#page speed score

[isubhamdas]

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[senwall]

Reasons Why Page Speed Matters?

What is Page Speed ❓ Website page speed refers to the time it takes for a web page to load and display its content. It greatly impacts user experience and can affect search engine rankings

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[3d-wifey]

can i get a short lil sumthin sumthin about remus and his girlfriend being academic weapons, sirius and james thinks they're boring bc they've been doing their work in the library for hours but they're actually cockwarming and seeing who'll crack first heheheh 👀👀👀

"Focus, Lupin"

Pairing: Remus Lupin x girlfriend!reader

Synopsis: You and Remus are quite competitive, always going head-to-head in your classes. It’s commonplace to compete for the highest marks. What isn’t commonplace is the sabotage in the form of Remus’s wandering hands.  

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: well, smut of course! Exhibitionism, possessive Remus, yall are both freaks tbh, cucking? cock warming, riding

A/N: The other marauders have a big fat stinking crush on you but that's neither here nor there until the end of the fic. Sighhh, I go through my marauders mood swings. Your house isn't clear so feel free to pick any of them.

Tags: @yvy1s @innercreationflower

Remus hooks his chin over your shoulder, looking for all the world as if he's just getting into a better position to read his chicken scratch notes, pressing your back even further against his chest. You inhale, clenching around him at the sudden movement. You scoff at his near-inaudible laughter, elbowing him as he chuckles into your neck.

"Quit it." You grumble, quil moving at the speed of light as you furiously write.

"Quit what?" He moves the textbook you're sharing closer, the big hand he places on the page mirrors the one that's settled on your stomach. He spreads his fingers wide like he's stretching them before he drums them along the parchment. You wish you hadn't left your robes in your dorm, at least then you'd have another layer between your skin and Remus's teasing touch.

"You're cheating." You hiss, but that's the most you do to reprimand him. It's your fault you're in this mess anyhow.

Both of you are always the highest scorers in your class. And with the past few exams, you've been getting the same score or beating each other by a point or two. It's bloody frustrating.

You continuously tried to one-up each other in academics, long after you two started dating. He's your rival first, boyfriend second.

At this very moment, before you both sit two half-done papers for your N.E.W.T-level Alchemy class that isn't due for another week, but you get extra house points if you're the first to turn it in.

Which you plan to be, even if half the blood in your brain has traveled down to where you're swollen and soaked. You both sit completely clothed, other than where you're hitched on Remus's cock, knickers pulled to the side.

Of course, the library is empty. It's nine in the afternoon on a Friday. And it was your idea to see whose dedication would overpower their carnal desires. 

He laughed you off at first. A soft, dismissive chuckle rumbling from his chest, muffled by the book he barely looked up from. Typical, shaking his head as if you'd said something absurd and that was the beginning and end of it. But you knew him well enough by now to know which buttons to push—and exactly how hard. 

"Yeah, right," you sighed, letting your tone drop into exaggerated defeat as you flopped back against his headboard. "Wouldn't be much of a competition anyway."

Remus paused mid-turn of the page. His brows furrowed, eyes flicking to you in sharp suspicion, but you didn't look at him. Not yet. Instead, you stretched out along his bed like a cat, carefully keeping your expression blank as you toyed with the edge of the blanket.

"...And what's that supposed to mean?" His voice was sharp, clipped, but you could hear the curiosity, the irritation. The competitive edge. Exactly what you were counting on.

"Hm? Oh, nothing." You waved a hand vaguely in his direction, settling yourself comfortably against his pillows. You stretched a little more, arching your back like a cat before flopping onto your side. You kept your expression perfectly neutral, but you knew he could feel the smirk simmering beneath the surface. "It's just...well, we both know you'd give in long before me. So there's truthfully no point in even entertaining the idea." You shrugged, all nonchalance, even as you felt your chest flutter at the way his brows drew together. "I'm just agreeing with you, Rem."

His scoff was immediate, sharp and incredulous. You'd earned yourself a full look now, his book lowering just enough to reveal the disbelief etched across his face. “That’s not what I said.”

You shrugged as if it was no concern to you, deliberately looking away like the conversation was already over, knowing full well he wouldn’t let it rest. You flipped onto your stomach, propping your chin on your hands to stare at him with wide, innocent eyes. "Didn’t need to." 

You bit your lip to keep from smiling as his book lowered—not abruptly, but slowly, deliberately. One inch, then two—his sharp amber eyes flicking to yours. The forefinger he slipped between the pages made it look like he might still pretend to be reading, but you knew better.

The scar closest to his eye twitched, irritation flickering faintly across his face. Merlin, you always loved how expressive that scar was when he was annoyed. One of his fingers tapped against the book spine resting on his chest, the motion twitchy.

He exhaled through his nose—sharp, like he was trying to keep it together—and finally set the book aside. His movements were precise, controlled, but there’s no hiding the faint flush creeping over his neck or the way the corner of his mouth twitched.

You knew you got him. He tried, and failed, to mask his irritation and it was almost unfair how easy he was to rile up. Almost

He let a long silence settle, the weight of his gaze pressing into you. Finally: “…You taking the piss?” 

You let the grin spread across your face this time, sitting up slightly so your chin props on your hands. "M'as serious as the plague, Lupin."

The staring match that followed was something out of a duel, the cogs in his mind clearly spinning. The tension stretched taut between you, thick as smoke, neither of you daring to blink.

His book stayed in his hand for a moment longer, though you saw the exact second he gave up pretending to read. Then, to your satisfaction, he closed his book with an audible thud and set it aside. He shifted, sitting up and leaning forward. He crossed his arms over his broad chest, the muscles in his forearms flexing with the movement, and your stomach twisted—just a smidge.

"Go get your books," he said, his voice low and challenging, sending electricity up your spine. "And meet me in the library."

“Oooh, someone's touchy," you said, walking your fingers up his thigh, muscles tensing under your touch. “Formal battlegrounds now, is it? Bold move, Rem. I thought you liked keeping your humiliations private. But if losing in public gets your rocks off, who am I to deny you?"

His lips twitched—an almost-smile that was gone too fast to catch properly. “I’ll be the one handing out the humiliation, thanks.” 

"Stakes?" you asked, cocking your head.

"Loser buys the winner chocolate frogs for a week," he said, already swinging his legs off the bed. Then, after a pause, he glanced over his shoulder, smirking faintly. "Or…whatever else I decide." 

You pushed yourself up with a wicked grin that matched his, already moving toward the door. “Alright, but don’t be mad when you’re the one giving in first. I know you can’t resist me for long.” 

Behind you, you heard him huff a laugh, though it sounded like he was trying to hide it. “Get your books, trouble. Let’s see how well you actually handle restraint.” 

You were confident by the end of this week you'd overdose on chocolate frogs. Remus might be brilliant and disciplined, but he’s not immune to distraction. Especially distraction in the form of his wickedly beautiful girlfriend.

Truthfully, it was daft of you to assume Remus would play fair. You mix two people who are as competitive as they are horny and it leads you here, on your boyfriend's lap, surely dripping onto the wooden bench under you.

He hums as if he's thinking over the definition of cheating and if what he's doing right now counts as it—which it does.

"S'that right?" He mumbles into your neck and you almost reach for your wand, honest, "I don't see any cheating here, love. Just good old fashioned studying, just like you wanted."

He thrusts up, and your hand flies up to cover your mouth. You see his quill moving out of the corner of your eye without the aid of a hand. "Cheater," you pant, but don't move to stop him or even continue writing your essay. You allow yourself to enjoy the slow, steady rock of his hips against yours—only for a moment. Every vein and ridge dragging against your hypersensitive walls.

You go to reach back—for support, for a futile attempt at stopping the way he rocks into you, feeling as inevitable as the ticking of time—with your other hand, but are stopped by the quill in your hand. You're reminded, there and then, that winning over Remus is almost, if not just as satisfactory as a hard won orgasim.

You put quill to ink pot, and then, quill to parchment. Remus curses behind you but doesn't stop. Not with you panting and whining behind gritted teeth. Not with you clenching around him like a Grindylow's spindly fingers, tightening with a merciless grip. He doesn’t stop until the familiar voice of his mates cuts through the fog.

"There you two are. Should've known you'd be held up in here weeks before your assignment is done. On a weekend at that—" Sirius trails off as he and James discover the little nook you and Remus have secluded yourselves too, as well as the...odd position you find yourselves in.

It's not that he's never seen you two be affectionate, especially nearing the full moon as it is, but you in Remus's lap like this, a flustered look on your face, well, he's not a dumbass. Something out of the ordinary is happening here.

James on the other hand is none the wiser, brows furrowing in self righteous disappointment.

"We've been looking for you two everywhere. Party's not that far off, you know the turn out will be lethal even if we lost the match to those snakes." There was a foul that should've been called, but wasn't, a sligh that the refs didn't catch. In traditional Gryffindor fashion, they didn't whine about a rematch or about the unfairness of it, and in typical Slytherin fashion, they didn't either. But they needed you two to help set up certain spells only you two knew because, well, you created them. Definitely not because they liked watching the way their best mate's girl stretched and bent as she set up in the Gryffindor commons.

"We know," Remus says, glancing up at the boys before looking back to one of the open textbooks. "The plan's to party the weekend away, yeah? It's why we're getting the assignment out of the way. Sooner you let us finish this," he's slowly sliding his hands up from your knees to your hips, pushing you down with such strength that your stomach clenches, "sooner we can help."

"It's...it's just an essay, Sirius. We'll be done before the Hufflepuffs start," you almost bite your tongue mid-sentence when Remus ghosts a callused finger over your aching clit, playing it off as a hiccup, "bringing the snacks.

Neither of you say anything more as you have a sneaking suspicion that they're going to catch on, chances of you opening your mouth to speak only for a moan to tumble out are high. Remus is quiet because he hopes they do figure it out, either from the audible wetness of your cunt or your eyes rolling back as he makes you cum. 

Remus knows they're in love with you and have been since third and fourth year. He's tempted to invite them a glimpse under the table so they can see how he has you stretched around his cock, squirming and wanton. What better way of making sure they know you're his?

And from the way Sirius looks the two of you over, glances down at the table, and raises his perfectly sculpted brows as James begins to ramble at you, there’s no mistaking that Sirius knows. Of course he does. Sirius always knows. His stormy eyes flick down again—deliberate, calculating—as if he’s debating whether or not to call you out. He hums, low and thoughtful, as if weighing the satisfaction of saying something versus letting the moment play out. Instead, he smirks faintly and leans against a nearby bookcase, letting James’s oblivious chatter fill the space.

Remus holds his gaze, unflinching, daring him to say a word. For a brief, reckless moment, he considers sliding his chair back just enough to let Sirius catch a glimpse of how thoroughly he has you. The thought makes his cock twitch inside you, and from the way Sirius’s smirk curves a fraction higher, it’s almost like he knows that, too.

Remus doesn’t full-on smirk when they lock eyes, but it’s a close thing.

"…Right.” Sirius tilts his head slightly, his sharp grey eyes dragging over the two of you like he’s piecing together a puzzle he’s already solved. His gaze flicks down to the table again—just briefly—and then back up to meet yours. The corner of his mouth twitches, not quite a smirk, but close enough to make your stomach drop. “You know, you two really are awful at being subtle.”

Your heart skips a beat, heat rushing to your face as you open your mouth to protest—except Sirius doesn’t give you the chance. He hums thoughtfully, his gaze flicking to Remus, and then back to you, like he’s enjoying the power of watching you squirm. “But don’t think being pretty gets you out of work,” he adds smoothly, leaning in to knock his knuckle against the table. “You’ve got until ten on the dot before I come back and drag you out of here myself.”

James, oblivious as ever, snorts and waves Sirius off. “Don’t listen to him, he’s just mad because we need you for the setup,” he says, rolling his eyes. He jabs a thumb at Sirius, then gestures toward the door. “I told him you’re probably in here studying, because what else would you two be doing on a Friday night?”

Sirius hums again, a low, knowing sound, his gaze locking with Remus’s in a silent challenge. The corner of his mouth curves, just enough for you to wonder if he’s going to say something more—something that will make it impossible to deny that he knows exactly what’s happening beneath the table.

But instead, he lets out a soft laugh, straightening from the bookcase. “Sure,” he drawls, his voice dripping with amusement. “Studying.” His eyes grow bigger as he says it to emphasis just how little he believes that rubbage excuse.

He casts one last look over the two of you, smirking faintly, before turning to leave, James already rambling on about the next Quidditch match as they disappear into the corridor. Relief floods your chest for all of three seconds—before Remus tilts his hips just so, dragging another whimper from you as his cock presses deeper.

You bite your cheek, barely able to return James's wave goodbye before you're digging your nails into Remus's thighs. The same thighs that are currently spreading yours apart. Your skirt rides up, exposing you to the air and his sly hands.

"This," your hips twitch against his as he traces feather-light fingers over your puffy lips, swollen with need. You bite back a whine, huffing harshly through your nose as those fingers move down where the base of his cock sits snugly in you, tubbing slick where you and he are connected. "This is how you're cheating."

"If you're so much better than me, you should be able to focus, no problem, right?" He has an arm wrapped around your waist again, the other flipping pages.

"Fine." If that's how he wants to play, then you are more than game. You lean forward, elbows on the table as you grind your hips back and forth, barely raising off of him before coming back down with your fluttering warmth squeezing around him. "Focus, Lupin. Or, mh, at least try."

"Shhhit. D-dearest, that's not—" he cuts himself off with a truly shameless moan, both hands gripping your waist. He doesn't stop you, no, wouldn't dream of it. Instead, he helps you balance as you move faster, busy chasing your high more than you're focused on sabotaging Remus. "You, your—Merlin, you're bloody brilliant."

At this point, you don't know what'll come first: you, Remus, or Sirius's wrath.

[5sospenguinqueen]

Kachow | Liam Lawson x Ferrari Admin! Reader

Summary: Liam notices that the Ferrari social media accounts are suddenly referencing Cars a lot. He enlists a few drivers to help him on his quest to meet the new admin. 

Warnings: Crack fic? Swearing

Requested: No

F1 Masterlist

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scuderiaferrari just posted

liked by charles_leclerc, arthur_leclerc and others

scuderiaferrari with a little ruste-eze (and an insane amount of luck) you too can look like… our boys! the hoodies are here! much to charles’ joy. to look like you’re part of the team, head over to the ferrari store

16,551 comments

liamlawson30 kachow! 

→ user1 this isn’t even your team?

→ user2 liam will always be team cars tbf

→ scuderiaferrari we welcome all cars enthusiasts 

charles_leclerc i have never looked so good

→ user3 charles is going to be buried in that hoodie, isn’t he?

→ scuderiaferrari we’ll make sure of it

user4 new admin? because this is giving humour, unlike the previous posts

user5 okay but this was actually quite funny. fairplay ferrari admin

user6 charles looks so good. new admin knows how to photograph him well 

user7 i need that pic of carlos blown up and put on my wall, please admin 

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scuderiaferrari just posted

liked by arthur_leclerc, pierregasly and others

scuderiaferrari i am speed!  charles leclerc is your italian grand prix winner of 2024. il vostro re di monza 🇮🇹

24,169 comments

user8 liam lawson summoned in 3…2…1…

liamlawson30 now was that floating like a cadillac or was that stinging like a beemer

→ scuderiaferrari we call that flying like a ferrari 

→ user9 omg he had a reply

→ user10 what are the odds that he’s screaming in his room liked by liamlawson30

→ olliebearman dude, get up

user11 charles leclerc is so lightning mcqueen coded

→ user12 don’t let liam hear you say that. it might break his heart 

user13 why is liam interacting so much with the ferrari page. does he not know that his soul belongs to red bull

→ user14 only contractually

→ user15 everyone is a ferrari fan

→ user16 i think he’s more of a ferrari admin fan liked by olliebearman

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scuderiaferrari just posted

liked by carlossainz55, olliebearman and others

scuderiaferrari “that is so relaxing” and then proceeds to make everyone feel very unrelaxed you can find more C2 chaos on our youtube channel 

12,308 comments

user1 liam’s not interacted with this one because there’s no cars reference

→ jackdoohan he’s lurking in the comments, don’t worry 

→ user2 so we’ve had rbr drivers defecting to ferrari, and now alpine?

user3 my favourite thing about the ferrari admin is that they clearly love their job and it shows

user4 poor admin. how are you dealing with the pair of them?

→ scuderiaferrari i’m in racing hell. my iq’s dropping by the second

→ charles_leclerc what?

→ scuderiaferrari i knew you couldn't drive, i didn’t know you couldn't read 

→ user5 admin, you’re wasted on these two. they don’t appreciate your references like liam does liked by liamlawson30

carlossainz55 i still won that challenge

→ charles_leclerc no, you didn’t! the score says i did

→ carlossainz55 the score lied

→ scuderiaferrari excuse you. i did the score and i double checked it

→ carlossainz55 sabotage

→ scuderiaferrari i’m not posting flattering images of you anymore

charles_leclerc i look so confused

→ scuderiaferrari you always look like that

scuderiaferrari just posted

liked by alexandrasaintmleux, its_yn and others

scuderiaferrari ciao tifosi. charles leclerc here as i attempt to do the job of our wonderful admin, yn. ask me anything 

10,097 comments

user6 admin reveal!!

user7 i got to this post within 10 seconds and liam lawson had already liked it?

→ liamlawson30 faster than fast, quicker than quick 

→ olliebearman get. up.

→ jackdoohan you’re just embarrassing now 

user8 you can tell this isn’t admin because these are not charles’ best angles

→ charles_leclerc heyyy, i took these myself :( 

→ scuderiaferrari we can tell 

→ user10 no angle is a bad angle for charles 

user11 omg is that admin??!!

→ user12 wait, what? i didn’t scroll that far! 

→ charles_leclerc yes! 

user13 where can we get admin’s jacket? 

→ charles_leclerc by putting up with carlos and me

→ user14 deal!! 

→ charles_leclerc i did not think that one through 

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scuderiaferrari just posted

liked by carlossainz55, iamrebeccad and others

scuderiaferrari race cars don’t need headlights because… welcome to night time singapore! enjoy a throwback to our favourite singapore moment from last year

17,552 comments

liamlawson30 the track is always lit! 

→ yukitsunoda0511 i am ashamed

user1 wait, no. bring back the admin pics, please. we don't want those two men

user2 admin, you’re so pretty! drop the @ liked by liamlawson30

carlossainz55 🍾🥇

→ scuderiaferrari how about a replay this year?

→ charles_leclerc this is charles erasure, yn

→ user3 yn??? we have admin’s name!!!!

→ olliebearman @/liamlawson30

→ jackdoohan @/liamlawson30

→ yukitsunoda0511 @/liamlawson30

→ scuderiaferrari @/liamlawson30

→ scuderiaferrari i felt left out 

user4 love how everyone is more focused on admin than recounting sainz’s win

its_yn posted a new story

charles_leclerc replied this is so mean → i am going to cry and it is all your fault  → its_yn oh well, don’t do that? i guess? → charles_leclerc you guess? → i’m about to make you happy and you guess? → its_yn you’re going to make me happy? → charles_leclerc i am going to introduce you to your soulmate → its_yn not again…  → charles_leclerc i mean it this time! 

liamlawson30 just posted

liked by redbullracing, scuderiaferrari and others

liamlawson30 met my heroes today 

19,630 comments

user5 a soft launch?

→ user6 just fell to my knees in radiator springs 

user7 is that ferrari admin?

its_yn do you know many ferraris? luigi follow only the ferraris

→ liamlawson30 they race on the european circuit. i'm in the piston cup! 

→ user8 yup. that’s definitely ferrari admin

→ scuderiaferrari guilty 

its_yn 💕💕

→ liamlawson30 my pretty girl 🌻

user9 love how liam has just been announced as a driver for the remainder of 2024 but his focus is on lightning mcqueen

→ user10 i think his focus might be on ferrari’s admin

charles_leclerc you are both welcome 

olliebearman i’m actually shocked that your pining worked

→ its_yn what can i say, i like pathetic men 

jackdoohan i can’t believe harassing us actually managed to woo her 

yukitsunoda0511 idiots

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requests open (my mum just had surgery tho so it’s gonna take me a hot minute to get my other drafts finished)

tag list

@peachiicherries @rosecentury @c-losur3 @heavy-vettel @evie-119 @raizelchrysanderoctavius @lilorose25 @sillyfreakfanparty

If you’d like to be added to the tag list or taken off, just let me know

[sabinahahn]

Dmitry Shostakovich (1906–1975)

Shostakovich’s contemporaries do not recall seeing him working, at least not in the traditional sense. The Russian composer was able to conceptualize a new work entirely in his head, and then write it down with extreme rapidity—if uninterrupted, he could average twenty or thirty pages of score a day, making virtually no corrections as he went.

But this feat was apparently preceded by hours or days of mental composition—during which he “appeared to be a man of great inner tensions,” the musicologist Alexei Ikonnikov observed, “with his continually moving, ‘speaking’ hands, which were never at rest.”

Shostakovich himself was afraid that perhaps he worked too fast. “I worry about the lightning speed with which I compose,” he confessed in a letter to a friend. Undoubtedly this is bad. One shouldn’t compose as quickly as I do. Composition is a serious process, and in the words of a ballerina friend of mine, “You can’t keep going at a gallop.” I compose with diabolical speed and can’t stop myself.… It is exhausting, rather unpleasant, and at the end of the day you lack any confidence in the result. But I can’t rid myself of the bad habit.

- From Daily Rituals: How Artists Work by Mason Currey

#dailyrituals #inktober #shostakovich @masoncurrey

[twstgameplay]

[JP] 5th Anniversary / Blazing Jewel ～Listen to Our Songs!～

March 10th 17:00 - March 28th 14:59 (JST)

Twisted Wonderland’s 5th Anniversary Campaign has begun! Alongside the new features, there is a simultaneous event story Blazing Jewel with which there is an SSR Grim summoning banner, as well as rerun banners for the CH 7 SSR cards!

Information found below:

NEW FEATURES

Blazing Jewel ～Listen to Our Songs!～

Mission Info

Stamp Card Info

Shop Info

NEW FEATURES

We’ll be getting the following new functions:

Part 1 (beginning 10 Mar):

Self-study: Earn mats, honey, and other lesson rewards without spending AP in a new idle lesson. Additional cumulative missions have been added to the missions tab for the self-study lessons. A student taking self-study can take other lessons, but not another self-study course. Crowley, Crewel, Trein, Rollo, and Fellow are not available for this session

Material Conversion: Spend Madol/Thaumarks to convert mats, but only within the same color. Find the menu for this on the Settings page on the Home Screen, then select Conversion. Materials can be converted in either direction of rarity.

Event Recall: Previous events that have already gone to the Event Recall that had voiceovers on the title, or character voice lines for the event have been added to the Event Recall for the following events: Scary Monsters I and II, Glorious Masquerade, Playful Land, Sam's New Year Sale (2022-2024). The following events will be added to Event Recall: Sam's New Year Sale 2024, 4th Anniversary, Port Fest, Playful Land, Tamashina Minha.

Other Changes

Characters can be viewed in their entirety via the Home Screen.

All chats will now be voiced.

Rhythmic DEMO can now be played without the scores/buttons in the way.

Crowley/Crewel/Trein now have Alchemy classes

Lesson Speed can now be set to x2

The Memory Shop now has available the backgrounds available during the events that are available in Event Recall.

Staff Profiles have been updated.

Certain event items can now be sold.

AP limit has been increased to 60.

Friend limit increased.

EXP increased from Special Lessons.

A chapter list and synopsis has been added to the Main Stories.

On the Max Card Info page, the buddy bonuses have been added for easy viewing.

Part 2 (Beginning 14 Mar):

Trouble Voice Lines: The lines that are spoken during the fights in the Guest Room will change depending on who they are fighting. The Trouble lines that had been used before will be available to view in the character album. This will not affect Crowley, Crewel, Trein, Rollo, or Fellow.

Other Changes:

There will be new Gift Items available in the Guest Room.

Outfit furniture has been added for School Uniform, PE Uniform, Ceremonial Robes, Labwear, and Dorm Uniform. These unlock as specific room ranks.

New BGM have been added for the Guest Room.

Part 3 (Beginning 18 Mar):

New Cumulative Missions: Missions regarding cards/lessons/exams will be added to the Missions tab.

Blazing Jewel ～Listen to Our Songs!～

Play through the event and collect Honey Lemon, Music Medals, and Blazing Medals. Clear Rhythmics and Challenges on the map to gain materials to trade in the shop.

The Story will drop one episode at a time, for each dorm in an unknown order.

Episode 1: March 10th, 17:00 (Scarabia)

Episode 2: March 12th, 0:00 (Ignihyde)

Episode 3: March 14th, 0:00 (Octavinelle)

Episode 4: March 16th, 0:00 (Savanaclaw)

Episode 5: March 18th, 0:00 (Diasomnia)

Episode 6: March 20th, 0:00 (Pomefiore)

Episode 7: March 22nd, 0:00 (Heartslabyul)

Mission Info

Stamp Info

Click on the Stamp Icon on the bottom left of the Event Page, there will be a total of 2 Stamp Cards.

The first stamp card only goes until March 17th, 23:59 (JST), so pay attention to the time limit.

The second stamp card only goes from March 18th 00:00 (JST) to March 28th, 14:59 (JST), so pay attention to the time limit.

Event Item Gacha Info

Use Blazing Medals to roll in the Event Item Gacha, which can be found on the Event Homescreen. Blazing Medals can be gotten by doing the special event lessons. 100 Blazing Medals = 1 roll on the Item Gacha. At 10 and 20 rolls, you'll get a tenfold summon for SSR Crowley RERUN banner! The following items may show up in the Item Gacha:

Memory Medals

Starshards (S/L)

Sunshards L

Honey (M/L)

Grimoires

Textbooks

Notepads

Herb Tea (M/L)

Madol

Shop Info

In Sam's Shop, you'll find the following shops:

Honey Lemon Shop

Honey Lemon are obtained while running through the event story challenges.

Music Medal Shop

Music Medals are obtained via Collect Battles.

Anniversary Medal Shop

Anniversary Medals are obtained by pulling/rolling on the Anniversary Showcase.

You get 1 medal per roll (10-roll = 10 medals), so you’ll need to roll 100 times to grab that beautiful Anniversary Magical Key and 150 rolls to get the Limited Rerun SSR Magical Key and choose any of the already released Birthday Boy SSRs, Union Birthday SSRs, and Event Rerun SSRs.

Magical Key (Anniversary) Shop

The Magical Key (Anniversary) Shop has a list of all Dorm Uniform, Birthday Boy, Birthday Jacket, Bloom Birthday, and Platinum Jacket SSR Cards. Keep in mind that you can only pick one from the Magical Key (Anniversary) Shop

Magical Key (Limited Run SSR) Shop

The Magical key (Limited Run SSR) Shop has Event Rerun SSR cards that have been added to the Event Recall. Rollo is also available. Keep in mind that you can only pick one from the Magical Key (Limited Run SSR) Shop

Magical Key (Limited Run SR) Shop

The Magical key (Limited Run SR) Shop has Event Rerun SR cards that have been added to the Event Recall. Keep in mind that you can only pick two from the Magical Key (Limited Run SR) Shop

Anniversary Pack (Paid Gems) Shop

For 200 Paid Gems, you can get a pack with the following:

1 Magical Key (10-Set)

10 Starshards L

10 of each elemental Grimoire

20 of each elemental Textbook

100,000 Madol

Anniversary Pack (Gems) Shop

Other Anniversary Packs are available in the usual Gem Shop. The Complete Mats pack is available for 200 gems, and the Honey XL is available for 100 gems. Every other pack is available for 50 gems.

[dorabellingham]

Play with me

warning: none

characters: jude x reader

summary: when he is super bored and wants you to play football with him

may contain spelling and translation errors!

The day was lazy in Madrid. Jude had finished all his tasks for the day early, and was now lying on the couch, swinging his feet as he flipped through the TV channels without really watching anything. You were sitting next to him, engrossed in a book, but you noticed your boyfriend's restlessness.

—You look like a kid on vacation who doesn't know what to do.

You commented, not taking your eyes off the pages.

—That's because I am, babe. —He replied, throwing his head back dramatically. —I need to do something! Play football, run, I don't know... anything that doesn't involve standing still.

You gave a short laugh and looked up at him.

—Darling, it's Sunday. No one wants to go out to practice or play with you right now. Rest.

But Jude didn't seem willing to accept the suggestion. He looked at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

—You can play with me.

He said, already getting up from the couch.

—What? Me? Play with you?

You closed the book and looked at him as if he had just suggested you fly a plane.

—Why not? It’ll be fun.

He replied, already pulling you by the hand.

—Jude, I’m terrible at sports. Besides, I don’t even have the clothes for it.

You protested, trying to resist.

Jude stopped, thought for a moment, and then gave you a smile that you recognized all too well —he was up to something.

—You don’t need any specific clothes. You can wear one of mine.

He left toward the bedroom before you could answer.

—Jude! No!

You shouted after him, but he was already out of sight.

A few minutes later, Jude returned with an old Borussia Dortmund uniform in his hands. The shirt was yellow with black details and clearly a few sizes bigger than yours.

—Here. It’ll fit you perfectly.

He said, handing you the uniform.

You held the fabric in your hands, shaking your head in disbelief.

—Are you serious? I don't even know if this will fit right.

—Of course it will. You'll be the most stylish player to ever step foot in our backyard.

He winked at you, picking up a ball that was leaning against the corner of the room.

Resigned and curious, you went to change. When you came back, wearing Jude's uniform, he started laughing out loud. The shirt fell like a dress, and the shorts seemed to almost disappear under the fabric of the shirt.

—I look ridiculous, Jude Victor!

You exclaimed, crossing your arms.

—You look perfect, sweetie. Let's go.

He replied, pulling you out of the house.

In the backyard, Jude placed the ball on the ground and began to explain the "rules" of the game.

—It's simple. I try to score the goal, and you defend. If I manage to score three times, you owe me a massage. If you manage to stop at least two goals, I'll make dinner.

You raised an eyebrow, amused.

—You're very confident for someone who knows I've never played in my life.

—I'm just trying to make this more interesting. Come on, Y/n. Show me what you've got.

He said, giving the ball a few touches and kicking it lightly in your direction.

You tried to catch the ball, but missed miserably. Jude burst out laughing.

—Okay, that was just the warm-up. Now go!

He encouraged.

You tried again, this time running to intercept his kick. Jude slowed down his strength and speed, giving you a chance to reach the ball. When you finally managed to kick it away, you celebrated like you had won a championship.

—That's it! Suck it, Bellingham!

You shouted, jumping up and down excitedly.

—Calm down, babe, the game isn't even over yet.

Jude said, laughing at your excitement.

You continued playing, with Jude clearly taking it easy and enjoying your expressions and comments more than the game itself. At one point, you tried to dribble the ball from him and ended up tripping over your own feet, falling on the grass. Jude ran to help you up, laughing.

—Are you okay, ace?

He asked, still holding back his laughter.

—Don’t underestimate me.

You replied, standing up and pushing him playfully.

After about half an hour, you were out of breath, but laughing nonstop. Jude, on the other hand, seemed like his usual self: full of energy and ready for more.

—I think I’ve had enough. I can’t do it anymore, honey.

You said, throwing yourself on the grass.

Jude sat next to you, looking up at the sky.

—It was fun, right? I knew you’d like it.

He said, smiling.

—It was. But I’m still terrible at it.

You admitted, laughing.

He leaned in to kiss you on the forehead.

—You were amazing, Y/n. Really. Best teammate I could ever have.

You rolled your eyes, but couldn't help but smile.

—You're just saying that because you want the massage.

—Maybe.

He replied, laughing.

And so, the two of you stayed there, enjoying the simple and happy moment together, as the sun began to set over Madrid.

[wordpress-blaze-9668741]

How to Become a Political Activist

Wake up on a Tuesday in a gooey sweat, eyes burning from not enough sleep.

Doomscroll for 35 minutes instead of getting out of bed. Let the dogs whine beside you.

Post to Facebook: “I can’t take it anymore. “The American public is asleep.” Check back obsessively to see who’s liked it.

Coffee in hand, walk the dogs through the neighborhood park. Scold yourself for not doing enough. Ask if doing anything even matters. Then ask what you should be doing.

Read a news alert about the gutting of yet another federal agency. Swear loudly into the void. Wonder how we got here, and how much worse it can get.

Decide, then and there, to do something. Even if it’s small.

Sign up for a Zoom call with a local advocacy group. Listen as speaker after speaker denounces the administration in increasingly blunt terms. Feel the first tingle of hope. Let it linger.

Join more calls. Listen, but don’t speak. Feel slightly less alone.

Start researching. Dig into the history of broken systems and the context they were built in. Read the news—but only from sources you trust. Don’t look away when it gets overwhelming.

Talk to friends, family, coworkers, and acquaintances, even when the conversations turn infuriating. Tell them they should be talking about this too.

Meet former colleagues for drinks—ones who’ve been laid off or ground down. Let the anger rise as they describe their new realities. Tell them you’re doing something—and that they can, too.

Before your first protest, scrounge up a piece of sturdy cardboard. Rummage through junk drawers for the Sharpie you lost months ago. Write a mediocre slogan.

Show up. Meet fellow protesters. Hear their stories. Realize your own reasons go back to your ancestors—some of whom were killed in Nazi Germany. Remember your grandmother’s mantra: “Never again.”

Spend your free time denouncing the administration to anyone who’ll listen. Smoke weed some nights because it’s the only thing that takes the edge off. Wonder if you’re smoking too much.

Keep going. Attend more protests. Notice the crowds are growing. That helps. Expand your network: friends of friends of friends.

Eat chips and salsa for dinner. Stress-eat ice cream that makes your stomach hurt.

Watch as more federal workers are fired. Watch as the president calls journalists and judges “radical lunatics” on social media. Watch funding for food stamps, scientific research, cancer research, and green energy disappear. Watch humanitarian and development aid dry up. Watch universities threatened and DEIA erased, along with Black history. Watch the Department of Education dissolve. Watch public figures bullied into silence. Watch a body of water renamed in the president’s image.

Silently suffer as wildfires rage, tornadoes demolish communities, and human rights erode in real time. Agonize over the fact that democracy is faltering—not just here, but everywhere.

Ask yourself why it’s so damn quiet.

Decide you must do more. Realize the most powerful thing you can offer is your voice.

Start a blog.

Write a post.

Wonder if you’re actually making a difference. Or just screaming into the algorithm. Do it anyway.

Call it an act of resistance.

Repeat, until they can’t ignore you.

Source: How to Become a Political Activist

[cailinsblog]

Skates, Snow, and Mistletoe | Macklin celebrini

Macklin celebrini x reader

Macklin Celebrini had been looking forward to this day for weeks. It wasn’t just any game day; it was the last game before Christmas, and he couldn’t wait to celebrate the holidays with his girlfriend, Y/N. She had flown in two days ago, her suitcase filled with presents and warm sweaters, and the two had spent every free moment together.

The arena was buzzing with energy as Macklin laced up his skates in the locker room. Y/N, bundled in a festive red sweater and scarf, sat in the stands with a smile that could light up the rink. She had always been his biggest supporter, and seeing her cheering him on gave Macklin an extra boost of confidence every time he stepped onto the ice.

The game was electric. Macklin skated with precision and speed, scoring two goals and assisting on another. Each time he scored, his first instinct was to glance up at Y/N, who was clapping and cheering louder than anyone else. By the end of the game, his team had secured a 4-2 victory, and Macklin was named the first star. As he skated off the ice, he couldn’t wait to share the win with her.

After the game, Macklin showered and changed quickly, knowing Y/N was waiting for him. When he stepped into the family lounge, she was there, her eyes lighting up as soon as she saw him. “You were amazing out there,” she said, wrapping her arms around him.

“All for you,” he replied, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Let’s get out of here. We have Christmas to celebrate.”

The drive back to Macklin’s apartment was filled with laughter and music. Y/N had insisted on playing her Christmas playlist, and Macklin didn’t mind one bit. He loved seeing her sing along, her voice soft and sweet, her cheeks flushed from the cold.

When they arrived, the apartment was warm and cozy, the tree in the corner glowing with twinkling lights. They had decorated it together the night before, stringing popcorn garlands and hanging ornaments while sipping hot cocoa. Now, it stood as the centerpiece of their little holiday haven.

“Okay,” Y/N said, clapping her hands together. “First things first: presents.”

Macklin chuckled. “You’re really impatient, aren’t you?”

“Absolutely,” she said with a grin, pulling him toward the tree.

They sat on the floor, surrounded by wrapped boxes. Macklin handed her a small gift first. “Open this one,” he said, watching her intently.

Y/N carefully unwrapped the package to reveal a delicate silver necklace with a tiny charm in the shape of a hockey stick. Her eyes filled with tears as she looked at him. “Macklin, it’s perfect.”

“I wanted you to have something to remind you of me when we’re apart,” he said softly.

Y/N leaned forward to kiss him. “I’ll never take it off.”

She handed him a gift in return, a neatly wrapped box with a bow. Inside was a custom photo book she had made, filled with pictures of their favorite memories together—their first date, trips they’d taken, and candid moments that made them laugh. On the last page was a handwritten note: Thank you for being my everything. I love you.

Macklin’s voice caught in his throat as he looked through the book. “Y/N, this is incredible. I love it… and I love you.”

“I love you too,” she said, her cheeks turning pink.

The rest of the evening was filled with laughter and love. They cooked a simple but delicious Christmas dinner together, dancing around the kitchen to holiday tunes. Macklin’s attempts at making sugar cookies were a disaster, but Y/N couldn’t stop laughing at the mess he made. “Maybe stick to hockey,” she teased, wiping flour off his nose.

They ended the night curled up on the couch, a blanket wrapped around them as they watched It’s a Wonderful Life. Y/N’s head rested on Macklin’s shoulder, and his arm was draped around her, holding her close. The room was quiet except for the crackling of the fireplace and the soft dialogue of the movie.

“This is the best Christmas I’ve ever had,” Y/N said softly, looking up at him.

Macklin smiled, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “It’s the best one for me too. Because I have you.”

As the clock struck midnight, they exchanged one last kiss under the glow of the Christmas tree, the perfect end to a perfect day. Macklin knew that no matter where his career took him, as long as he had Y/N by his side, every moment would feel like Christmas.

[hyunebunx]

Hihi! I saw your repost of the kiss prompt list, not sure if this is where I'm supposed to request but I think ♥️ Spiderman kiss x Han would be freaking adorable 😭 Obviously if you don't feel up to it don't feel obligated to or anything 🫶

˖˙ ᰋ ── ♥️ - 'spiderman kiss'

﹙ʚɞ��﹚. genre: fluff (and a little bit suggestive)

﹙ʚɞ˚﹚. a/n: i swear your request came just as i watched 'no way home' for the first time!! it brought back my love for the franchise so ofc i had to write this!! i had so much fun, i hope you'll enjoy reading it too and that i did your idea justice🩷

You haven’t always believed in superheroes. Most people around you thought they were roaming the city and keeping everyone safe, the saviours the world needed coming to life straight from the pages of a comic book. On the other hand, you thought it was stupid and very unlikely, no matter how much proof they bothered to show just to bring you to their unhinged side. Ignorance is bliss as they say but, in this case, you genuinely believed they all went crazy in their desperate attempt at holding onto their happiness, the normalcy ripped away when the strange disasters hit your town one by one.

So, their existence was all nonsense to you until the unexpected happened. You started dating one.

Now, if you were the one to broadcast it for the whole world to hear, they would be the ones calling you crazy. And you wouldn’t blame them – you did not budge or bother to entertain anything Han Jisung was blabbering about, powers and other absurd stuff until he showed you.

To prove he wasn’t messing with you or just maladaptive daydreaming, on your first date, Jisung took you around the city to show you all of his favorite places. Not by car, or on foot, like anyone would expect, but from above. Yes, above. Without much explanation, in his red and blue latex suit, Jisung turned to you with a lone question.

“Do you trust me?”

Frankly, you did not, with it being your first date and all but you figured since he was cute, you might as well entertain him to score that second outing.

With a nod from you, his beautiful face disappeared behind a goofy spider mask as he instructed you to hug him tight and never let go, no matter what. You hesitated, arms going for his middle before he gently redirected them, one by one, to wrap around his neck, the proximity flustering you both.

You didn’t think your heart could speed up even more until he hugged you by the waist and suddenly jumped, finding yourself several feet in the air in a split second. Spider web seemed to come out of his palms, sticking to the high skyscrapers effortlessly and swinging you around the city like it was the most natural means of transportation, your screams dying out from the shock. You almost crashed a couple of times, when in your terrified state, let a hand wander to his face, desperate to hold on and be put down at the same time. If not for his mask, you would have taken out an eye and Han Jisung’s career as a superhero, as well as your life, would have ended prematurely.

From that day forward, you believed in superheroes and every little absurdity that came out of Jisung’s mouth regarding their world and all the diverse powers people like him possessed. He didn’t speak about that side of his life too much, as to keep you safe, but the stuff he was willing to share was mind-blowing enough.

And that’s how you came to date Spiderman himself, a sheer contrast from the nerdy, shy guy you admired from afar in all of your classes. Still, you wouldn’t change it for the world.

Not even when instead of using the door, he randomly plopped on your windowsill whenever he missed you, throwing finger hearts and all the other variations he knew of to apologize for scaring you half to death like he was doing now. At least he had the decency to knock.

“Hello, love of my life.” He purred the moment he was let in, waltzing about like he owned the place, already familiar with your room. Collapsing onto your bed, he settles on his side, holding his masked head in one hand casually. “Still stuck on homework?”

“Oh, you mean the homework we were meant to work on together?” You stood a few feet away, arms crossed over your chest in indignation.

If he wasn’t still wearing his mask, you’d see his mouth drop open to form an ‘o’ shape, dramatic in his expressivity but not always genuine. “Baby, that was today? I’m so sorry! I swear I thought the assignment wasn’t due for another week.”

Your boyfriend was a top student, getting the highest grades on every test, exam and pop quiz he’s ever received. How the fuck did he manage to do all that with that goldfish-like memory of his?

“What’s got you so busy anyway?” You take a seat next to him on the bed, reaching to pinch the mask off his face before releasing it quickly, which he complains about loudly.

“Oh, you mean besides counting the laps you run through my mind constantly?” He wiggles his eyebrows beneath the mask, rubbing his left cheek to soothe the pain caused by the latex. Yes, the latex was definitely the one who hurt him, you could never.

You feel your face heat up to your ears, suddenly shy at his blatant flirtation. Noticing, he scoots closer as he moves into a sitting position, arms circling your waist to hug you from behind, chin resting on your shoulder like he’s done thousands of times before.

“Do you miss me?” His voice drops, atmosphere shifting as you lean into his hold a little too eagerly.

You couldn’t deny it – you have been missing him these days as he suddenly got insanely busy with those superhero duties of his.

“And what if I do?” In a bold show of confidence, you turn slightly in his arms to take off the annoying mask obscuring the breathtaking beauty that’s charmed you at first glance, all of those months ago.

Jisung smirks, so wide it turns into a grin that pulls harshly on your heartstrings, leaning to plant tender kisses on both cheeks while hugging you even tighter, almost like he wanted you to morph into one. Things would be so much easier then, he would be able to take you everywhere he went without going crazy with worry.

“We can’t have that, now, can we?” His kisses move to your shoulder, then down your arm, stopping to intertwine your hands before bringing them to his lips, to give your knuckles the same attention. “That would mean I’m a shitty boyfriend.”

You shake your head, eyes following his every move, mesmerized, as he kisses your skin with so much love and care, handling every inch like you were nothing more than a glass sculpture he was afraid he’d break if he as much as breathed too loudly. “That’s not – “

“Y/n, darling? Are you there?”

The booming voice of your father’s, followed by his approaching footsteps up the stairs has you pulling apart like burnt, panic settling in once you both realize the compromising position you’re currently in. Jisung was not the problem; your father loved him, said he was the best boy his child could ever pick to date. But his presence as a whole, how he even got in without anyone seeing him knock on the front door was sure to raise many questions you could not answer without revealing Jisung’s secret.

For once, your boyfriend doesn’t linger as your eyes meet, pulling the mask over his head in one swift movement before jumping to his feet.

“Jisung – “ He hushes you, gently pressing a finger to your lips in hopes you won’t panic too much, silently encouraging you to breathe and stop your frantic search for a place to hide. Your heart was threatening to beat out of your chest, scared he’d be found out and harshly ripped away from your side, reported to the police for invading random people’s homes. Your father was not the biggest Spiderman fan, claiming he was nothing but a smug troublemaker who enjoyed showing off a little too much. Now, finding said Spiderman in his child’s room would surely send him into a frenzy of rage you didn’t want to witness.

Once your breathing slows down, Jisung gives your hand a reassuring squeeze before letting go and webbing out of the room through the same window he came in, just as the door swings open.

“Darling?” Your father asks, stepping in to look around, a little confused. “Were you talking to someone?”

Quick to react, maybe even a little too quick, you point to your abandoned phone on the desk, shifting your weight from one foot to the other while clearing your throat. “Jisung and I were doing our homework.”

“Ah, I thought I heard him in here.” He nods, pleased with your answer, blind to the anxiety that had you break out in a cold sweat. “Sorry for interrupting. Do you want your favorite for dinner?”

When you agree with a smile, he leaves whistling, happy to be on his way and prepare dinner for his loved ones, saying he’ll call you downstairs in an hour or so.

Relief floods you once the door closes, knees almost giving out as all the tension leaves your body gradually. Just as your breathing returns to normal, you then hurry to the window, sticking your head out in search of your slippery boyfriend while checking every rooftop and high place in the vicinity.

You take a step back with a sigh when you can’t spot him, greatly disappointed. Has something happened in the short period it took to get rid of your father, pulling Jisung in the direction of another fight to ensure the safety of the city? Hopefully, that was not the case. But then, did that mean he got bored of waiting and left for good, too impatient to return to you?

Turning your back to the window, you ignore the chill that sneaks in and consider returning to your homework. Maybe Jisung will call later and explain, or you’ll just call him yourself after dinner. There had to be a reason for his absence, and you’ll try to appear unbothered if it turns out that reason was you.

“Boo.”

You whip around so fast that your eyes almost jump out of their sockets and escape out the window when Jisung appears before you, hanging by a thread from the ceiling, with a wide grin visible even through the thick mask.

“Hi, baby, what’s with the long face?”

You frown, still a little startled but approach nonetheless. “I thought you left me for good.”

He’s surprised, you can tell by the way his whole body tenses, and not from the effort of keeping himself upside down. “I am literally nothing without you, that would never happen for as long as I live.”

“And even after I pass, my ghost will keep you company until we can be together again in the afterlife.” He adds, sighing. “Do you not know me at all?”

The fact that he was so certain he would be the first one to depart from this world was chilling, to say the least. Still, the reassurance makes you feel a tiny bit better. Jisung will always return to you, no matter what, clinging to your connection for as long as he lived and even beyond, confident the red string of fate that tied you together won’t allow you to ever lose each other.

Jisung beckons you closer with a lone finger, holding on to his web with one hand, still insisting on remaining upside down for some unknown reason. When you’re close enough, his free arm wraps around your shoulders and drags you forward, almost closing the small gap between you.

“Sorry.” You murmur, a little embarrassed for jumping to conclusions just like that, forgetting the love your boyfriend carried for you everywhere he went, protecting it from evil while also counting on it to lead him down the right path, away from darkness and destruction. He tilts your head up, finger under your chin gently, and you’re left staring into big, stitched-on eyes.

“None of that, angel.” He shakes his head, managing to nudge your nose with his and spread the warmth in your chest throughout your whole body. “Kiss me and all is forgiven.”

You raise an eyebrow as it all clicks in your head. This was his plan from the beginning, hence why he never bothered to drop down and greet you properly. Typical Jisung, leave it to him to create random circumstances just to get a kiss instead of asking for one, like a normal person would. He loved being spoiled after all and he knew you loved complying, finding his menace tendencies too endearing to ever say no.

So without further ado, you do exactly what he expects and has been daydreaming about for days on end – nimble fingers reach for his mask and pull gently, afraid your touch alone might hurt him somehow when in reality, it’s the only one that does the opposite. You stop right before his nose, playfully squeezing and blocking his airways as your way of getting back at him, letting go and bringing your lips to his before he can even begin protesting.

You cup his cheeks, a little awkward, his arm still around your shoulders as you slowly kiss, drowning in each other and the waterfall of love that never and will never run out. Your tongues meet, and the kiss quickly becomes heated and wet, much more intense than either of you is used to. Maybe after all this time, the love started to overflow, making it impossible to control yourselves and your urges. Not like you minded, obviously delighted at this newfound passion as you can’t seem to get enough of each other.

Jisung is the first to pull away, and you can’t help but vocalize your protest when you notice a thin string of saliva still connecting your lips, almost like you’ve been glued together for so long that separating was out of the question, the sight making your head spin.

Yet, this brief moment allows him to drop down and scop you into his arms, your legs hugging him by the waist instantly as Jisung removes his mask and dives in again, kissing you like he needs it more than the air to breathe. His tongue is teasing yours again, lips feverish as you occasionally bite down just to hear the sweet sounds that escape him, all the groaning and huffing that indicate all of his restrain hangs by a thin spider web.  

“I could kiss you forever.” He breathes between quick pecks, eyes hazy as he stares at you beneath thick eyelashes. “Will you let me?”

He didn’t even need to ask. You’d let Han Jisung mold you into whatever he desired if that meant he’d stay happy for all eternity, for whatever was good for him, was also good for you.

But for now, forever will last until dinner is ready and your dad will barge into your room again, shooing the love bubble you and your boyfriend resided in away from prying eyes, out the open window.

And just because you can never be away from him for too long, Jisung will have to use the door and be invited inside as your boyfriend, and not as Spiderman.

tagging: @jisunggy <3

[tapwater118]

Has anyone ever heard of “Battle for Dream Island” (1990) before? Really obscure NES game, doesn’t even have a Wikipedia page (or hell, even a mention in one).

From what little I can find about it on the internet, Battle for Dream Island was an NES game released on January 1st, 1990, apparently made entirely by a pair of independent American developers. Never made all that many sales, but eventually it garnered a rather niche following on an obscure gaming forum, though it had long since dissipated. Unfortunately, seemingly nothing from the forum threads was archived, so all I have to go on are a few vague threads titles from a navigation page.

I, rather cliched like, bought this BfDI cartridge from a sleazy old guy at a flea market (along with Puzznic and Wario’s Woods for a bargain deal). I dumped the ROM and booted it up on an emulator to take some screencaps.

Upon pressing start, you are prompted to “Choose Contestant,” and have a choice between any of 20 playable characters (who are all everyday objects, for some reason). Each contestant has their own stats, and while you can feel the difference while playing, the overall impact of character choice is pretty negligible. (Also some of these guys don’t even have arms?? Weird design choice but okay.)

Two screencaps of the character select screen. I went with Pin for my first playthrough cause idk she seemed kinda cute. I’m almost sure the stats are “Strength,” “Speed,” “Jump,” and “Skill.”

(Continued under cut)

While touting itself as a game show, BfDI is essentially a glorified minigame collection. The gameplay loop is as follows: You and the 19 other contestants play a minigame (referred to as “challenges”) to earn points based on how well you do (though I’m fairly certain the computer contestants just get a random amount of points for each challenge). Most of the challenges are various platforming segments, though some others fall more into puzzle game territory.

Two of the challenges. The green “Win Tokens” can be collected for bonus points. LEFT: A horizontal platformer level. The grey wall in the middle of the screencap moves up and down. RIGHT: A challenge about climbing ladders while avoiding “acid spitballs.” The game pauses to scroll vertically a la Super Mario Bros. 2.

After each challenge, this speaker thing shows up (pretty sure he’s supposed to be like a game show host?) and tallies up everyone’s score. The contestant with the least score gets “eliminated” and removed from the game.

The results screen. Leafy did rather poor on the last challenge, so she’s out of the game.

The game continues like this until you lose (have the least amount of points) and get booted to the game over screen, or until you are the last one left, in which case you win Dream Island! (Though of course in reality you just get booted back to the title screen. No Dream Island for you.)

The victory screen, with the gates to Dream Island in sight. Feels more like the gates to hell given how Pin’s staring at me.

It’s a fairly easy game for NES standards (I won on my first try). Took me about 80 minutes on my first playthrough, though subsequent ones could take less than an hour as I knew what I was doing. The brevity and the fact it saves your high score gives BfDI a nice sense of replayability (though this is probably best done sporadically, as the challenges tend to get a bit samey after a couple of back-to-back playthroughs).

So yeah, just wanted to share this in case anybody else has heard of it. I’ll probably rip the sprites and upload them sometime later cause it doesn’t look like anybody’s done that yet.

[rox1000000]

I'm tired of stats in rules light games.

A game design ramble.

Stats are usually very boring. That doesn't necessarily mean they're bad. Not everything needs to be exciting or thought provoking and they're sometimes good to have. More complex games will have stats or adjacent, but have way more to define a character mechanically, or other things of interest stacked on top of them. They can be a good foundation in more complex games and my issue isn't with their use in that context.

My issue is when writers strip back everything but stats to make their game fit on a page or two. Many OSR games do this, but it is by no means unique to OSR.

In this post I'll go over what makes something a stat to me, why I dislike them being center stage in rules light games, and alternative ways to approach defining a character in minimal space. I'm trying to be brief here but it's a long post.

What is a stat?

I view stats as being generalized attributes or verbs that a character can do. The core things that I view as being indicative of "stats" at least how they're defined in this manifesto is that they're generalized, and that they're not abstract. In a game you'll usually find them called attributes, skills, ability scores, or the like. Not everything described as a skill in a game is a "stat" to me, and that distinction usually comes down to how specific it is. Something like "fight" I would describe as being a stat, whereas something like "hand to hand combat" I would describe as being a skill.

Famously D&D's STR, DEX, WIS, CON, INT, CHA are stats.

Why I Dislike Them

Lets suppose you have a game where you've stripped down basically everything except core stats about a character. Why is that a bad thing?

Lack of granularity - I think one of the issues here is that in stripping back other options, the stats become your main verbs in the game and characters get very easily pushed into confined boxes, or expand to slurp up a good deal of action. (Idk how to word this lmao) Lets take intelligence for example. Many games just have a brain stat, meaning a character is more knowledgeable, reasonable, logical than everyone else in every single situation always when they have more of this stat. In a game with more rules, there's ways to make that knowledge more specific or to differentiate mechanically, what under the umbrella of intelligence a character is good at, but in a stripped down game it's just "I am google." This also pushes out other characters from the relatively universal action of thinking. Same happens for strength or speed or any other large category. Why think when we have a thinky guy in the party that can think instead. Why try and do something precise when we have mrs. dexterity ready to do it at a greater success rate?

Lack of characterization - I think stats do a poor job of characterizing a character and making that characterization matter in the game. If I have a character with high strength, that doesn't actually say anything about the character. I believe that in an RPG it's important to know who a character is as a person and/or what role they have in the narrative. With so little to go off of, does it really matter that your character can punch people and pick up heavy objects about 10% better (or in many cases, more often) than the character of the player next to you? When cutting back a game's mechanics, a designer is making a statement about what matters, and I'm hearing many designers say "yeah it does matter to be able to quantify slight differences in physical characteristics between characters, this is definitely a good use of my extremely limited time and space!"

Things I think are better

I have already seen some solutions out in the wild:

Assign numerical weight to problem solving approaches - I see this often and it works well to drive action without restricting specifically what a character must do to get their bonus.

Assign numerical weight to vibes - This works for games that are lighter and fluffier and can serve to characterize a character well, but can be lacking in more grounded games.

Assign numerical weight to archetypes or jobs - A character having points in "crime lord" is a lot more evocative than them having points in charisma or sway and then using it to deceive people.

Be more specific - If you're designing a game with a very specific scenario in mind, it might be better to use something way more specific and tailored to your game. This entirely solve the issues on its own, but won't make me roll my eyes at the very least.

Don't use them at all - there's other ways to define a character than assigning numbers to generalized categories, and I've seen games that don't have stats and work fine.

I don't believe I've seen it pushed it far enough, frankly. I'm a sicko like that. You can assign a number to nearly anything and it can work. Nearly anything. So experiment more. Let players write their own stats, find a job resume and add numbers to it, staple numbers where you wouldn't think to, the world is your oyster so don't be boring with it.

Signed, a pretentious game designer

[tales-from-the-aether-ttrpg]

Have you ever been playing dnd and found yourself wishing you could experience the full immersion of mechanics for brewing potions, charting maps, picking locks, or enchanting items that were more than simply chucking a d20 and hoping for the best?

In addition to an expansive combat system that favors player exploration and expression, Tales from the Aether encourages players to explore more facets of the fantasy and adventuring genre. Some fun examples are the Chef’s Tools and Climbing Tools mechanics.

Chef’s Tools

These tools are used to make delicious and nutritious meals that are far superior to simple rations. In order to make a nutritious meal that last the whole adventuring day, you must use at least 4 lbs of food stuff such as meat, vegetables, or roots per individual you wish to feed.

You gain a number of d6s equal to your Nature or Knowledge score. You only need to roll one dice to make a successful meal but can gamble for additional bonuses. If you roll doubles on anything other than 1s, your meal grants an additional bonus. Any effects granted from the meals lasts until your next long rest.

If you roll anything other than a 1, the meal is a success and grants a temporary increase to Hit Point maximum equal to your Nature or Knowledge score.

If you roll a 1, the meal is just an average meal with no additional benefits.

If you roll multiple 2s, the meal grants a +1 Bonus to Stamina.

If you roll multiple 3s, the meal grants a +5 to Speed.

If you roll multiple 4s, the meal grants a +1 Bonus to Awareness and Security checks.

If you roll multiple 5s, the meal grants a +1 Bonus to Diplomacy, Deception, Intimidation, and Performance checks.

If you roll multiple 6s, the meal grants double the increase to Hit Points.

Climbing Tools

Climbing long distances is a dangerous sport and can be nearly impossible without the proper tools. With these tools, a misstep may lead to a minor panic attack, not a fall to one’s death.

You gain a pool of 5 dice (1d4). For every 100 feet you climb, you must use these dice to reach a DC of 10. If you fail to meet this DC, you gain 10 points of Stress but make the distance.

The dice you get to roll is increased depending on your Skill Rank. Novice grants a 1d6, Apprentice a 1d8, Journeyman a 1d10, Expert a 1d12, and Master a 1d20.

If you are climbing with multiple people, you can share your dice to help your companions out. For example, if one member of the group is an Expert and passed the DC with 2 dice, they can share their last 3 dice with members of the group that are less skilled in Agility or Strength.

This is just a taste but there is much more to be found. If such exploration of different mechanics interests you, give a follow to keep up to date with Tales from the Aether’s progress! I may be inviting more people to the discord to take a look at the 250+ page document once its V1.2 is completed ;p

[dilatorywriting]

Oh, 4k? Hold up then, looks like you dropped this 👑👑👑

CONGRATS TO YOU, ONE OF THE BEST WRITERS HERE!! If I could partake in the event, I'd love something with Riddle and prompt 17; love my short red angry king and alice in wonderland in its entirety tbh. If the Reader could be a bit of a rule breaker too and have known Riddle since childhood that'd be awesome as well. Again tho CONGRATULATIONS!! HOPE NOTHING BUT THE GOOD STUFF FOR YOU!

Gender Neutral Reader x Riddle Rosehearts Word Count: 2.3k

Prompt 17: "I think I’m in love with you and I don’t know what to do."

[EVENT MASTERLIST]

You were annoying.

At least, that was the kindest way his mother described it. And Riddle would have to agree. Always hanging over his shoulder like some overeager parrot and rattling off nonsense into his ear just as loudly. He was hardly allowed out to the park—mother said his studies were far too important, and even as a child Riddle certainly agreed. Mostly, at least. Enough to never argue—but when he did get time to sit out in the sun under the shade of the grand, painted trees, you were always there.

A bother, a nuisance. Sticky fingered with the remnants of swiped tarts and chattering on, and on, and on.

“I tried to follow a rabbit,” you said, rolling around in the dirt like a heathen. Weren’t you worried your parents would scold you for mucking up the smooth, blue fabric of your jacket? “But it ran too fast and I fell. Do you think I could catch it with a net, maybe?”

“Hopped,” Riddle correctly, stiffly. “Rabbits hop.”

“Well this one ran,” you argued back. “Faster than a car. Faster than a cheetah.”

“Cars are faster than cheetahs,” he said, turning to the next page of his book. “So grammatically you should have put that part second.”

You flopped back onto your stomach and pulled yourself to your knees, before scuttling behind his back and peering over his shoulder.

“How can you pay attention to a book with no pictures in it?”

He hunched up his shoulders and you dropped your chin down with a bonk. Refusing to budge.

“Some of us don’t have the attention span of goldfish,” he sneered, turning his nose up at you.

“Well, if I could only think as much as a goldfish, I wouldn’t want to waste it on that,” you snipped back. “Doing homework in a park. What are you, a robot?”

“I’m efficient!” he snapped. “Mother says I shouldn’t waste time on frivolities.” On things like you, he doesn’t say. A part of him wants to. The part that sounds like biting words and a sharp, firm voice demanding he get to bed by 7pm unless he wants to rot his brain. Another part is… is worried that you might not like that. And then you’d just get even more annoying.

You reached around and snagged the textbook out of his hands with an audible ‘yoink!’ and immediately ran off at full speed. Which is never fair! Because you’re used to climbing up trees, and sprinting through mud, and scaling boulders like a wild beast. And Riddle is—Riddle isn’t! He would never! So it takes him an age to catch up to you. By the time he does, he’s huffing, and puffing, and as red as his hair.

“Don’t do that!” he snapped, livid. “Ever again!”

“Alright,” you shrugged, a loose grin on your mouth as you returned your pilfered treasure. You’ve barely even broken a sweat. “I won’t bother you during homework, Riddle.”

Which is… That’s certainly what he wanted Of course it was. But it made something in his stomach drop nonetheless. Probably because you’d just find new ways to be irritating. Yes. That’s certainly why.

The first time he felt it was on his twelfth birthday.

He’d tried so hard. And he’d done so well. His exams had all come back with perfect scores, his projects and papers immaculately graded. He’d been going to bed on time every night, combing his hair exactly how his mother liked, even folding his clothes into perfectly pressed little squares. She’d seen it in one of her cleanliness magazines and had lamented how nice the style looked for something so tedious. But Riddle had learned. And now his closet looked as tidy as a militia.

“Can I go? Trey’s whole family will be there. And it’s just dinner. Fully monitored!” he reassured, fighting the urge to twist his hands behind his back. “Please?”

“Of course not,” his mother droned, not even looking up from her laptop. “You’ve been doing well, but we don’t want you slipping up, now do we?”

“But—” he started, and her eyes cut up to him like daggers. A warning. “…of course, mother.”

“Good boy,” she smiled, with that smile that was never really a smile. “Now go up to your room. You can have an extra half hour of free time today,” she said, like it was something worth celebrating. “For my special birthday boy.”

Riddle had sat in his bed wishing he’d never known what a birthday was at all. And then there was a tapping at his window.

He opened it in shock, to see you hanging off the edge like a particularly determined cockroach. Which was—! No! It wasn’t safe! And you were going to get him in trouble, and—

But instead of opening that stupid, fat mouth of yours and letting of your siren call of a laugh—summoning every sensible adult in a five-mile radius to come checking for delinquents—you simply swung around a bit to reach back into your jacket pocket. Riddle almost lurched forward when he saw your fingers scrabble a bit along the ledge. Ready to fall. But then you righted yourself and gently deposited a little, paper-wrapped parcel atop of the smooth surface.

And then you shot him a wink and disappeared from view, no doubt scuttling back down the siding like the demon you were.

He approached it hesitantly, like one would an active bomb. He carefully peeled back the sticky tape and smoothed out the edges of the sloppily wrapped package. Inside was a small, round strawberry tart. Freshly baked, by the smell of it. And the waft of warm, soft steam curling up from the flaking crust. With a little note tucked beside it in your chicken scratch. A lopsided smiley face doodled at the corner, beaming up at a hastily scrawled ‘Happy Birthday, Riddle!’

He took a small bite of the little, perfect treat and his eyes burned. Something in his chest gave a worrying thump-thump.

‘Oh my god,’ he thought in a panic. ‘The idiot poisoned me.’

But aside from the horribly loud ticking of his heart, nothing else seemed to go awry. He ate the rest of the tart in silence, feeling lightheaded and far too warm. He wondered if maybe his mother was right about sugar and myocardial infarction after all.

Riddle didn’t see much of you the next few years. His mother doubled down on his study times, and he wasn’t even allowed to spend time with someone as responsible as Trey anymore. Let alone the person his parent had deemed ‘a menace upon polite society.’ The next time he saw you—really saw you. Not just your hurried waves from across the street or the trace ends of your bubbling laugh from around a corner—was when the Royal Sword Academy’s students had descended upon Night Raven for the VDC.

You were chattering away with Che’nya, the pair of you looking equally as mused and ridiculous. All splashes of raucous color and uniforms so out of place that one would hardly be able tell what institution you were meant to be a part of at all. For a moment he thought you’d walk right past. It’d been years, after all. And certainly you’d moved on to bothering some new stick in the mud.

But then you saw him and your eyes lit up. His chest gave another of those terrible thump-thumps.

“Riddle!” you all but screamed. And launched yourself at him like a feral cat. “How are you! Your hair is so neat! Did you grow out your bangs? Oh! Look at your cape! So cool! Did you know that we don’t get capes? I think that’s a crime. Especially with how yours looks,” you rambled on. And despite that lingering thread of him that demanded that you must be annoying, because that’s what you were. Loud, and uncouth, and everything he’d been raised to not be. The rest of him was… Warm. And happy, to hear the familiar chatter back in his ear.

He scoffed, hoping it would cover the noise of his pounding heart. “No one in their right mind would trust you with a cape. You’d get caught on every door in existence.”

“Oh, that’s fair,” you agreed on a nod. “But surely a top hat, at least?”

And then you were back in his life like you’d never left to begin with. Or, well, like he’d never left you.

Showing up at Unbirthday Parties with the tackiest serving plates and even worse outfits. Telling him all about the rabbit you finally managed to catch, and how it does run, Riddle. I swear. Bringing him trinkets you’d found in small shops that had no practical purpose to speak of. Breaking every rule in the Queen’s Book and smacking yourself on the forehead each time he shouted a stern reminder. You even bought a little notepad to jot down his instructions. But all it ended up being good for was an ever growing pile of doodles and little, folded, origami animals that he’d find tucked all around his room like secrets.  

And amidst all of this, that thumping, bumping pressure in his chest just kept getting worse.

It was a warm day, not unlike the one all those years ago where you’d plunked yourself on his shoulder and stolen the textbook right out of his hands. Now you had your own book to read, some monstrosity on analyzing ravens and writing desks, with your head precariously close to his lap but not there. He didn’t even know why that bothered him.

“This book is too complicated,” you complained. And Riddle fought the urge to point out you were holding it upside down. “Both have quills. Is that so hard to understand?”

“That makes no sense,” he argued back.

“Of course it does,” you said, perfectly pleasant and sure of yourself. “But you know everything, so you really ought to know that too.”

He snorted. “I do not.”

“Do too.”

“Do not.”

“What’s fifteen times thirty-four.”

“That’s not knowing. That’s just math,” he argued. “And it’s five-hundred and ten.”

“See,” you poked. “I knew you’d know it.” You rolled over to stretch out on your stomach—reaching forward to twist a long blade of grass between your fingers. “You always know what to do.”

Something in his stomach turned unpleasantly at that. Had he known what to do when he’d cowed to his mother’s commands and cut you from his life? Had he known best when he’d turned away from your warm greetings and friendly overtures to hide away behind the unsurmountable walls of expectation? Worse over, did you think that he thought all those things were… for the best? That he’d wanted to push you aside like all your cheerful banter and sweet attempts to brighten his dull, miserable life had been worth nothing.  

“That’s not true,” he finally said, stilted and near whisper quiet.

You propped yourself up on your elbows and looked at him with a curious tilt of the head.

“Of course it is,” you blinked, guileless and genuine. Smiling up at him from your place in the grass with that familiar, twisty little grin on your mouth and a brightness in your eyes that never seemed to dim.

“It’s not,” he said, a bit firmer. And his gaze flickered off away from yours. “I think I’m in love with you, and I don’t know what to do about it at all.”

Riddle wasn’t sure what he was expecting. Silence, maybe. The horrible, awkward, biting sort that ate away at his soul like a rat gnawing through his bones. Maybe you’d laugh at him, in that bubbling, carefree way of yours, and tell him that you thought one of those rules of his was never to lie on a Thursday afternoon. That would hurt worse than the silence, he thought.

But instead you just rolled back over with a flick of your wrist, like you were gossiping about the weather.

“Then love me,” you said, simple. “I love you. It only seems fair.”

“…oh,” he spluttered, face lighting up crimson and warm.

You hummed, as if in agreement. But to what he wasn’t sure. You looked him over for a minute, like you were searching for something. And then you reached for his sweaty hand with your own and twined your fingers there in the grass.

“If everything always made sense, nothing would be what it is because everything would be what it isn't,” you said, like that was supposed to make any sense at all. “And contrariwise, what it is, it wouldn't be, and what it wouldn't be, it would. You see?"

“What on earth are you on about?” he gaped.

You burst into delighted giggles and tucked your nose against his hip. “Silly, silly. Stop trying to analyze everything, yes? It will only make things more confusing.”

You sighed and stretched, a contented smile on your lips. You reached up to tap a finger against his nose.

“Things don’t always have to make sense. That’s what makes it fun. And, well, if you’re really that determined to be able to figure out how things are supposed to go, we can do that later, yes?”

“…Right,” he managed to eek out after a long moment. Feeling far too light and far too… too something. “Later. There will be a later.”

And as much as that would have felt like a lie all those years ago—had been a lie even—when he said it now you looked up at him like he’d hung the stars in the sky. And he couldn’t help but hope for all the tomorrows in the world.

.

.

[yrqrnc]

stages of falling.

jaemin x gn!reader

wc: 1.2k

genre: angst, fluff, uhh slice of life?

before the age of 1, jaemin falls a countless number of times.

while learning how to get up on his own and walk; with the gentle support of his mother’s hands and the push of his father’s strength— he wobbles, and stumbles, and trips a hundred and thousand times before he finally learns to stand on his own two feet.

between the age of 1 to 3, too, jaemin falls down multiple times.

tripping over his own foot, losing balance of his still wobbly, weak legs, for he hadn’t quite mastered the art of walking yet, and running was still a bit far ahead.

he falls a few many times, after getting too excited seeing his momma then attempting to rush to her with his tiny legs and the biggest grin on his face, only to fall flat on it when he’d tried to speed, before he got picked up with careful hands into a warm embrace as his chubby cheeks stained with wet tears from the hit.

at the age of 5, he realizes there are mean friends too.

he falls hard.

turns out preschool kids could be quite rough; he was play-fighting with his new classmates in his new school one moment, and the next, he was on the muddy floor of the playground, next to the slide, with a bruised knee and couple of nasty scratches on his arms.

that day, he went home with tears in his eyes and dried blood on his clothes, and the weight of a feeling he couldn’t understand or name, but it was heavy, and ugly, and undesirable, and jaemin didn’t like it.

later, he grew to know people called it “embarrassment” and “humiliation”.

at the age of 11, he gets into a fight for the first time.

with spiked up hormones that had newly arrived to him, just as to any growing teenager, and irritation that ignited within the blink of an eye, he throws a punch at a guy from the other class for reasons he can no longer remember, and gets one right back, and before he knows it, it keeps going back and forth until his homeroom teacher rushes in and pulls both of them apart before dragging them both to the principal.

he returns back to his house with scoldings written on the front pages of his school diary by his teacher, and anger lowly burning in the pit of his stomach and the back of his mind.

at the age of 16, jaemin thinks he falls again, but this time, there’s no pain, or bruise, or blood — there’s only this weird fluttering feeling in his stomach and a fuzzy blur in his mind that makes him stutter and lose words whenever he sees her.

jaemin falls for a girl, he thinks.

she has shiny black hair and pearl eyes, puffy cheeks, and pimples on her forehead too, but he finds them rather cute.

he likes the way she talks to the teachers and the way she laughs with her friends. her handwriting is messy, but she’s smart and scores well. she doodles at the top corner of her notebooks.

and as jaemin admires her from afar, he falls.

but 16-year-old jaemin falls alone.

the pretty girl stays still and indifferent; she looks over at his direction a few times, but her gaze focuses somewhere far behind where he stands, at someone who’s not him. and she smiles, but it’s not for him.

it’s never for him.

he decides he will never fall again.

but, at the age of 18, jaemin falls again — the hardest he’s ever fallen.

he falls on his entire body, trembling and aching, and his leg is stuck under the bike, whose tires still roll on even as the vehicle lays sideways, flat on the road after the crash.

he tugs and tugs until he’s able to get his legs out of the gap, and he crawls over to the body that lays still and unmoving on the harsh ground.

he feels his two hands hanging helplessly against his sides, and he doesn’t know what to do with them.

should he hold them together tightly against his chest and pray, pray, pray for a miracle and for all of it to get better? or should he stretch them out into the open and do– something, anything?

but no one had ever taught him what to do with empty hands.

he reaches out and puts his two hands together, pressing against the deep wound, hoping for something to make it all better – but the bleeding doesn’t stop; it only stains his pale hands a bright vermillion.

and that emptiness that had become a part of him stays embedded within his skin, but it turns red today.

it’s the brightest color he’s ever seen, and he feels dizzy.

who would’ve known that the brightest things could also be such thieves, such horrible, horrible nightmares?

jaemin falls onto his hands and knees, and watches helplessly as his best friend lays on the bed of the earth, eyes blankly staring up at the ceiling of the world, as he gives life back every breath and ounce of love that he had ever been given.

every bit of it.

jaemin feels something drip down his face, and it’s wet, and it makes him want to crawl out of his skin. 

he isn’t sure if it’s his own tears or someone else’s life that taints his skin.

it is only when he is 18, that jaemin believes he’s not alone for the first time in life.

he falls like he always has, again, but this time, someone falls with him.

they fall together, down and hard. but he gets up alone.

jaemin wishes he’d fallen on his own.

he wishes he always falls on his own, now. never with someone else.

( ★ )

at 23, jaemin falls again.

it’s been long since the last time, and he’s scared, but one thing he’s realized over the years is that - you can never control when, how and why you fall. 

so he falls.

he falls for starry eyes and a sunshine smile, the scent of sandalwood and citrus; for gentle hands and a warm embrace; for cherry-flavored chapsticks and stargazing, and with every bit of the universe—because it held you.

he keeps falling.

but you’re right there with him, and you’re falling too, and this time, he never hits rock-bottom.

he still gets scratches every now and then, and pain and grief grazes past him ever so often, but one look at you, and he realizes that falling was never supposed to be harmless and rainbows, after all.

it would hurt, but it would also give him back a thousand more moments of happiness and bliss.

perhaps, he thinks, he’d never recognize the face of joy if he didn’t drown in something of the complete opposite.

jaemin falls, falls, and falls.

he falls for the dreamy look in your eyes and the way you cackle at his jokes no matter how unfunny they are; he falls for the dates that you prepare for you two in the back of your car, with fairy lights and all things bright, and he falls for the warmth of your body and your words and your presence.

he falls for you and everything that comes with you, and he keeps falling. he believes when told that – all the falls he’d taken till this very moment was all to mount up to you.

and he thinks, one day, he’ll forgive himself and the universe, because you’re here now.

so, at the age of 23, jaemin falls. 

and he never stops falling.

[moon-fics]

The Truth-Peter Parker

A/n: Ok, so the original angst fic I wanted to post is taking longer than I thought to finish. Here's a shorter angst-to-fluff fic that I think you'll enjoy!

Summary: Peter has been different recently and you don't like it.

Warning: Swears, Peter being stupid

Today is not your day, not even close. You realize that while staring down at the chapter text you didn't study for. You always tell yourself college grades are the most important thing in your life, but somehow you fucked this one up. Probably because your best friend has been on and off the grid for the past month.

You choose random answers for half a page, rubbing your forehead in frustration as the questions get harder. You glance over your shoulder to see Peter in the back of the class, practically breezing through the test. Of course, you aren't surprised seeing as he's already an expert in organic chemistry. You mentally curse him out for being smart enough not to study.

You still have five questions unanswered but at this point, you're at a low. With a deep breath you write down random answers you hope are bullshit enough to be accepted. You quickly stand from your chair, placing the test on the professor's desk. You get the shortest look at the class, half of them are already gone. You grab your backpack, swinging it over your shoulder. Right as you pass the professor's desk you hear shuffling from the very back, knowing it's Peter.

You don't spare him a glance, speeding up as you walk through the campus halls. You're about to turn the corner towards the exit when you hear footsteps gaining on you. You don't have to look to know who it is.

You push open the doors, heading straight to your car in hopes Peter doesn't reach you. Sadly, today is really not your day.

You only get halfway through the parking lot when he calls out to you. You can't pretend to not hear him because even a senile old man would. With a heavy sigh, you turn on your heel and watch him approach you.

"Hey, what's the rush?" He asks innocently, stopping a few feet in front of you. He hasn't even broken a sweat but he's breathing like he's run a mile. "I saw that you didn't do too well on the test." He tries to strike up a conversation.

"How would you know that? You were in the back of the class." You raise an eyebrow, genuinely wondering how he'd know that. You watch his face change as he tries to come up with a reason. It's either going to be a lie or he'll brush it off. That's what he's been doing recently, lying to you or avoiding you altogether.

"You left in a bad mood." He answers, shrugging his shoulders. You decide not to press further, knowing it'll lead nowhere. "You should have asked if you needed help, I could have rambled about organic chemistry until you'd become a secondhand expert!" This makes you lose your politeness.

"When could I have asked you?" You scoff, crossing your arms. "We barely talk and when I text you I get left on delivered." You point out with a frown. You could probably pull up his contact and scroll through the constant unanswered messages that are paired with random texts from him, usually at unreasonable hours. At one point you tried matching whatever sleep schedule he's on, but eventually had to stop for your sanity.

Peter nods his head, not defending himself. "I know I've been busy, I should have tried to talk to you more." He says in a genuine tone. He looks down at the asphalt, rubbing the back of his neck. You can't lie, even when you're close to ditching him in the parking lot, he looks good. "I promise that I'm not distracted anymore, I swear on my test score!" His eyes shift to look at you, his head ducked down a bit still. He looks adorable at that angle.

"And I'm supposed to care why?" You shift your weight onto one leg, the weight of your backpack making your back ache. A part of you wants to just forgive him and pretend like the past few weeks didn't happen, the other half wants to reject him and drive home.

"I was hoping we could hang out, you know like friends do." He chuckles. If his smile wasn't so perfect you'd call him insane, maybe even dramatically march away. Instead, you find yourself excited about the idea of spending time with him again. Your heart betraying your stubborn brain.

"And if I were to say yes, what would we do?" You enquire, pretending to not be interested. It's too bad you never made the starring role in any school plays.

"I'd order us pizza and invite you to watch a movie at my apartment." You've forgotten how much his internships are paying him, OSCORP definitely loves him. "I'll even buy those cupcakes you loved from that bakery." That catches your interest.

"Hmm, I'll have to see." You pretend to think, making him groan. You both know you're more than free, but you enjoy tormenting him. Honestly, spending time with Peter while eating free food is a double win. "I guess I'll do it." You relent, watching as his smile grows even more. You can see his eyes brighten once you agree, making your heart race.

"Perfect, Friday night at 6 o'clock!" He details, and you mentally note it. There's no way you'd miss it, not for the world.

-

It's pouring rain when you finally reach his apartment, you're dripping down the hallway. You know how to get to his apartment by heart having done it so much. The hallway filled with apartment doors is warm enough to keep you from shivering.

You reach his door, knocking a few times. You wait awkwardly, noticing how dead quiet it is. You hope he has clothes you can borrow so yours can dry, wet clothes are anything but comfortable.

You wait a few seconds before knocking again, still having hope about tonight. You assure yourself he's probably listening to music or in the shower. You send him a text letting him know you're outside.

After a few minutes, you call him, becoming impatient. The warmth of the hallway is no longer enough, your skin covered in bumps and your teeth chattering. There's no answer, you go straight to voicemail.

You don't want to believe he's not home. You try to come up with an excuse, anything that could stop the ache in your chest. However, you've been in this situation before. You know how tonight will end and it doesn't include free pizza and cupcakes.

You wait five more minutes before you have no patients left in you. You turn away from the door, heading back down the hallway, into the elevator, and back into the rainy night. On the way out you open his contact, sending one last message telling him to forget about it.

-

You wake up to the sound of your ringtone blaring in your ears. With a sleepy groan, you pick up your charging phone, seeing Peter's contact name in bold letters. You stare at the call, turning your sound off. You wait until the call ends before checking the time, seeing it's almost 3AM. No way in hell are you answering his calls this early in the morning, not after he stood you up.

You put your phone down, rolling away from it on your bed. You just want to sleep the day away, feeling disgusting from getting caught in the rain.

You fall asleep for a few hours before hearing a knock. You groggily sit up, heading to your bedroom door. You assume it's your roommate but when you open the door no one is there. You hear the knocking again, it's from your window.

Your body tenses, fear creeping up your back. You don't want to turn around in case your childhood fears were real and there's a killer on your fire escape.

There's a third round of knocks that come in a specific rhythm. You know that knock and you kind of wish it was a killer instead. You don't want to see Peter, but it's too late to act as if you're still asleep. Even if you did go back to sleep, you have no choice but to look at him while walking to your bed.

You know you'll regret this decision later, but you head to your window anyway. You lean on the windowsill, glaring daggers into Peter's soul through the glass. He gets the message instantly, giving you a pleading look. He points to the lock on your window, silently asking you to open it.

You huff, unlocking the window and pushing it open. You're itching to chew him out, to confront him about making you feel like shit. You want to get the first word, but the moment the window opens Peter is speaking.

"I'm so so so sorry! I promise I didn't leave you hanging on purpose!" He begins, talking at the speed of sound. He's sweating, his hair flat compared to his usual updo. "Something came up and I couldn't check my phone!" Another excuse.

"Just say you forgot and let me sleep." You grumble, eye locked with his. He knows you aren't messing around and that this is the last straw. He's fucked up for the last time and now he's grasping at anything to fix it. "At least spare me the truth."

"I swear I'm telling the truth, there was an emergency and I tried to get to my apartment in time." He sighs, running a hand through his hair. He's still withholding the truth and you know you'll never get it like this.

"Alright, Peter, I'm done." You pat your legs before reaching to shut your window. Before you can even touch the wooden frame, something sticky touches your wrist. Your eyes land on a white substance pulling on your skin slightly. You follow the string down to Peter's wrist, his eyes wide. There's a wristband with some sort of mechanism on it. "What the fuck?"

Before you can think he's climbing through your window, disconnecting his web from his wrist. You stare at the substance still attached to you, it reminds you of a spider's web. Spiderweb.

"OH, MY-" Peter places a hand over your mouth, shushing you. His palms are rough but warm. Your eyes are wide and the tips of your fingers are numb as things slowly get put into place in your mind.

"Please, don't scream," Peter begs, slowly removing his hand from your mouth. Your jaw is on the floor and you both know you have a lot to talk about.

-

Not in a million years did you expect tonight to go like this. You did not foresee Peter confessing to being Spider-Man or sitting on a rooftop as he explains his powers. You have no idea what time it is, but the sun is beginning to rise.

"So, this whole time you've been fighting crime and going to college?" That's the thing you can't wrap your head around. He has amazing grades, you're even jealous of him for it. You're trying to figure out how he doesn't pass out all the time from exhaustion.

"Yeah, I've been balancing everything." He admits. Your heart pangs at the idea of him wearing himself out constantly and then still trying to make time for you. "I promise if last night wasn't a serious emergency I would have been there." He shakes his head.

For the first time in a while, you believe him. "You shouldn't beat yourself up about it." You comfort him, rubbing his back. Now that you know the full truth, everything makes sense. You don't feel bad for being upset, but you can't hold onto the anger anymore.

"I tried so hard to make any time for you," He mumbles, watching the sunrise and the sky changes colors. "Every time I thought about messaging you or even talking to you, someone would commit a crime." He chuckles, handing his head between his knees.

"Well, now that I know I forgive you." You num, nudging him playfully. Honestly, knowing he's a secret superhero makes him ten times more attractive. "Besides, now I know you aren't trying to avoid me." You joke.

"Avoid you? Never." He scoffs, wrapping an arm around you. "If anything you're one of the reasons I fight for this city. I want you to live in a place that's protected." There's a long silence as you digest his words, trying to figure out if he's saying what you think he is. After an awkward amount of quiet, he speaks again, "I just want to make sure I wasn't being too subtle, I've been in love with you since freshman year." He says bluntly, putting it all out in the air.

"Oh." That is all you can say. The guy you've had a crush on has liked you for the same amount of time and all you can say is 'Oh'. You really need to slap yourself.

"Oh." He repeats, tapping his knees. "So, uhm, I love this chat I've created." He thins his lips, trying not to look directly at you.

It takes a second but your brain finally catches up with your heart. You turn to face him, your eyes are wide. You grip his arm as if he's leaving. "OH!" Your voice raises in a few octaves, "You're in love with me!"

"Yeah, I am." He laughs, taking your hand in his. Your heart is slamming against your chest, trying to find the correct words to say.

"I'm in love with you, too!" You shout, finally forming words. You sound extremely stupid and socially broken. "I just thought you were a dick!"

"No, you were right. I was being a dick." Peter nods his head with a smile on his face. You don't disagree with him, instead, you keep your eyes on his face. You're soaking up his features, taking in every pore and micro-scar on his face. "But I wish I had confessed sooner."

"I wish you did too, but I'm glad it's now instead of never." You lean your head on his shoulder, hand still in his. He brushes his finger over the back of your palm. "Besides, now we can be one of those couples at graduation who post like fifty photos." You tease.

"Couple?" His head snaps to look at you, "You still want to date me?" He asks in such a quiet voice, almost unsure you'll say yes. It shatters your heart to see him like this, believing that years of friendship and pining will go away after a couple rough patches.

"Oh, I'd date the fuck out of you," You nod your head with a serious look. His expression brightens more than before, and his free hand reaches to touch your face.

"Can I please kiss you?" He asks, his lips about to graze yours.

"If you don't I think I might jump off this roof." You lean closer and Peter doesn't hesitate to meet you halfway. The kiss is rough for just a second before mellowing out. You don't realize how much you've been craving this until it's actually happening.

He finally pulls away for air, resting his forehead on yours. "Holy shit." He gasps, trying to catch his breath. "I think this is the best moment of my life."

"It better be." You respond, going in for another kiss.

[ghostflowerhotpotch]

Miles' Drawings Compilation

Sure you don't, champ?

Okay, this will be less of an analysis, and more of a collection of frames showing the drawings of Miles; I will also take notes of how many times someone appears, appearance and other details.

Let's dive in!

For this, I would looking for frames on 3 times on the movie; his sketchbook at the beginning, the wall on the subway, and his sketchbook again in Gwen's hands this time around.

We start with Miles drawing on this sketchbook.

Okay, while looking for frames I realized that some pages weren't completely show or were just being flipped, I captured as much as I could, but again, I am not doing this in any professional fashion, just pressing pause a bunch of times at half speed.

Complete Pages

First Page we see, Gwen is front and centre in a page solely dedicated to her.

For the appearance of this shot, I am pretty sure this is based on Gwen going down the portal, the last time he saw her.

Gwen appearances: 1

Gwen is the taking most of the page, but Aaron is here too, alive and looking just like another dude, as he remembers him.

There is some lettering around in the other pages, tho is hard to see.

We have one mysterious person that is mostly being obscured by Miles's head, so it will go as undefined character.

Some ketches of a street.

Gwen appearances: 2

Undefined character: 1

Aaron appearances: 1

Landscapes: 1

Lettering: 2

Okay! At first appearance, Gwen is only taking a quarter of the page; we also have Noir's first appearance, and Miles doing some Lettering, and finally some light doodles close to the spine.

Gwen appearances: 3

Undefined character: 1

Aaron appearances: 1

Landscapes: 1

Noir: 1

Lettering: 3

Doodles: 1

Okay! This entire a mostly Gwen only page, there is some words there but I think that would be more calligraphy than lettering, but would count it as lettering to not have too many numbers to keep track of.

And to give some chance to other things to score points.

Gwen appearances: 4

Undefined character: 1

Aaron appearances: 1

Landscapes: 1

Noir: 1

Lettering: 5

Doodles: 2

Once more Gwen is the biggest thing on the screen, but we have more people this time around! Thought Rio and Jeff some to be just sketches with lineart while he is putting full color to Gwen. Another point for lettering and doodle, which also, isn't that such an adorable little alien?

Gwen appearances: 5

Undefined character: 1

Aaron appearances: 1

Landscapes: 1

Noir: 1

Lettering: 3

Doodles: 3

Rio: 1

Jeff: 1

Once again Gwen is the bigger piece, but is also Peter's first appearance! I wonder how he would feel knowing it took this long for him to show up here.

Gwen appearances: 6

Undefined character: 1

Aaron appearances: 1

Landscapes: 2

Noir: 1

Lettering: 3

Doodles: 4

Rio: 1

Jeff: 1

Peter: 1

Double whammy this time around, Gwen appears big on the top corner, but also on the other page, apparently dancing. We also have a small hooded figure that I think may be Miles himself but I am not sure, and 2 people who I can't be sure who they are, so I will have those last three as Undefined characters, and finally, some more landscapes.

Gwen appearances: 8

Undefined character: 4

Aaron appearances: 1

Landscapes: 3

Noir: 1

Lettering: 4

Doodles: 4

Rio: 1

Jeff: 1

Peter: 1

Gwen being at the top of the page is not surprising at this rate, but I had also realized now that until this point, every drawing Miles has been actively working on has been Gwen's, except for the second page. I may add the total number at the end of this post because I am already counting a lot of things already.

Some lettering and Landscapes are here as well.

Gwen appearances: 9

Undefined character: 4

Aaron appearances: 1

Landscapes: 5

Noir: 1

Lettering: 5

Doodles: 4

Rio: 1

Jeff: 1

Peter: 1

Not only Aaron comes back, with Miles writing "Rest in Power," on it, I found this detail interesting because this phrase is also used a lot for people who struggled with systematic oppression; which there is a big chance was Aaron's case.

In the comics, Aaron and Jeff were criminals initially, with Jeff reforming once he became a father. We aren't sure what exactly is Jeff and Aaron's backstory in this universe; but I wouldn't discard the possibility that it was the same; with Aaron feeling he may had no other option not just because he already started this path, but because he couldn't get out due to circumstances.

Aside of this, we have another two drawings of Gwen.

We also have a drawing of Miles fighting against Dr. Oct, I wonder if this is suppose to represent the battle at the collider, or a new fight he may had with her.

Gwen appearances: 10

Undefined character: 4

Aaron appearances: 2

Landscapes: 5

Noir: 1

Lettering: 6

Doodles: 4

Rio: 1

Jeff: 1

Peter: 1

Miles: 1

Gwen is taking most of the page in this one, but we also have Peni's first appearance alongside her first robot. Also, on top of Gwen it says a small note of "Buy more Red!"

Gwen appearances: 11

Undefined character: 4

Aaron appearances: 2

Landscapes: 5

Noir: 1

Lettering: 6

Doodles: 4

Rio: 1

Jeff: 1

Peter: 1

Miles: 1

Peni and SP//dr: 1

And Noir is back! You know, considering he was the second one to appear, and the first to reappear, I wonder if Miles liked Noir that much, or maybe he is going it as art study of some sorts, since he is quite literally void of color.

Gren Goblin Appears! I didn't even register this before, I guess it does leave you with an impression.

Gwen appearances: 12

Undefined character: 4

Aaron appearances: 2

Landscapes: 5

Noir: 2

Lettering: 6

Doodles: 4

Rio: 1

Jeff: 1

Peter: 1

Miles: 1

Peni and SP//dr: 1

Green Goblin: 1

(FINALLY! This page goes on so quickly it took me multiple times to get it, jeez if anybody has a better idea of how to capture frames, please tell me in an ask or something please.)

Okay! So multiple people this time around, we can see Gwen a couple of times (because of course,) Noir is back (and I think my theory of this being black and white study is becoming stronger,) and on the other page we can see that Peter B is back again. Some equations as well, perhaps he needed to do it on the fly? Seems off to use his sketch book for this but oh well.

Gwen appearances: 14

Undefined character: 4

Aaron appearances: 2

Landscapes: 5

Noir: 3

Lettering: 7

Doodles: 4

Rio: 1

Jeff: 1

Peter: 2

Miles: 1

Peni and SP//dr: 1

Green Goblin: 1

The following pages were the ones I couldn't get complete because they were obscured when full on display, or there was never a chance on that shot to seeing the entire page.

Half Pages

On this one, we see this is the top part of page three, which is another Gwen drawing, surprise surprise. This means now she went for being in a quarter of the page to taking half the page.

Gwen appearances: 15

Undefined character: 4

Aaron appearances: 2

Landscapes: 5

Noir: 3

Lettering: 7

Doodles: 4

Rio: 1

Jeff: 1

Peter: 2

Miles: 1

Peni and SP//dr: 1

Green Goblin: 1

This one was hard to get, but we can see that before his hand got on top of the drawing, there was a doodle not just of Aaron, but Aaron as the Prowler!

Gwen appearances: 15

Undefined character: 4

Aaron appearances: 3

Landscapes: 5

Noir: 3

Lettering: 7

Doodles: 4

Rio: 1

Jeff: 1

Peter: 2

Miles: 1

Peni and SP//dr: 1

Green Goblin: 1

And finally, of course our final doodle of this sequence would be a big, beautiful close up of Gwen. Honestly his memory is impressive.

Gwen appearances: 16

Undefined character: 4

Aaron appearances: 3

Landscapes: 5

Noir: 3

Lettering: 7

Doodles: 4

Rio: 1

Jeff: 1

Peter: 2

Miles: 1

Peni and SP//dr: 1

Green Goblin: 1

With that, we go to the next part, the wall!

Mural

Since this one Miles just adding more drawings and such, there is really one frame to analyze. I could in theory talk about who he draws first and in which order, but I decided not to in hopes I can include all drawings in one post without hitting the limit of pics.

Is a big difficult to see everything, specially if seem in one go, so I did a breakdown of each character here.

The wall is interesting because unlike the Notebook, everyone except Aaron appears an equal amount of times, while Aaron only appears 2 times instead of 3, I found interesting how Miles drawn him both as the uncle he remembered, and the Prowler. I think even if he was technically a bad guy, Miles preferred to remember his uncle for the enterity of who he was, the good at the bad.

Also, front at centre we have Gwen, Aaron and Peter for the most part, which were also important key players last movie.

And I just notice, but this is the first time Ham appears in Miles's drawings! He is also the last one; huh, maybe not too much into cartoony art style?

Gwen appearances: 19

Undefined character: 4

Aaron appearances: 5

Landscapes: 5

Noir: 6

Lettering: 7

Doodles: 4

Rio: 1

Jeff: 1

Peter: 5

Miles: 1

Peni and SP//dr: 4

Green Goblin: 1

Ham: 3

Miles Notebook in Gwen's Hands.

. . .

I wasn't sure if they were going to show different drawings when Gwen had the books in her hands, I thought it was worth taking a look in case something was different, but it would make sense to just use the ones they already showcased.

What I did not expect, was to catch a continuity error.

Notice it yet? The page on the left actually had those exact same drawings on a right page earlier, in fact that page was suppose to come after the page on the right,

This is not really the first continuity error I had caught, I thought of doing a post about it, but with the news of the overworked animators I felt almost like an insult point out the mistakes when they were already working overtime to finish this movie. Perhaps at one point in the future when things had calmed down.

And if the last paragraph didn't made it clear enough: I don't want to hear anything against the animators for any possible mistakes I may point out or not in the future, I had dealt with far bigger bullshit than this and all things consider the people working on this movie deserve an award for multiple reasons.

With that out of the way, I came to see that actually, Ham DOES appear in the notebook! Miles shoulders made him difficult to see him as well as the explosion, but here he is!

Gwen appearances: 19

Undefined character: 4

Aaron appearances: 5

Landscapes: 5

Noir: 6

Lettering: 7

Doodles: 4

Rio: 1

Jeff: 1

Peter: 5

Miles: 1

Peni and SP//dr: 4

Green Goblin: 1

Ham: 4

And here we have the only drawings that didn't appear before, which is of course, another big one with Gwen on it.

Also, we had seen Miles do some lettering, but, is it just me or this is the first time he has done it with her name?

On the other page we have a bus ticket, that upon closer inspection, is the Hudson Valley ticket from the last movie! This one in particular seems to be going TO Brooklyn, which means this is the ticket he had for when he, Gwen and Peter were coming back. No wonder he keep that one!

There is also a last mysterious person I have no idea who may be, I think maybe Genki? I don't remember his hair being that long but maybe it was like that at point? Will be put as a mysterious person in the final tally.

Final countdown.

Okay! The numbers may be a bit off, and I guess one could argue how many things could count as doodles/lettering, but the results seems to be this!

Gwen: 20

Lettering: 9

Noir: 6

Aaron: 5

Peter: 5

Undefined character: 5

Landscapes: 5

Doodles: 4

Peni and SP//dr: 4

Ham: 4

Rio: 1

Jeff: 1

Miles: 1

Green Goblin: 1

Miles's parents tied up with Green Goblin in appearances, which is kind of funny, but I guess he doesn't spend that much time with his parents, and he has them always in his corner so is not like he misses them like the rest. Green Goblin was probably because it could be interesting to draw.

Then we have Ham and Peni on the lower end of characters that appear, this makes sense since they didn't interact that much with Miles inthe last movie.

Landscape, Doodles and Undefined Characters come after it on the numbers, but I don't think there is much to talk about those.

Peter and Aaron being tied isn't that surprising all things consider, what it is surprised is that Noir of all people appeared more than them; I insist it can be explained by Miles trying to do black and white drawings.

Lettering is the second thing that appears the most, this number can varied depending if you lump together Grafitti style with Caligraphy or not, or even on the fact that there were some words that I didn't count for this. I think is safe to say the number would still be high one way or another.

But nothing is topping Gwen, who appears AT LEAST, 20 times in Miles's drawings.

Wow.

And Gwen is still the one who won the poll in who has crushing harder, and the worst part is that even with this number she winning makes sense.

They are both so stupid for each other, I love it.

Well, this post was more work than I expected, but it was a lot of fun either way, and this pics will be useful for references later.

I encourage people to reblog this post specially since I believe regardless if you ship Ghostflower or not, this information can come handy for anyone interested in the contents of the notebook or for fic reasons.

Thanks for reading and stay awesome!