#About Baran

[pastofrajasthan]

बारां का इतिहास|| History Of Baran In Hindi

बारां का इतिहास  सात हजार वर्ग किमी क्षेत्र में फैला बारां राजस्थान का महत्वपूर्ण दक्षिणी पूर्वी जिला हैं. 10 अप्रैल 1991 को कोटा से अलग करके बारां को अलग जिला बनाया गया. कालीसिंध, पार्वती व परवन नदियों के मध्य में स्थित इस स्थान को इतिहास में वराह नगरी के नाम से जाना जाता हैं. 12,22,755 आबादी वाले बारां का इतिहास हम यहाँ संक्षिप्त में जानेगे. बारां का सामान्य परिचय: बारां जिले का गठन 10…

[wanderer-clarisse]

... and he was eager moreover to discover all that he could concerning Mankind. He it was that first met Men in Beleriand and befriended them; and for this reason he was often called by the Eldar Edennil, 'the Friend of Men'. (Athrabeth Finrod ah Andreth)

(partially inspired by this)

[yellow-dejavu]

When I saw Dark, I definitely expected characters like Hannah and Ulrich to be hated. I wasn't surprised when I saw comments disliking them on different websites, but I just didn't expect to see people celebrating that Hannah was murdered by her own child while her younger child was sleeping in the same room.

People can enjoy any moment they want while watching a show or movie, but I just don't get it. Hannah gets an amount of hate that no other character in the show gets, and it feels like a large part of the show's viewers ignore to even trying to understand her.

jonas literally says in the first episode:

“My father said good and evil are a question of perspective.”

I'm not saying her character didn't do bad things, but it's exhausting how that's the only thing people see about her and it's just like they're trying to erase the good she did or all the positive things she meant in certain characters' lives.

I was even more shocked to see how few comments put Hannah on the same level as Helene Albers. I just don't understand how anyone could think that Hannah is somehow comparable to an abusive parent.

Hannah with her kids:

When she saw her boy struggling to cope with his dad's dead, she supported her child and made sure he got the professional help he needed.

And when Jonas came back to town, she made sure he got his medications and therapy sessions with Peter.

Hannah was so worried when Jonas tells her he had a fight at the end of the first season.

In the same scene, he just wanted to comfort his mother by saying, "Don't worry, Mom. Everything will be fine, Mom." when he actually believed that he could save Mikkel and thus end his own existence.

As the months passed since her son's disappearance, Hannah was so devastated that she almost took her own life.

She didn't, because Stranger Jonas appeared.

Stranger Jonas has returned after years of living in the apocalypse, and he doesn't know what else to do when his plan fails. The only thing he can think of is to go to his mom and tell her the truth.

After the time young Jonas spent traveling with Claudia, the first thing he does when he finally returns home is look for his mom.

It was a long time before Hannah saw her son again.

But she went to see him immediately when a random old woman told her that she knew where her son was and that he needed her.

Hannah was heartbroken when she saw what had happened to her boy. In that moment she apologized, recognized her mistakes, and told him that she was there for him.

Young Adam looked scary, but Hannah loved him anyway, and baby Silja trusted him when he said, "I want to show you a secret. But we'll let your mom rest, okay?"

Hannah died when Silja was very young and she probably didn't remember much about her mom, but she still named her firstborn Hanno after her.

and that's just to mention some of the things I could remember about Hannah's relationship with her kids.

The last dialogue of the whole show:

"I always thought "Jonas" was a good name."

Hannah was a good mom and her kids absolutely loved her. It bothers me that some people want to take that away from her because they don’t like her.

It's really hard for me to understand how some viewers can watch a show like Dark and decide that they can see all the million gray areas that all these characters had, but with one particular character they reduce everything to black and white.

[little-shadow-club]

The manhwa giving me Doomed Toxic Yaoi at the cost of found family Skype Monarchs

[businesscasualart]

I’m curious if you have any thoughts or headcanons about Onslaught and alcohol. I imagine being a semi-functioning evil team is stressful and if Psimon is chucking everyone’s vapes then cigs and 420 isn’t an option, then alcohol is the second best thing right? Besides drinking together is team building and leads to this wonderful thing called “actually talking about your trauma instead of bottling it up for once”.

AAAA sorry about taking so long to get around to this.

I need to stop checking my inbox until I’m FULLY ready to yap and ramble. I need that lil blue dot reminding me I have asks so bad.

That IS a good question and I’m so flattered that y’all bother with my content. <3 I think they’d be at least somewhat different about alcohol.

(Sorry for any typos in advance, I wrote this mostly at various doctor’s appointments. ALSO. Last thing to apologize for. I’ve never vaped or smoked when I wrote the last part, but I also have never consumed alcohol and that fact may be more evident in this one)

Cw: Alcohol and some references to alcoholism, uh…references to angst but maybe more comfort than angst, kinda all over the place <\3

Okay so, in the beginning, Onslaught was Mostly teens. Psimon was BARELY even old enough to drink in America at the ripe young age of 21, flat. And I thinnkkkkkk Psimon is American? Even if he’s not, it seems the rest of Onslaught is, so I think  Psimon would probably step up and be all “No, no,” confiscate all the bottles and cans and it’d make the teens so mad and indignant. Literal felons are being BABYSAT. Even when they travel where the drinking age is lower. 

But when the teenagers turn old enough to drink, they have a whole little birthday celebration with what they can get, and of course, offer the first taste of alcohol. Their choice for what it is, as long as the team could afford it. Of course, they laugh and tease if they recoil from the taste. 

Most of the team is pretty fond of drinking, usually together. It’s nice bonding.

Devastation is the only exception to the “Psimon Says no alcohol until you’re 21” rule from the beginning. The team can argue “She is LITERALLY one (1) year old” all they want. She is LITERALLY built different, Psimon is fine with her drinking. 

Idk if she particularly has a preference for any kind. She’s probably one of those who subscribe to the belief of “It ain’t right if it doesn’t burn a bit going down”. Wine is probably somewhat…nostalgic. For some reason. Takes her back to someplace she can’t name, someplace she’s never been, but I think that’d be one of the only reasons she might prefer wine. Her taste may be all over. May be whatever’s strong and good. I’m no alcohol savant, what do I know? 

She likes to drink to celebrate and to bond, sometimes to ebb at stress. It takes a LOT to get her drunk, but that’s not gonna stop her from getting drunk when she has the time and money burn on it. She gets drunk and gets even more jovial and warm and open, though she’s usually relatively open. Also, haphazard. She becomes a big fan of violating people’s personal space. Hugs, patting backs, throwing her arm around them, leaning on people shorter than her, etc.

It can annoy a lot of people if she does it too much, Psimon strangely doesn’t seem to mind too much tho…aheem…

Besides that, Psimon’s generally against the team drinking to the point of drunkenness, but there’s little to actually do about it; he struggles to track all of their limits, and when he’s focusing on one, that leaves all the others alone. He tries to avoid getting drunk himself instead. Someone has to stay sober, and his psionic powers don’t mix well with too much alcohol. And he’s the leader. It makes the most sense that it’d be him to keep his wits about him.

The Terror Twins are hearty drinkers; they also can drink a lot and get very warm and jovial when drinking, like Devastation. Any outing to a bar feels celebratory with them. They decided they don’t like to get fully drunk though, not too regularly. First Tuppence decided this, then Tommy when she pointed it out to him. They don’t want to open up more quickly than they intend. Psimon can relate to that, so he defends them when they drop out. That doesn’t stop them from having fun with everyone else though, or helping when things get bad. They’re usually decent at opening up on their own time anyway. 

Shimmer and Mammoth like to follow Psimon’s lead and keep excess drinking to a minimum. A couple of shots, a glass or maybe two, it really depends on what it is, but that’s it. Mammoth can take more than his sister, just by merit of him being so much larger, but he doesn’t like the taste of alcohol at all while his sister does. However, the second either of them get any kind of buzz ebbing at their senses is the second they quit. 

If they’re found sitting down and downing drinks, something is wrong. They’d only let go so much if they’re trying to drown their problems. Then, they can use some company. Someone lending an ear to their sorrows doesn’t sound half bad. 

If another team member is in a similar situation and needs someone to simply sit next to them and just be, or listen, Baran and Selinda are quick to be there for them.

Junior drinks for fun, he’ll seize any opportunity to drink. That man is getting “Krunk” as the kids say. He doesn’t know his limits and if he did, there’s no telling if he’d actually adhere to them. He WILL blackout if no one keeps an eye on him. He will be puking in the trashcan. The rest of the team has to steer him away from opportunities to drink lest he develop alcoholism at the tender age of 5-minutes-into-being-able-to-legally-drink. 

His mood becomes turbulent and fragile. He’ll typically be happy, loud, reckless, aggressive; but at the mention of the wrong thing or at the sight of something that takes him way back, he can breakdown rather easily. It’s actually pretty common for his drunken stints, when they get out of hand, to end in tears. Junior has to be one of the least repressed members of Onslaught, due in no small part to moments like these; where he lets his emotions run rampant and they go down a bad path. 

He’d expect ridicule, but Onslaught is actually very sympathetic to his struggles and complaints, whatever they may be. He can air his dirty laundry as much as he wants with little to no judgement, something he’s not used to. Once he starts, it’s hard to stop, but the team will listen until the end and it’s something he’s really grateful for. Despite being a troublemaker and general criminal, he tries to pay the team’s kindness towards him forward as much as he can.

If Psimon does end up drinking to lose his troubles, he usually does it alone, when everyone else is asleep. Or at least when he thinks everyone else is asleep. Sometimes someone will wander about looking for a late night snack or a glass of water, or even search for him himself. He dislikes being caught like that, dislikes not being so impervious and put-together for the team. 

Without fail, they’ll sit with him awhile. They’ll ask, they’ll listen, they’ll joke or comfort or sit in silence. Psimon will wither in place or try to get them to leave him be, but they’re a stubborn lot. They’re far from the most “upstanding” of company, but they treat him with the same care, empathy, and concern he tries to treats them with; and Psimon finds afterwards that, despite not enjoying being caught in a state of weakness or forced to open up, he wouldn’t have rather it have gone any other way.

[the-lonelyshepherd]

any time someone annoyed you tag me I'll kill them for real

i’ll keep this in mind

[randomestfandoms-ocs]

🍟 Willow + Squad?

Wheel said Dairy Queen

Willow — Bacon two cheese burger (no toppings except ketchup) with fries or chicken strip basket, brownie & oreo cupfection

Lucas — Bacon two cheese burger (no mayo) with fries, cookie dough blizzard

Brendon — Honey BBQ chicken strip basket with fries, chocolate dip in a cup

Caleb — Bacon ranch burger (no ranch) with fries, peanut buster parfait

Devorah — Chicken strip sandwich (no mayo) with fries, choco brownie extreme blizzard

Ethan — Chili cheese dog with fries, m&m blizzard

Megan — Flamethrower burger, oreo blizzard

Natalie — Bacon two cheese burgerwith fries, hot fudge sundae

[sapetitefemme]

"They'd barely talked for so long and Mike had tried so hard and, like, of course, letting Danny punch him in the face fixed things. He should have known."

- Game Misconduct by Ari Baran

[darkwinged-angel]

So the news about Baran Bo Odar and Jantje Friese taking on a new project is out and this new project is also on Netflix.

Maybe I don’t understand how these things work and maybe I’m being a bit too emotional. I’ll put my humble opinion out here anyways:

If the artists themselves don’t respect and value their work, why should anybody else?

If they didn’t think 1899 was worth fighting for, then why should I? They did say they had planned it for three seasons and all that, but who knows? Maybe they lied? People say all sort of things to hook the audience don’t they? I might be a little skeptical, but I am rightfully so.

Also, If it were me, I would’ve found it a lit bit hard to work on somebody else’s story when my own story was left untold, especially if I had proven my worth in my previous work. It’s just me I guess.

It stills remains to be seen, but until Jantje and Baran don’t do something for the show they created themselves from the bottom up, I don’t think I’ll blindly watch any other show from them just because it bears their name on it. I did this with 1899, but I won’t do it again. I’m not saying that I’m not gonna watch anything from them, just that their name won’t be enough next time and they’ve lost that privilege in my eyes.

I would’ve liked to refrain from judging Baran and Janjte’s professional decision and I do understand that I am neither in their place nor do I fully grasp the details of the situation and the reason which drove them to make such a decision. However, I couldn’t help but express my disappointment in how this whole thing looks to the eye of an outsider. The show business, much like other businesses, does have a distasteful side to it. What bothers me is that art and creation is being distorted for businesses sake.

[dathomirdumpsterfire]

~~~ a little flash fic, because i couldn't resist 🔥 ~~~

Make Tea Not War

For all that Ahsoka had fretted about sending him to meet this unknown contact in her place, Plo finds the energy of the restaurant to be rather comfortable. Calm and mellow in the force. He makes a noise of interest, drifting past the welcome desk and softly encouraging the staff to forget they had ever seen a kel dor here.

There's a corner table, one with small purple flowers in a glass vase. The secret sign he was to look for. Plo spots a party of one at the table, and an empty chair... presumably for himself. Or well, for little 'Soka, but hopefully he will suffice. She had enough on her hands with the Rebellion, and he wished dearly to help where he could.

Caustic yellow eyes meet his across the room, and it is only the grace of his years which keeps Plo's pace steady. That... is Darth Maul. The crimson skin and stark tattoos are rather unmistakable. He carries on walking up to the table, then bows politely.

"Sincere apologies, but your intended contact was not able to make this rendezvous. I humbly ask you accept my presence instead."

There is a brief delay, then the nightbrother hums softly. Unexpectedly softly, for one of his reputation.

"Sit. It matters not to me who is across this table, so long as their discretion is assured."

So, Plo sits.

"That, I can certainly guarantee," he promises.

Sith and jedi stare at each other across a table decorated by delicate flowers and complementary fruits, neither knowing where to start. After a moment, it is Plo who makes an attempt to bridge the gap.

"You look well. Your current lifestyle must suit you," he tries.

Maul gives him a bored look.

"If you please," he asks, "let us skip the pleasantries."

Plo coughs, to hide amusement. He is reminded of Mace's bluntness. "Of course, of course."

Maul leans forward, fingers lacing together over one knee.

"So," the other man drawls in a sharp coruscanti accent, "Your organization needs funding, and I am willing to contribute. Regularly. Significantly."

Plo had expected to meet a potential benefactor, but he was still surprised to hear the offer extended from this particular mouth.

"You... please forgive my surprise, but you of all people wish to help... my kind, and those who strive alongside us?"

It is not safe to say the words, but they both know what he means.

Maul looks at him for a long time, a chilly presence in the force. He reaches some kind of conclusion, and sighs, looking away.

"The enemy of my enemy is my ally."

Plo blinks twice, then smiles a little, a twitch pulling on his tusks.

"An old adage, but an apt one I think," Plo offers.

The nightbrother's brows pop briefly in agreement.

A waiter comes by, a polite and sweet voiced droid that takes their drink orders, and fills them within the span of minutes. It is a minor indulgence, but Plo requests a glass of wine. Something in short supply on the little base he lived on nowadays. He slips his mask off and on to take every sip, but it is worth the while. A sweet, dry red.

The nightbrother clears his throat, almost awkwardly, and asks a question Plo couldn't have predicted. "Tell me... have you heard any rumors if the Baran Do ways still thrive?"

The sages of Dorin? Now why would he care for such a thing? Still. Even asking was an olive branch all its own.

"I am sure the winds will always favor them," Plo replies cheerfully.

Maul seems to take a breath, and when he exhales he is lighter. In the metaphorical sense, of course.

Plo hums, tapping a talon on the stem of his wine. "You have an interest in their ways?"

Those yellow, bloodshot eyes glance at him, then away.

"Ahhh," he says, "every... tradition that can weather these stormy days is to be protected. A tsunami which leaves only devastation in its wake is not to anyone's benefit."

Surprise after surprise. Plo would not believe it out of the mouth of another, but if his aural canals do not deceive him... Darth Maul just named his own master anathema. Quite the tsunami he was.

Was it still Darth Maul, he wonders... or had the infamous nightbrother taken steps onto his own path.

The jedi master bows his head, appreciating the gift of information. A grain of precious truth, extended to a make-shift ally amid a famine. He can *feel* the discomfort of honesty in the force. Precious indeed.

"Just so," Plo agrees. "Tsunami are horribly destructive. It is important to evacuate anyone who falls in their path."

There was, in Plo's mind, no greater cause remaining than extending the underground network of The Path. Sneaking out force sensitive from Imperial controlled planets was what he lived for.

A case is withdrawn from the folds of stark black robes, and pushed over to his side of the table.

"Allow me to contribute to the evacuation fund, then," Maul says smoothly, sitting back to sip at his caf with cream. "So that fewer traditions are lost."

Plo doesn't hesitate to secret away the case, not pausing to look inside. However much it is, he is grateful for every credit.

"A worthy cause, I agree."

They sit for another half hour, only exchanging the briefest mutterings, nursing their drinks. The nightbrother claims the bill, pays, and refuses thanks.

"Do not thank me, je- hnn. No, do not thank me. Be here again in three months, at the same time, alone."

Without another word, the last person Plo had expected to meet today walks away, a dark wraith in the restaurant's sea of pastels. No one seems to notice him go by. Plo's exit a little while later is much the same, though with a little less black involved.

This is NOT a ship. I just wanted to draw this for what part of my brain demands recently: background design. So there you go, experiment on the husbands.

[wanderer-clarisse]

if you saw me accidentally post something no you didnt :) instead here's a sneak peak on a short comic I'm working on about Finrod

[yellow-dejavu]

Posted by James Tynion IV

Eurotrip Part One: In which James goes to Berlin to talk about a certain comic book television adaptation for Netflix, and has a very nice time.

[mydearestbeloved]

Chapter 16 [Draft]

Sung Jinwoo/Trial Player!Reader

CW:

Inspired by @circeyoru ‘s “Future Power Couple”

[Masterlist🦋✨️]

You needed to rein in your anger for now. Jinwoo needed to defeat Baran as quickly as possible to obtain the ingredients necessary to cure his mother. Even though he might not yet know whether it would work, you did. The future you knew was enough to justify setting aside… whatever this was for the time being.

It was clear that Jinwoo wanted your support; otherwise, he would have already gone to the Demon Castle. You should have convinced him to go solo. According to the story, he’d be fine. Your interference might bring troublesome consequences, yet you wanted to help him—perhaps selfishly this time.

You still blamed yourself for what happened to his mother. You knew her eternal slumber was meant to drive Jinwoo to grow stronger. But you had the power to prevent it, to cure her, and yet—

At one point, you unconsciously began to feel that helping him was a way of making amends—for your helplessness, for things out of your control. Not just his mother [Why do you blame yourself?] but also for not arriving sooner from the garden. For being too late to save his father, even if the system might have stopped you anyway. You could have tried. Yet you were too late [it’s not your fault]. Too late to save his father. Too late to help the people devastated by Kamish.

[It was out of your control.]

---

The garden was as serene as ever, a tranquil oasis filled with blooming flowers and butterflies flitting through the air. The soft hum of nature provided a soothing backdrop, yet the tension inside you was anything but calm. You sat at your usual spot by the gazebo, sipping tea from a delicate cup, waiting for him to arrive via the invitation you’d sent with your butterflies.

When Jinwoo stepped into your domain, the portal sealed behind him.

Was it just you, or did he look more haggard than usual? Was it because of your… disagreement? He shouldn’t care that much about you. You needed to be sure of that. Otherwise… you didn’t know what would happen to this story.

"(Name), I'm sorry—" Jinwoo began, his voice tentative, but you cut him off with a raised hand.

"Sit," you said simply, taking another sip of tea. Your tone was measured, calm, but there was no room for argument.

To his credit—or perhaps his detriment—Jinwoo sat immediately, like an obedient dog, responding to its master’s command.

You laughed, and he flinched, thinking he’d done something wrong again. But you laughed because of the irony. Here sat the soon-to-be strongest man in the world, obeying you like a lost puppy. You didn’t know whether to laugh, cry, feel exhilarated, uneasy, or all of the above.

It was both endearing and unsettling.

You needed to address this situation—quickly.

But for now, Jinwoo needed to focus.

"Let’s set that aside for now," you said, waving off his attempt at an apology. You noticed him opening his mouth again, perhaps to protest, but one sharp look from you silenced him effectively. Lovely.

At least he listens when it matters.

"You need to return to the Demon Castle to gather the final material for crafting the Holy Water of Life, correct?"

"Y-yeah," Jinwoo stammered, caught off guard by your directness.

"Then why are you still here?" Your voice held a firm edge. Why hadn’t he already gone? He didn’t need you for this, not really.

"I—" Jinwoo faltered, the words dying in his throat. He was going to ask you to accompany him, but why? Why didn’t he use this time to leave, to step away from your anger? He couldn’t admit it, not even to himself, but leaving without resolving things with you felt… wrong.

Running away from this felt wrong.

You sighed, leaning back in your chair. The tea in your cup swirled as you tilted it slightly, your thoughts as restless as the liquid. "I’ll help you," you said at last, the words measured but sincere. "Though I’m not sure how much help I’ll actually be. Just give me time to prepare.”

He clearly hadn’t expected that. “You don’t have to—”

"I don’t," you interjected, cutting him off once more. Your gaze softened as you set the teacup down and folded your hands on the table. "But I want to. Let’s just leave it at that."

Oh.

Jinwoo felt an odd sense of déjà vu. It reminded him of the past, back when he was weakest. When he didn’t know anything about his mysterious benefactor. When he didn’t know you.

Thank you. He wanted to say it, but it didn’t feel like enough. It never did.

You took his silence as agreement, your lips curving into a faint smile despite yourself.

---

The silence stretched on, the air heavy with unspoken tension. Jinwoo fidgeted slightly.

“I—” Jinwoo hesitated. Should he bring up that dinner? No. It wasn’t the right time, not when you were setting your fight aside for his sake.

“Hm?” you prompted.

“…Can you train Tusk?” Jinwoo blurted out, summoning the High Orc Shaman before he could stop himself. The towering figure of Tusk knelt immediately, his glowing eyes filled with both reverence and curiosity as he regarded you, and… confused by his nervous master.

You arched a brow, eyeing the orc, setting down your teacup with a soft clink.

Jinwoo scratched the back of his neck. “He’s good at casting spells—” He winced at his poor wording. “I… I thought he could learn a thing or two from you—”

You moved, and Jinwoo stiffened. Standing from your seat, you approached the kneeling Tusk, your footsteps soft against the gazebo’s stone floor. Tusk, to his credit, remained perfectly still, though his glowing eyes followed your every move.

Reaching out, you placed a hand gently atop his head, patting him lightly.

The orc blinked. Jinwoo blinked.

"Alright," you said simply.

You smiled—a genuine smile that Jinwoo hadn’t seen in days.

It was meant for Tusk, sure, but his shadows were an extension of himself. And Jinwoo… Jinwoo clung to that small glimmer of hope.

---

“Enchanting equipment?” you asked, your voice cool and composed.

“Yes.” Jinwoo nodded, carefully pulling two items from his inventory. “A few days ago, I bought some gear in preparation to return to the Demon Castle.” He handed you the wind-attribute robe and the nameless ring imbued with a water-attribute.

You regarded the items with a practiced eye, fingers grazing the surface of the robe before both pieces floated midair, enveloped in your signature silver aura. Jinwoo watched as your shoulders relaxed, your eyes fluttering closed.

His gaze remained fixed as your butterflies began to swirl, seamlessly merging with your aura as they danced around the equipment. Your hair swayed gently with the magical currents, and for a moment, Jinwoo was captivated.

The light flared momentarily before dispersing, the butterflies scattering back into the garden. The robe and ring floated down gently into your open hand. Without a word, you handed them back to Jinwoo.

Out of curiosity, he activated the system to inspect their stats, and his eyes widened in shock. The equipment’s overall defense had tripled. Not doubled—tripled!

The robe’s magic resistance and affinity were leagues beyond its original state, and the ring now pulsed with latent power, its water attribute refined into something far more potent. Even the overall quality of the items had improved dramatically.

“You’re… you’re really amazing,” Jinwoo said, awe dripping from his tone as he examined the equipment.

You hummed in acknowledgment, though your focus had already shifted to your butterflies, idly letting them land on your fingers and shoulders.

You still weren’t looking at him.

Oh right. Jinwoo’s expression faltered as the realization hit. You were still giving him the silent treatment.

From the corner of your eye, you could see Jinwoo’s reaction—his head tilted down, his shoulders slightly slumped, his lips pressed into a tight line. He looked like a dejected puppy, an image made even more comical by his flickering gaze, which kept darting to you as if waiting for some kind of acknowledgment.

Your butterflies noticed, fluttering inquisitively toward Jinwoo before retreating back to you. Jinwoo’s shadows, peeking through the faint dark mist at his feet, mimicked the butterflies with exaggerated shrugs, clearly as lost as he was about what to do.

You didn’t react.

---

Yeesh.

Jinho shifted uncomfortably in the driver’s seat, glancing between the two of you as the car sped down the road. The silence inside was suffocating—not quite as unbearable as the last time he’d seen the two of you together, but still tense enough to make him itch for some form of normalcy.

His Unnie sat by the window, her head resting lightly against the glass, staring at the passing scenery. She hadn’t said a word since they left. His Hyung, seated in the opposite side of the passenger seat from her, occasionally flicked his gaze toward her, his brow furrowing ever so slightly before his focus returned to the road.

The tension was palpable.

Jinwoo cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “Were you able to sleep well?” he asked, addressing Jinho.

“Yes, Hyung-nim. Unnie is really a great host!” Jinho replied, his tone overly chipper as he tried to ease the atmosphere.

For the briefest of moments, he caught the smallest of smiles gracing your lips. It was faint and fleeting, but it was there. Before he could even process it, your expression returned to its usual steady, composed look.

The silence resumed.

This time, it was Jinho who cleared his throat awkwardly. “By the way, what business do you two have at the World Tower this early?”

“We’ll be going,” Jinwoo answered curtly.

Your gaze flickered to Jinho, and you added, “Take care of my shop in my absence, okay, Jinho?”

“Wait, what—?” Before Jinho could even finish his sentence, both of you were gone.

Jinho blinked, staring at the now-empty car. “Huh?” he muttered to himself, still processing the abrupt departure.

He sighed, leaning back in the seat. “Well… at least the tension’s gone now…”

---

“As we practiced, Tusk!” Your voice carried across the battlefield, clear and commanding.

Jinwoo stood at a safe distance, watching as the shadow of the high orc shaman obeyed your order, prepared to unleash a spell. Tusk raised the Orb of Avarice high, the artifact shimmering as it expanded to match his increased size.

“Fire!”

The command was punctuated by a deafening explosion of power. The beam tore through the battlefield, obliterating every demon in its path, only leaving a charred crater. The heat from the explosion rippled outward, stirring dust and debris, carrying with it the echoes of decimation.

Jinwoo whistled in appreciation, folding his arms as he observed the carnage. Behind him, his shadows shifted, and your butterflies fluttered in synchronized patterns, as if admiring the display.

Meanwhile, you floated upward, your butterflies swirling protectively around you. Once you reached Tusk’s massive head, you landed lightly, patting the shaman’s forehead.

“Well done!” you praised, your voice warm. A neon blue butterfly followed your gesture, landing on Tusk’s—well, tusk.

The shadow rumbled in satisfaction, his massive shoulders relaxing as he basked in the praise. Jinwoo couldn’t help but chuckle

Yeah, he thought, a small smirk tugging at his lips, leaving Tusk’s training to her was definitely the right call.

---

“Say, can your butterflies level up?” Jinwoo began as his dagger sliced cleanly through a demon, sending the dark creature crumpling to the ground. “Like my shadows?”

You were a short distance away, directing a volley of butterflies toward a cluster of demons. The faint hum of system constant notifications rang in Jinwoo’s mind as both your forces and his defeated demons across the floor in the coordinated teams.

“Yes, they can,” you replied, casting a spell that sent silvery light streaking toward Jinwoo. His health bar filled rapidly, minor scratches on his arms close up. A boost in mana regeneration and overall speed left him feeling reinvigorated as he flexed his fingers.

“They gain power differently, though,” you continued, spinning your scepter once to clear some demons encroaching on your position. “Instead of receiving direct experience points from defeating enemies, they grow stronger by feeding on lifeforce. It’s a continuous process, and it takes significantly more time.”

Jinwoo hummed, parrying a claw strike from a nearby demon. He glanced back at you as you effortlessly destroyed another group with a volley of silver projectiles.

You nodded. “They also have ranks similar to your shadows, but the system referred to them as stages of metamorphosis. Egg, Larva, Pupa, and Adult. Their forms change at each stage. Sometimes they grow larger, sometimes their colors or wing patterns shift, and so on. The last time I maxed them out, though, the ‘Adult’ stage was locked, so my strongest children remained in the ‘Pupa’ stage.”

Jinwoo tilted his head slightly, avoiding a beam of light that zipped past where his head had been moments before. The shot hit its mark, incinerating a line of demons behind him. He didn’t bother turning to check the scorched corpses. His focus stayed on you.

Your scepter glimmered in your hand, its tip still smoking faintly from the spell. You ran a hand down its length, your expression calm and calculated as more demons circled you and him.

“To ascend to the next stage, each butterfly requires specific ascension materials. The materials differ depending on the field I want them to excel in—whether it’s devouring, illusions, healing, or something else entirely,” you continued. Your voice was steady, even as you broke into a sprint straight toward him.

Jinwoo remained perfectly composed, lowering one hand, bracing himself. Without hesitation, you plant your foot in his palm, and he used his strength to propel you into the air. The dagger held in his other hand slashed cleanly through the demon hot on your heels.

Midair, you spun gracefully, casting multiple magic circles that hovered around you like constellations. Beams of concentrated light erupted from them, carving through the horde of demons surrounding Jinwoo with pinpoint accuracy. The spells struck true, decimating the creatures while leaving Jinwoo untouched in the center.

You landed gracefully, the silver aura around you dispersing as your butterflies fluttered back to various parts of the battlefield, supporting Jinwoo’s soldiers.

“It was something I gave the system feedback about. It’s why your shadows only need your permission to rank up.” You brushed a stray strand of hair from your face.

“A single Larva-stage butterfly is more than equal to an entire kaleidoscope of its siblings still in the Egg stage. And that comparison holds for the higher stages as well.”

Jinwoo’s eyes followed the graceful movements of your butterflies, a thoughtful look crossing his face. “So… when do you get to name them?” he asked casually, flicking the blood from his blade.

You turned to him sharply, your expression almost scandalized. “My children are living, sentient beings, Jinwoo. I name them as I see fit.”

Jinwoo smirked. “You’re telling me you memorize all their names? From the look of it, you’ve got hundreds—no, thousands of them.” He chuckled, expecting you to roll your eyes or laugh.

Instead, you looked at him blankly, reply just as flat, “Yes.”

Jinwoo opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out. After a second, he closed it again and shook his head with a soft chuckle. “Of course, you do,” he murmured, bemused. Honestly, he should’ve expected that. It was just so you.

A voice echoed in your mind, soft and respectful.

My Lady, Sir Jinwoo’s shadows have located the entry permit. We can now ascend to the next floor.

“Red informed me that Igris’ team found the entry permit,” you relayed to Jinwoo.

He raised a brow. “Red?”

“The child who always hovers to my right,” you said, and as if on cue, Red fluttered down to your shoulder. You patted her wings lightly, murmuring, “Well done.”

Igris materialized behind Jinwoo, confirming the butterfly’s report with a respectful nod.

Jinwoo made a mental note to ask you more about your telepathic connection and the mechanics of how your butterflies were born. For now, it was time to ascend.

“Let’s move.”

Together, you ascended to the 80th floor.

End Note:

Unfinished Draft of [18/11/2024] -

[circeyoru]

Shadow and Void = Requested

The Request

[Yandere!Sung Jinwoo x Enemy Monarch!Reader]

Part 1 (here) ― Part 2 ― Part 3

WARNING: This story is going to be heavy spoilers to people who haven't read the manhwa or novel but want to enjoy the anime for Solo Leveling. I suggest NOT reading if you don't want spoils. Plus you might not get the references if you have no knowledge of the manhwa/novel.

You, as the Monarch of Void and King of Mist, could be said to be the weakest or among the strongest. Weakest because you lacked the army like other Monarchs and the motivation to be more active in all things cruel. Among the strongest because your powers could single-handedly devour all the other Monarchs and their armies. For you essentially control space and could be dubbed a celestial being. 

Unlike the other Monarchs, you never joined in on the war directly, you merely managed some gates here and there and moved armies to level the playing field. All that to ensure you weren’t a target and wouldn’t be endangered. If you did at least something, the other Monarchs wouldn’t target you or name you a traitor and the Rulers will see you as too weak to bother. Because you were a Monarch unique from the others, you had a particular relationship with the strongest Monarch, Ashborn. 

To him, you were like a little sibling, in human terms. He looked after you and like having you around for nothing in return. In exchange for his indirect protection, you would help him with his army and lend your power to him. As best to describe your powers and abilities was that it was a supporter base, it was better for you to use on others than yourself. That was how you get by. The strongest Monarch would have a grip on you, in exchange for their protection you’d strengthen them. Once you were by Antares’ side, now you were on Ashborn’s because he never forced anything.

“I’m going to have a successor.” Ashborn told you one day. “Can you watch over them for me?”

“I’m a Monarch, Ashborn. I won’t help humans and only aim for my own survival.” You dully told them. It was true, even after the kindness and care Ashborn showed you, it wasn’t enough for you to change your ways for who knows how long. 

“I have a feeling you’ll change your tune later on.” Ashborn spoke with certainty.

You raised a vessel of your own, unlike the other Monarchs however, you preferred staying on Earth and away from the Monarchs. Humans were weak beings even with awakened powers. Their strongest —National Level— Hunters weren’t enough to take down a Monarch’s army, well, not that they were enough to put you down.

Over years, you’ve enjoyed the spoils of human society, moving from place to place and understanding their play. It was tragic to see them burn once your other Monarchs arrive to wreck havoc and the war between the Rulers and Monarch will commence again, but you weren’t going to try to put a stop to the war just because of some human inventions. It’s not like you can’t make it all again after the war. You knew the method so…

“Ow!” You accidentally bumped into someone. 

“Oh, I’m sorry.” The old looking man gave you his hand. 

You subconsciously took his hand and got to your feet, dusting yourself off once you were stable. When you looked over at him, your eyebrows furrowed. A light fragment. “You’re going to die a painful death.”

“Pardon?”

“Nothing.” You turned and walked into another direction. What would be the chances of meeting a sleeping light fragment? None. Because you’ve been very distanced from the Monarchs and Rulers, you figured they might have forgotten about you entirely. You lacked a presence to begin with anyways. 

Above all, you hated how you played a part in the betrayal of Ashborn. Both Rakan and Baran were idiots in your eyes, how could they just do that to Ashborn when he was against the Rulers like them? If you weren’t a passivist, you would have knocked them over. You looked in the distance before disappearing through a gate of your own creation, a misty surface, you wondered where or when Ashborn’s vessel would appear so you could stay by his side once more.

“Bring me to that light fragment inside that human.” Sillad, The Monarch of Frost and King of Snow Folk, demanded while you were enjoying a bowl of noodles in your apartment. 

You glared up at him, “Why? Did you get Antares’ permission to do it?”

“Since when does a Monarch need such a thing?” Sillad scoffed. “Are you still waiting for Ashborn to return? So pathetic. Antares’ waiting for you, you know?” He sighed and spoke his mind, “I’m doing everyone a favour by eliminating the light fragments before they become a hindrance. So?”

It was your turn to sigh, “Give me a location or description of the person…”

Sillad grinned. “Hunters Association, the Chairman’s office.” 

You landed at the top of the Hunters Association building while you placed the entire office in a separate location where no one could bother the two. So long as they don’t focus on the barrier that bounds the space, it will be unbreakable and maintained. The city is peaceful, but with Sillad’s appearance, you knew your days of leisure was done for.

It wasn’t long until your barrier actually broke and something crawled out of the broken glass wall. Your eyes recognized it as a giant ant in black colour with misty purple smoke patterns, it reminded you much of Ashborn and his army. Perhaps his vessel was finally complete and he’s back? 

Your thoughts halted as your eyes caught Sillad racing out to destroy the ant. You hummed and opted not to aid him and see the condition of the Chairman. You found him on the ground in a pool of blood, your indifferent tone rang in the room, “I told you you’d die an agonizing death.”

“Monarch… of… Void…” Gunhee choked out, you moved your feet away to avoid his blood. “You’re time for neutrality… ends now… You must pick… a side…”

“I don’t want to pick a side,” You crushed down, looking into his eyes, “It’s not my style.”

“Don’t be his enemy…” He advised. “If you do… Your fate… will be… death…”

Your eyebrows furrowed, so long as you hold the title of Monarch, you’ll be Ashborn’s enemy, right? By now, he knew you’re the one that gave those two idiotic Monarch the power boost needed to betray Ashborn. So there was no way you could escape your so-called fate with death. You got up with a chuckle, “I welcome Death with open arms. As long as he’s back, I’m grateful.”

Your snapped to your senses when you sensed an attack aimed in your direction. You panicked, how could Sillad do something like this?! There was no way he didn’t know you weren’t in the area, in fact, he’d expect you to check up on the Chairman after he left. What was his deal?!

Before you raised any defenses to protect yourself (and the Chairman indirectly), he got up and shielded you. You grasped and caught a glimpse of Ashborn’s vessel appearing out of thin air to deflect the blow. While Ashborn’s vessel was enraged for some reason and aimed another attack at Sillad, the Chairman’s form relaxed and leaned back into you, you hastily gripped a hold of him by the shoulders. By now, blood had soaked your pants and dirtied your form. You let him lay his head on your lap as you kneeled Japanese style on the ground.

“Let me try to heal you.” You raised your hand to his wound. If Ashborn came to protect this human or fragment, you’ll try as well. But try as you might, as a Monarch, you couldn’t heal a fragment of brillant light. 

“Beru!!” Ashborn’s vessel shouted and a giant ant, this time with a humanoid figure, appeared within seconds across from him.

“You called, My King?”

“Save him, at all costs!” The vessel ordered. 

Seeing some hope, you tried as well. The Chairman’s eyes peeked open weakly, at the healing received. But the giant ant called Beru spoke, “My King, my healing spell… Isn’t working.”

“Monarch of Void… You can stop too…” 

You flinched at his words.

While Jinwoo was troubled by the presence of another Monarch after the last one, he took priority in the Chairman’s survival. He took out of the <Holy Water of Life> thinking it might work. Yet, the Chairman grabbed Jinwoo’s hand and the potion, “Don’t…”

Your brain seemed to have disconnected from the situation while the Chairman was talking to Ashborn’s vessel. As much as you wanted to congratulate Ashborn’s return, you know how to read the room. Maybe he has grown attached to someone during his time on Earth. Odd that you didn’t, well, you did but it never lasted long due to the trials of a human life. 

You didn’t even register the Chairman advising Jinwoo to take you with him by his side. A heartbreaking moment that you couldn’t connect with emotionally, yet for some reason, water came out from the corners of your eyes. You blinked. Was this sadness? Guilt? Why were you feeling such emotions or why was your body reacting in such a way? Was it because Ashborn’s vessel was feeling the same and you’re mimicking?

Why?

Why??

WHY???

“Ahhh!!!” Daggers pierced into your shoulder and knee joints, pinning you to the wall like a doll. Your head dropped down in pain and exhaustion. “Ashborn… You’re really mad at me… Aren’t you… I deserve this…”

The vessel raised a brow, “Why are you calling me that? I’m not Ashborn.”

You looked up at the vessel with dull and almost lifeless eyes, “You’re right, you’re not him, but his vessel. Your days are numbered…”

“Why do you say that?”

“Ashborn will take over your body once its ready for him. He’ll make his return. So for now, I’ll stay by your side until he is back.” You spoke monotonously. “You can torture me or ask my anything, it’s not like it matters if you’re disappearing soon.”

Note: This request is a bit on the complicated side and I honestly have no idea how to do though~ Haha. This is a bit of a test to see if you guys like this one and if not, it won't continue. Do let me know your thoughts!

Circe Y.

My Works: MASTERLIST

[dontforgetukraine]

War and Peace. It's about time to stop this! By Helko Baran Appeared in the Ukrainian magazine "Tryzub" (Trident) in the 1920s.

[eaterofman]

Yandere Vampire Neighbor x Reader NSFW

Things have been... odd, since your charming new neighbor moved in.

It's probably just a coincidence though... right?

Content Warnings: Stalking, noncon touching, home invasion, manipulation, mind control, blood drinking, slight somnophilia, NSFW

A/N: Enjoy! This is definitely not inspired by a fright night movie marathon from the other day. Definitely not.

Your new neighbor, Casimir Baran, wasn't bad by any means. In fact, he was rather charming... at least, he'd been charming on the very few occasions you'd actually managed to see him. He seemed to be non-existent during the day, the only signs of life coming from his house occurring at night, and even those were barely noticeable. One or two lights on and the rare sound of his car leaving were the only indications your neighbor was actually still alive....

Embarrassingly, one of the few encounters you'd had with your admittedly very attractive neighbor came in the form of you tripping and busting your knee open right in front of him. The gravel had cushioned your fall, making it hurt like a son of a bitch to take the walk of shame back to your house.

You'd been surprised, and a bit wary, when Casimir offered a helping hand back to your house. You weren't super keen on allowing a random man inside your house, especially when you were injured... but he just seemed so earnest, y'know?

So, you let him help you. You even invited him into your house, pleasantly surprised by his insistence that you give him your full consent in going into your house. You couldn't help but be a bit impressed with how much of a gentleman he was being. He even helped you bandage up your knee, so intently focused it almost seemed like he was in a trance.

You thanked him as he left, relaxing on your couch and nursing your knee. Wrapped up in your blankets and in your own world, it's really not your fault that you hadn't noticed the hunger in his eyes, or the way he sucked the most delicious blood he'd ever tasted off his fingers before he'd even shut the front door to his house behind him.

You really shouldn't have let him in your house.

The first thing you notice are things going missing. It was an odd mixture of items, a mostly used chapstick here, a pair of underwear there. Nothing of any real value, but noticeable nonetheless. You wanted to chalk it up as just simply misplacing things, but you couldn't help but feel a sense of dread in your stomach when you really thought about it.

Casimir just couldn't help himself, he needed you in any way he could have you. If that was in the form of a few pairs of underwear he could bury his face in as he buried his hand in his own, who could blame him?

You could swear you were running into him more often, whether that be when you're taking trash out or coming home from work. He was always just... there, almost like he was waiting for you. But that was silly, right?

You blamed your growing paranoia on your lack of sleep recently. You found yourself waking up more often in the middle of the night, the feeling of someone watching you lingering in the back of your mind.

Casimir really tried to be patient, but you were special in so many ways. Were most people wouldn't notice such an experienced vampire lurking in their house, you seemed to have a good sense of when he was there. He almost felt bad about waking you so often... but the cute expression of fear on your face and the enticing drum beat of your racing heart made it hard to stop.

You really were made for him.

It did make it harder for him, as cute as it was. He had no time to feed, and he didn't dare give in to the temptation of sating himself on the occasional cut or scrape. He knew he wouldn't be able to stop when he started.

Even the patience of an ancient vampire ends at some point though. Really, it's your fault for being so damn tempting, he assures himself as he finally sinks his teeth into you neck.

Of course, you waken almost immediately to the man currently gorging himself on your life force. You struggle, but you're nothing compared to a vampire's strength, forcing you to stay still in fear of causing any more damage to your neck.

In your panic, you notice its your neighbor currently pinning you down and sucking on your neck like its the only thing he's drank in months. You don't have time to question why or how, before you're once again distracted by him beginning to grind against you. It was almost unnoticeable at first, but soon he was grinding against you hard, still fully clothed as he dragged his crotch against yours.

Even though it feels like an eternity, pinned under your neighbor as he uses your body to satiate himself, it ends within minutes. Your brain is going foggy when he pulls himself off you, panting like a dog as his now ruby-red eyes stare wide eyed and lustful at you.

You don't get to ask any questions before he casts a hypnosis on you, making you forget and quickly fall back to sleep. You'll wake up groggy, but his bite will have healed and you'll be none the wiser.

Casimir knows this was wrong. He had lost his patience, and almost paid for it. He couldn't let your first time together happen like this it was... crude. Un-gentleman like. Unbecoming of him, and improper for someone as special as you. You weren't like the riff raff he invited in nightly to feed on.

He hadn't finished, but he figured it was a good enough punishment for his impatience. The lingering taste on his lips was almost enough to push him under the edge, but he clearly needed a self-induced lesson in patience... at least, until he got to his own house and could safely take care of his problem without being tempted to jump onto you again.

No, you weren't ready yet, but you would be.

He just needed time, and he had all of it to spend waiting for you to come around.