seperation/abandonment anxiety (me. me me)

➸ age-rating; 14+

➸ wordcount; 1.8k

main masterlist

your dynamic with Wilbur was an odd one, yet the both of you found comfort in it. you both cared for each other, helping one another out and taking care of the other when needed. granted, he often chose the carer bit more than cared for-- it was still something that was in place. you had to push your way in to take care of him, but you managed it. enough pouting and whining and he'd melt enough to give in.

it wasn't hard to sneak in little things you'd do for him, here and there. you both followed one another around like lost puppies or rather you followed him around like a lost puppy and he held your hand through it all. where he was, you were and vice versa.

lately you haven't been able to find him much, he'd disappear into another room before you could even notice. you'd both be in the nook one minute and then the next it was just you. or you'd take a nap in the window seat of his office while he worked and then you'd hear doors closing out in the hall.

you weren't sure where he was going or what he was doing but it was by no means relaxing for you, if anything it only drove up your anxiety. abandonment issues, maybe but at least you found someone who honored your feelings and looked out for you. except when he was sneaky and snuck around the house right under your nose. i mean, you did the same but at least you knew where he was and he, you. he'd find you and pick you up, spinning you around before attacking your face and neck in kisses, that was nice. this, was anxiety.

you suppose you got caught up in your own world, watching the wild horses run past his office window, that you didn't notice him slip out of the room. the moment you turned to tell him about the horse that looked so much like mars, your own horse back at the stable, your face fell. frowning you got up off the window seat, glancing around the room and huffing softly at his absence. the lamp on his desk was left on, yet his computer was shut off and his papers were neatly stacked beside it.

you rolled your eyes and grabbed your blanket from the window, wrapping it around you as you began to walk down the hall, peeking into the bedroom and calling for him, "Wilbur? Are you there?" and then the bedroom, "Wil?"

your shared room and the ensuite bathroom was empty of any person, so you scoffed softly, doing your best to push down the anxiety that was bubbling up in your gut as you exited into the hall and peeked into the nook room. it was more or less just a small room with an archway, all set up as your own sanctuary safety place, like Wil's office was for him.

but, like everywhere else upstairs, he wasn't there. so you rolled your eyes and hurried down the stairs, mumbling to yourself as you frantically looked around in the back rooms, the laundry room and the foyer like room where the stairs fell into.

"wilby?" your frown deepened as you stepped into the living room, still no sight of him once, and again the same deal in the dining room until you sighed, your eye catching on his figure working in the kitchen, most likely cooking or baking. which of the two it was, you weren't sure.

"wil?" you whispered the name, smiling as your eyes locked on him, but he made no effort to respond or make it known that he heard you. you crossed your arms, huffing softly at the realization he was ignoring you.

"wilbur? are you deaf? I'm right hereeee!" you drew out, whining as you walked over to him, your eyes glancing up to see his face. you caught his lips twitching, almost as if he was planning on smirking. he's ignoring you for a reason, and unfortunately you know exactly why.

"daddy?" you sigh, head tilted up and eyes still locked on his face. you watched as a smile crawled onto his lips and he turned to face you, pressing a kiss to your forehead as he chuckled.

"yes, baby?" he whispered with a lilt in his voice. he moved his hands to your sides after he readjusted your blanket on you.

"I was looking for you," you frowned, lip poking out in a barely noticeable pout. you pull yourself closer to him, wrapping your arms around his waist as you take a moment to relax your body and breathe him in. he's here, it's okay. you don't have to act so tough now.

"and I was waiting for you.." you can hear the smirk in his voice as he leans down to press kisses to the top of your head, his hands rubbing the back of your hair.

"why didn't you answer me?" your voice comes out in a soft, sad whine, like that of a lost kitten.

"well, I didn't know you were calling me."

you pull back, glaring up at him the best you can, although you do just look like an angry cat, which isn't very intimidating to Wilbur, you do your best. you let go and cross your arms, turning your face away.

"I was calling you- asshole," you huff, and he shakes his head, grabbing your face gently by your chin and carefully tilting your head up to look at him.

"I don't remember my name being called? i think I'd remember that," he smirks turning away after letting go of your face, you whine and reach forward to him, scooting closer to him as he giggles at your antics. your need to be close to him. you tuck yourself into his side as he stirs a pot of something, assumedly a pie filling. he rubs his hand on your side as you look up at him.

"wilbur is your name too," you frown, turning your face away. a chuckle escapes his lip before a content sigh and a shrug of his shoulders.

"only when you're hurt, pup."

you groan, huffing again as you press your face into his shirt, "shut up," you feel his head shake as he squeezes your shoulder, cutting off the eye with his free hand and turning to face you yet again.

"I was messing with you," he smiles softly, thumbs rubbing your cheeks while his fingers curl on the back of your head, "pup, if I hurt you or upset you, I need you to tell me, okay? i need you to tell me if I did something that genuinely affected you negatively. can you do that for me, baby? can you tell me?" his face falls into an expression of concern and you nod, sighing in defeat as you pout again.

"i was just scared, no harm done. I know now to call you daddy all the time or else you'll get stuck up and ignore me," you pull back, tossing your blanket up over one of the barstools and pushing wilbur out of the way so you can take over baking.

"what if I was burning to death, daddy?" you smile sweetly at him, and he scoffs with a smile of his own. he holds your hips gently as he stands behind you, swaying with you.

"well, I'd know that, wouldn't I? I'd be burning with you." he leans down to kiss your cheek before picking you up and sitting you on the counter to watch him, instead of do it for him.

"I suppose so," you shrug, watching him as he moves around and puts things away and in the oven. he then pauses by you, looking down at you before he places a kiss on your forehead. you reach your hand up to run your fingers over his stubble, admiring softly as you zone out and focus on the ticklish feeling of his beard against your fingertips. he leans his face a bit down, closer to yours as you play with what little beard he has, just letting yourself focus on fidgeting with it instead of the bits of anxiety still remaining from earlier.

"what are you doing, baby?" he coos, smiling softly as you trace his jaw and cheekbones.

"playing with your beard," you mumble, eyes and attention focused on his face, not so much the words either of you speak.

"and why's that, little one?" he croons smiling sweetly as he rests his hands on the counter on either side of you, his lower half of his body neatly tucked between where your knees bend over the edge of the counter.

"it's soft, and feels nice,"

"sooo.. I shouldn't shave it?" he teases, lips curling into a mischievous shape and you pout, shaking your head.

"don't, I like it. plus.. remember how Joe looked like a sad baby after he shaved? nuh-uh never again," you shake your head, pout lightening up but still deep on your face. you glance up at wilbur and he reaches his hands down to cup your face, leaning his face down to brush his lips against yours. he smiles softly, and you can feel the way his lips curl up into said smile.

"I won't shave, okay? i promise, pup," he chuckles, sealing his words with a smile kiss to your lips, pulling back a moment later to place a gentle kiss on your forehead.

"you better not, or I'll take it up with Wilma," you fold your arms over your chest, doing your best to form a warning glare but it must look more like a pout, since wilbur simply shakes his head and giggles at you.

"okay? and what is my sister going to do?"

"mm, I dunno.. put a spell on you.. give you a good talking to.. tell you to never shave again and threaten you while she's at it?" you grin, trying to act innocent, which earns an eye roll and a scoff from wilbur.

"well, good thing I don't plan to shave any time soon," he smiles sweetly, leaning down to press gentle kisses all over your face before resting his hands on either of your cheeks. he sighs, pushing a few strands of hair out of your face as he admires you.

"i love you, you know that?"

"more than anything," you lean up, pressing a kiss to his nose before he scoops you up and holds you to his chest.

"good.." he sighs, resting his head in the crook of your neck as you wrap your arms around his own neck. you hum and watch as he sets you back down on the counter, and he busies himself with kitchen work.

"I love you too, you know?"

"I know," he smiles, and all worry drifts away yet again. it's nice how it works out.

taglist; @lcvejoy @lillylvjy @ella-fella-bo-bella @lotusanonymouse @willgoldszn @whos-nicooo @zebonos

[sideblogforsonic]

I was just thinking about Silver’s theme song. “Dreams of an Absolution”. It is not even 2:00 AM yet but I need to share my thoughts.

So. He feels like he needs to be absolved from something. Like he’s being punished.

Obviously some of this is about the stuff he did under Mephiles’ direction. 🎵”Look around you, then you may realize, all the preachers, all with their lies!”🎵 Once he realized that Mephiles had tricked him, Silver felt guilty for thinking Sonic was the “Iblis Trigger”, Silver felt guilty for hurting and trying to kill Sonic. (And of course later, after Mephiles does the dirty deed himself, Silver probably felt even worse. It’s still a wonder how Silver didn’t just lose his mind, and he was able to think clearly enough to come up with the plan of the chaos emerald search party and Elise reviving Sonic. Like…that’s a lot.)

But I feel like Silver felt like he was being punished long before he ever did anything even remotely deserving of punishment. He probably has some deep-seated Survivor’s Guilt. He had been dealing with Iblis for a long time. He had probably seen lots of people die due to the flames, wishing he could save them, kicking himself for not being able to help everyone. The kid was born into a post-apocalyptic world. He spent 14 years like that.

14. Years. Starting. From. Birth.

How many people did he lose to Iblis? How many people did he try to save that he couldn’t save?

And, well, the boy had to come from somewhere. Granted, he’s not the only orphan in Sonic’s world, not by a long shot. But what do you want to bet that Silvie here saw his parents die at a young age? What do you want to bet that baby Silver tried to save them and couldn’t? And naturally, his life would get harder after that.

Does he dream of an absolution from that?

[tonys-fav-bitch]

Plot Twist || Reader x Moonboys

Moon Knight AU

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 |

Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14

Word Count: Around 1k

Summary: in which your boss sends you to keep an eye on a possible avengers recruit. You’re tasked with following him, figuring out who he is, and if he’s good enough for the team. That’s it. But it’s never that simple.

Warnings: None (I don’t think?) it’s really just a story full of fluff. One swear!

YOU WALKED through the huge doors of the Avengers headquarters, a few of your teammates all lounging around on the beautiful day. You rolled your eyes at the group before clapping your hands together - startling one or two of them.

"Chop chop team, we have a briefing!" You exclaimed as you passed by Peter Parker who was sprawled out on a couch, launching pieces of popcorn into his mouth.

You reached down and stopped a piece as it flew through the air, snatching the food and popping it into your mouth. The kid gave a look of bewilderment as he sat up to face you.

"Hey! That was mine!" He frowned.

"Too bad kid, we got stuff to discuss." You laughed and pulled him up and gently pushed him towards the meeting doors.

The rest of the group slowly trailed after you, grumbling about the interruption. They all entered the large room made of glass walls, giving them a beautiful view of the woods that ran along the building. Each one took a seat, Peter doing it dramatically.

"I thought we had the day off?" Sam scowled as he draped himself on the table, a frown on his face.

"So did I, but then I got a call from Fury. . and here we are." You stated with a shrug and took a seat next to Peter who leaned over and flicked your ear.

You scowled at the boy and flicked him back, steeling another piece of popcorn that was in his hands. He let out a silent cry as he watched his snack disappear into your mouth. He began pelting you with the food out of desperation to get back at you. You grinned and caught a few in your mouth as the rest bounced off your body and fell to the floor.

"Are you two done?" Fury's voice brought the two out of their fight, you still grinning and Peter wide eyed.

"Uh - yea, sorry sir. She just -" Nick cut him off.

"Im sure she started it."

"Whoa, hey! Thats rude." You huffed to your boss, who gave you a look.

The man grabbed a large folder and flipped it open, tossing a small packet to each of the members sat at the table. You frowned, as you were the only person to not receive one. You leaned over Peter's shoulder and tried to read the file, only for him to hide it from your view, a grin on his face.

"I can't stand you." You muttered before falling back in your chair.

"I love you too." He replied as he skimmed the front of the packet.

"What about me? I didn't get one, so can I leave?" You raised an eyebrow at your boss, who was digging through his bag.

"You're not that lucky." He muttered.

"Ha!" Sam pointed at you as you gave him a scowl.

"Real mature." You huffed.

Sam grinned at you and flipped through the pages. You glanced to the others who were lost in the information Nick had given them. Bucky, Thor, and Clint didn't even react to their antics anymore, simply tuned it out.

"Here you go. This is your mission. They just needed filled in." Fury told you as he tossed a different file to you, it sliding across the smooth marble table.

You opened the folder while giving the man a suspicious look. You quickly read the words on the front 'Marc Spector - Steven Grant.' Below the name was a date of birth, location, and other valuable details about a person.

"Who's this?" You raised an eyebrow.

You gently picked up a picture of a man, who you assumed was the named person above - or one of them at least. You immediately noticed how handsome he was, his sharp features and his dark wavy hair. You bit at your lip as you studied him before Fury responded.

"This is Marc Spector. Some know him as Moon Knight."

"Moon Knight?" Bucky asked with confusion.

"I told you, man. Everybody's got a gimmick now." Sam shook his head as he leaned back in his chair. You chuckled at his words.

"Okay. . and what about this Moon dude?" You asked as you set the picture down, meeting Fury's gaze.

"He could be. . valuable. But we don't know the whole situation. He has an alias Steven Grant and possibly another. I want you to find out what he's about and what's going on." He told you bluntly.

"You want to see if he's Avenger's material, don't you?" You realized.

He simply shrugged and waved his hand, dismissing the group. As Peter stood to leave, he attempted to peak at your file - only for a hand to push his face away. He stumbled back and gave a half smile and frown to you.

"Beat it Spiderling." You scolded him, earning a glare from the name.

"Not cool." He huffed as he walked out of the room, about to shut the door behind him. Fury cleared his throat, making the kid stop.

"Pick up the damn popcorn later."

"Yes, sir." Peter replied in defeat before leaving.

You chuckled to yourself and got to your feet, grabbing the file from the table. You approached your boss, who was still at the head of the table, flipping through pages of information.

"So. . when do I leave?"

"As soon as possible."

☽ ♞ ☾

You sighed as you wandered around your room, trying to decide on what to pack. You were much too indecisive for this. Without hesitation, you tossed the piece of clothing you had in your hand to the floor and collapsed back onto the bed. You stared up at the ceiling and let out a sigh as you thought to the mission you were being sent on.

Recruiting an Avenger.

That was what Natasha use to do, but now it was up to you. You were pulled from your thoughts as another body laid next to yours. You turned your head to see Peter, now also staring up at the ceiling. A frown was plastered on his face.

"Why the sad look, kid?" You broke the silence.

"How long will you be gone?" He replied with a question of his own.

You sensed a hint of sadness in his voice and you turned your body to look at him. He glanced at you, his jaw tightened. You held your hand out for the kid, who gently wrapped his fingers around yours - still not speaking.

"Are you upset I'm leaving, Peter Parker?" You questioned him.

"Of course I am! You're my best friend. It's gonna be lonely here without you." He frowned.

"Wow, somewhere out there Ned's heart is breaking." You teased him, trying to lighten the mood.

"Shut up. You both are my best friends." He scrunched his nose at you, a shadow of a smile on his lips.

"I'll miss you too, Spiderboy. But you can always text and call me." You assured the boy as he sat up.

He followed your actions and sat up, playing with the zipper on his jacket. He thought for a moment before responding.

"Where are you gonna be going, again?"

"London."

[snowysosturn]

Allies or Affiliates? - Chris Sturniolo Part 29

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29 Finale

Pairing : Y/n x dealer!Chris Sturniolo

Summary : Law student Y/n’s life takes a turn when she reconnects with Chris, her brief teenage flame who is now a dealer for a dangerous Boston drug gang. As their bond reignites, Y/n is drawn into Chris’s tumultuous world, where rival gangs clash and loyalty is everything. Balancing her love for Chris with her own ambitions, can their connection survive the chaos that threatens to pull them apart?

Warnings : MDNI, mentions of death, mentions of murder, courtroom setting, trial

It had been ten months since that fateful night in the Airbnb when the news of Vince’s arrest had sent shockwaves through our lives. So much had changed since then. Vince was never granted bail and had remained in custody, his iron grip on the Crimson Cartel shattered the moment the truth about Danny’s death came to light.

The footage had done what we’d hoped, and more. Crimson disbanded in the weeks following the arrest. Some members, disillusioned by the betrayal and violence, saw it as their chance to escape the dealing life altogether, to walk away and start over. Others, however, moved to H Block, aligning themselves with the only gang left standing in Boston’s drug trade. The streets had quieted down, but the tension lingered, a reminder of everything that had been lost and the shadows still lurking.

For Chris, it meant freedom. With Crimson dismantled and Vince off the scene, the need for him to hide was gone. Those who had once believed he was dead, made a pact to keep it that way for Vince’s ears. Even from behind bars, Vince’s wrath was something none of them wanted to risk. But now, with their shared hatred for the man who had destroyed their lives, they protected Chris by staying silent.

Chris no longer had to live like a ghost. He didn’t have to hide in Airbnb’s, constantly looking over his shoulder. For the first time in years, he was free to step into the world without fear of being hunted down whether that be from the police, or Vince. It was a kind of liberation none of us had dared to dream of when this all began.

The scars of the past weren’t gone, but they had started to fade. Boston’s streets were different now. And for us, the end of Vince Moretti marked the beginning of something new, a chance to rebuild, to heal, and to figure out who we were beyond the chaos that had defined us.

Today was the day of Vince’s trial. After months of waiting, the day had finally arrived, and the courtroom was buzzing with a mixture of tension and anticipation. The evidence against Vince was rock solid, with the footage we had risked everything to obtain forming the cornerstone of the prosecution’s case. It was expected to be a straightforward trial, but nothing ever felt certain.

For me, this day carried a weight I couldn’t quite put into words. In the ten months since Vince’s arrest, I’d worked tirelessly to regain my footing in law school. Now, in my final year, I had secured an internship that had somehow landed me in this very courtroom as a junior lawyer representing the state of Massachusetts. It felt surreal to be here, not just as an observer but as part of the team seeking justice.

I stood by the prosecution table, dressed in my best blazer, trying to maintain a calm and professional demeanor. My heart, however, was racing. Being in this courtroom wasn’t just about advancing my career, it was deeply personal. I was here not just as a lawyer in training but as someone who had been touched by the devastation Vince had caused.

As the court filled with reporters, family members of Danny’s including Nate and the general public. The air was thick with anticipation. Vince was escorted in, his expression impassive as he took his seat beside his defense attorney. Even in cuffs, he carried an aura of control, but for once, it felt hollow. He didn’t hold the power anymore.

The lead prosecutor leaned over to me and whispered instructions, snapping me back to the present. My role in today’s proceedings was small but significant, assisting with evidence presentation and ensuring every detail was flawless. My professor, Mr. Hawkins, had worked closely with this team, and I was grateful for his recommendation.

As the judge enters, everyone rises. “Be seated.”He announces as the murmurs within the courtroom die instantly as everyone takes their seats.

“This is the case of The State of Massachusetts vs. Vince Moretti, case number 2025-1203. The defendant is charged with first degree murder, drug trafficking, and organized crime activities. Are both sides ready to proceed?”

“The State is ready, Your Honor.”

“The defense is ready, Your Honor.”

The trial begins with the prosecution presenting their opening statement. The lead prosecutor sat next to me, a middle aged man with a commanding presence, stood for his opening statement.

“Your Honor, members of the jury, today we bring forward irrefutable evidence of the defendant’s guilt. Vince Moretti, once a feared leader of the Crimson Cartel, stands accused of first degree murder, drug trafficking, and other organized crime activities. We will show you clear evidence, including video footage and testimony from former associates, that will leave no doubt in your minds.”

He paced slightly, his voice steady and confident.

 “At the conclusion of this trial, we will ask you to deliver a verdict that ensures justice is served.”

I glanced at Vince, whose expression remained stony, as if he knew this was inevitable.

The defense attorney rose, her tone sharp and rehearsed.

“Your Honor, members of the jury, the evidence presented by the state may seem compelling at first glance, but we urge you to remain open minded and to question the circumstances under which this so called evidence was obtained. My client is not the monster he’s been painted as, and we intend to prove that the accusations against him lack the necessary foundation to convict.”

The defense attorney sits as the prosecution begins presenting their case.

“Your Honor, we call Detective Kevin Alvarez to the stand.”

Detective Alvarez walks to the stand, takes the oath, and sits.

“Detective, can you explain what led to the arrest of Vince Moretti?” The lead prosecutor questions.

“Yes. Following a tip, we conducted a raid at a dock warehouse tied to the Crimson Cartel. There, we found substantial evidence of drug trafficking. Later, we obtained security footage from a neighboring property that captured Mr. Moretti committing murder.”

I rise and present the footage to the technician, who dims the lights and plays the footage on a screen for the court. I avoided looking at Vince during the playback, focusing instead on the jury. Their faces told me everything I needed to know, they were horrified. This was it. The evidence was airtight, the narrative clear. Vince Moretti was going to pay for his crimes.

“Detective, is this the footage you reviewed?” The lead prosecutor smugly asks.

“Yes, it is.”

“And the person committing the act, can you identify him?”

“That’s Vince Moretti.”

The prosecutor looks at the jury, ensuring the gravity of the evidence sinks in.

“No further questions, Your Honor.”

The defense attempts to cross examine but gains little ground. There was only so much defending you could do to such a damning piece of evidence, and soon later the judge adjourned the hearing.

“Members of the jury, you will now deliberate. Court is adjourned until a verdict is reached.” announces the Judge before rising from his seat.

As court adjourned, I stepped out into the hallway, letting out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. I turned on my phone and saw a message from Chris, sending me a simple text: “How’s it going?”

I typed back quickly: “Going well so far. It’s all coming together. The jury is deliberating right now.”

It was best for Chris to stay out of the courtroom, as much as he wanted to be here to support Nate, we couldn’t run the risk of Vince seeing him. He trusted me to see this through, and that trust was what kept me steady as the trial pressed on.

After two hours of deliberating, we were summoned back into the courtroom. The room is packed as the jury files back in. The judge addresses the foreperson.

“Has the jury reached a verdict?”

“We have, Your Honor.” The foreperson responds.

“Please read the verdict.”

“In the case of The State of Massachusetts vs. Vince Moretti, on the charge of first degree murder, we find the defendant.. guilty. On the charge of drug trafficking, we find the defendant guilty. On the charge of organized crime activities, we find the defendant guilty.”

A wave of emotion sweeps through the courtroom. Vince’s face finally cracks, his cold demeanor replaced with a scowl.

The judge thanks the jury for their service. “Sentencing will take place next week. Court is adjourned.”

A wave of relief swept through me. Vince’s reign of terror was officially over. For the first time, Boston felt like it could breathe again. As I packed up my notes and prepared to leave, I realized this wasn’t just a victory for the state or for those Vince had hurt. It was a victory for all of us who had fought to break free from his shadow. This chapter of our lives was finally closed, and the future felt wide open.

I left the courthouse immediately after Vince was taken away. The crisp air hit me as I stepped outside, but it wasn’t enough to calm the storm of emotions coursing through me. Relief, exhaustion, and a sense of finality mixed into one overwhelming wave.

Sliding into the driver’s seat of my car, I took a deep breath. Having a full license now was a game changer, and being able to drive myself felt like a tiny slice of independence amidst the chaos that had been my life for so long. I started the engine and pulled onto the main road, heading toward the house Chris and I had moved into together just two months ago.

Our home.

The drive felt shorter than usual, my mind preoccupied with the moment I would walk through the door and tell Chris the news. By the time I turned into our driveway, the weight of everything seemed lighter.

I stepped inside, the familiar scent of Chris’s cologne lingering in the hallway. He was in the living room, sprawled out on the couch with the TV on, but he wasn’t paying attention to it. When he looked up and saw me, his face lit up.

“Hey” he said, sitting up. “How’d it go?”

I dropped my bag by the door and made my way over to him, my heart racing in anticipation. “It’s done” I said, unable to hold back the smile tugging at my lips. “Guilty on all three counts.”

Chris shot to his feet, his excitement radiating through the room. “Are you serious?”

I nodded, and before I could say anything else, he pulled me into a tight hug, lifting me off the ground for a moment. “Holy shit” he said, his voice filled with disbelief and joy. “He’s actually done for.”

He set me down but kept his hands on my shoulders, his eyes searching mine. “That’s it, then. No more looking over our shoulders. No more hiding secrets from your parents. No more Vince.”

“It’s over” I confirmed, my voice steady despite the tears welling up in my eyes.

Chris’s grin widened as he let out a laugh, running a hand through his hair. “You have no idea how good this feels. Like we can actually breathe again.”

I laughed softly, leaning against him. “I think we’ve earned that.”

We stood there for a while, letting the reality of the moment sink in. Finally the future seemed like something we could look forward to instead of fear.

Chris pulled back slightly, his arms still around me as he spoke. “I was talking to Willow earlier” he said, his voice soft but full of excitement. “She said her and Nate are heading to Cape Cod tonight for a little getaway to celebrate.. well, everything.” He gave me a playful look. “They want us to join them.”

a/n: 1 more part :( JUSTICEEEE IS SERVED

taglist: @mattybearnard @sturn-33 @ncm9696 @yourfavsturniologirl @crazy4jewel @sodakid1234 @stupendoustreewinner @lovealwayssturniolos @matthewsturniolosss @m4ttsmunch @loveexxx @ilusa @starkeyszn @wonnieeluvvr @dylnblue @valxrieq @maggot3647 @cigarettecemetary @ribread03 @chrisstvrns @bandasaruswrx @noplaceissafeanymore @amexiass @witchofthehour @mattssgf @jetaimevous @v33angel @ivysturnss @urmom69lol @ashlishes @watercolorskyy @sturnioloshottiekay @amelia-sturniolo3 @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @pvssychicken @alizestvrnss @lvrsturniolo @bernardsbunny @spaghetti835928383 @marrykisskilled @sturnsxplr-25 @bxtchboy69 @vickytaa @anikaistg @matts-girlfriend @lvrsturniolo @sophand4n4 @ilovepurpledragons @mattsside @riasturns @sturnslutz @chrisstxrnsaxe @2prcntmilkluvr @trevorsgodmother @anonymouslyachrisgirl

[the-cosmos-withinus]

Shadow Puppets AU - The Last Grimwalker lore dump

-Because Grimwalkers take so long to mature, Belos usually had two or three growing at various intervals to account and prepare for their potential betrayals, sometimes bringing the new one in before the previous one needed to be replaced, but always having a few back ups ready within a few years. -This was also an effective method for situations where the Grimwalkers were defective, such has coming out with withered limbs, rotting flesh or missing organs. -Belos normally killed defective Grimwalkers immediately in attempt to salvage the resources used to create them -Hunter is technically a defective Grimwalker, one who came out much too young (roughly ten or eleven as opposed to an adult as the others had) -Much to Astrophel’s surprise and confusion, Belos took him in and left the cavern without planting another, even remarking that the boy would be the last Grimwalker and leaving the others to die. -Hunter is the first and only Grimwalker that Belos has ever seen as an individual and not just pale facsimile of his brother, which is ironic since it was Hunter’s remarkable resemblance to Caleb that stayed his hand -Or perhaps, not so ironic, since Belos legitimately sees Hunter as his nephew, the son that Caleb might have had if not for him. -Belos still lies to Hunter about his origin and even still uses “the Titan has big plans for you” to keep Hunter close, but in the Shadow Puppets AU Belos’s endgame changes after Hunter’s “birth” and not even Astrophel knows about his change of plans for the Day of Unity -Although Hunter was granted the position of Golden Guard at age 14, Belos never intended for him to join the Emperor’s Coven and Hunter got his sigil behind his Uncle’s back. The discovery that Hunter has a sigil caused Belos to noticeably freak out  resulting in one the worst episodes he’s ever had with his curse since becoming Emperor -Belos started looking into the techniques to remove Sigils shortly after, claiming that he was simply following a command from the Titan to ensure that a Witch who was not thriving in their branded Coven could be moved to one more suitable to their talents. -And as Kikimora would unfortunately discover, making attempts on the lives of your rivals to advance in rank may be passable most of the time (as it justifies Philip’s deep-seated belief that witches and demons are barbaric), but harming the Emperor’s beloved Nephew just slams his berserk button. -The Grimwalkers don’t exactly inherit Caleb’s memories, but all had certain intuitions when it came to Belos that stem from being clones of his older brother; the most notable being an innate desire to care for Belos, which sometimes ends up being a little embarrassing for the Emperor in Hunter’s era when his “nephew” keeps trying to parent him. Another is that the name ‘Philip’ feels very familiar and right when Astrophel accidentally slips up and calls Belos by the wrong name in front of him -Hunter and the other Grimwalkers were all born being able to see Astrophel because they are clones of Caleb and Caleb had touched the tablet  -Belos frequently has to tell his nephew to quit worrying about him and remind him that he should be the one taking care of Hunter, not the other way around. -Although, Belos’s curse has been acting up more and more the closer they get to Day of Unity, causing him to need more Palismen to make it through the days, and with the recent over harvesting of Palistrom wood, Hunter probably is very right to be concerned

[inneedofsupervision]

In a World full of Color, We only see Black and White (Chapter 1)

Summary:

Being homeschooled until now, Chan stands two days after turning sixteen in front of an actual school for the first time in his life. Chan's plan; keep low and get this done without causing himself trouble. But that's easier said than done when you only pretend to be human. In a society where people split into those who can use magic and those who are not, demons have nearly hit extinction. They are beasts accepted but still frowned upon by society and thus live with their true nature hidden. To this day, demons almost started becoming a myth. Chan is one of them.

Seventeen fanfic; High School AU, Fantasy AU, Demons and Humans AU

Chapter: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15

Read on Ao3

The giant gate marking the school entrance did a pretty decent job of letting Chan want to turn on his heels and walk straight back home.

The whole situation still feels surreal to him. Last week Chan had prepared and studied for the exam that his teacher planned to let him take today. But instead of racking his brain over the overly complex questions his private teacher likes to create, Chan stands in front of an actual school. Not to mention that the school lies at the other end of the country. To say that Chan feels a little overwhelmed would be an understatement. He stumbles as someone knocks their shoulder into him.

“Hey, stop standing here. You are blocking the way.”

“Ah, sorry-”, he stops speaking as the group of students walks past. The teen who bumped into him looks older than Chan, probably a senior. There is no apology, nor a glance back. The group just continuous walking, chatting idly with each other.

“If you saw me standing here, why could you not just walk around me?" Chan pulls a grimace as he rubs his shoulder. He bents down to grab his bag and dusts it off. The bundle of keyrings jingles light as he throws it back on his shoulder. The noise of a busy school morning does not stop once he is inside the school. It is quite the opposite. Everything around Chan seems to grow even louder. The school does not only look tall from the outside. The sheer quantity of it is impressive. The entrance leads into a giant main hall, the latter dividing into several larger hallways. There are two sets of pompous-looking staircases leading upstairs. The staircases lie parallel to each other on both ends of the hall. Near the end of the hall, the ceiling bends and merges beautifully into a glass front. It grants a view into the inner schoolyard. Chan does a double-take at it as it looks much more like some fancy park than an actual place inside a school. There are various seating options and neatly kept flowerbeds outside. A lovable place where students can rest and recharge between classes. Chan takes a moment to imagine enjoying the fresh air and the sun on top of a bench mid a sea of blooming flowers. 

As you would expect from a school, there are many students. Like, everywhere. Most of the couches and chairs are packed, and the small study tables throughout the hall are full of notebooks and pouches. Most students stand together in groups, while others are busy on their own. The volume of noises is hard on his ears, the loudness coming from every direction, leaving Chan paralyzed at first. He looks around before going up the stairs. Chan soon realizes that the grandness of the school does not end here as he searches through the hallways that remind him of a giant maze.

“ Why is it so hard to find the office? ”

Chan is pretty sure that he went to the correct building, but for some reason, finding the teachers' office is like searching for a needle in a haystack. But it is not your ordinary haystack. Imagine a haystack with tons of ants inside. They are crawling all over the place, not caring if they bump into, or have to step over each other. They are working in a decoded order that nobody but themselves seems to understand. They do everything to accomplish their goal. And there is also the possibility of the haystack bursting into flames at any second. Maybe Chan should not have stayed up half of the night before. It might stop him from thinking of weird comparisons. But he had to unpack his stuff if he did not want to wear the same set of clothes to sleep that he wore on his way to the new apartment. Chan had just unpacked the most necessary stuff, for example, everything he uses to get ready to sleep. It had been a tiring task, even though there was not much to unpack. To his luck, the apartment was completely furnished. If not, he would have slept on the floor as he was too tired to build up a bed alone. The bed did a pretty descend job. Chan fell asleep as soon as his head met the pillow. He caught around four hours of sleep but it was barely enough to make him feel well-rested.

He stifles a yawn as he keeps wandering around the hallway. After walking for a few more minutes, with no clue where to go, Chan comes to a sober conclusion. He needs help. And sleep. But apart from that, he also needs some directions. And a cup of jasmine tea would be nice too. “I’m sorry, can you help me find the teachers' office?”

Chan should have stuck to the basic rules when asking for help inside a school. Not that he would know them anyway, as he had been home-schooled all his life. Now he knows to never ask for help from a larger group of people. When Chan realizes that he has made a mistake, the group of girls has already grown silent. The girl who has her back turned to him looks over her shoulder. As soon as she sees him, her expression turns sour, as if she had bitten into a bad apple. Chan only wonders what her problem is as he and the girl have never met before.

“Who are you?”

It sounds more like an accusation rather than a question. Chan raises an eyebrow at the harsh tone that the girl uses to speak to him. The girls surrounding her carry similar expressions as their eyes wander up and down on him, giving the boy a once-over. It made Chan feel very uncomfortable. He quickly casts his eyes away. Maybe it would have been a better idea to find the room alone. 

“Never mind, we got no time for you.”

She brushes him off, her friends following her as they stride through the hallway and out of his sight. Chan could only watch them leave, eyes wide in confusion, before glancing down at himself. His uniform looks like those of any other student around him. He even checked this morning if it was clean. No stains or toothpaste were on his clothes. They are spotless as expected of a uniform he had never worn before. He reaches upward to touch his hair, smooth banks laying orderly onto his forehead, the rest of his hair perfectly groomed.

“Maybe there is something stuck on my face,” he whispers as his hands wander downwards to check, slightly shocked that he might have walked around looking like a fool on his first day. It would not justify their reaction, but he only tries to make some sense out of it.

“Your face looks completely fine.”

Cute cheeks and dirty blond hair are the first traits Chan notices in the student who stands in front of him. The boy's eyes tell Chan he just met someone who probably knows all the students in this school and at least half of their secrets. “You are new, am I right? And looking for the teachers' office.”

Chan nods silently, sensing that the boy isn't done talking yet.

“Go up the stairs and turn left. Walk down the hallway. It is the second last door on the right side.”

The boy does not look much older than him. Chan eyes him with curiosity but does not ask for his name. The other seems to sense Chan growing cautious, probably spooked by the earlier accouter with the group of female students. "Nice to meet you. My name is Boo Seungkwan.”

Chan hesitates to take Seungkwan’s hand. The latter rolls his eyes and stretches his arm out further, grabbing Chan’s clammy hand, and giving it a light shake. “Thank you. I got a little lost.” Chan laughs, hoping to overplay the awkwardness while taking his hand back and trying to wipe his sweat off on his pants without attracting too much attention. He is a little embarrassed but still thankful for the help.

Seungkwan looks amused, lips somewhere between a pout and a smile, though Chan did not understand why the blond laughed at him. “I could tell. See you around.”

“Yeah, see you.”

“ Nice, but a little quirky ”, thought Chan on his way upstairs. He later realizes that he had not introduced himself to Seungkwan. Well, there will be a chance for that later. Probably. With the help of directions Chan got from Seungkwan, he finally finds the teacher’s office.

Not sure if it was alright for him to go in, Chan knocks twice. As he does not get an answer, the student hesitantly opens the door and takes a peek inside. The people in the room are busy. No one spares a glance towards the boy, who cautiously glances around. Chan keeps standing at the door for a few moments before he dares to walk into the room. The student stands a little lost in the office, unsure where to go until he spots a young woman sitting near the windows. She also seems busy sorting her papers, but she looks the most approachable to Chan.

“Excuse me-”

The woman looks up as he approaches and gives him a warm smile. “How can I help you? Are you a new student?” She sounds kind.

There are so many students in this school. How does everyone know that I am the new kid , wonders Chan before answering. “Yes, I am Lee Chan.” He gives her a reserved bow. The woman looks like she expects him to continue talking, but as Chan stays silent, she puts her papers down and turns to him instead.

“I am Miss Kim. You are probably Mr. Yun’s new student. Give me a moment, I'll help you find him.”

“Of course. Thank you.” Chan gives her another short bow and takes the chance to look outside the window. He could look over the whole school ground from the office.

The school complex contains four main buildings. The first building stands horizontal towards the school entrance and the street. Buildings two and three are positioned parallel to each other and located behind the first building. They look almost identical except for the annex growing out of the end of the third building. It holds the main library, which has a pentagon shape and owns several stories. Behind the fourth main building, which stays a little further from the others, are the training grounds and the gymnasium positioned. A little down on the left of the estate sits two luxury accommodations for the students who come from further away and live at the school. The school ground ends with the school garden and the greenhouses. The sheer size of the building complex amazes Chan even now.

Fitting the whole image, the teacher's office is also very grand. Although there are a lot of compact wooden desks and shelves everywhere, it surprisingly did not feel cramped inside. Mrs. Kim is soon done with her work, leading the new student through the office.

His eyes sting as he tries too hard to read the names written on the back of the folders as they pass the masses of shelves. Chan is not yet used to wearing contact lenses. The boy blinks a few times until the uncomfortable feeling in his eyes lessens and directs his gaze in front. He doubts that his folder will find a place between the other students and continues walking. Mrs. Kim slows down. Chan soon realizes their destination is the very vocal group of men standing in a half-circle at the other end of the office. His eyes fall on the large double-wing door behind them.

“ Principal office”,  stands on the golden sign next to it.

The boy is surprised that someone notices them as they approach the group. The men seem very immersed in a heated discussion. The probably youngest of them looks around, dismissing Chan with a short glance. His attention is focused on Mrs. Kim entirely. “Mrs. Kim, how can I help you?”

If Mrs. Kim had been uncomfortable by the too-sweet-sounding tone, she overplayed her discomfort well. Chan, on the other hand, has to keep himself from fumbling with the ring on his left ring finger, a nervous habit he developed over the years. He does not like to judge people based on their first impression, but Mr. Yun seems like a teacher who is hard to approach.

“It seems that your new student is looking for you, Mr. Yun. But he could not find his teacher.”

Mr. Yun’s expression turns cold as he unwillingly directs his eyes on Chan again, but he schools his expression soon after as he smiles at Mrs. Kim. “Thank you for showing him the way, Mrs. Kim. You are as nice as ever.”

“Are you not going to ask him his name? He is your new student, after all.” Chan likes Mrs. Kim more than his new homeroom teacher, but he also wishes she would stop talking to him as she did. Every word she says works as fuel for whatever negative emotions Mr. Yun holds against Chan. The boy can feel something dark growing from deep within the man, without the need to be a mind reader.

“Introduce yourself.”

It is an order. 

Although the icy tone is nothing new to Chan, the boy bites his lip before giving Mr. Yun a bow.

“I’m Lee Chan. I’ll be in your care, Mr. Yun.”

“Lee Chan?”

The sudden silence after the mention of his name makes Chan look up. The group of men had split up, and a gray-haired man, probably the same age as his grandfather, would be now if he is still alive, steps forward.

“Yes, Sir?”

“Lee Chan?”, the older man asks again, and Chan confirms with a faint nod, freezing in his bow as he feels the weight of a hand on his shoulder. The eyes he met seemed kind, but something feels off.

“You have classes soon, but before that, should we have a little talk?”

“Principle Hwa, -”

“Quit it.”

The men who had called out for the elder closed their mouths instantly. The older man is still looking at Chan. It was the second time this day that Chan felt incredibly uncomfortable. It gave off the feeling like the principal was examining him, searching for something that only he could see.

“Come into my office.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Chan steps after the principal into the office, the massive double-winged wooden doors closing behind the two on their own with a soft click.

“Let us sit down.”

 “Yes, thank you.”

Apart from the luxurious creme-colored leather couch standing in the center, the principal's office seems surprisingly down to earth. Maybe it stood in contrast to what Chan had been expecting.

The principal stands with his back to him, pouring himself a cup of coffee. Chan takes the chance to let his eyes roam around the office. He turns around once before he slowly sits down on the couch. The couch is softer than expected. Chan nearly falls back as he sinks into the soft cushion while sitting down. He quickly pushes himself up again and slides forward until he sits on the end of the couch, acting as if nothing happened. The student straightens his back and folds his hands neatly on his lap, a textbook example of an obedient student. He steals a glance at the elder and relaxes when he sees that the principal is still busy brewing coffee. The boy takes the chance to look around some more.

‘ Hwa Jihwon ’ reads the name sign sitting on top of the dark-reddish escritoire, illuminated by a small, out-of-place-looking Tiffany lamp. Bookshelves cover nearly every inch of the office walls. The last free inches of the room wall is complete with paintings of various sizes. The shelves are bending under the weight of hundreds of folders and books. Most of them are large enough that Chan would never start reading them if he ever picked one of them up. There are other items scattered all over the place, most unfamiliar to Chan.

What catches his attention is a mirror standing in the corner next to a painting of a sunflower field. Chan assumed by the looks of the frame that it had to be a mirror. But it is hard to tell. A white-bleached sheet covers the object in question. There is a small opening where he can see what lies underneath. Chan read somewhere that mirrors can turn black when they start desilvering, but the blackness of the mirror did not seem ordinary.

Chan does not dare to ask what had happened to the mysterious mirror and decides to look around further instead. There are two large sets of bowed windows. One of them holds a door that leads out onto a small balcony. Chan could not see what kind of view lays behind the thick stonewall which borders the area. “Do you know why you are here, Chan?”

Hot steam rises out of the cup that stands in front of him.

“I do not, Sir.”

He does not even like coffee. The cup is uncomfortably hot against his hands. Chan does not know what to take from the thoughtful expression turning over Mr. Hwa’s face. The man keeps looking at him like Chan is an enigma that needs to be solved.

The steam rises further, softly dancing through the air as it grows thinner and less visible until it disappears completely. Chan takes a small sip.

“Do you know why am I here, Sir?” asks Chan in turn.

Gray piercing eyes lock with his own. The student did not think he could sit up even more straight, but his spine proves him wrong. The director leans forward and takes his cup, never leaving Chan out of his eyes. Chan only sees now that a part of Mr. Hwa’s left pointer finger was missing. The boy quickly looks away, feeling the need to pretend that he did not notice. His fingers absentmindedly run over the floral pattern of his cup.

Chan takes another sip of his coffee to distract himself. He burns his tongue.

“To be honest with you,” began Mr. Hwa, as he kept giving him a curious look.

“I am not sure what I have expected you to look like.”

Chan freezes.

“As your dear father called me and asked for you to attend this school, I was about to decline. But then he shared a piece of information that perked my interests.”

The boy tries to retain a neutral expression as Mr. Hwa calmly drinks his coffee. Seconds pass by, and Mr. Hwa keeps on observing him. Chan knew that the man was waiting for a reaction. He could keep waiting if he had expected him to spring up and run out of the room. Not like Chan didn’t think about doing it. It would be the next better option, though not very rational, rather than sitting in a room with someone who knows more about you than he should. He ignores the pain in his mouth and looks up with a stoic face.

“Who else knows?”

He is surprised at how his voice carries through the room without an ounce of emotion. It feels unfamiliar even to him as his words chill the room as if they were out of ice. Mr. Hwa's lips turn upwards, the action well hidden behind the thin porcelain of the cup. 

“No one other than me in this school is aware of what you are, Lee Chan.”

As if he knew that his words come off like a threat, the director puts his coffee down again and openly smiles at the student. Chan doesn't move an inch as he watches the man with the eyes of a hawk.

“You might be on alert now. That is understandable. But our interests are probably more alike as you would assume, young man.”

Mr. Hwa sounding so at ease while sitting in front of him angers Chan. It feels like the man is doing it on purpose. Flaunting the fact at him that Chan’s well-kept secret lies in his hands, additionally holding more information than Chan. 

“What else did my father tell you?”

He listens to the story of how Mr. Hwa got a phone call about a month ago. He had been surprised at the sudden request of Mr. Lee to let his beloved son attend the school. His son, Chan, is a lovable child who had been home tutored until now due to special conditions. His parents had felt bad for their son. The child was missing out on social life because of it. Now that he would turn sixteen years old, it felt like the right time for Chan to attend a school together with other students.

“Until then, I did not know Mr. Lee had a son.” 

Chan decides not to comment on that. He knew that Mr. Hwa had already counted two and two together. Humoring him by telling the man himself that his parents kept him a secret feels like Chan voluntarily makes himself vulnerable. He rather kept the man guessing instead of affirming it.

“You must know, that it is in our best interest to care for students with special needs. Keeping that in mind, I had to ask your father about your condition to provide you with the best studying experience.”

“It is not a condition.”

Chan knew he played right into Mr. Hwa’s hands when he saw the man smile. He wants to slap himself but could not help getting defensive over the word. Even though the boy did not raise his voice, the anger it carries is very noticeable.

“Of course. I did not mean to offend you, Chan.” His jaw clenches. He reminds himself to stay calm, feeling his posture growing stiff. The fingers, that had nervously played with everything within reach came to a sudden halt. Chan knew that if his father went that far, he does not have a chance to back out of this. The second his father decided to call Mr. Hwa, Chan had no other choice than to attend this school. He suppresses a sigh.

“As you might know, this school is focused on educating those with the ability to use magic. But we also accept students with a great interest in magic. Under certain circumstances.”

The aftertaste of the coffee lies bitter on his tongue. 

“Like a scholarship?”

“That is indeed right. Several students attend the school through being granted a scholarship.”

Chan frowns at the words.

“Under certain circumstances?” he repeats the man's words, causing Mr. Hwa to lean back in his seat with a sigh.

“There are students who are not gifted, but are interested in studying magic,” answers Mr. Hwa, his voice patient as if he was explaining something simple for the fourth time.

Not gifted.

Right. Using magic is considered a gift. Although the majority of the population cannot use magic, at this academy, they get treated like they are something out of the ordinary. The absurdity of it has Chan baffled.

“Would you look at the time. We have drifted away from the important topics,” says Mr. Hwa as he looks at his expensive-looking wristwatch. To Chan, Mr. Hwa looks like he would rather keep playing with him, poking at sore spots and asking questions. Mr. Hwa taps a finger against his empty cup. A moment later, hot steam wafts out of it. The scent of freshly brewed coffee fills the room once again. 

“To get back to the topic.” begins the older man, “I believe you would like to keep your identity hidden.”

The director sits back up and Chan holds the eye contact. If he wanted to get a hold of his future school life, he had to act now.

“That is right.” Chan waits for the however .

Mr. Hwa chuckles and leans forward, causing Chan to frown at his reaction.

“That is very pleasant to hear. I hope you will not misread my intentions, Chan. I am welcoming your choice with open arms. You should know, that the comfort of my students, is my greatest interest. I'm convinced you are going to blend in well." The director holds a look full of expectations as he keeps speaking.

"Your father did not tell me about the level of your abilities. I assume they are above the average.”

Chan has to keep himself from crossing his arms over his chest. The manners taught to the boy, since he was little, are hindering him from it. His instinct, on the other hand, tells him to shield himself. “They are average. But I am not going to attend this school as a gifted student.”

The moment Mr. Hwa showed interest in Chan, the boy had made a decision. Chan feels satisfied to trigger a genuinely surprised expression from the man across from him. 

“You want to attend as a human?”, asks Mr. Hwa with a frown and sinks back into the cushion.

Chan keeps himself from growing annoyed at the director’s tone.

“I believe all of the students attending are humans.”

“Of course, you are right.” Mr. Hwa seems to be still perplexed by his decision. The disappointment is evident in his voice.

“I am going to attend under the pretense of having a scholarship. It is the easiest way for me to help keep everyone comfortable.” He emphasizes the word ‘ comfortable’ , causing Mr. Hwa to raise an eyebrow, an amused expression playing on his pale features. 

“I am looking forward to having a bright student like you attending this school, Lee Chan. It is going to be a pleasure.”

Mr. Yun did not look pleased when Chan came out of the principal office about thirty minutes later. It seems like the teacher had been waiting for him outside the office, perched against a desk with his arms crossed over his chest. He gave Chan a cold glare as soon as his eyes landed on him.

“We will talk again at the end of the week. I hope you take your time to get used to our school.”

Mr. Hwa stands next to Chan after they stepped out of the office.

“Study well, Chan.”

Chan dislikes the look the director gives him and avoids the gray eyes by giving a small bow.

“I will, Sir.”

“Good.” 

The principal pats him on the shoulder, a sign of encouragement, that gives the boy a sour taste on his tongue. Chan gives a forced smile. The older man walks back into his office, and the double-wing doors close on their own again, leaving Chan alone with his new homeroom teacher.

“Come on now. At this rate, we will be late to class.”

“Yes, Mr. Yun.” Chan quickly walks after his teacher, his heart beating faster as he realizes that he has to introduce himself to his new classmates in a few minutes. He never had them before. 

On his way to his new apartment, Chan had been excited at the thought of having classmates. He had imagined it more than once after the end of his private lessons, as he sat alone in his room, packing away his textbooks. How it would be to study together, fool around with someone during class, share books and ask for help and give advice. Right now, he could not bring himself to get excited over the thought as he had back then. Everything that Chan feels is an incoming headache from the lack of sleep and breakfast. The nervousness probably did not make it any better either. He had trouble standing up this morning and thus skipped breakfast. A decision he regrets deeply by now.

Chan wishes they could just continue walking around, but Mr. Yun is steadily heading towards a classroom door. Chan knew that it meant that they have reached their destination. He steps after Mr. Yun into the room. The new student feels the stares as soon as he walks into the class.

When he walked through the school before, no one paid attention to him. At this moment, however, over twenty pairs of eyes follow his every move with curiosity. Chan hopes his eyes do not look as irritated as they feel, the itch making him blink a few times.

“Hello everyone.”, starts Mr. Yun and greets the class while Chan quietly stands next to him, trying not to meet eyes with any of the students. He looks over their heads to not look disinterested and waits for Mr. Yun to let him sit already.

“This is your new classmate. Go on, introduce yourself.”

Mr. Yun gave him a bored look, fitting his equally boring-sounding tone. Chan hurries to introduce himself to the class. He is not keen on pissing his new teacher off. He gives a quick bow to the students sitting in front of him before looking up.

“Hello, I am Lee Chan. Nice to meet you. I hope we get along well.”

While he introduces himself, Chan spots a familiar face, leaving him surprised. Seungkwan looks at him with a raised eyebrow, looking just as surprised as Chan, but gives him a tiny nod in greeting. 

“Can we ask him some questions?”

Chan hopes and highly expects Mr. Yun to decline and make him sit down in the last free seat near the windows. Contrary to his anticipation Mr. Yun agrees. They ask Chan where he comes from and why he changed school in the middle of the year. He explains that he lived in Iksan but moved to Seoul due to his father changing workplaces. He feels unwell as he answers. The first thing he tells his new classmates is a lie, but Chan reminds himself that he has to get used to it. He wishes he could tell them something else. Not even Chan knows why his step-father made his move to Seoul so abruptly and let him attend a school as soon as he turned sixteen. He continuously tells them that he likes dancing as a hobby. A side of him could not help but mock him for it. 

"Telling them your hobbies after lying to them about everything else. What a funny person you, Chan." He tries to ignore the voice inside him and concentrates on the questions of his new classmates instead. The thirst for answers is growing less until few hands are left raised. Chan starts feeling not as nervous as he had before.

“Yah! Why are you all asking such boring questions?”

Chan directs his eyes to the boy who started speaking, caught off guard by the aggressive undertone in his voice. The other students seem to have similar thoughts as the girl sitting next to him asks what he means, looking annoyed.

“Ask him if he's gifted.”

Chan is taken aback by the sudden change of atmosphere inside the classroom. The whispers and murmuring stop in an instant. All eyes are back on him, waiting for him to answer. Out of the corner of his vision, he sees Mr. Yun glancing at him. Even his interest perks up at the question. If Chan had not talked to the director about the matter beforehand, he would have felt panic. As much as he dreads the question, he had expected it to come sooner. He should have been suspicious of the tameness that the questions of his classmates hold earlier. “Are you not going to answer? Just tell us already!”

Chan looks back at the boy, who glares at him with a threatening gleam in his eyes. The student asks him again, this time with his head cocked to the side as if he is ready to start a fight. “Lee Chan, are you gifted?”

“Don’t be like that Sejong. Of course, Chan is gifted. Why else would he be here?”

“In fact,” starts Chan, which causes the other student who spoke up, as well as the rest of the class, to look at him with an uncomfortable amount of anticipation, “I am not gifted.”

It took about five minutes for Mr. Yun and the threat of giving extra homework to the class to stop the murmurs. Chan still stands in front of the students, but while the topic of all their conversations is him, no one pays him attention. Or so he thought. “Why do they allow another one to come to school if they are not gifted. What a waste of space.”

“Sejong, mind your words.”

Mr. Yun did not sound upset by the student’s way of speaking but was more bothered by the volume of it. Chan feels better knowing that the only free seat available lies the opposite of the class. 

“If Chan would hurry and sit down we can finally start the class.”

The chuckles of the students make Chan flush, and his ears and neck grow hot as he passes by their desks. He sits down and quickly takes out something to write while Mr. Yun begins explaining the topics for the upcoming exam. The rest of the school day passes fast. During break time, several students approach Chan and ask him questions, some mildly offending, but he didn't let it bother him. He isn't sure why the students think so highly of themselves for being gifted, but after seeing the wealth of the school, Chan could assume what their backgrounds and social standings look like. Not like he could hold it against them. His background looks not much different, coming from a well-off family.

“Who would have thought that we meet again so soon.”

Chan looks up, the straw of his juice still stuck between his lips. He didn't even notice that Seungkwan’s seat lies in front of his own. The latter sits on the edge of his seat, legs crossed and an arm perched on top of the chair’s back to support his head. Seungkwan looks at him with interest, but while the curiosity of his other classmates makes Chan feel uncomfortable, Seungkwan feels not unpleasant. “How are you doing on your first day? Must be a lot.”

“It’s okay, I guess.”

When Seungkwan gives him a funny look, Chan realizes that his words and tired face probably didn't match at all 

“Hmm, if you say so.” Seungkwan nods as he talks, his bottom lip pushed forward into a pout, making it obvious, that he doesn’t believe a word of what Chan just said. Chan scoffs at the reaction, a small smile creeping on his lips while shaking his head. He misses the amused look on Seungkwans face, the other boy has turned around again as their last lesson of the day begins.

With Seungkwan’s help, Chan finds the way to the main library to get the rest of his books. He tells the other boy that he can go home now but Seungkwan was persistent to walk him all the way. The latter wishes him good luck carrying “the sack of bricks” home, while Chan keeps putting more and more books into his backpack. Seunkgwan bits him goodbye as they leave the libraby, on his way to meet his friends and Chan already could take a guess that Seungkwan is more on the social side. On his way out of the school, Chan walks past a group of boys, standing near the school entrance. After a short glance, he spots some of his classmates, but the rest of the faces are unfamiliar. It does look like they are hanging out with some older students though, and Chan had never gone to a school before, but his gut feeling told him he better not stays too close to the group.

“That’s him! It’s the smartass who’s new in our class.”

“Sejong, be quiet. He can hear you!”

“So what?” The group of boys laughs and several heads turn in his direction. Chan pulls a grimace and tightens the hold on his backpack, his steps getting faster. He glances around and jogs down the street, looking for the sight of a familiar school uniform. The boy cannot spot any of his classmates and deems it safe to pick up the pace. Chan runs back to the apartment, the door opening after the security system successfully scans his face. As soon as he steps inside, he slips out of his shoes and throws the backpack down. His eyes widen at the loud thud when the bag hits the ground and he stares at it for a moment before the realization hits him. 

“Oh.” 

He had completely forgotten about the books. 

"I hope I won't get a noise-complain." mutters the boy as he unpacks them and sets them on the desk next to the bed. He looks at the place where he had thrown the bag and Chan would not have been surprised if there was an actual dent on the spot it hit the ground. After checking that he doesn't accidentally disassemble half of his apartment on his first day, Chan let the jalousie of the window front down.

Technically no one could look into the apartment as it lays on floor number twenty-one and no other apartments around had similar heights. But Chan couldn't help being extra careful. Feeling better after seeing every window covered, Chan goes into the bathroom to wash up. He pulls out his cell phone and connects it to the apartment's sound system, needing music right now.

He folds the uniform and puts it away after dressing in a comfortable pair of sweatpants and a white t-shirt. While carefully taking out the contact lenses, today’s events roll past his mind. It still feels surreal to Chan. He pulls the ring off his finger and sets it gently on the free space next to the sink before washing his face. His hand blindly reach for the nearest towel to dry his skin off, breathing in the comforting scent of fabric softener. It is hard to believe that he will go to school now.

The words of Sejong and the questions of his classmates came back to mind. Chan takes off the bunny hair band that helped hold the black curls out of his face. While still holding the towel against his cheeks, finding comfort in the softness, the boy glances into the mirror. Emerald-green eyes stare back at him.

A demon pretends to be a human in a school full of magic users.

Chan puts the towel down and scoffs at his reflection.

"What a joke."