#Orb of Celestial Harmony

[vgadvisor]

[retrocgads]

UK 1987

[prosegalaxy]

"Drakin and Lira's Journey: Love Unites Dragons and Fairies"

As Drakin and Lira stood atop the hill, they surveyed the land below. The vast expanse stretched out before them, filled with lush forests, towering mountains, and sprawling cities. They could see both factions preparing for battle, their numbers swelling as mythical creatures from every corner of the realm converged on this pivotal location. "Do you think they'll find the Celestial Orb soon?" Lira asked nervously, her eyes darting between the approaching armies. Drakin sighed, "I hope not. The orb's power is too dangerous in the wrong hands." In that moment, a messenger dragon arrived with a scroll for Drakin. He unfurled it and read aloud, "The Celestial Orb has been discovered! All forces must mobilize immediately!" A deafening silence fell over the pair as they realized the gravity of their situation. With the orb's power at stake, alliances would be tested, and friendships could be shattered. Drakin turned to Lira, his eyes filled with determination. "We must do everything we can to prevent a war that will tear our world apart." Together, they embarked on a treacherous journey through the ever-changing landscapes of their mythical realm, navigating the dangers and challenges that lay ahead. As they grew closer, the stakes only increased, and their love for one another deepened. Ultimately, it was Drakin's decision to sacrifice his chance at the orb that would tip the scales in favor of peace. The world heaped praise upon him, but Drakin knew the true victory lay not in glory, but in the love he shared with Lira, and the harmony they had helped restore between their people. In a world where mythical creatures and humans coexist, the Celestial Orb was a source of great power and controversy. The orb's potential to grant immense power had driven two factions to wage war against each other, the dragon-centric faction led by Grondar, the cunning giant, and the fairy-led group that Drakin, a young dragon, found himself torn between his loyalty to his kin and his growing affection for Lira, a fairy. As the conflict intensified, Drakin and Lira knew they had to act. One day, as they traversed the treacherous mountains, they came across a group of humans caught in the crossfire. "We must help them!" exclaimed Lira, her concern for the innocent lives at stake evident in her voice. Drakin hesitated, knowing that rescuing the humans could jeopardize their mission and his standing within the dragon faction. "But what if helping them leads to more conflict?" he asked, his voice filled with uncertainty. "If we don't, it will only lead to more suffering," Lira replied, her eyes filled with determination. With a deep breath, Drakin agreed and they devised a plan to save the humans while avoiding detection from both factions. As night fell, they carefully approached the group of humans, their hearts pounding with anticipation. "Are you sure about this, Drakin?" Lira whispered nervously. "Yes," he whispered back, his voice steady and resolute. Together, they guided the humans to a safe hiding place, evading detection from both sides. The successful rescue only fueled their growing bond, and as they continued their journey, they began to understand that sometimes, love and unity could triumph over power and conflict. Though their mission was far from over, Drakin and Lira's sacrifice and selflessness would eventually bring about a lasting peace between the mythical creatures and humans, proving that even in the face of great adversity, love and understanding could prevail. As Drakin and Lira journeyed through the mystical forest, they stumbled upon a peculiar sight – an ancient tree with glowing runes etched into its bark. The symbols seemed to beckon them forward, so they cautiously approached it. "Do you think these are some kind of clue or map?" Lira wondered aloud, tracing her fingers along the shimmering lines. Drakin leaned in closer, his breath creating a misty cloud around them. "It could be," he murmured, studying the symbols intently. "But it's hard to tell without understanding their language." With a gentle touch, Lira traced her hand over the runes, closing her eyes as she focused on the magic within them. Suddenly, the runes began to glow brighter, and an image appeared before them – a path leading deep into the heart of the forest. Drakin's eyes widened in awe, while Lira smiled excitedly. "It seems we have found our next destination," she said softly, turning to face Drakin. "But we must be careful," he warned, his voice low and serious. "We know not what dangers may lie ahead." Lira nodded, her resolve firming as she took Drakin's hand in hers. Together, they began their journey along the path, the magic of the runes guiding them deeper into the forest. As they ventured further, they encountered strange creatures and breathtaking landscapes, each step bringing them closer to understanding the true power of the Celestial Orb. And through it all, Drakin and Lira's bond continued to grow stronger, as did their determination to bring peace to their world. In a world where dragons, fairies, and giants coexisted, there was an ever-growing tension between two factions. One faction sought control of the Celestial Orb, an artifact with immense power, while the other aimed to protect it from misuse. Drakin, a young dragon, found himself torn between his loyalty to his kind and his growing affection for Lira, a fairy. As they walked through the mystical forest, following glowing runes that led deeper into its heart, Drakin and Lira encountered strange creatures and breathtaking landscapes. They soon discovered that their world was more interconnected than they had ever imagined. "Do you think we can find a way to bring peace between our people?" Lira asked hesitantly. "I don't know," Drakin replied, "But if we don't try, things will only get worse." Together, they embarked on a journey of self-discovery and understanding, learning from the creatures they met along the way. As their bond strengthened, so did their determination to bring peace to their world. They knew that it would be a difficult road, filled with challenges and sacrifices, but they were willing to do whatever it took. Ultimately, Drakin's sacrifice led to harmony between the dragon and fairy factions, proving that love and unity could triumph over power and conflict. The Celestial Orb remained a symbol of hope, reminding all who saw it of the incredible power that lay within each of them, just waiting to be unleashed for the greater good. The sun dipped below the horizon, casting an ethereal glow over the mystical forest. Drakin, a young dragon with emerald scales, perched on a branch next to Lira, a fairy with shimmering wings. They had been following the glowing runes for days, and their bond grew stronger with each step they took together. "Do you ever miss your old life?" Lira asked, her voice delicate as a whisper. Drakin looked down at her, his eyes reflecting his own longing. "I do," he admitted, "But I can't go back. This world needs us, and so does our love." They gazed into each other's eyes, their hearts swelling with hope for the future. As they continued through the forest, they encountered a wise old owl, who shared his wisdom about the interconnectedness of their world. "All creatures, great and small, are connected by a web of fate," he said, "And when one is in harmony, all benefit." Drakin and Lira felt inspired to bring peace between the dragon and fairy factions through love and unity. With newfound determination, they sought out allies from both sides, sharing their message of hope and understanding. Together, they overcame obstacles and faced dangerous foes, their bond growing stronger with each challenge. And when they finally found the Celestial Orb, its power illuminating the night sky, Drakin and Lira knew that their love was the key to uniting their world. With a final push of strength and courage, they activated the orb's magic, filling the air with a symphony of colors and light. The dragon and fairy factions looked on in awe as harmony descended upon their world, and Drakin and Lira knew they had achieved their destiny. Drakin looked at Lira, her radiant wings shimmering in the sunlight, and wondered if he could ever truly belong to both worlds. "I can't betray my kind," he said, his voice filled with uncertainty. "But I don't want to fight against you either." Lira glanced at him, a sad smile on her lips. "We don't have to be enemies, Drakin. We just need to find another way, one that doesn't involve fighting or sacrificing our beliefs." They continued their journey through the mystical forest, following the glowing runes that seemed to guide them towards a hidden truth. As they ventured deeper into the heart of the woodland, they encountered a wise old owl who had seen the rise and fall of many factions. "The Celestial Orb's power is not meant for destruction," the owl warned, its eyes gleaming with ancient wisdom. "It is a symbol of unity, a reminder that even the most disparate beings can find harmony when they work together." Drakin and Lira exchanged glances, realizing the truth in the owl's words. Together, they began to spread the message across their respective factions, advocating for peace and understanding. The days passed, and the once-divided creatures started to unite, recognizing that their differences didn't have to be a barrier to harmony. Finally, as the sun dipped below the horizon, Drakin and Lira stood before the Celestial Orb, its radiant light bathing them in a warm embrace. They reached out simultaneously, their hands clasping around the artifact, and felt a surge of energy course through them. The factions, sensing the change, gathered around, witnessing the power of unity and love. In that moment, Drakin and Lira knew they had changed the course of history, bringing peace to their world at long last. And as the celestial bodies twinkled overhead, they gazed into each other's eyes, knowing that together, they could face any challenge that lay ahead. As Drakin and Lira continued their journey, they stumbled upon an enchanted glade. "I've never seen anything like this," whispered Drakin in awe, his eyes wide as he took in the sight of vibrant flowers that seemed to sing in harmony with the gentle breeze. "They call these Whispering Blooms," Lira explained, her voice tinged with wonder. "They only bloom when there's peace in our world." She gently plucked one and handed it to Drakin. "Hold it close to your heart," she instructed. As he did so, a warmth spread through him, filling his heart with a sense of belonging and unity. "We must find a way to bring this peace to our people," Lira declared, her eyes filled with determination. Drakin nodded, the resolve strengthening within him. "Let's seek out the wise old owl who lives deep within the forest," he suggested. "He may have guidance for us." They ventured further into the woods, guided by the soft whispers of the Whispering Blooms. As they approached the owl's dwelling, Lira took Drakin's hand, a silent promise of support and unity between them. The wise old owl, sensing their pure intentions, offered them advice on how to bridge the gap between dragon and fairy factions. "Share our message of love and unity," Lira urged Drakin as they returned to their respective camps. "I believe in us." With newfound courage, Drakin spoke passionately, his voice ringing out across the land. Soon, whispers of change spread like wildfire, and the once warring factions began to see the beauty in their differences. In time, the Celestial Orb's power was used to heal rather than destroy, and the world flourished under the banner of unity. Drakin and Lira's love story became a beacon of hope for generations to come, proving that even the most divided hearts can find harmony through love and understanding. As they ventured deeper into the enchanted forest, Drakin and Lira stumbled upon a group of small, glowing beings called Will-o'-the-Wisps. The creatures, sensing their good intentions, offered guidance through the treacherous terrain. "We can help you find your way," one of the wisps chirped, its voice a melodious blend of high and low tones. "But beware, for danger lurks ahead." Drakin and Lira exchanged worried glances but decided to trust the Will-o'-the-Wisps. As they continued their journey, they marveled at the forest's beauty - an array of dazzling colors and magical auras that seemed to defy the laws of nature. Finally, the duo reached the edge of a massive chasm, its depths shrouded in darkness. The Will-o'-the-Wisps gathered around them, their lights casting eerie shadows on the rock walls. "This is where we part ways," one of the wisps said solemnly. "From here, you must find your own path." With a final flicker of light, the Will-o'-the-Wisps vanished into the forest, leaving Drakin and Lira to face their destiny alone. The sun had just begun to dip below the horizon, casting an ethereal glow over the mystical forest as Drakin and Lira continued their journey. They followed the faintly glowing runes etched into the ancient trees, a map of sorts left by an unknown hand. "Do you see that?" Lira whispered, pointing to a tiny light flickering in the distance. It was a Will-o'-the-Wisp, a mischievous creature known for leading travelers astray. Drakin tilted his head, studying the creature. "We can use it," he murmured. As they approached, the Wisp darted away, leading them deeper into the forest. "Wait!" Lira called after it, laughing as she sprinted to keep up with the tiny light. Drakin followed, his dragon's wings folded against his back as he ran on all fours. The Wisp seemed almost playful, zigzagging through the trees and over rocks, daring them to catch it. Suddenly, the Wisp paused atop a jagged cliff, its light revealing a breathtaking view of the forest below. Drakin and Lira gazed out at the sight, awestruck by the vibrant colors of the setting sun casting hues of pinks and oranges across the sky. "It's beautiful," Lira whispered, her voice tinged with wonder. Just then, a wise old owl appeared, perching on the cliff edge. It spoke with a voice that echoed through the forest, recounting ancient tales of unity and harmony between dragons and fairies. As Drakin and Lira listened, they began to understand that the Celestial Orb's power was not meant for conflict, but for bringing their worlds together in peace. With newfound determination, they returned to their respective factions, spreading the message of unity and understanding. Slowly, their people began to see the value in working together, and love blossomed between dragon and fairy alike. And so, harmony was achieved through the power of love and the wisdom of a wise old owl. In a lush, green meadow, Drakin and Lira sat beneath a canopy of trees. The sun was beginning to set, casting a warm glow over the landscape. "I've never seen such a beautiful world," Lira marveled, her voice tinged with wonder. "It's so different from my home in the fairy groves." Drakin nodded, his eyes following the flight of a flock of birds overhead. "The world is vast and full of magic," he agreed. "I never knew there were places like this, before I met you." Suddenly, they heard the rustling of leaves nearby. A small, glowing creature with wings appeared before them. "Will-o'-the-Wisps! Be careful, they can lead you astray," Drakin cautioned. "But they're so beautiful!" Lira exclaimed, reaching out to touch one gently. It didn't shy away but instead seemed to be drawn to her warmth and kindness. "Maybe we should follow them?" she suggested, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. Drakin looked at the Wisps and then at Lira, his heart swelling with affection for her bravery. "Let's see where they lead us," he decided, taking her hand as they followed the Will-o'-the-Wisps deeper into the forest. In the mystical forest, where the air was thick with magic, Drakin and Lira paused by a gentle stream. Drakin, still grappling with his loyalty to dragons and growing affection for Lira, spoke hesitantly. "Lira, I'm not sure if I can continue on this path. My people and I have been at odds for centuries. How can I betray them?" Lira, a wise fairy, placed a gentle hand on Drakin's scaly wing. "Drakin, you must understand that peace is possible between our kind. The Celestial Orb's power is meant for unity and harmony. Together, we can show our people the beauty of working together." They continued through the forest, encountering strange creatures like Will-o'-the-Wisps, which led them to a breathtaking waterfall. They marveled at the sight, knowing that the Celestial Orb's power was responsible for such wonders. Drakin and Lira came across a wise old owl perched high in a tree. With its ancient wisdom, it spoke, "Young ones, the power of the Celestial Orb is not just for show. It can change hearts and minds when used with love and unity." Inspired by the owl's words, Drakin and Lira returned to their factions, spreading the message of peace and understanding. Their love and unity became a beacon of hope, eventually achieving harmony between dragon and fairy factions. The once warring races now stood together, united by their shared belief in the power of the Celestial Orb for good. The sun dipped below the horizon, casting an orange glow upon the mystical forest. Drakin and Lira stood side by side, their breaths visible in the crisp air as they stared at the Celestial Orb that hung in the sky. Drakin: "I never thought I'd say this, but maybe we can find a way to live together in peace." Lira: "We must try. Our worlds are too intertwined to keep fighting." As they continued their journey, they came across a clearing with a majestic tree adorned with shimmering leaves. A Will-o'-the-Wisp flitted around the tree, casting eerie shadows on the ground. The duo approached cautiously, sensing that something was amiss. Drakin: "Do you think this light is a sign?" Lira: "It could be. Perhaps it's showing us the way." They ventured further into the forest, passing by waterfalls and dense foliage, until they reached an ancient cave with runes etched upon its walls. Drakin and Lira exchanged a knowing glance, understanding that these were the glowing runes they had seen in their dreams. Drakin: "What do you think they mean?" Lira: "I believe they're guiding us to a hidden truth." As they deciphered the runes, they discovered an ancient prophecy that spoke of unity and harmony between dragons and fairies. The wise old owl appeared, nodding sagely as he confirmed their findings. Wise Owl: "The Celestial Orb's power is meant for unity and harmony." Inspired by the wisdom, Drakin and Lira returned to their factions with a message of peace. Gradually, their people began to understand that love and understanding could overcome old rivalries, leading to a new era of harmony between dragon and fairy kind. Drakin's eyes darted around nervously as he stood at the entrance of the mystical forest, Lira by his side. "I know you're scared," she whispered reassuringly. "But we must trust in the runes that guide our path." The first line of runes glowed with a soft blue light, and they stepped forward into the unknown. As they ventured deeper into the forest, the air grew thicker with magic. Drakin couldn't help but marvel at the beauty of the world around them. "I never thought I would see such wonders," he said, his voice barely audible over the rustling leaves. Lira smiled, her eyes twinkling like stars. "And I never thought I would find a friend in one of the dragons," she replied. Their journey led them to an enchanting clearing, where they met the Will-o'-the-Wisps. The tiny creatures danced around them, their flickering light painting a mesmerizing pattern on the ground. "We must be cautious," Drakin warned. "These are magical beings, and not all of them are friendly." Lira nodded, her eyes locked onto the dancing lights. "Yes, but they can help us if we're kind to them." As they continued their journey, the two friends came across a wise old owl perched on a branch. The bird stared at them with piercing golden eyes. "You seek the Celestial Orb," it croaked, its voice like rustling leaves. Drakin and Lira exchanged a glance, knowing they had found their guide. "The power of the Orb is meant for unity and harmony," the owl continued. "Only by working together can you restore balance to your world." Drakin and Lira looked at each other, their hearts swelling with hope. They knew that together, they could make a difference. As they walked deeper into the forest, Drakin and Lira came across a clearing where Will-o'-the-Wisps danced in a mesmerizing pattern. "What are those?" Drakin asked, his eyes wide with wonder. "Those," Lira replied, "are Will-o'-the-Wisps. They're a mysterious creature that only appears when balance is threatened in our world. They guide travelers to places of great importance." She pointed at the glowing orbs. Drakin stared at the dancing lights, mesmerized. "They're beautiful. Do they know where we need to go?" "I don't know," Lira admitted, "but it feels like they're trying to tell us something important." She glanced around, taking in their surroundings. "We should follow them and see where they lead us." The two friends continued through the forest, guided by the Will-o'-the-Wisps until they reached a grand tree with a door carved into its trunk. As they approached, an owl perched on the door hooted at them. Drakin stepped forward and asked, "Who are you?" The wise old owl, named Owyn, spoke in a booming voice. "I am Owyn, the guardian of the Celestial Orb's secrets. You have been brought here for a reason." He looked at Lira and Drakin. "You both hold keys to restoring harmony in our world. The power of the Celestial Orb is not meant for conflict, but unity." Drakin and Lira exchanged glances, understanding dawning on their faces. They knew they had a mission ahead of them, one that would require love, unity, and the help of new friends like Owyn. In the mystical land of Mythos, Drakin, a young dragon, was conflicted between his loyalty to his kind and growing affection for Lira, a fairy. They embarked on a journey through the enchanted forest, following glowing runes that seemed to guide them towards a hidden truth. As they ventured deeper into the forest, they encountered strange creatures like Will-o'-the-Wisps, which were actually harmless little beings of light that led them to Owyn, a wise old owl who resided in a giant oak tree. Drakin and Lira shared their concerns with Owyn, revealing the ongoing conflict over the Celestial Orb and its power. "The Celestial Orb has always been a symbol of unity," Owyn explained. "Its true power lies in bringing people together, not dividing them." Drakin and Lira exchanged glances, realizing that perhaps they had misunderstood the purpose of the orb. They decided to spread this message across their factions, advocating for peace and understanding between dragons and fairies. "We must show our kind that unity is possible," Drakin said, his voice filled with determination. "If we can find a way to work together, perhaps we can achieve harmony." Lira nodded in agreement, her eyes sparkling with hope. Together, they returned to their respective factions, sharing Owyn's wisdom and inspiring change. As days turned into weeks, the whispers of unity grew louder, spreading like wildfire through both dragon and fairy communities. Eventually, love and understanding triumphed over centuries-old prejudices, leading to a new era of harmony in the land of Mythos. Drakin and Lira continued their journey, walking side by side through the enchanted forest. They came across a group of small, mischievous creatures that resembled tiny dragons with large wings but no legs. The creatures were known as Flitters. "Hello!" called one of them, fluttering its wings excitedly. "We've heard about you two," it continued, eyeing Drakin warily. "Are you here to cause trouble?" Lira stepped forward, her face radiating warmth and kindness. "No, we're not here to cause any trouble," she assured them. "We're just passing through on our way to the Celestial Orb." The Flitters exchanged glances, then one of them piped up: "You know about the Orb?" They looked even more curious. "Yes, we do," Drakin said, his voice filled with determination. "We're on a mission to bring unity and harmony between our factions." The Flitters seemed to ponder this for a moment before one of them spoke again. "Well, if you're here for peace, you've come to the right place. The Orb is hidden in these woods, and it holds great power that can bring balance to all creatures. But," the Flitter added, lowering its voice, "you must be careful. There are many who seek to use its power for their own gain." With newfound resolve, Drakin and Lira nodded. They knew the journey would not be easy, but they were ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead. Together, they continued their quest towards the Celestial Orb, ever closer to fulfilling their destiny of unity and harmony. In the heart of the mystical forest, Drakin and Lira continued their journey, their bond growing stronger with each passing day. They stumbled upon a clearing where a group of Flitters had gathered. The tiny creatures, resembling butterflies, were known for their mischievous nature but also held immense wisdom. Drakin hesitated before approaching the Flitters, unsure if they would welcome him. Lira, however, was undeterred by his fears and called out to them, "Friends, we come in peace!" One of the Flitters, a vibrant blue one named Flicker, swooped down and alighted on Lira's shoulder. "We are aware of your presence, little ones," Flicker chirped. "But beware, for in this forest, wisdom comes at a cost." Intrigued by the Flitters' cryptic warning, Drakin and Lira asked what kind of cost they spoke of. Flicker explained that to gain true wisdom, one must face their fears and confront the unknown. Drakin and Lira exchanged glances, understanding that this was a test of their loyalty to one another and their cause for unity. They ventured deeper into the forest, guided by the Flitters' wisdom, until they stumbled upon an ancient tree with a shimmering orb resting at its base. The orb pulsed with energy, and as Drakin touched it, he felt a surge of power coursing through him. The voice of Owyn, the guardian of the Celestial Orb, echoed in his mind, "Drakin, Lira, you have proven yourselves worthy. The orb's power is yours to wield, but only for the greater good." With newfound strength and clarity, Drakin and Lira knew it was time to face their fears and confront the leaders of their factions. They would speak of unity, love, and harmony, proving that even dragons and fairies could coexist peacefully. And so, hand in hand, they marched towards their destiny, ready to change the course of history for their people. In the mystical forest, Lira and Drakin stumbled upon a peculiar creature that appeared to be a mix of both dragon and fairy. The creature introduced itself as Flitters, a being who had been ostracized by both dragons and fairies for its unique nature. "I've always felt like I don't belong anywhere," Flitters whispered sadly. "Maybe we can help you find your place," Drakin offered, his heart swelling with newfound compassion. Lira nodded in agreement, and together they listened as Flitters shared its story of being rejected by both factions, left to fend for itself in the forest. "Why don't we teach everyone about the Celestial Orb? It taught us that unity and harmony are more important than our differences," Lira suggested. Drakin nodded enthusiastically, and they promised Flitters that they would do just that. With newfound purpose, they set off to spread the message of love, understanding, and unity throughout the dragon and fairy realms. Upon reaching their respective factions, Drakin and Lira shared their experiences with the Celestial Orb. Dragons and fairies listened intently as they recounted their adventures in the mystical forest, learning of the lessons they had gleaned from Flitters. The two friends urged both factions to embrace their differences and work together for a better future. As the dragons and fairies began to understand one another, they realized that unity was not about giving up their identities but about embracing each other's uniqueness. Together, they formed alliances and friendships, proving that love and understanding could overcome any barrier. The harmony between dragon and fairy factions finally flourished, and peace reigned in the magical world once again. Drakin, his scales shimmering with every hue of fire, watched from above as Lira danced beneath the moonlight. Her laughter was like the tinkling of fairy dust, and he couldn't help but smile at her joyous spirit. But in that moment, a wave of longing washed over him. He yearned for something more than the isolation of dragon kin and their ancient ways. "Lira," he called down to her, his voice crackling like a thunderclap. "What do you see when you look at me?" She paused, her wings shimmering in the breeze. "I see...a friend," she replied softly. "And someone I care for deeply." Drakin's heart skipped a beat at her words. "But what about my scales? My fiery breath? Do you truly see beyond all that?" Lira looked up at him, her eyes filled with warmth and understanding. "Dragons and fairies may be different, but we can choose to see past our differences. Love and unity can bridge any gap." With a sigh, Drakin nodded, his heart swelling with newfound hope. As they continued their journey through the mystical forest, he felt Lira's presence like a balm on his soul. Together, they encountered strange creatures like Flitters, each encounter teaching them valuable lessons about unity and harmony. As they returned to their factions, Drakin and Lira carried the message of the Celestial Orb with them - that its power was meant for unity and harmony between all beings. They advocated for peace and understanding, and slowly but surely, their love and unity began to heal old wounds. The dragon and fairy factions, once at odds, started working together, forging a brighter future where all could thrive in harmony. In the mystical forest, Drakin and Lira stumbled upon a small village of Flitters, creatures that resembled a fusion of birds and insects. Curious and cautious, they decided to approach the villagers to learn more about them. As they entered the village, Owyn, an elder Flitter, greeted them warmly. "We haven't seen creatures like you two in ages," he said with a hint of wonder in his voice. "But we welcome all who seek harmony and peace." Drakin was initially hesitant to engage with the Flitters, as dragons had always been at odds with them. However, Lira encouraged him to be open-minded and listen to their stories. One by one, villagers shared tales of their struggles and how they managed to maintain unity despite their differences. "Our village is a testament to the power of unity," Owyn explained. "We may have our own unique abilities and appearances, but we recognize that together, we are stronger and more resilient." Drakin felt inspired by the Flitters' stories and realized that he didn't need to choose between loyalty to dragons or building a bond with Lira. He could be both a dragon and find common ground with the fairies and other creatures in the forest. "We must learn from the Flitters," Drakin told Lira, his voice filled with newfound conviction. "Our people can work together for harmony if we embrace unity and understanding." As they continued their journey, Drakin and Lira shared their experience with other dragons and fairies, spreading a message of peace and unity. Slowly but surely, the once-feuding factions began to come together, realizing that they were all part of the same interconnected world. In Mythos, Drakin, a young dragon, found himself torn between his loyalty to the dragons and his growing affection for Lira, a fairy. The two embarked on a journey through a mystical forest, filled with strange creatures like Flitters. As they ventured deeper into the woods, Owyn, an ancient spirit of harmony, appeared before them. "Drakin, Lira," Owyn began, his voice echoing through the forest, "the power of the Celestial Orb is meant for unity and harmony, not for conflict." "But how can we unite dragons and fairies?" Drakin asked, his eyes filled with hope. "By showing them that love and understanding can overcome their differences," Lira replied confidently. With Owyn's guidance, they traveled from village to village, spreading the message of unity. In a small Flitter village, they found inspiration in the creatures' ability to live harmoniously despite their differences. The Flitters welcomed Drakin and Lira with open wings, sharing stories of how they had learned to embrace their uniqueness and work together for the greater good. "We don't have to choose loyalty over love," Lira whispered to Drakin, her eyes filled with determination. "We can bring peace between dragons and fairies by embracing unity and understanding." Drakin nodded, his heart swelling with newfound purpose. Together, they continued their journey, inspiring others to find harmony in their differences. As the sun set on the horizon, casting a golden glow over the mystical forest, Drakin and Lira knew that they had found the path to peace – through love and unity. In the heart of the mystical forest, Drakin and Lira came across a peculiar sight – a line of tiny, shimmering lights stretched across their path. As they cautiously approached, they realized these weren't just any lights; they were Flitters, magical beings that emitted a soft, ethereal glow. "What are those?" Lira whispered, her eyes wide with curiosity. "I don't know," Drakin replied, "But we should be careful not to disturb them." The duo watched from a distance as the Flitters danced and twinkled, creating a mesmerizing display of light. To their surprise, the Flitters seemed to notice their presence and approached them hesitantly. "Are you friends of Owyn?" asked one of the Flitters, its voice a melodic hum. Drakin nodded, remembering the ancient spirit's teachings about harmony and unity. "We are trying to bring peace between dragons and fairies." The Flitters exchanged looks, then one spoke up, "Our village is a testament to what can be achieved when different beings work together in love and understanding." Inspired by the harmonious Flitter village, Drakin and Lira returned to their respective factions with a newfound resolve. They shared their experiences, spreading the message of love and unity that had brought them so far. Gradually, the dragon and fairy factions began to see the value in working together, finding common ground and understanding. And so, as Drakin and Lira continued their journey through the mystical forest, they inspired others to find harmony in their differences, ultimately achieving peace between dragons and fairies. The once warring factions came together, united by love and understanding, proving that even the most unlikely of allies could bring about change when given a chance. Drakin, still conflicted between his dragon loyalty and growing affection for Lira, decided they needed to seek guidance from Owyn. They traveled to the ancient spirit's sanctuary, a serene cave hidden deep within the mystical forest. As they approached, they heard the soft hum of Flitters, tiny fairy creatures who lived harmoniously in the area. Upon their arrival, Drakin and Lira were greeted by Owyn, who seemed to be both wise and playful. "Ah, young ones! I've been expecting you," he chuckled. "You seek the power of the Celestial Orb, yes?" Drakin hesitated, unsure how to answer. "Yes... but we also struggle with loyalty and unity." "Ah, a challenge indeed!" Owyn smiled, his eyes twinkling like stars. "The power of the Celestial Orb is meant for unity and harmony, not just one faction or creature. It is in embracing our differences that we find true strength." Lira's eyes widened with wonder as she listened to Owyn's words. She looked at Drakin, her heart swelling with hope. "We can help spread the message of love and understanding, Drakin," she whispered. Together, they left Owyn's sanctuary inspired and determined. As they journeyed through the forest, they encountered more Flitters and shared their newfound wisdom. Slowly but surely, the dragon and fairy factions began to understand each other, finding harmony in their differences. Drakin and Lira continued their travels, spreading love and unity, knowing that their bond and the power of the Celestial Orb would bring lasting peace to their world. In the mystical forest, Drakin and Lira stumbled upon an ancient spirit named Owyn, who was trapped in a crystal. The duo felt a strong connection with the gentle creature and decided to set him free. "Please help us, dear spirit," begged Lira, her eyes filled with hope. "We need your guidance on our journey." Owyn's voice echoed throughout the forest as he was freed. "I can sense the power of the Celestial Orb within you both. It is meant for unity and harmony, not for dominance or destruction." Drakin looked at Lira with newfound determination. "We must learn to control this power and use it for good." As they continued their quest, they encountered a village of Flitters - tiny, harmonious beings who lived in perfect balance with nature. Drakin and Lira marveled at the beauty and peace of the village, and they knew they had to spread its message of love and understanding. In time, they taught others about the Celestial Orb's true purpose. Dragon and fairy factions began to understand each other's perspectives, finding common ground in their shared love for harmony. And so, Drakin and Lira brought peace to a once-divided world, inspiring everyone to embrace their differences and find unity through love and understanding. Drakin's eyes sparkled with curiosity as he gazed upon the vibrant forest before him, teeming with life. "Flitters, listen," he began, addressing the tiny winged creatures that swarmed around them. "We have much to learn from each other if we choose to work together." A small fairy named Lira stepped forward, her voice trembling with hope. "But how can dragons and fairies ever find common ground?" she asked. Drakin turned to face her, his eyes filled with determination. "By understanding that our differences are what make us unique, and together we can achieve greatness." As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the forest, Drakin and Lira continued their journey towards the heart of the mystical woodland. They stumbled upon an ancient spirit named Owyn, who revealed the secret of the Celestial Orb - a powerful artifact meant to bring unity and harmony between all creatures. Inspired by Owyn's wisdom, Drakin and Lira shared the message with the dragon and fairy factions, advocating for love and understanding. The once-warring groups began to mend their differences, and together they discovered the beauty in their unique differences. Through the power of the Celestial Orb, a new era of harmony dawned upon the forest. Drakin and Lira continued their journey, inspiring others to find peace within themselves and to embrace love and understanding. They were living proof that even the most unlikely duo could bring about change in the world, proving that sometimes, the greatest adventures are born from the unlikeliest of friendships. As the sun began to set, Drakin and Lira sat by a crackling campfire, discussing their newfound wisdom. "The Celestial Orb's power can bring unity between us all," said Drakin, his eyes twinkling like the night sky. "Indeed," agreed Lira, her voice as gentle as the wind. "We must spread this message of love and understanding." ``` In the days that followed, Drakin and Lira traveled to both dragon and fairy settlements, sharing their experiences and the wisdom they had gained from the Celestial Orb and the Flitters. Their messages resonated with both factions, inspiring them to put aside their differences and work together for peace. As months passed, the once-warring dragon and fairy factions began to live in harmony, side by side. Drakin and Lira's love story became a symbol of hope, their unity serving as a beacon of inspiration for all who heard it. Together, they continued to spread the message of love and understanding, guiding their world towards an era of peace and prosperity. In the mystical forest, Drakin and Lira approached the entrance of the Flitter village with trepidation. The air was thick with anticipation as they knocked on the door. "Hello?" called out Drakin, his voice slightly trembling. A small, luminescent creature peeked out from behind the door. "Who are you?" it asked cautiously. "We are Drakin and Lira, and we come in peace," replied Lira, trying to sound as reassuring as possible. "We've heard about the Flitters and your unity and harmony, and we wish to learn more." The Flitter seemed to consider their words for a moment before letting them inside. "Welcome!" it chirped. "We'll gather the village council so they may hear your story and share ours with you." With that, the Flitter scurried away, and soon enough, a group of brightly colored creatures gathered around Drakin and Lira. "Our village was once plagued by fear and mistrust," began one of the elders. "But through open communication and understanding, we found peace. It all began when we discovered the Celestial Orb." Drakin's eyes widened at the mention of the orb. "It has the power to unite us all?" he asked, his voice filled with wonder. The elder nodded. "Yes, but it can only do so if our hearts are open to its message." As Drakin and Lira listened to the Flitters' stories, they realized that unity and harmony were not just words but actions that could be embraced by all creatures, regardless of their differences. With newfound determination, they vowed to spread this message throughout their own factions, hoping to bring peace to their world as well. In the mystical forest, Drakin and Lira continued their journey, determined to spread the message of love and understanding they had learned from Owyn. They came upon a small village of Flitters, creatures that emitted a soft glow and communicated through melodic songs. "Hello, friends!" Lira greeted them warmly. "We have come to share a message of peace and unity." The Flitters sang a harmonious tune in response, and Drakin felt his heart swell with hope. As they spent time with the villagers, he and Lira learned about their way of life. The Flitters believed that each color of their glow represented a different emotion, and when all colors shone together, it created a symphony of emotions that brought balance to their village. "We must bring this harmony to our own kind," Drakin decided. "Together, we can show the dragons and fairies how to live in peace." The duo returned to their homes, filled with newfound determination. They gathered their fellow dragons and fairies, sharing tales of the Flitters and teaching them the importance of emotional balance. Slowly but surely, the once-warring factions began to change. As months passed, the dragons and fairies learned to embrace their differences, forging bonds of friendship and love. And Drakin and Lira's love story became a symbol of hope, inspiring generations to come. The Celestial Orb's power for unity and harmony had taken root in their world, bringing about an era of peace and prosperity that would last for centuries. In the mystical forest, Drakin and Lira approached a group of Flitters, small winged creatures that emitted a gentle, melodic hum. Curious about their peaceful existence, the duo decided to approach them cautiously. "Hello," said Lira, her voice soft and warm. "We mean no harm. We've heard your harmonious songs from afar, and we are eager to learn more." The Flitters exchanged glances before a small one named Fletch stepped forward. "We sensed your kind hearts," he replied in a high-pitched yet clear voice. "However, not all who come here have pure intentions. We must be cautious." Drakin chimed in, "We understand your concerns, but we only seek harmony and unity. Your songs are a testament to the beauty of working together." Fletch considered their words before nodding. "Very well," he said. "Join us in our song, and perhaps you'll learn the secret of our unity." The Flitters began to sing, their voices blending into a soothing melody that resonated throughout the forest. Drakin and Lira joined in, their voices adding to the chorus. As they sang, they felt a sense of connection not only with the Flitters but also within themselves. The power of unity was palpable, and it filled their hearts with hope for the future. With newfound inspiration, they returned to their factions and shared their experience, teaching others about the Celestial Orb's power for unity and harmony. This ultimately led to peace between dragons and fairies, forever changing the course of their world. In Mythos, the mystical forest was filled with wonder and awe as Drakin and Lira continued their journey. They stumbled upon a village of harmonious Flitters, small creatures that emitted a gentle hum, resonating throughout the area. The duo marveled at the unity of these beings and wondered how they could achieve such harmony among their own kind. As they approached the heart of the village, Drakin and Lira noticed an elderly Flitter sitting on a branch, watching them intently. "Hello," said Lira, her voice filled with curiosity. "We have heard tales of your wisdom, Owyn." The old Flitter chuckled softly. "Indeed," he replied. "I can sense your pure intentions. It is rare for creatures from different factions to come together in search of unity." Owyn then proceeded to explain the legend of the Celestial Orb, a powerful artifact that could unite all beings if they learned to work together and share love and understanding. Drakin and Lira listened intently as Owyn shared the story. They realized that the key to achieving harmony lay within themselves and their ability to communicate and learn from each other's differences. The two promised to spread the message of love and understanding, and with newfound resolve, they returned to their own factions. As months passed, the once warring dragon and fairy factions began to mend their relationships. They learned to coexist peacefully, inspired by Drakin and Lira's devotion to unity. The love story of these two became a symbol of hope for an era of peace and prosperity in Mythos, and the once divided lands flourished under their guidance. In the mystical forest, Drakin and Lira stumbled upon an ancient spirit, Owyn. The wise spirit revealed the secrets of the Celestial Orb, which held immense power when used for unity and harmony among different beings. With newfound knowledge, they ventured towards a Flitter village, known for its peaceful and harmonious existence. "Do you see how we live in peace and balance with each other? We don't need to be feared or avoided," explained the village elder to Drakin and Lira. Drakin and Lira were inspired by the Flitters' way of life. They decided to share this message with their respective factions, hoping to bridge the gap between dragons and fairies. As they returned to their homes, they noticed the changing attitudes among their kin. "I never knew that we could live in peace with the fairies," a young dragon whispered to his friend. "Maybe it's true, I can feel the air changing," replied a curious fairy girl. Months passed, and the once warring factions began to mingle, collaborate, and even celebrate together. The harmony between the two groups grew stronger with each passing day. Drakin and Lira's love story became a symbol of hope for an era of peace and prosperity in their world. And so, the mythical tale of Mythos was born, forever remembered as the story of unity and love that changed the course of history.

[eldritch-spouse]

Kalymir and tactition reader? Sort of a brains and brawn situation?

[I enjoy this. "Big dumb villain and their smart assistant that's not paid enough"-core.]

He starts pacing around the table, always does, when something you say isn't to his liking.

" DON'T FUCK ME! "

Fortunately, you were hired to be the brains to his muscle, not to glaze his metaphorical balls.

" M'lord I'm fairly certain I couldn't even if I tired. " You eye him up and down, silently asking if he's done with his bitchfit. " Nonetheless, I believe this is no time to be aggressive. You'd do well to send scouts- "

" SCOUTS?! " He snarls at the top of his rather annoyingly large lungs. Some kind of battle axe flies over your head, decapitating baby hairs. You barely blink as it embeds itself into the wall behind you. " THIS IS BARELY A PROPER SETTLEMENT! I SHOULDN'T HAVE TO EVEN THINK ABOUT THIS PIECE OF SHIT RESISTANCE POCKET- "

The King stomps forward on mighty talons, nearly swiping your pondering orb away as he gestures toward it with a fury of such might that it makes the muscles in his arms swell.

" LOOK AT THESE INSECTS! "

" Precisely. "

The demonlord looks as if his honest desire is to cut your back open and slurp the spinal cord out. Yet, in the midst of the anger constantly frying his nerve endings, is a tungsten carbide core of minimal intelligence that reminds him eviscerating you is a most terrible idea.

" EXPLAIN THEN, YOU MOUTHY CUNT. "

" I've been trying to do so this entire time. "

" THE FUCKING NERVE Y- "

" This resistance pocket- " You start, snapping your fingers repeatedly as if trying to garner a large dog's attention. " Is mixed and dangerous, m'lord. "

Although Kalymir is visibly fuming, he does listen.

You scroll through the field of view offered by the hidden summoned aid currently hiding in tall trees. It provides a top-down map feed of the location Kalymir's latest headache has been operating from. Currently, at least. People buzz from one side to another, not many in numbers but extremely well-organized and efficient, almost as if controlled by something.

" Notice there are more than just wrathful demons in the midst, this group employs humans and monsters, especially the less social of the bunch. The kind of monster you'd find hiding in darkened places, isolated but by no means uneducated. To gain the alliance of these monsters, one would need a surprising sense of- "

" I'M FUCKING SNOOZING HERE... "

Sometimes, you're the one that wants to maul him.

There's a tired sigh.

" Harmonious diversity equals no-no. "

Pause.

" I'M NOT A BABY, YOU SURFACE WHORE. "

" Putting that aside, I'm sure you've noticed by now, that they brandish weapons of ancient times. The very things that allowed the initial group to leave the Rings unscathed despite being hunted, not just in Wrath but in the territory of all the Lords you've made agreements with. "

" CELESTIAL WEAPONRY. " The warlord sneers, thoughtful.

" Yes. "

Kalymir shakes his head.

" YOU CAN'T TELL ME THEY'RE ALLIED TO ANGELS! MOST ARE DEMONS, YOU CAN'T BRIBE ANGELS INTO HANDING THEIR TOOLS OVER- " He slams both fists onto the worn and dented table, making your chair jump. " THEY'RE HARDLY EVEN SEEN. AND LIKE FUCKING HELL THESE PARASITES CAN KILL ONE! "

A smug smile tugs your lips. " But, my King, they don't need to be allied to angels to have those. "

Kalymir makes a rare effort to calm down, sharpened claws tapping at the same table. You can hear a heavy-tipped tail swing, the woosh mildly distracting.

" SPEAK! "

" The archives. "

You can hear the gears melting in his cranium.

" THE ARCHIVES... " He stands, mighty body straight as he beings putting two and two together. " THE ARCHIVES! "

You nod, arms crossing.

Not just any archives, the Royal Archives of Wrath, containing a litany of detailed instructions in old Infernal about how to dispatch different types of celestials. The same archives that guarded weapons of Eden stolen from perished angels, weapons that destroyed the limbs of the brave demons who managed to retrieve them, whose core names and sigils have been carved into the cases holding these artifacts. Those are the only celestial weapons left behind, as far as anyone knows. The type of material prize a lord of Wrath would die protecting.

" NO! " He barks once he realizes the first possibility that statement implies.

" Yes, my King. "

" NO ONE COULD HAVE BROKEN IN, YOU SNOT-BRAINED ANKLE BITER! "

Hm, that one's new.

He's right, no one could have broken in, he knows you know this, and the fact that you always seem one little step ahead of him is both infuriating to the King but also exciting.

" Correct. "

" THEN- "

" Who has access to the Royal Archives of Wrath? "

" I DO! I'M THE KING- "

" And who had access? "

As soon as you ask that, he falls eerily silent, pacing again, this time to the opposite display of weapons, subconsciously studying them as he thinks.

" IMPOSSIBLE. "

You recline on the chair, eyes closing. " Is it? "

" I BUTCHERED HIM! I HUMILIATED HIM. HIS VERY SKULL SITS ABOVE MY THRONE OF VICTORIES! "

" His offspring, my King. His descendants. " As far as you know, they were only juveniles when Kalymir murdered their father.

" ONE DIED IN THE CRUCIBLE... "

" The other...? "

Kalymir doesn't answer, he doesn't know. And neither did you, not until very recently.

You don't need to spell the implications out this time, he gets there on his own two synapses.

" YOU CAN'T BE SERIOUS. " The demonlord bristles, not because he finds the suggestion ridiculous, but likely because it's going to make things a lot more interesting.

" But I am. He can't show his face, it'd be too risky, but some dissenting demons still recognize and have followed him to the surface. He then seeks the help of monsters living in the margins of societies or straight up outside of them, safer options to utilize holy weapons. And not just that, these monsters muddle our understanding of the resistance's origins and goals, adding humans to the mix just makes it all more confusing. Many of the non-demonic members are likely under contractual obligation to do this too, I'd reckon. "

The King is silent.

" Think about it. You lost track of them a long time ago. This prince-to-be witnessed the death of his father, his brother, his mother has likely died of old age. He has nothing. Nothing but a sweltering desire to dethrone you. This is his doing. "

A cruel glint settles in your eyes, belying that there is room for your frigid coldness in the boiling Ring.

" Unfortunately, he must have been too young to properly absorb his father's teachings, because this is amateurish at best. A little bit of care and thought is all you need to nip his budding plans, m'lord. "

The King smiles, drags a hand down his face, chest heaving faster as a very thunderous bark of raucous laughter shakes the entire fortress. The clapping of meaty red hands accentuates how wolfishly delighted he is.

" YOU GLORIOUS, ROTTEN WENCH! HOW COULD I NOT HAVE SEEN THIS?! "

Yes, really, how did he not see this a mile away? He should have figured it out before you, you actually had to do research concerning the past ruler of Wrath.

Kalymir damn near sprints towards you, reaching over the table to grab you up by the collar of your outfit.

" LEAD ME TO HIM, STRATEGIST. TELL ME HOW TO GET MY HANDS ON THE WORTHLES TWERP. I WILL WEAR HIS BROTHER'S SKIN. "

" Of course, my King. I will lead you to victory as always. "

" GOOD. GOOD LITTLE HUMAN. "

You're dropped back down unceremoniously, feeling a creak in your hip but remaining composed. Kalymir is clearly getting overly excited over the whole deal, you can tell he'll be obsessing over it from now on.

" WE WILL MAKE A NEW CHANDELIER OF HIS BONES. "

Satisfied, there's a pep to the demonlord's step as he makes to leave, opening the great doors to his hall.

" AND ONCE THIS IS OVER, YOU- "

" YOU WILL SIT BESIDE ME AS QUEEN. "

[eternalstarlitwonderland]

Brilliant Diamond

As darkness envelops the world, the enchanting hour of starlight unfolds

A silvery glimmer, ethereal and soft, spread across the sky, each star brilliantly twinkling like a precious gem

In this celestial dance, there exists a lone star, frail and flickering, struggling to maintain its place on the delicate stratospheric thread

Separated from the vibrant constellations, it lingers in solitude

Quietly anticipating the moment when it will finally drift downwards, embracing the cosmic journey that awaits it beyond the vast expanse

The fallen star began their descension, and they gracefully gilded downward, each movement almost ethereal

The atmosphere shimmered with anticipation; as they descended, their radiant lights illuminated the earth below, casting a warm, ethereal glow that painted the landscape in a silvery-white hue that danced among the shadows, transforming the scenery into a tapestry of wonder

The descension concluded with a silvery flash; it settled onto the unsuspecting location, creating a massive crater

The star brilliantly illumined the circumambient and blinded the northward, revealing itself as a pure and natural uncut diamond

The starlight always has a way of conveying the mystique of existence, although it wasn't possible to think of

Once again ignited with light, the twinkling star radiated a brilliance unlike before

This time, its shimmering glow was a gentle, inviting warmth reminiscent of a cozy fire on a chilly evening

The luminous hues danced in the air, creating a harmonious blend of fluorescent brightness and the soothing glow of incandescent warmth, casting empyreal shadows that danced softly across the landscape, embracing twinkling comfort and ethereal beauty, making the night seem less intimidating and more inviting as if the star had woven a comforting blanket of light across the vast expanse of the cosmos

It stood firm like an unyielding boulder; its surface gleamed with the clarity and brilliance of a perfectly cut gemstone, each facet reflecting light with exquisite precision, catching and refracting light in a dazzling array of colors, and as smooth as the slickest sheet of ice, with a flawless texture that glides effortlessly beneath the touch

Relentlessly brilliant, it sparkled magnificently, even when shrouded in the dark embrace of tenebrosity, revealing hidden facets that glimmered like stars in a moonless night

Beneath the vast expanse, velvet canopy of night, a young stargazer stood mesmerized by the myriad twinkling stars dancing playfully above her, like diamonds scattered on black velvet

As she gazed up, captivated by their radiant glint, each twinkle above sparked a deep sense of wonder within her

Suddenly, her gaze was drawn to a brilliant light that coruscated overhead, a rare gem of luminosity that beckoned her to investigate its origins; venturing closer, she discovered the source of this ethereal light

To her astonishment, she found a fallen star nestled among the soft grass, with its luminous aura pulsating in enchanting waves, emanating a dazzling zing that resonated in the air, captivating her senses

It emitted a steady stream of prismatic light that danced throughout; each flicker of its brilliance sparked curiosity within her, drawing her nearer

The starlight danced around it, enveloping it in a subtle iridescence, bathing it in a soft shimmer, accentuating its delicate facets that sparkled like a thousand tiny jewels caught in the moonlight; each flash of a diamond-like fallen star revealed its radiant beauty

A cascade of glitter danced around it, creating a delicate twinkle that lit up the night; the fallen star unleashed a cascade of dazzling glitter, its brilliant luminosity creating delicate sparkles that illuminated the surrounding darkness; she carefully picked up the brilliantly lit orb, cradling it gently, letting its warmth spill into her palms As she was cradling its ethereal glow, she felt a profound connection; at that moment, everything stood utterly still, as if the universe had pressed the pause button, leaving everything frozen in a delicate balance, waiting for the next heartbeat to resume its rhythm; its external shine that burned brightly within and reflected her dreams and aspirations, waiting to be realized

[peppymintdreams]

Heaven’s Boundaries

Simeon x Angel!MC

The Celestial Realm was a perfect haven of peace and harmony. But for you, a young angel still finding your place, it sometimes felt overwhelming. The grand halls were filled with wisdom far beyond your years, and the expectations placed upon you as a fledgling guardian were daunting.

But there was one beacon of light amidst the vastness—Simeon.

It began with the smallest of things.

[this was requested to me a while back…unfortunately I cannot find the request]

You remembered the first time he noticed you. Really noticed you.

It was during one of the many lessons on celestial law, held in the sprawling library of the Celestial Realm. Rows of ancient tomes filled the air with the scent of parchment and divine knowledge, and the glow of ethereal orbs floated gently above, casting soft light over the gathered students.

You were seated in the back, quieter than usual. Your hands fidgeted with the edge of your scroll as you struggled to focus. The words written in ancient script blurred together—far too complex for your tired mind to comprehend.

You had spent the night before trying to memorize passages about diplomacy and divine hierarchy, and it showed. Your wings drooped slightly, and a faint sigh escaped your lips as you tried, and failed, to stay awake.

“MC?”

The voice was soft, like a warm breeze on a cool evening. You blinked and looked up, finding yourself face-to-face with Simeon.

His eyes, the color of a calm sky, were filled with gentle concern. His presence radiated a quiet strength, but his expression remained kind.

“You seem tired,” he observed, crouching beside your seat so he could speak softly, without drawing attention from the rest of the class. “Are you alright?”

You flushed, suddenly very aware of how disheveled you must have looked. “Oh, um… yes! Just… didn’t sleep well,” you mumbled, embarrassed.

Simeon’s gaze softened further, and he offered you a small, reassuring smile. “It’s alright to rest when you need to. Even angels need time to recharge.” He placed a hand on your shoulder, a light touch that sent a warmth through you. “Why don’t you take a break? I’ll explain the lesson to you later.”

Your heart skipped a beat. You hadn’t expected him to notice, let alone offer to help. He had so many students to guide, and yet… he had taken the time to notice you.

“Thank you, Simeon,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

He smiled again, a smile so genuine it made your chest tighten. “Anytime, MC. I’m here if you need me.”

It was after that moment that things began to change.

You started looking forward to his lessons, not just for the knowledge he imparted but for the way he made you feel seen. Each time he smiled at you, each time he offered a kind word or a gentle nudge in the right direction, your heart fluttered in a way that felt foreign, yet exhilarating.

And then, there were the little things—moments that seemed insignificant but meant the world to you.

One day, as you carried a precarious stack of books across the library, your wings twitched nervously with the effort. You were determined to manage it on your own, refusing to ask for help.

But as you reached for another book on a high shelf, the stack wobbled dangerously. You gasped, ready to witness a cascade of ancient texts tumbling to the floor—

Only for Simeon to appear beside you, steadying the books with ease.

“Careful,” he said, his tone light and amused. “You don’t need to carry everything on your own.”

You blushed, your fingers brushing his as you adjusted the stack. “I… I thought I could handle it.”

His eyes met yours, warm and patient. “There’s no shame in asking for help, MC. Strength comes in knowing when to rely on others.”

It was such a simple moment, yet it lingered in your mind for days. The way his hand had steadied yours, the way his voice had soothed your flustered nerves—it was enough to make your heart race every time you thought about it.

The annual Starfall Festival was a celebration of light and unity in the Celestial Realm. Angels gathered to watch as countless stars shimmered and danced across the sky, their light illuminating the gardens in a breathtaking display.

You had always loved the festival, but this year, it held a different meaning.

You stood near the edge of the garden, watching the stars with quiet awe, when Simeon appeared beside you.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” he said softly, his gaze fixed on the heavens.

You nodded, stealing a glance at him. “Yes… very beautiful.”

But you weren’t looking at the stars.

He noticed, of course. He always noticed.

“MC,” he said gently, turning to face you. “Is there something on your mind?”

You hesitated, your heart pounding. There were so many things you wanted to say—how much you admired him, how his kindness had become the light in your days, how your feelings had grown beyond mere admiration.

But instead, you smiled shyly and shook your head. “No, I’m just… happy to be here.”

His smile in return was soft, understanding. “I’m glad. The Celestial Realm is brighter with you in it.”

Those words stayed with you long after the festival ended, filling your heart with a warmth that refused to fade.

It wasn’t until a quiet afternoon in the study hall that you realized the full extent of your feelings.

You were seated beside Simeon, working through a particularly challenging text. He patiently explained each passage, his voice calm and soothing. Every so often, he would glance at you, offering a smile or a word of encouragement.

And then it happened—he laughed.

A soft, genuine laugh at something you had said, and the sound of it made your heart swell.

In that moment, you knew.

It wasn’t just admiration. It wasn’t just respect.

It was a crush—a bright, innocent, overwhelming crush on the angel who had been your guide, your mentor, and your light in the vastness of the Celestial Realm.

From that day forward, every glance, every smile, every word from Simeon made your heart flutter. You knew it was complicated, you knew it was something you couldn’t fully express—but for now, it was enough.

Because in the grand halls of the Celestial Realm, amidst the splendor and harmony, Simeon had become the light that guided you.

And maybe, just maybe, that light would always hold a special place in your heart.

But as time passed, the weight of your emotions grew harder to carry. The once-innocent crush blossomed into something deeper, something you could no longer ignore. His every gesture—the way he steadied you when you faltered, the quiet moments shared during celestial lessons, the warmth in his eyes when he looked at you—only strengthened the feelings you fought to suppress.

Until one day, you could no longer hold it in.

The grand halls of the Celestial Realm were as radiant as ever, bathed in golden light that seemed to come from the very heavens. The walls shimmered with divine energy, and the air was filled with a gentle hum of celestial harmony. It was perfect, serene—everything an angel could ever hope for.

And yet, your heart raced for a reason far removed from the splendor of your surroundings.

Simeon.

He walked ahead of you, his white and gold robes flowing gracefully behind him, every movement serene, deliberate, and mesmerizing. You weren’t just an angel; you were one of his students, carefully guided under his tutelage in matters of divine law, diplomacy, and the subtle art of compassion.

But lately… your admiration for him had grown into something more.

You didn’t mean for it to happen. He was your teacher, a beacon of wisdom and calm, and centuries older than you—an age gap that stretched beyond comprehension. And yet, each time he spoke with that warm, soothing voice, each time he offered you a gentle smile or placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, your heart fluttered.

It wasn’t fair.

You were an angel, a being of purity and grace. Crushes, infatuations… those were human emotions, things you were supposed to be above. But no matter how many times you reminded yourself of that, it didn’t stop the warmth from creeping into your cheeks when he looked your way.

“MC?” Simeon’s voice, soft and melodic, pulled you from your thoughts. He stood at the end of the corridor, looking back at you with a gentle expression. “Is something troubling you? You’ve been quiet today.”

Your heart skipped. Of course, he noticed. He always noticed.

“Oh! No, nothing’s wrong,” you replied quickly, hurrying to catch up. “Just… lost in thought.”

His smile was kind, but there was a knowing glint in his eyes. “I see. Well, don’t let those thoughts weigh too heavily on you. The Celestial Realm is vast, but it’s easy to feel burdened by things left unspoken.”

Your breath caught. Was he… did he know?

“Simeon,” you blurted out, the words escaping before you could stop them. “Have you ever… felt something you weren’t supposed to feel?”

The question hung in the air, delicate and fragile.

Simeon’s gaze softened, and for a moment, there was a flicker of something in his eyes—understanding, perhaps, or something deeper. He gestured toward a nearby balcony, where the light of the Celestial Realm poured in like liquid gold.

“Come,” he said gently. “Let’s talk.”

You followed him, the cool celestial breeze brushing against your skin as you stepped onto the balcony. Below, the endless expanse of the Celestial Garden stretched out, its flowers blooming in perfect harmony with the divine light.

Simeon leaned against the marble railing, his hands folded in front of him. “The feelings you speak of… they’re not uncommon. Even for angels.”

Your eyes widened. “They’re not?”

He smiled softly. “No. We may be beings of light and grace, but we are not immune to the complexities of emotion. Admiration, affection, even longing—they are a part of our experience, just as they are for mortals.”

Hearing him say it made your heart swell with both hope and fear. “Then… is it wrong?”

Simeon looked at you for a long moment, as if weighing his words carefully. “No, it’s not wrong. But it can be… complicated.”

The hope in your chest faltered. “Complicated?”

He nodded. “We have roles, responsibilities. Boundaries that are meant to guide us, to keep us from losing sight of our purpose.” He paused, his gaze gentle but unwavering. “And sometimes, those boundaries mean making difficult choices.”

You understood what he was saying, but you weren’t ready to let go—not yet. “Simeon… I admire you. I’ve admired you for so long. And it’s more than just admiration.”

The confession hung in the air, vulnerable and raw. You couldn’t meet his gaze, afraid of what you might see there.

For a moment, there was silence. Then, Simeon spoke, his voice as gentle as ever. “MC… I’ve known.”

Your heart skipped. He had known all along.

“I’ve seen the way you look at me,” he continued softly. “The way your eyes light up when I speak, the way your presence changes when we’re alone.” He took a step closer, his hand resting lightly on your shoulder. “You have a beautiful heart, one filled with kindness and light. And I am honored by your feelings.”

Tears welled in your eyes. “Then… why can’t we—”

He gently squeezed your shoulder, a silent comfort. “Because I am your mentor. Your guide. My duty is to help you grow, to see you become the angel you were meant to be. If I were to step beyond that boundary… I would risk compromising your path, and my own.”

The words were kind, but they cut deep. You knew he was right. His position, his age, the expectations placed upon both of you—it was a chasm too wide to cross.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I didn’t mean to make things difficult.”

Simeon shook his head, his expression filled with compassion. “You have nothing to apologize for. Your feelings are a testament to your heart. But sometimes, love means letting go, even when it’s hard.”

A tear slipped down your cheek, and Simeon reached out, gently wiping it away with the pad of his thumb. “You are strong, MC. Stronger than you realize. And one day, you will find a love that is meant for you—a love that can exist without boundaries.”

You looked up at him, your heart aching but filled with a bittersweet sense of closure. “Thank you, Simeon. For everything.”

He smiled, a warmth that wrapped around you like a gentle embrace. “You will always have a special place in my heart, MC. And I will always be here for you, as your mentor, your guide, and your friend.”

The two of you stood there for a moment longer, the light of the Celestial Realm surrounding you both. It wasn’t the ending you had hoped for, but it was an ending filled with understanding, respect, and a quiet, enduring affection.

As you walked away from the balcony, your heart heavy but hopeful, you knew that you would carry Simeon’s words with you. And in time, you would find your own path—a path that would lead you to a love meant to flourish, not confined by boundaries, but free to grow

[thecelestialmirror]

Astro Note for 6/21/2025

Happy Cancer Season!!! Today, we have our first full day of the Sun in the sign of the Celestial Crab, Cancer!!! Intuition and compassion are front and center. Home, hearth, and health are also primed to get a proverbial glow-up. If you've been waiting for those luxurious, beachy vibes to arrive, wait no more! Relax... take a deep breath... let the energy of surf and sand and palm trees soothe your weary soul.

Happy Summer Solstice to Northern Hemisphere folks, and Happy Winter Solstice to all those in the Southern Hemisphere!!! And, a Blessed Litha/Yule to all those who celebrate!!!

The Moon in grounded Taurus today works well with the energy of the Cancer Sun, which is within a 2-degree orb of jovial Jupiter. La Luna is also in trine to Mars and sextile Jupiter, and Mars is in exact sextile to the big benefic (Jupiter), as well.

Even though we still have some remaining tensions from the Jupiter-Neptune/Saturn and Mars-Uranus squares, which are in the process of separating, there's a lot of harmony moving into the heavens for us to use as a counter-balance. By the time we reach the Cancer New Moon on June 25th, we should be ready to really push off into fresh waters for new horizons.

As for working with the energy of today, Mars is the catalyst activating many of our positive alignments. The feisty red planet will renew our gusto, bolster our emotions (with the Moon), and have us blazing forward with profound action founded on faith (with Jupiter). This could truly be the very first step to us turning the corner on a long-running, difficult situation in life. But, you must be brave enough to actually take action.

Mercury jumps into the mix, too, and harmonizes with the Moon's Nodes. We may find ourselves connecting with information and/or people who encourage us to grow, improve, and move forward. Very nice!

May the blessings of the Cosmos be yours on this auspicious day, as we say goodbye to the first half of 2025, and set our sights on what is yet to come...

[hero21us]

The Golden Age: A Century of Transformation

2024: The Dawn of the Golden Army

It began with a team. The Golden Army, an elite soccer squad formed in 2024, was more than just a sports phenomenon. Their players—each sculpted like gods—seemed almost unreal. Their uniforms shimmered with an otherworldly glow, and their skin bore an uncanny metallic sheen under the stadium lights. At first, the world marveled at their athleticism, their flawless movements, and their seemingly supernatural endurance.

The transformation started subtly. Their bodies became more reflective, their muscles denser, and their eyes gleamed like polished orbs. Whispers of "golden blood" spread through the media. Scientists dismissed it as an optical illusion, a trick of lighting or advanced training regimens. But then, one by one, the players stopped aging.

2035: The Expansion

The Golden Army was no longer just a football team—it was a movement. Athletes from every sport sought to join, believing the transformation was the ultimate evolution of the human body. Soon, soldiers, laborers, and even corporate elites clamored for the secret.

A discovery was made: a unique alchemical gold pond, kept secret by the team's founders, was the key. The molten gold within it could be manipulated and incorporated into clothing, spirals, food, almost anything. If ingested it caused a fundamental rewriting of human biology. Those who embraced the transformation experienced a euphoria beyond words. Strength beyond measure. And above all—immortality.

Governments tried to regulate distribution, but by the 2040s, resistance was futile. Entire nations embraced the Golden Path. Those who resisted were left behind, their flesh and blood a relic of the past.

2055: The Great Conversion

By the mid-21st century, nearly half of humanity had undergone the transformation. Cities glowed with a golden hue, their streets lined with beings who no longer needed sustenance or sleep. Art, culture, and even warfare took on a celestial quality.

Wars were fought, not with weapons, but with displays of radiant power. The Golden Men could channel energy, communicate without words, and reshape the world around them. The old ways of life crumbled as organic humans faded into obscurity.

By 2075, the last of the flesh-born governments surrendered. The Golden Council was formed—a ruling body of the first transformed, led by the original members of the Golden Army. Their decree was absolute: "All shall ascend."

2100: Earth Reforged

With no more wars, no more disease, and no more hunger, humanity turned to a new purpose—reshaping the planet. Every structure was rebuilt in gold. The oceans shimmered with golden waves. The forests, once green and untamed, now gleamed with metallic splendor. Even the sky, infused with particles of transmuted gold dust, reflected a brilliant eternal sunrise.

Space travel was abandoned—there was no need to leave. Earth itself had become the celestial paradise that mankind had always sought.

2125: The Radiance Complete

By the dawn of 2125, no flesh remained. Every man had become gold, their thoughts linked in a grand, harmonious consciousness.

The Earth radiated like a second sun, a beacon visible across the cosmos.

The universe took notice.

And somewhere, in the depths of space, other celestial beings turned their eyes toward the Golden Planet, wondering what mankind had become.

Would they see gods? Or something beyond?

Only time would tell.

Step into the future join golden army today message @polo-drone-001 @brodygold @goldenherc9 today

[writingforstraykids]

Whispers of the Moon - Birthday Special

Pairing: Minchan (short mention of Felix / very short mention of the other boys)

Word Count: 6325

Summary: In the heart of Seoul, beneath the gleaming skyscrapers and ancient palaces, lies a hidden world of magic and mystery. Chan, a gifted healer, and Minho, a shapeshifter hiding as a sleek black cat, find their destinies intertwined in this enchanting underworld...

Warnings/Tags: magical!au, shapeshifter!minho, healer!chan, angst, fluff, strangers to lovers

A/N: The happiest birthday to my dear unnie @zehina. I actually went all nerdy and wrote loads about the world as well since I know you love it (and included the rest of the boys that way hehe). I hope you like it, love🖤

Seoul, South Korea's bustling capital, is known for its towering skyscrapers, historic palaces, and vibrant street markets. It is a city where ancient traditions and cutting-edge technology coexist in harmony. However, beneath its well-lit streets and modern facades lies a hidden realm—a magical underworld known only to a selected few. This subterranean world, rich with history and mystery, operates parallel to the everyday life of Seoul's residents, governed by its own rules and inhabited by beings from myth and legend.

The gateway to Seoul's magical underworld is not a grand archway or a secret door; it is a modest, unassuming teahouse in the bustling district of Insadong. The teahouse, known as "Moonlit Haven," has been in operation for centuries and has been passed down through generations of the same family. Its wooden exterior and traditional hanok architecture blend seamlessly with the area's historic atmosphere.

To the ungifted human, Moonlit Haven appears to be an ordinary teahouse serving fragrant teas and traditional Korean sweets. However, those who know the secret can access the portal to the underworld by ordering a special tea called "Moon's Whisper." Upon drinking this tea, a shimmering door appears at the back of the teahouse, leading to a stone staircase that descends deep into the earth.

The staircase spirals downward, lit by glowing blue lanterns that float in mid-air. The walls are adorned with intricate carvings depicting scenes with magical creatures: the nine-tailed fox, the dragon king, and the heavenly warriors. As one descends, the air grows cooler and tinged with a faint scent of jasmine and pine.

At the bottom of the staircase, a grand archway looms, its surface covered in glowing runes. This is the true entrance to Seoul's magical underworld, a threshold between the mundane and the extraordinary. Stepping through the archway, one is immediately enveloped in a world unlike any other.

The magical underworld of Seoul, known as Secret City, is a sprawling subterranean metropolis that mirrors the city above but with its own unique twist. The sky here is an eternal twilight, illuminated by floating orbs that mimic the phases of the moon. Streets are paved with luminescent stones, and buildings are constructed from materials that shimmer with an inner light.

Secret City is divided into several districts, each with its own distinct character. There is the Enchanted Market, where vendors sell potions, enchanted artifacts, and rare ingredients. The Celestial District is home to beings of great power, including dragons and celestial foxes. The Whispering Woods, a dense forest of silver trees, is said to be haunted by spirits and home to elusive forest guardians.

The residents of Secret City are as diverse as the city itself. Humans with magical abilities live alongside mythical creatures. Among them are the Gumiho, nine-tailed foxes who can shapeshift and possess immense magical power. There are also Dokkaebi, goblins, mischievous but generally benign beings who love to play tricks on humans. Dragons, both Eastern and Western varieties, make their homes in the Celestial District, guarding ancient secrets and treasures.

The city's governance is overseen by a council of elders, composed of representatives from each major group. The council ensures harmony between the various inhabitants and that the secrets of Secret City are kept from the surface world, which is why any sort of magic is forbidden in the mundane world. 

The Enchanted Market is the heart of Secret City, a bustling bazaar where the air is filled with the scent of exotic spices and the sound of lively discussions. Stalls line the streets, their wares illuminated by lanterns that float overhead. Vendors shout out their goods, from enchanted scrolls and rare herbs to mystical artifacts and talismans.

One of the most renowned vendors in the market is Master Hyun, a potions master whose shop, "Elixirs of Eternity," is a treasure trove of magical concoctions. Shelves upon shelves are filled with bottles of all shapes and sizes, each containing liquids that shimmer with otherworldly light. Master Hyun is a man of twinkling eyes and ethereal beauty, always ready with a story about the origins of his potions.

One of his most sought-after potions is the "Dream Weaver," which allows the drinker to enter the dreams of others. Another popular item is the "Phoenix Tear," a potion that can heal any wound or ailment. Master Hyun's potions are known for their potency and reliability, making his shop a favorite among both the magical and non-magical residents of Secret City.

Another notable figure in the Enchanted Market is Ji-Sung, an artifact dealer whose collection is the envy of many. His shop, "Treasures of Time," is filled with rare and powerful artifacts from across the ages. Among his prized possessions are a mirror that shows the true nature of any being, a fan that can summon the wind and a sword that can cut through any material.

Ji-Sung is a mysterious figure, always dressed in elaborate silk robes and adorned with jewelry that seems to pulse with magic. He is known for his keen eye and sharp wit, and it is said that he never forgets a face. His shop is a place of wonder and danger, for while many seek his artifacts for their power, they often come with a price that is not measured in gold.

The Celestial District is home to some of the most powerful beings in Secret City. Dragons, with their majestic forms and ancient wisdom, reside here in grand palaces that float above the ground. These palaces, constructed from crystal and gold, radiate a light that can be seen from anywhere in the city.

Each dragon in the Celestial District guards a specific aspect of magic or nature. There is Aran, the dragon of water, whose palace is surrounded by a moat of liquid silver. There is Seraphine, the dragon of fire, whose abode is perpetually surrounded by a ring of flames. These dragons are both protectors and advisors, and their counsel is sought by the council of elders and other residents of Secret City.

Sharing the Celestial District with the dragons are the Gumiho, or nine-tailed foxes. These beings are both feared and respected for their immense magical power and their ability to shape-shift into beautiful women or men. The Gumiho live in harmony with the dragons, their abilities complementing the dragons' strength and wisdom.

The leader of the Gumiho is Jeongin, a fox spirit with silver fur and piercing dark eyes. Jeongin is known for his grace and intelligence, often acting as a mediator in disputes and a strategist in times of conflict. His palace, the Silver Moon Pavilion, is a place of beauty and tranquility, where the moonlight dances on the surface of a crystal-clear lake.

The Whispering Woods is a dense forest of silver trees, their leaves shimmering like moonlight. The woods are said to be haunted, with whispers echoing through the trees that speak of forgotten secrets and ancient magic. The path through the forest is winding and treacherous, known only to a few who dare to venture into its depths.

The Whispering Woods are guarded by forest spirits, ethereal beings who protect the ancient magic within the trees. These spirits, known as the Guardians, are invisible to most and reveal themselves only to those they deem worthy. They are led by Elder Bin, a spirit of great wisdom and power who has watched over the woods for centuries.

The Guardians are both protectors and guides, aiding those who seek knowledge or refuge in the woods. They are also the keepers of the Sacred Grove, a hidden sanctuary where the most potent magical energies converge. The Sacred Grove is a place of healing and renewal, its waters said to grant visions and its flowers capable of curing any illness.

Among the trees dwell the Spirits of the Lost, souls who have wandered into the woods and never found their way out. These spirits are not dangerous but rather sorrowful, seeking closure or redemption. They often appear as faint, glowing figures, their presence marked by a sudden chill in the air.

The Spirits of the Lost are guided by Lix, a gentle and compassionate spirit who helps them find peace. Lix is a beacon of light in the darkness of the woods, his soothing voice and kind heart offering comfort to those who have lost their way. Under his guidance, many spirits have found the closure they seek and moved on to the afterlife.

Scattered throughout Secret City are hidden temples dedicated to various deities and elemental forces. These temples are places of worship and power where the faithful come to seek blessings and guidance. Each temple is unique, reflecting the nature of the deity or force it honors.

One of the most revered temples in Secret City is the Temple of the Moon, a place of serene beauty and quiet reflection. The temple is built from white marble, its domed roof adorned with silver filigree that glows softly in the moonlight. Inside, a large pool of water reflects the light of the floating orbs above, creating an ethereal ambiance.

The Temple of the Moon is dedicated to the moon goddess, Haneul, who is believed to watch over Secret City from the skies. The temple is tended by a group of priests known as the Moon Brothers, who perform rituals and offer prayers on behalf of the city's residents. The head priest, Brother Seungmin, is a wise and gentle leader, his presence bringing a sense of peace and tranquility to all who visit the temple.

Another secret society is the Shadow Blades, a group of elite warriors and assassins who protect Secret City. They are skilled in martial arts and magic, and their training is rigorous and demanding. The Shadow Blades operate from the Shadowsong Keep, a hidden fortress deep within the Whispering Woods.

Commander Ji-Won is the leader of the Shadow Blades, a formidable warrior known for being both ruthless and just. Under his command, the Shadow Blades carry out missions to protect Secret City from external threats and internal strife. They are the unseen guardians of the city, their presence felt but rarely seen. Minho is one of them, slowly working his way up the ranks but facing struggles with his colleagues. He’s not as powerful with magic as most of them but has the ability to shapeshift into a cat, making him perfect for secret missions. Which pissed a lot of people off. 

Throughout its history, Secret City has been protected by heroes who have risen to defend the city against threats, both internal and external. These heroes, known as the Chosen Ones, are individuals of great courage and power, often possessing unique abilities that set them apart from others.

No hero is complete without a healer, and in Secret City, that role is filled by Chan, a gifted healer whose touch can mend even the gravest of wounds. Chan is a member of the Temple of the Moon, his gentle nature and healing magic bringing comfort and hope to those in need. He carries a staff, the Moon's Grace, which enhances his healing abilities and allows him to channel the power of the moon goddess.

Seoul's magical underworld, Secret City, is a place of wonder, danger, and beauty. It is a city where the mundane and the extraordinary coexist, where ancient myths come to life, and where the balance between light and dark is constantly maintained. The residents of Secret City, both human and mythical, live in harmony, their lives intertwined by the magic that permeates their world.

As the gateway between the two realms, Moonlit Haven reminds visitors that there is more to Seoul than meets the eye. For those who dare to seek it, a world of magic and mystery awaits, hidden beneath the bustling streets and modern skyscrapers of South Korea's capital. In Secret City, the impossible becomes possible, and the ordinary becomes extraordinary—a true testament to the enduring power of magic.

-

Minho had always been different. As a member of the Shadow Blades, the elite warriors and protectors of Secret City, his abilities made him a target of both admiration and envy. Unlike many of his comrades, he lacked powerful magic but possessed a unique talent: the ability to shapeshift into a sleek, agile cat. This ability made him invaluable for espionage, slipping unnoticed through shadows and tight spaces. However, his success and the recognition it brought only fueled the resentment of his peers.

The tension reached its peak after a particularly challenging mission. Minho had been instrumental in retrieving a stolen artifact from a rogue mage, but his success was met with scorn rather than praise. Whispers of jealousy and accusations of favoritism swirled among his colleagues, resulting in an unjust decision by his superior officers. They accused him of withholding information and acting independently, charges that were untrue but impossible for Minho to refute without pushing himself even further away.

"You think you're special because of your abilities," spat one of his fellow warriors. "But you're just a liability. We don't need someone who can't follow orders."

The decision was swift and brutal. Minho was stripped of his rank and cast out from the Shadowsong Keep. The sense of betrayal cut deeper than any blade. He was alone, exiled from the only family he had known, forced to fend for himself in the vast, mystical underworld of Secret City.

With nowhere else to turn, Minho fled through the Whispering Woods, a dense forest known for its haunting beauty and perilous magic. The silver leaves of the trees shimmered in the eternal twilight, casting an eerie glow on the winding paths. Here, the whispers of ancient secrets and lost souls filled the air, a symphony of sorrow and mystery.

Exhausted and wounded from his escape, Minho made a desperate decision. He transformed into his cat form, hoping the change would allow him to navigate the forest more easily and evade any pursuers. The transformation was both a relief and a curse, offering him agility and stealth but stripping him of his human voice and hands.

As a cat, Minho's senses were heightened. He could hear the rustle of leaves, the distant calls of nocturnal creatures, and the soft murmurs of the forest spirits. His fur provided some protection against the chill, but the pain of his injuries persisted. Despite his resilience, the journey through the Whispering Woods was grueling, each step a struggle against fatigue and despair.

Lix found him curled up beneath a tree and noticing his injuries he knew there was only one way to save him. He scooped him up from the ground and soothingly caressed his head, able to tell there was more to him than just an innocent, hurt cat.

After days of wandering, they finally reached the Temple of the Moon, a place of serene beauty and powerful magic. The temple, constructed from white marble and adorned with silver filigree, stood as a beacon of hope amidst the dark woods. Its domed roof glowed softly, reflecting the light of the floating orbs above. Lix set him down on the ground and gently shoved him forward. “I’m not allowed to enter, but you are, little friend. Go and accept the refuge they have to provide.”

Minho hesitated at the entrance, his feline instincts wary of the unknown. He had heard of the temple's head healer, Chan, a gifted young man whose touch could mend even the gravest of wounds. Desperation outweighed caution, and Minho limped into the courtyard, collapsing near the temple steps.

Moments later, a figure emerged from the temple. Chan, carrying a staff that radiated a gentle light, approached the injured cat. His eyes widened in surprise at the sight of the wounded animal, but his expression quickly softened into one of compassion.

"Poor thing," Chan murmured, kneeling beside Minho. "Let's get you inside."

Chan carefully lifted Minho and carried him into the temple. The interior was as serene as the exterior, with moonlight streaming through stained glass windows, casting colorful patterns on the marble floor. Chan placed Minho on a soft cushion and gently examined his injuries.

"You're in bad shape, but we'll get you fixed up," Chan said soothingly. He placed his hands over Minho's wounds, and a warm, healing light emanated from his palms. The pain began to fade, replaced by a soothing sensation that spread through Minho's body.

As the healing progressed, Minho watched Chan with a mixture of gratitude and curiosity. Chan's touch was gentle, his expression focused yet kind. There was something inherently calming about him, a presence that put Minho at ease despite his recent ordeal.

When Chan finished, he sat back and smiled. "There you go, little one. You should feel better soon."

Minho meowed softly in response, his eyes conveying the gratitude he couldn't express in words. Chan chuckled and scratched behind Minho's ears. "You can stay here as long as you need to. I'll take care of you."

Days turned into weeks as Minho recovered under Chan's care. He adapted to his new life at the Temple of the Moon, observing the daily routines and rituals from the shadows. In his cat form, Minho found a strange sense of peace. He was safe from his past and had a chance to start anew.

Chan grew fond of the cat he had rescued, naming him "Moonshadow" for his sleek, dark fur and the way he seemed to blend into the twilight. Minho, in turn, became Chan's silent guardian, following him around the temple and offering companionship.

Whenever Chan was away, Minho would revert to his human form, cleaning the temple and performing small tasks to help ease his guilt for deceiving him. He hoped that his actions would repay some of the kindness Chan had shown him, even if Chan never knew the truth.

Chan, however, began to notice the small changes around the temple. Rooms were tidier, supplies were replenished, and the garden seemed to flourish under an unseen hand. He attributed these miracles to the blessings of the moon goddess, unaware of the true source.

Five months later

In the eternal twilight of Secret City, the Temple of the Moon was a sanctuary of tranquility and magic. Within its serene confines, Chan sat cross-legged on a plush cushion, his gentle eyes scanning the pages of an ancient tome. The moonlight streaming through the stained glass windows cast a colorful, ethereal glow around him, creating an atmosphere of peace and contemplation.

Beside him, Minho, in his cat form, stretched lazily, his sleek black fur shimmering in the soft light. As he yawned and settled into a more comfortable position, his eyes never left Chan. There was a bond between them that went beyond mere companionship—a connection forged through trials and a deep mutual understanding.

Chan noticed Minho’s gaze and smiled warmly. “Hey there, Moonshadow,” he said softly. “Come here.”

Minho’s ears perked up at the sound of Chan’s voice. With a graceful leap, he landed beside Chan and began to nuzzle his head against Chan’s outstretched hand. Chan’s fingers moved instinctively to scratch behind Minho’s ears, a spot that always made the cat purr contentedly.

“There we go,” Chan murmured, his voice soothing and gentle. He could feel the vibrations of Minho’s purrs under his fingertips, a rhythmic reminder of the trust and affection between them.

Minho closed his eyes, leaning into Chan’s touch. The sensation of Chan’s fingers running through his fur was blissful, and his purring grew louder, filling the quiet room with its soothing sound. It was moments like these that made all the hardships and uncertainties of their lives seem distant and unimportant.

Chan chuckled softly. “You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?”

In response, Minho rubbed his head against Chan’s cheek, a gesture of affection that made Chan’s heart swell with warmth. The simple act of being close to Chan brought Minho a sense of security and happiness he had never thought possible before meeting him.

“You’re such a sweet kitty,” Chan whispered, continuing to scratch Minho’s head and under his chin. Minho’s purrs grew even louder, and he started to knead Chan’s chest with his paws, his claws retracting just enough to avoid scratching the fabric of Chan’s robe.

Chan shifted slightly, leaning back against the cushions and creating a more comfortable space for both of them. Minho took this as an invitation and climbed onto Chan’s chest, circling a few times before curling up in a tight ball. His tail wrapped around his body, and he rested his head on his paws, looking up at Chan with half-closed eyes.

“You look so peaceful,” Chan said, his voice barely above a whisper. He rested one hand gently on Minho’s back, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing. “I’m glad you’re here with me.”

Minho’s eyes closed fully, and he let out a contented sigh. The warmth of Chan’s body, combined with the rhythmic motion of his hand on his back, lulled him into a state of deep relaxation. His purring continued, a soft, steady sound that seemed to resonate with the very essence of the temple.

For Chan, having Minho close was a source of immense comfort. The bond they shared went beyond that of a healer and his pet; it was a connection of souls, a partnership forged over time. Chan found solace in Minho’s presence, a sense of completeness that he had never experienced before.

As the minutes passed, the tranquility of the moment deepened. Chan’s thoughts drifted, the worries of the day fading into the background. All that mattered was the gentle weight of Minho on his chest, the soothing sound of his purrs, and the warmth of their shared affection.

Minho, on the verge of sleep, shifted slightly and nuzzled his head against Chan’s chest. He felt safe, cherished, and loved—a stark contrast to the loneliness and betrayal he had once known. In this sacred space, with Chan’s heartbeat as his lullaby, Minho found a peace that transcended the physical realm.

Chan continued to stroke Minho’s fur, his touch light and tender. He could feel the trust dripping from the small creature in his arms, a trust that was both humbling and empowering. Chan knew that, no matter what challenges lay ahead, they would face them together, their bond unbreakable.

“I promise to always take care of you,” Chan whispered, his voice filled with emotion. 

Minho’s purring intensified for a moment, as if acknowledging Chan’s words. Then, gradually, it began to fade as sleep overtook him. His body relaxed completely, his breathing slow and steady. Chan watched him with a soft smile, his own heart filled with a profound sense of gratitude and love.

The Temple of the Moon, with its timeless beauty and serene atmosphere, bore witness to the deep connection between Chan and Minho. In this sacred place, under the watchful gaze of the moon goddess, they found a moment of perfect harmony—a testament to the enduring power of love and trust in a world filled with magic and mystery.

As Chan closed his eyes, his hand resting gently on Minho’s sleeping form, he knew that their journey together was far from over. But in this moment, they had everything they needed: each other. And that was enough.

-

One evening, as Chan prepared for his nightly prayers, he looked at Moonshadow, who was curled up on a cushion nearby. "You know, sometimes I feel like there's more to you than meets the eye," Chan mused aloud. "You're special, aren't you?"

Minho's ears perked up, and he watched Chan with wide, curious eyes. Chan smiled and continued, "I think the goddess sent you to me for a reason. Maybe you're my familiar, a guardian spirit to protect and guide me."

The words struck a chord in Minho's heart. He had always felt a deep connection to Chan, a sense of duty and protectiveness that went beyond mere gratitude. Perhaps there was truth in Chan's words, a destiny that had brought them together.

That night, Chan performed a ritual to bind Moonshadow as his familiar. He drew intricate symbols on the ground, lit candles, and recited ancient incantations. As the ritual reached its climax, a surge of magical energy enveloped Minho, strengthening the bond between them.

Minho felt a profound shift within him, a merging of their spirits that filled him with newfound purpose. He was now bound to Chan, his protector and companion, their fates intertwined by the magic of the moon.

-

As Chan's familiar, Minho took his duties seriously. He remained vigilant, always on the lookout for potential threats. His heightened senses allowed him to detect dangers before they could reach Chan, and his presence provided comfort and reassurance.

One day, trouble arrived in the form of dark mages seeking to disrupt the balance of magic in Secret City. These mages, practitioners of forbidden magic, targeted the Temple of the Moon, believing its powerful magic could be harnessed for their nefarious purposes.

Chan was in the garden when the attack began. Dark figures emerged from the shadows, casting spells that warped the air and sent tremors through the ground. Chan's staff glowed as he raised a protective barrier, but the dark mages' assault was relentless.

Minho, sensing the danger, leapt into action. He transformed into his human form, his body a blur of motion as he intercepted the attackers. With a combination of agility and ferocity, Minho fought off the dark mages, his cat-like reflexes and strength giving him an edge.

Chan, focused on maintaining the barrier, was unaware of the true identity of his savior. He glanced over in shock as he saw a young man fighting with the grace and power of a guardian beast.

Despite his best efforts to hide his true nature, Minho's ears were visible, a telltale sign of his shapeshifter abilities. As the last of the dark mages fled, Chan lowered the barrier and approached Minho cautiously.

"Who are you?" Chan asked, his voice a mix of awe and confusion. Their eyes met and Chan’s eyes widened recognizing those soft brown orbs he’d come to love so much. His eyes wandered up where Minho’s dark cat ears peaked from his messy brown hair. "Are you... Moonshadow?"

Minho hesitated, then nodded slowly. "Yes, I am. My name is Minho. I'm a shapeshifter, exiled from the Shadowsong Keep. I've been living here in my cat form, afraid you would kick me out if you knew the truth. I know we aren’t very welcomed around here.”

Chan's expression softened, and he reached out to touch Minho's shoulder. "You protected me, Minho. You've been by my side all this time, helping and watching over me. I don't care about your past or your abilities. You are my familiar, and I am grateful for everything you've done."

Tears welled up in Minho's eyes, a mix of relief and gratitude flooding his heart. "Thank you, Chan. I promise to always protect you, no matter what."

-

Minho’s revelation had lifted a weight off his chest, but it also left him feeling vulnerable. Living as a shapeshifter meant hiding his true self, something he’d grown accustomed to. Yet, in front of Chan, he was completely exposed. For Chan, the revelation was a mix of shock and intrigue. The gentle healer had always felt a special bond with Moonshadow, but knowing that the affectionate cat was also a brave young man named Minho deepened that connection.

Their daily routines continued, but with a newfound understanding. Minho still shifted into his cat form, now more out of comfort than necessity. He still enjoyed curling up on Chan’s chest, feeling his rhythmic breathing and the warmth of his body. Chan, on his part, welcomed Minho’s human presence when he transformed, appreciating the help around the temple and the companionship Minho offered.

The first night after Minho’s revelation, Chan found it hard to sleep. He kept glancing at Minho, now in his human form, tidying up the temple’s main hall. The moonlight filtered through the stained glass windows, casting a soft glow on Minho’s face. He moved gracefully, his actions efficient and almost mesmerizing to watch. Chan felt a strange flutter in his chest, a mix of admiration and affection.

“Minho,” Chan called softly, his voice breaking the comfortable silence.

Minho turned, his eyes reflecting the moonlight. “Yes, Chan?”

Chan hesitated, then smiled. “You don’t have to push yourself so hard. Come sit with me.”

Minho’s expression softened, and he abandoned the broom he was holding, walking over to where Chan sat. He settled down beside him, their shoulders almost touching. There was a quiet intimacy in the moment, a shared silence that spoke volumes.

“I never thought I’d find someone like you,” Chan admitted quietly. “Someone who understands and accepts me for who I am.”

Minho looked at him, his eyes sincere. “I feel the same way. You’ve given me a place to belong, Chan. For that, I’m grateful.”

They sat in silence for a while, the bond between them growing stronger with each passing moment. Chan’s hand moved almost instinctively, reaching out to hold Minho’s. Minho’s fingers intertwined with his, the simple touch sending a warm feeling through both of them.

-

As days turned into weeks, the relationship between Chan and Minho deepened. They developed a rhythm, a balance of shared tasks and quiet moments of companionship. Minho’s presence brought a sense of stability to Chan’s life, while Chan’s gentle nature provided Minho with a sense of peace he had never known before.

Chan’s duties as a healer often took him to various parts of Secret City. Minho, always in his cat form, accompanied him, providing silent support. He became Chan’s shadow, always alert and ready to protect him if necessary. Their bond as familiar and master was strong, but it was the bond of friendship and growing affection that truly defined their relationship.

One afternoon, while Chan was tending to a patient in the Celestial District, Minho, in his cat form, explored the area. The dragons and celestial foxes were impressive, their majestic forms and ancient wisdom evident in every interaction. Minho’s keen senses picked up the subtle undercurrents of power and respect that flowed through the district.

As Chan finished his work, he called out for Minho. The sleek black cat appeared almost instantly, weaving through the crowd with ease. Chan smiled as he picked Minho up, cradling him gently.

“You always know where to find me,” Chan said, scratching behind Minho’s ears. Minho purred in response, nuzzling against Chan’s cheek.

Their return to the temple was peaceful, the twilight sky casting a serene glow over Secret City. Minho transformed back into his human form once they were inside, stretching his limbs as he did so.

“Another successful day,” Chan remarked, setting down his staff.

Minho nodded. “You’re an amazing healer, Chan. The way you help people… it’s inspiring.”

Chan’s cheeks flushed slightly at the compliment. “Thank you, Minho. But I couldn’t do it without your support.”

Minho’s heart swelled at the words. He was finding it harder to keep his feelings for Chan hidden. The healer’s kindness, dedication, and the way he made Minho feel valued and appreciated—it was all becoming too much to ignore.

Their bond grew stronger with each passing day, but so did Minho’s feelings for Chan. He found himself drawn to the healer in ways he hadn’t expected. Chan’s smile, his laughter, the way he cared for others—it all made Minho’s heart race.

One evening, as they sat together under the soft glow of the moonlight, Chan turned to Minho with a thoughtful expression. “Minho, can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” Minho replied, curious.

“Why do you stay in your cat form most of the time?” Chan asked gently. “I mean, I understand it became your natural state by now, but you can be human whenever you want. Why do you choose to be a cat?”

Minho looked down, his ears twitching slightly. “It’s… complicated. When I’m in my cat form, I feel safe. I can protect you without drawing too much attention. And it’s easier to hide my true feelings.”

“Your true feelings?” Chan echoed, his curiosity piqued.

Minho hesitated, then took a deep breath. “Chan, there’s something I need to tell you. Ever since you took me in, I’ve felt this… connection. It’s more than just being your familiar. I care about you deeply, more than I’ve ever cared about anyone. But I’ve been afraid to show it, afraid that you might not feel the same way.”

Chan’s eyes softened, and he reached out to take Minho’s hand. “Minho, I care about you too. You’ve become an important part of my life, and I can’t imagine it without you. I think… I think I’ve been feeling the same way.”

Minho’s heart skipped a beat. “Really?”

Chan nodded. “Yes. I’ve been trying to understand these feelings, and now I realize that I’ve fallen for you, Minho. Not just as my familiar, but as someone I want to be with.”

Minho’s eyes filled with tears of relief and happiness. “Chan, I’ve loved you for so long. I just didn’t know how to tell you.”

Chan pulled Minho into a gentle embrace. “You don’t have to hide your feelings anymore. We’ll face this together.”

Minho clung to Chan, the warmth of his embrace filling him with a sense of belonging. They stayed like that for a while, holding each other under the moonlight, their hearts beating in sync.

-

With their feelings out in the open, Minho and Chan’s relationship took on a new dimension. They were no longer just healer and familiar; they were partners, united by love and a deep sense of understanding. Their bond grew stronger, their affection for each other evident in every touch, every glance, every shared moment.

Chan continued his work as a healer, and Minho remained by his side, providing support and protection. They faced challenges together, their love giving them strength and resilience. Secret City, with its magic and mystery, became a backdrop for their blossoming relationship.

One day, as they walked through the Enchanted Market, Minho in his human form, Chan took his hand. “I have a surprise for you.”

Minho looked at him curiously. “What is it?”

Chan led him to a small shop filled with beautiful artifacts and magical items. The shopkeeper, a kind young man, greeted them with a warm smile.

“Welcome, Chan. I see you’ve brought a special friend today,” he said.

Chan smiled and nodded. “Yes, Minho is very special to me. And I want to give him something to show how much he means to me.”

Jisung’s eyes twinkled. “Ah, I have just the thing.”

He led them to a display case and pulled out a delicate silver pendant shaped like a crescent moon. “This pendant is filled with protective magic. It will keep the wearer safe and strengthen the bond between two hearts.”

Chan took the pendant and turned to Minho. “I want you to have this. It’s a symbol of our bond and my promise to always be there for you.”

Minho’s lip quivered slightly as he took the pendant. “Thank you, Chan. I’ll cherish it always.”

Chan fastened the pendant around Minho’s neck, and they shared a tender kiss, sealing their love with a magical promise.

-

Their love continued to grow, but so did the challenges they faced. Dark forces still threatened Secret City, and Minho and Chan found themselves in the midst of several battles. Their bond was tested, but their love gave them the strength to overcome every obstacle.

One evening, as they returned to the temple after a particularly difficult mission, Chan collapsed from exhaustion. Minho caught him, his heart pounding with fear. “Channie, are you okay?”

Chan smiled weakly. “I’m just tired, Minho. I’ll be fine.”

Minho carried Chan inside and laid him down on a soft cushion. He tended to Chan’s wounds, his hands trembling with worry. “You’ve pushed yourself too hard, Chan. You need to rest.”

Chan reached up to touch Minho’s face. “I’ll be okay, Minho. I have you by my side.”

Minho’s eyes filled with tears as he leaned down to kiss Chan’s forehead. “I love you, Chan. Please take care of yourself like you do with everyone else.”

“I love you too, Minho,” Chan whispered, closing his eyes. “Thank you for being here with me.”

Minho stayed by Chan’s side, holding his hand and watching over him as he slept. The trials they faced only strengthened their bond, their love a beacon of hope and resilience in the face of darkness.

-

As time passed, Minho and Chan’s love continued to flourish. They built a life together, their bond unbreakable and their hearts intertwined. Secret City, with its magic and mystery, became their home, a place where their love could grow and thrive.

One evening, as they sat together under the moonlight, Chan turned to Minho with a smile. “Do you remember the day we first met?”

Minho nodded, his eyes filled with affection. “How could I forget? You saved me, Chan. You gave me a place to belong.”

Chan took Minho’s hand, their fingers intertwining. “And you gave me a reason to believe in love. You’ve made my life complete, Minho.”

Minho leaned in to kiss Chan, their lips meeting in a tender, loving embrace. “I promise to always be by your side, Chan. Forever.”

Chan smiled, his heart filled with joy. “Forever.”

As they held each other under the soft glow of the moonlight, Minho and Chan knew that their love was eternal. In the magical underworld of Secret City, their hearts had found a home in each other, a love that would endure through any challenge, a bond that would never be broken.

Together, they faced the world, their love a guiding light in the darkness. And in each other’s arms, they found a love that was truly magical, a love that would last forever.

do not repost, translate, or plagiarize my works in any way here or on other platforms. ©️writingforstraykids 2024 -

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⋆⁺₊STUPID CUPIDS: BABY EDITION⋆⁺₊

✧ Pairing: Baby Cupid! Jimin x Baby Cupid! OC ✧ Genre: dumbass celestial romcom • divine sabotage • gay panic • healing with glitter • emotionally repressed idiots • Crack au • Enemies-to-Lovers • Fantasy AU • Whimsical Chaos • Romance ✧ Word Count: 16k+ of glitter-fueled war crimes ✧ Synopsis: Two baby Cupids get slapped with divine probation, a cursed mission scroll, and absolutely no adult supervision (except one extremely tired supervisor who might sue them for emotional damage). Now they’re stuck doing “healing-centric” love missions, which is unfortunate, because they’re both dangerously underqualified, emotionally repressed, and 100% allergic to subtlety. They’re not stable, they’re not certified, and they’re definitely not falling in love with each other, shut up. Featuring: 💘 reckless divine interference ✨ unlicensed emotional healing 📜 cursed bureaucracy ☕️ One supervisor who did not sign up for this This fic is 70% screaming, 20% feelings, and 10% enchanted muffin crimes. No thoughts, just Cupids. You’re not ready.

CUPID HEADQUARTERS, FLOOR 7¾ — THE LOVELESS LOUNGE

Somewhere between the clouds of Eternal Romance and the Department of Reincarnated Soulmates lies a room so cursed, so aggressively pink, so suffocatingly glitter-infested, that most heavenly beings walk past it while pretending to check nonexistent texts.

This is where baby cupids are trained.

And also, tragically, where they are contained—if they’re too annoying to promote, too accidentally competent to fire, and way too flammable to ignore.

“Stop stabbing me with your sparkle arrow, you pink menace!” Jieun shrieked, shielding herself with a heart-shaped clipboard that was currently on fire. (Not metaphorically. Jimin had set it ablaze five minutes ago, trying to impress a phoenix intern. He failed. The intern is now dating a centaur. Tragic.)

“It’s not my fault your stupid wings take up ninety percent of the room!” Jimin snapped, twirling in place like a drama club ballerina. His aggressively sparkly wings flapped, knocking over a basket of enchanted aphrodisiac muffins that promptly moaned in harmony.

“THEY’RE AESTHETICALLY NECESSARY!” she shouted back, wings fluttering with righteous wrath “YOU LOOK LIKE A GLITTERY COUGH DROP.”

“WELL, YOU LOOK LIKE A MALFUNCTIONING TIKTOK FILTER!”

As they squared off like two sugared-up toddlers with divine weaponry, a poor innocent cherub floated between them holding a scroll of soulmate destinies.

He did not survive.

Jieun’s quill—somehow both feathered and venomous—smacked him square in the face. The scroll exploded into rose petals. The cherub sobbed gently and drifted away muttering, “I should’ve joined Accounting.”

Across the room, a love fern burst into flames. Again.

This was fine.

This was normal.

This was every day in the Department of Baby Cupids’ Temporary Probation Lounge (Rebranded from “Cupid’s Time-Out Corner” after the Celestial Ethics Committee had… questions).

And then—

The room froze.

Temperature. Sound. Possibly time itself. Even the love fern let out a final sizzle and dramatically wilted like a theatre major fainting on cue.

A low voice echoed from the hallway. Slow. Grave. Suffering from chronic secondhand embarrassment.

“…I swear by all that is holy in the 42 Laws of Love—if you two have caused one more romantic catastrophe on my watch—”

Jieun and Jimin froze like kids caught drawing abs on the Angel of Death’s yearbook photo.

The clouds shivered. The air sparked. And into the room glided:

Supervisor Kang.

Ancient. Unamused. One sock halfway on.

His robe might’ve once been white, now closer to “fermented tofu.” His glasses were cracked. His halo flickered like a dying ceiling light in a horror movie. His wings were half-molted in the distinct shape of a middle finger.

He carried no clipboard or scroll. No staff of authority.

Only one thing hovered beside him:

A mug of coffee.

Except it wasn’t in a mug. It was the mug. A floating orb of pure caffeinated doom, vibrating like it wanted to fight.

“I leave for ONE stress nap,” Kang growled, “and come back to find you two reenacting Romeo and Juliet but if they were both allergic to common sense.”

“Supervisor Kang,” Jimin chirped, visibly trying to hide the love fern still smoking behind him. “Good morning! Did you do something different with your—face?”

“That’s my eye twitch, Jimin.”

“Looks good on you,” Jieun said, overly chipper. “Makes you look less like a midlife crisis and more like an immortal tragedy.”

Kang didn’t flinch. “You two. Are on thin clouds.”

He raised one bony finger. The ceiling cracked ominously.

“Eighty-seven unresolved assignments. Six destroyed matchmaking networks. Two counts of illegal glitter usage. One extremely traumatized swan wedding.”

Jieun shrugged. “In our defense, the swan cheated first.”

“Oh! And the HR muffin bribe,” Kang added like a cherry bomb on top. “You tried to bribe Heaven’s HR.”

“With aphrodisiac muffins,” Jimin said proudly. “Organic. Gluten-free. Our love was real.”

Kang inhaled so sharply the coffee trembled like it, too, feared for its life. “You’re both one flirtation away from being reassigned to Pigeon Mail Duty.”

Both gasped. The horror was immediate.

“No...not the poop routes!” Jieun gagged.

“AND the goose routes,” Kang said darkly. “Have you ever fought a Canadian goose over a soulmate letter? You’ll lose. You’ll cry.”

Jimin’s soul paled visibly. “Please. We’re baby cupids. We're too pretty for this.”

Kang rolled his eyes so hard they might’ve reincarnated mid-orbit. “That’s exactly why I’m giving you one last chance. Starting now, you are on the Level-Up Checklist. Five tasks. One after another. Each only appears once the previous is completed. There is no skipping. No bribing. No faking romantic chemistry with performance art. Looking at you, Jieun.”

She pouted. “Our cabaret scene was convincing.”

“It involved a fireman, a goat, and a Human’s fate line. Never again.”

He clapped once.

A scroll fell from the ceiling and smacked Jieun on the forehead like destiny itself had had enough of her.

“OW?!”

She peeled it off her face like a pancake. It was golden, tied in pink ribbon, and vibrating with magical bureaucracy.

Jimin squinted over her shoulder like the scroll personally owed him money.

“Level-Up Checklist: Task One…” he read slowly, tracing the sparkly ink with a finger. “Get Kim Seokjin to win a cooking competition he’s been losing because the judges are corrupt and the show’s rigged.”

Jieun blinked. “So, we’re what now? Celestial MasterChef fixers?”

Jimin gasped, wings fluttering with excitement. “Oh my god. Can I sabotage a crème, Brulé?”

“You once set cereal on fire,” she said flatly.

“It was performance art,” he muttered. “You just didn’t get the symbolism.”

Off to the side, Kang looked one migraine away from demoting himself to cloud janitor. He pinched the bridge of his nose so hard, his glasses slid halfway off his face.

“Kim Seokjin,” he said grimly. “Culinary genius. Devastating jawline. Has a spiritual connection with spatulas. And yet, he’s been losing ‘So You Think You Can Cook?’ for three seasons straight. Because the judges have the moral integrity of expired tofu.”

Jieun squinted. “Wait, losing to who? I thought Seokjin was the golden child.”

Kang exhaled like the entire universe was a disappointment.

“To the head judge’s son. Fourteen. Hasn’t seasoned anything since 2019. Thinks saffron is a shade of beige. Once deep-fried a milkshake and called it ‘deconstructed nostalgia.’”

Jieun gasped dramatically. “THE Nepo Baby Junior Chef?! The one who thought truffle oil came from mushrooms… filing taxes?”

“That’s the one,” Kang growled.

“He’s the guy who tried to use glitter in a pasta dish and called it ‘edible confetti,’” Jimin whispered in horror.

Kang’s left eye twitched. “Seokjin has been sabotaged, underrated, and gaslit into thinking he’s mediocre. He’s starting to lose faith—not just in the show, but in himself. And in cooking.”

Jieun’s wings drooped, just a bit. Even chaos gremlins knew what it felt like to be underestimated.

Jimin clutched his chest like someone had deep-fried his soul. “He’s forgotten the sizzle of the sauté. The flirtation of folding an omelet.”

“Exactly,” Kang deadpanned. “Your task: Help him win. Restore his confidence. Remind him why he fell in love with food in the first place.”

“And no flaming flan disasters this time,” he added, narrowing his eyes at Jieun.

“That was one time!” she argued.

“That was three,” Kang corrected. “And one of them involved a goat.”

A tense silence fell.

Jieun glanced away. “Okay, well. That goat had unresolved issues.”

Kang said nothing. Just turned to leave like he was already regretting not sending them to the Goose Division instead.

The bitter coffee cloud followed after him like a depressed fog intern.

“WAIT!” Jieun yelled. “What if we succeed?”

Kang paused at the door, coffee swirling ominously beside him. “If—and that’s a tragic, mythical if...you complete all five tasks? You’ll level up. Full-fledged Cupids. Wings, robes, pay bump, healthcare, the works.”

Jieun gasped. “Full robes? A pay bump? Wait—do we get the glitter allowance back?”

Jimin clutched his chest. “Do we get dental?”

“This isn’t Earth,” Kang said flatly. “But yes. And celestial sick leave.”

They both burst into tears.

“And if we fail?” Jimin whispered mid-sob.

Kang smiled. It was the kind of smile that said, I’ve seen things. And you’re not ready for any of them.

“Geese,” he whispered.

And vanished in a puff of caffeine and trauma.

Silence.

The scroll hovered mid-air, smug and golden.

Jieun turned to Jimin. Slowly. Like a villain plotting vengeance in a Disney musical.

“If you screw this up for me, I will personally staple you to a thundercloud.”

Jimin shrugged. “Too late. I already peed in the love fern.”

“You WHAT--?!”

☾⋆⁺₊✧⁺₊⋆ ☁︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

EARTH REALM, 6:43 PM — “YOU THINK YOU CAN COOK?” Season Finale

(Now Sponsored by Destiny, Glitter, and Emotional Damage)

A portal cracked open above the downtown TV studio like a sparkling glitter pimple in the sky, pulsating with light, poor decisions, and the unmistakable whiff of cosmic body spray.

And from that celestial mistake… they fell.

Jieun hit the pavement first with the grace of a drunk flamingo, crashing into a stack of promotional soufflés stacked outside the building like some kind of pastry tribute. The soufflés wept.

Seconds later, Jimin crash-landed on top of her, elbowing her in the wing and knocking loose six glitter bombs, one Cupid-grade hair straightener, and a cursed recipe scroll that promptly set itself on fire.

“YOU ABSOLUTE IDIOT!” Jieun howled, kicking him off. “I was manifesting main character energy, and you derailed my frequency!”

“You fractured my flair bone!” Jimin screeched, rolling into a trash bin like the elegant disaster he was. “I swear if I limp on one side, I’m hexing your face into a blender.”

They wrestled on the sidewalk like two toddlers possessed by the spirits of slapstick demons, their wings slapping, glitter flying, and bystanders walking straight through them, unaware of the metaphysical WWE match unfolding between realms.

Because, of course, they were invisible.

Per Regulation 9¾ of Cupid Protocol (subsection: “No Freaking Out the Humans, Please”), all baby Cupids on earthbound missions must be cloaked. That didn’t mean they had to act cloaked.

Which, tragically, they never did.

“Status check,” Jieun grunted, brushing glitter out of her eyes and swatting at Jimin’s hair, which had somehow caught fire from their crash. “Where are we? Who are we? Why do I smell burnt asparagus and trauma?”

Jimin popped his head out of the bin with a banana peel halo and grinned like an idiot cherub. “We're at the studio, dumb cloud. Seokjin’s in there, about to get emotionally eviscerated in the finale of ‘You Think You Can Cook?’ And guess what? It’s rigged.”

Jieun’s eyes narrowed. “Perfect. Sabotage central. You brought the chaos dust, right?”

“Always.” Jimin patted his pouch like a proud arsonist showing off his matchbox.

They phased through the studio wall like gremlins on a mission, promptly knocking over a boom mic and triggering a lighting flicker that made the audience think the studio was haunted. One toddler clapped in delight. A cameraman sobbed quietly.

Inside, the finale was already underway.

Spotlights. Smug judges. A giant banner reading SEASON FINALE: VICTORY, TEARS, AND TRUFFLE OIL. On one side of the stage stood Seokjin, looking ten parts nervous and one part ready to throw a spatula at someone’s neck. His station gleamed, organized, precise, and heartbreakingly sincere.

Across from him stood his competition: Brett. Fourteen years old. Acne like a Jackson Pollock painting. Son of Head Judge Sherry. Dressed like a discount Gordon Ramsay cosplayer with the confidence of someone who’s never cooked a vegetable on purpose.

“This is our villain?” Jieun whispered, hovering upside down over Brett’s station. “He just sneezed into the parmesan.”

“He’s wearing a ‘#ChefVibesOnly’ apron,” Jimin added, offended on a spiritual level. “His risotto just insulted my ancestors.”

“Good. Then let’s cause problems on purpose.”

And so, they did.

Jieun started by “accidentally” hexing Brett’s hand mixer into self-destruct mode. It began swirling faster and faster until it launched out of his bowl like a dairy-powered missile, exploded into frosting confetti, and hit Judge Sherry in the forehead. She didn’t blink. Botox was a powerful shield.

Meanwhile, Jimin floated over to Seokjin, whispering helpful notes like a culinary ghost. “More salt. Less fear. No, not that pan—JIN, YOU’RE BURNING THE—okay, okay, you fixed it, king, slay.”

Unfortunately, Jimin was multitasking. In one hand, he was fast-forwarding Jin’s oven timer (“Time is a construct!” he declared). In the other, he was nibbling Jin’s pre-measured butter cubes like they were cheese samples at a grocery store. Jin turned, confused.

“Why are my ingredients disappearing?” he muttered to himself.

Jieun cackled, hexing Brett’s balsamic glaze into behaving like sentient molasses. It slowly slithered off his plate and spelled “NEPOTISM” on the counter before flipping itself off and flopping into the trash.

“Subtle,” Jimin commented, chewing the last of the garlic cloves.

“Brett’s crying,” Jieun noted smugly. “Wanna make him hallucinate his blender talking to him?”

“I already did,” Jimin grinned. “It said his greatest achievement was being born.”

Suddenly, there was movement on stage. Brett, flustered and sticky, dropped his ladle directly into his soup, splashing it all over his presentation plate. Judge Sherry gasped.

“My baby boy’s signature sauce!” she wailed, clutching her pearls like someone canceled brunch with royalty.

Across the kitchen, Jieun hexed a rival’s oven so it started rapping aggressively every time someone opened it. Another contestant’s crème Brulé collapsed in a tragic emotional spiral after Jieun sneakily whispered, “Your sugar crust will never love you back.”

“You’re a menace,” Jimin muttered, rearranging Jin’s ingredients to the exact positions Jin liked them in, he’d seen it in reruns. Jin paused again, confused. The setup was... familiar. Comfortable.

“Let’s curse her eyeliner next,” Jieun hissed.

“Her mic’s still live,” Jimin whispered, eyeing the red light blinking on her collar.

“Perfect,” Jieun grinned, pulling back her glitter arrow like a chaotic archer of fate.

And then came the moment of ultimate chaos.

Jieun’s arrow thunked into Judge Sherry’s chest mic, unmuting it with a crackle—just in time for her whispered, very real-time betrayal to echo across the studio like divine karma on surround sound:

“Just crown Brett already. I need to reschedule my Botox.”

Silence.

The other judges froze

One stunned audience.

One rat in the back doing jazz hands.

Jimin, mid-sneeze, accidentally blasted the scoreboard with a truth spell. It flickered, buzzed, and boldly lit up like a Las Vegas billboard and read:

“THE JUDGES ARE CHEATING. ALSO, SOMEONE ATE THE BUTTER.”

The cameras were live. The audience was watching. Twitter was already exploding. And somewhere in the back, the espresso machine from last week’s café catastrophe whimpered in PTSD.

Seokjin’s eyes widened. Then narrowed. A slow fire lit behind his gaze like a man remembering his first love was buttered scallops and not eternal humiliation.

He straightened his chef’s hat. Lifted his ladle like a saber. And plated the most immaculate, heartbreakingly beautiful three-course meal anyone had ever seen. Even the parsley posed dramatically.

When the fork touched the judges’ lips, the heavens opened. A single tear rolled down the honest judge’s cheek. Judge Sherry spontaneously combusted from shame (fine, she just fainted into a soufflé).

The co-host, stunned into silence, staggered forward. “Uh—Kim Seokjin’s dish has just won,” he stammered, flipping through cue cards in panic. “Unanimous decision from the judges. Well—two of the judges. Judge Sherry is... uh... face-deep in a soufflé.”

Jin blinked. “I—wait, what?”

He looked up—confused. Stunned. Then slowly, slowly... smiled.

He looked down at his dish. Elegant. Balanced. Bold. Something only, he could make. For the first time in months, he looked proud.

Screams erupted. The crowd surged. The camera zoomed in on Jin’s face as he realized—he’d won. Fairly. Truthfully. With his own hands and heart.

His eyes gleamed. He laughed—a big, stupid, beautiful laugh. And the sparkle of joy that exploded from him felt like biting into the first perfect bite of something you made with love.

For the first time in three seasons—no, in years—he looked alive. Hopeful. He looked like he loved cooking again.

Up above, perched in the rafters, Jieun wiped her eyes with a muffin.

“We did it,” she sniffled. “He remembered why he loves it.”

Jimin sat beside her, their wings brushing faintly. “He looks like he’s glowing.”

“Do you think,” Jieun asked quietly, “we’ll glow like that someday?”

Jimin didn’t answer right away. He just looked at her—really looked. The starlight reflected in her eyes. Her nose had flour on it. There was a carrot peel in her hair.

“I think,” he said finally, “we already are.”

They glanced at each other.

Close. Flour-streaked.

Exhausted in the same key.

“You were... almost useful today,” Jieun muttered, bumping his shoulder.

“Same to you, you defective spice rack.”

A pause. A tiny flutter.

Then—

BAM.

A scroll dropped from the ceiling like destiny saying enough and smacked Jieun right in the forehead.

“OW! WHO GAVE DESTINY THE RIGHT TO THROW HANDS?!” Jieun howled, cradling her halo like a football.

Jimin caught it mid-spin and unfurled it.

Level-Up Checklist: ✅ Task One — COMPLETE. 🎯New Task Unlocked: Task Two — Get Min Yoongi to finish the song he abandoned three years ago.

Jieun blinked. “Yoongi writes music?”

Jimin’s mouth fell open. “OH MY GOD I BET HE’S SAD AND BROODY AND HAS AN AESTHETICALLY PAINED BACKSTORY—”

Jieun shoved a muffin in his mouth.

“Let’s go, Romeo. We’ve got a tortured artist to un-emo.”

They vanished in a puff of flour, glitter, and questionable professionalism.

And somewhere far off in the universe, a goose honked ominously.

Because chaos wasn’t over. It had only just begun.

☾⋆⁺₊✧⁺₊⋆ ☁︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

EARTH REALM, 3:07 AM — YOONGI’S STUDIO OF SILENCE, DOOM, AND UNFINISHED DEMOS (Where Inspiration Goes to Die, Then Maybe Get Reincarnated)

The portal didn’t open so much as wheeze into existence, like it had asthma and deeply regretted being assigned these two again. It let out a puff of glitter, unresolved emotional baggage, and one half-eaten croissant before vomiting out two screaming baby Cupids mid-wrestle.

Jieun landed spine-first into a pile of sheet music, flailing like a panic-stricken bat as a keyboard clanged under her butt. Somewhere in the studio, a haunted printer activated and spat out ten pages of binary code spelling “ouch.”

Jimin crash-landed on her stomach with the grace of a flying watermelon and immediately began choking on a harmonica. “You aimed for my spleen!” he gasped between wheezes.

“I aimed for your personality,” Jieun snarled, rolling him off like a sack of expired strawberries. “Didn’t find one.”

A cymbal fell off a shelf and smacked Jimin in the head. He blinked at the ceiling. “The studio’s haunted.”

“No, just cursed with your presence,” Jieun muttered, sitting up and brushing dried cornflakes off her robe. “Where are we?”

They glanced around. A single fluorescent bulb flickered above like it was dying of secondhand depression. Empty ramen cups lined the floor. Three guitars, all out of tune, leaned against a wall next to a chalkboard that read in bold, angry strokes:

“IF I HEAR THE WORD ‘VIBE’ ONE MORE TIME, I’M RETIRING TO THE MOON. — M.Y.G”

“Oh my god,” Jieun whispered. “We’re in the Holy Crypt of Broody Genius.”

A muffled groan floated from the inner room.

Yoongi.

He sat hunched over his desk, headphones on, face buried in his hands, surrounded by half-finished lyrics, unrendered tracks, and the unmistakable scent of existential dread. The soft glow of his screen lit up a file labeled:

“Untitled_This_Will_Never_Be_Good_Enough_FINALv42.mp3”

The file hadn’t been opened in three years.

Jimin floated closer, peeking over the monitor. “He hasn’t touched this in forever. Perfectionism paralysis. Classic tortured artist syndrome.”

“He’s literally editing his own sighs,” Jieun muttered, poking at a knob on the console that bit her. “What even is this interface? It looks like anxiety and jazz had a baby.”

“He used to love this song,” Jimin said softly. “Then he just... stopped.”

“Because he thought it wasn’t good enough,” Jieun added, scanning the lyrics scrawled on the wall like a manifesto. “He probably convinced himself no one would care.”

“Well,” Jimin clapped his hands, “we’ll just make everyone care. By accident. As usual.”

Jieun grinned. “How illegal are you feeling tonight?”

“On a scale of one to chaos? I’ve already hexed three USB ports.”

And so, Operation: Accidentally Emotionally Destroy a Musician for His Own Good commenced.

Jieun started by possessing the nearest object with access to melody: a cat.

A small, beige tabby had been napping on Yoongi’s window sill, dreaming peacefully of tuna and world domination. Jieun slipped inside like a drama queen with a mission, knocked over a coffee mug, and sauntered across the piano keys with all the elegance of a Walmart commercial.

The melody that rang out?

Yoongi’s abandoned chorus played perfectly.

Yoongi jolted upright. “What the hell—?”

Outside, Jimin enchanted the microwave to hum the bassline every time it defrosted tofu. Then he climbed on the speaker system and whispered a looping charm that made the studio speakers keep burping out the first lyric of Yoongi’s song:

“I stayed up for the moon / and woke up in my doubt.”

Again.

And again.

And again.

Until Yoongi shouted, “WHY IS EVERYTHING SINGING AT ME?” and tried to unplug his fridge.

By now, Jieun-as-cat had gone full Broadway. She was playing the piano with her paws, tail swishing in 3/4 time, eyes glowing with diva energy. She hit the bridge like it owed her money. Jimin leaned against the guitar amp, biting his fist to keep from laughing.

Yoongi, now teetering on the edge of a creative meltdown, slammed his palm against the desk, accidentally hitting “PLAY ALL” on his backup drive.

All of his demos, hundreds of them, began playing simultaneously.

Jieun, now back in her own body and flying high on composer chaos, accidentally hexed the studio’s radio panel, right as Yoongi’s fingers slammed ‘Play All.’

The entire city heard it.

At 3:22 AM, 327,000 humans were awakened by the low, melancholic hum of a song no one had ever heard but somehow already felt in their bones.

Yoongi staggered back, eyes wide, utterly panicked.

Then...his phone buzzed.

A notification.

Then another.

Then three thousand.

“YOONGI DID YOU JUST LEAK A TRACK?”

“WHAT IS THIS MASTERPIECE?”

“I’M CRYING I’M SOBBING I’M THROWING CASSEROLES THIS SONG SAVED MY MARRIAGE—”

Jieun floated over, reading the messages upside-down. “Oops. I might’ve accidentally broadcasted it live to 300,000 fans.”

Yoongi stared at the screen. “They’re hearing a skeleton,” he murmured. “I never gave it a heart.”

Then—he listened.

The sound surrounded him. The lyrics—messy, raw, unfinished—cracked something inside his chest. And slowly, slowly, he began to listen. Really listen.

Tears welled in his eyes, but he didn't stop the playback. His hands shook as he pulled out his chair. Sat down.

Touched the keys.

He started to play.

No backing track. No edits. Just his voice, the piano, and the ghosts he had tried to outrun.

He didn’t stop for hours.

The music came in floods: raw, imperfect, beautiful. And every time he hesitated, one of them (usually Jieun, throwing things) would mess with a dial, knock a chord, spill emotion everywhere until he couldn’t stop.

They watched from the bookshelf, huddled in a pile of sheet music and pretzels.

“He’s really doing it,” Jieun murmured. “He’s finishing it.”

Jimin didn’t reply at first. His eyes were soft. Focused. Like maybe watching Yoongi heal had unlocked something quiet in himself too.

“He didn’t need perfect,” he said finally. “He just needed to feel again.”

They sat in silence. The melody swelled. Somewhere, a fridge sang backup vocals.

Jieun leaned against Jimin’s shoulder. He stiffened, startled—but didn’t pull away.

“You’re warm,” she said quietly.

“You’re glittery,” he replied.

Their wings brushed.

Soft.

A little spark.

They didn’t move.

Until—

BAM.

A scroll smacked Jimin in the face and knocked him off the sill.

He yelped. “WHAT IS DESTINY’S ISSUE WITH MY HAIRLINE?!”

Jieun caught the scroll mid-air and read it aloud, voice cracking:

Level-Up Checklist: ✅ Task One — COMPLETE. ✅ Task Two — COMPLETE. 🎯New Task Loading….

And in the quiet, with the melody of a song finally finished playing in the distance… they didn’t fight. Not even once.

(Okay, fine. Jieun tried to trip him mid-air on the way out. But she did it lovingly.)

Somewhere, on a fluffy cloud, Supervisor Kang watched their mess unfold with a sigh so deep it shook the stars.

“…They’re disasters,” he muttered.

But he was smiling. Just a little.

Because even disasters deserve a little love.

☾⋆⁺₊✧⁺₊⋆ ☁︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

EARTH REALM, 4:44 PM — THE HOUSE OF FADING LIGHTS AND EMOTIONAL HAZARDS (Visitors May Experience Ghosts, Guilt, and Unscheduled Heartbeats)

A rogue scroll exploded through the sky like it had personal beef with Jieun’s face. She shrieked as it smacked her mid-cosmic-croissant and yeeted her off the cloud she and Jimin were nap-sunning on like two lazy cherubs who’d mistaken themselves for sky royalty.

“Wha--JIMIN--MY PASTRY--”

Jimin, ever the human embodiment of an ‘oops,’ grabbed her flailing wing just in time for both of them to go plummeting together. They crash-landed on a confused cumulonimbus with all the grace of a water balloon full of soup.

“Why is destiny allergic to calm deliveries?” Jieun groaned, peeling the scroll off her forehead like a particularly judgmental pancake.

“Maybe it’s karma,” Jimin muttered, rubbing the side of his face where the scroll had rebounded and smacked him too. “From that time you tried to marry a blender.”

“It was one time! And it had charisma!”

Unrolling the scroll, she skimmed the glowing letters. Then she frowned. Then frowned harder. Then looked up like someone had just told her K-dramas were scripted.

“Oh no.”

Jimin blinked, halfway through detangling glitter from his eyebrow. “Oh no what?”

She jabbed a finger at the scroll like it was a cursed dating profile.

“Hoseok. Our next task is Hoseok.”

“Wait, Jung Hoseok? The sunshine? The ‘I wave at strangers and feed stray cats’ Hoseok?”

“Apparently, he’s being slowly soul-drained by a ghost that’s attached to him like a needy ex.”

Jimin squinted at the scroll. “‘Your mission: Convince the ghost to move on before Hoseok’s energy is entirely consumed.’”

They both looked at each other.

“Easy,” said Jieun.

“Absolute cakewalk,” said Jimin.

They both paused.

“Okay, we’re lying to ourselves,” Jieun admitted. “We don’t even know how to ghost-whisper, let alone exorcise one.”

Before they could file a formal complaint with Heaven's HR, a portal opened next to them with the dignity of a burping sinkhole and sucked them in like sparkly raviolis being flushed down God’s plumbing.

They landed in the middle of Hoseok’s apartment.

Specifically, inside a lamp.

Jieun crawled out first, looking like a shaken disco ball. Jimin tumbled after, wrapped in curtain strings and mysteriously wearing a salad bowl like a helmet.

The room was… wrong. All the lights were technically on, but everything still felt dim, like the apartment had forgotten how to hope. The plants drooped like they were going through a breakup. The shadows clung to the walls like emotionally manipulative wall art.

Hoseok sat hunched on the couch like a haunted barista in a tragic indie film. He looked pale. Not K-pop comeback pale. Shakespeare-writes-a-sonnet-about-you pale.

“Why does he look like he’s been monologuing to the rain for six weeks straight?” Jieun whispered, hovering upside-down from the ceiling fan.

“He used to glitter,” Jimin whispered back. “Like, emotionally. He once knitted sweaters for squirrels.”

They watched as Hoseok slowly reached for his coffee mug and missed it by five inches. Then he sighed and didn’t bother correcting the reach.

Then they saw it: a shiver in the air behind him. A chill in the shape of a man. Not just any ghost—this one had flair. Tall. Translucent. Wearing a Victorian overcoat like he was starring in Les Mis: Ghost Edition. His aura practically shouted I used to write sad poetry in candlelight.

Jieun jumped. “HOLY HOLY—hi?”

“Sup,” said the ghost, yawning dramatically “You guys here to try the usual ‘move toward the light’ crap?”

Jieun blinked. “Uh. Yes?”

“Not happening,” said the ghost. “Hoseok gives off the best vibes. Warmth, kindness, aesthetic dance routines. I’ve been feeding on that energy like it’s an all-you-can-eat brunch buffet.”

Jimin tried to puff up intimidatingly. “Okay, listen here you stalker soap bubble. You’re draining him. He’s literally wilting. That’s not love. That’s energy theft.”

The ghost huffed. “Okay wow, don’t be dramatic. I’m not draining him. I’m just borrowing his vibe. I’m vibe-sitting.”

“He missed his coffee mug by five inches and didn’t even care,” Jieun said, scandalized. “He’s turning into me on a Monday!”

“Uncool,” Jimin muttered. “This is vibe-vampirism. I read about this on Celestial Reddit.”

They both tried the gentle approach first. Jieun summoned a tiny harp and tried playing it to ‘soothe the tormented spirit.’ The ghost threw a Victorian slipper at her.

Jimin read aloud excerpts from Letting Go: A Soul’s Guide to Moving On. The ghost fell asleep. Standing.

Finally, Jieun sighed and floated down to sit across from him, her expression softer now. “Why him?” she asked. “Why Hoseok?”

The ghost stared at the sleeping human on the couch, something almost human in his translucent expression. “Because he made me feel... not dead. I hung around for a few decades, you know? No one noticed me. No one looked at me. I passed through cities, people, and centuries. And then he danced one day. On the rooftop. With his headphones in. Smiling like the moon itself loved him. And I felt... seen. Warm. I didn’t want to leave. I didn’t realize I was hurting him. I just wanted to stay near the warmth.”

Jieun’s expression twisted, sympathy and horror doing a tango. “Okay. That’s kind of poetic. Still wildly inappropriate. But poetic.”

The ghost turned to her. “You understand. You’ve got that look. The chaos behind the eyes. The tragic sparkle. Like someone who rage-sings at the moon and writes love poems in eyeliner on public bathroom walls.”

Jieun blinked. “I--excuse me?!”

“I could haunt you,” the ghost murmured. “You’re... hauntingly beautiful.”

Silence.

“I HAVE NEVER BEEN SO FLATTERED AND VIOLATED AT THE SAME TIME,” Jieun screeched, flying behind Jimin like a panicked bat. “JIMIN HELP HE’S FLIRTING WITH ME.”

Jimin’s whole demeanor changed. The air crackled.

His expression darkened. “What did you say to her, you foggy Casanova?”

“Just that she’s got haunting beauty and the rage of a thousand midterms,” the ghost said dreamily. “She could be my muse.”

“Oh no.” Jimin’s voice was sharp velvet as he floated in front of her like an angry glitter wall. “She’s a menace. She yells at clouds and steals halo sprinkles. But she’s mine.”

“Emotionally,” Jieun added, peeking from behind him.

“Emotionally mine,” Jimin confirmed, eyes still locked on the ghost. “Back. Off.”

The ghost blinked. “Oh. Jealousy. How... intoxicating.”

“YOU WANNA SEE INTOXICATING?” Jimin hissed. “I WILL SMASH YOU INTO A HIMALAYAN SALT LAMP AND SELL YOU IN A HIPSTER GIFT SHOP.”

“I bring you spectral roses,” the ghost cooed, offering Jieun a floaty bouquet.

Jieun screamed, “HE’S PROPOSING, JIMIN. DO SOMETHING.”

Jimin kicked the bouquet midair. Ectoplasm splattered onto Hoseok’s succulents.

They began to cry softly.

In the chaos, Hoseok stirred. “What the—why do my plants sound like emotional OSTs?”

“Abort mission!” Jieun shrieked, scrambling onto the bookshelf.

Jimin grabbed the ghost by the coat. “You want closure? Romance? Poetry? Write her a farewell letter. Leave your haunting career behind. Move on to the after-afterlife. There’s a whole realm of single ghosts out there. Go haunt a haunted museum or something. Be the emo icon you were born to be”

Jieun, panting, added, “And you better swirl dramatically. Leave behind sparkles.”

The ghost looked truly pained. “Only because she deserves peace. And because you threatened me with a bath bomb.”

He floated to the window, turned, blew Jieun a kiss.

She dodged so hard she knocked over a snow globe.

With one final sparkle flourish, he vanished into the dawn.

The room sighed. Not metaphorically—literally. Like the walls exhaled. Like whatever had been holding its breath had finally let go.

Hoseok blinked awake like someone had opened a window in his soul. “Whoa,” he whispered. “I feel... weirdly... light.”

“You’re welcome,” Jieun muttered from the bookshelf, glitter in her teeth.

Jimin helped her down, carefully brushing ghost residue out of her wings.

Jieun sighed, wings twitching gently. “That ghost was kind of... intense.”

Jimin bobbed in the air upside-down, twirling her ponytail like a child on sugar with the reflexes of someone who’s never feared consequences. “Still not as intense as you.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Are you flirting or trying to get smacked again?”

He grinned. “Can’t it be both? I’m gifted.”

A beat passed between them.

Then...POOF.

With the cold-hearted precision of a seasoned glitter sniper, Jieun conjured a sparkly puff and nailed him dead in the face.

Jimin shrieked like a disco kettle and somersaulted backward into the ceiling fan. His wings flailed. The light fixture sparked. The fan cried in Morse code. “Uncalled for,” he groaned, tangled and betrayed by gravity and friendship. “That was a targeted emotional attack.”

“That,” Jieun said primly, “was restraint. If I really tried, you’d be sneezing sparkles till next spring solstice.”

But she was smiling. And that smile...post-mission, adrenaline-crashed, soul-softened kind, was real.

Below them, the apartment had settled into the kind of quiet that only came after something heavy had truly lifted.

No more shadows.

No more draining hauntings.

Just warm lamps, gentle air, and the faint sound of a playlist coming to life. Hoseok, in socks and sweatpants, had started dancing again.

But not for performance or perfection.

Just him being free, goofy, messy. Vibing like the sunlight personally told him he looked hot today.

He spun once. Slid across the floor. Finger-gunned the potted plants.

The plants, bless them, swayed back.

Jieun drifted down, hovering near the wall. Watching.

Twenty minutes ago, he could barely stand. Now he was twirling like gravity was a suggestion. That was magic. But not the Cupid kind. The human kind, the slow return of light. Of joy.

Jimin floated beside her. He didn’t speak. He just watched with that rare softness he reserved for moments like this, moments that reminded them why the chaos was worth it.

Because this? This was what they were fighting for.

Not scrolls. Not upgrades.

Healing. Wholeness. One happy heart at a time.

Jieun’s chest ached in the nicest way. Like her heart had grown too big for her ribcage.

And she reached for Jimin’s hand.

He blinked, startled. “What’re you--?”

“Joining,” she said. “Obviously.”

“Joining wh--?”

“His celebration, disco brain. You think we’re gonna float here like rejected confetti? No. We earned this moment. We’re dancing.”

Before he could object, panic, or fake a knee injury, she yanked him midair into Hoseok’s invisible victory rave.

They swooped in ridiculous loops. Erratic aerial jazz hands. Interpretive flailing. Jieun tried a pirouette, tripped over a light beam, and faceplanted into a curtain rod. Jimin attempted a body roll and elbowed a blender.

They were chaos. They were dumb. They were golden.

And Hoseok laughed.

He couldn’t see them, not really. But maybe...some part of him felt them. Because he spun in their exact direction and tossed a finger-heart straight through Jieun’s face.

She gasped. “I was just blessed.”

Jimin beamed. “We are the gods of dumb love.”

She tried to moonwalk through the coffee table. It didn’t end well. But her laugh, bright, goofy, unfiltered, echoed off the walls like sunshine with a sound effect.

Jimin laughed too, spinning once, then twice...until they collided midair and--

Suddenly, they weren’t moving.

Their hands were clasped. Their wings had tangled. They were too close. Close enough for it to feel... different.

Jieun’s breath caught. Her cheeks were red, but not from the dancing anymore.

She should’ve backed off. But she didn’t.

And when she finally looked at him, her mind blanked. Just for a second. But it left a crack behind.

This wasn’t supposed to feel like anything.

Not this soft.

Not this terrifying.

She didn’t say it. Didn’t even want to think about it. But the weight was there now, curling inside her chest like something she’d been too distracted to notice forming.

God, what if it’s just me?

Her wings trembled slightly. Her fingers curled tighter into his. Too tight for just balance.

She blinked, trying to breathe around it. Maybe it was the post-mission rush. Or the glitter inhalation. Or the way he was still holding her hand like it was the only steady thing in the world.

She tried to deflect. “We really suck at this whole subtlety thing, huh.”

He smiled, eyes softer now. “Speak for yourself. I’m very subtle. Graceful, even.”

“You’ve got glitter in your teeth.”

“That’s battle glitter.”

She laughed. But the laugh wavered.

Her fingers tightened around his. Just a little. Maybe he wouldn’t notice. Maybe she hoped he would.

She looked away before her voice could betray her.

And somewhere in the back of her mind, a thought quiet and uninvited slipped through anyway:

This is starting to matter to me. And I don’t know if it’s supposed to.

Jimin hadn’t said anything.

But he felt it too.

The weight. The pause. The ridiculous stillness between them that felt more dangerous than any hexed oven timer.

She was right there. And for some reason, it felt like everything in him was leaning forward, even if his body wasn’t.

His wing twitched. His chest rose just a little too sharply.

He tried to joke. Tried to breathe.

But then her fingers curled around his like she meant it.

And suddenly, the noise in his head, usually all glitter and chaos, went quiet...

No. No, no, no... don’t go there, he warned himself.

Because if she felt anything close to what he was feeling—

He wasn’t ready to find out what that meant.

And then,

SMACK.

A golden scroll smacked Jimin right in the forehead like a divine frying pan of destiny.

“WHY. AGAIN,” he shrieked, flailing backward as Jieun wheezed and caught the scroll midair like it was a cursed baby bird.

“It has perfect comedic timing,” she gasped, wiping tears from her eyes. “Honestly, I admire it.”

She unrolled it with glitter still clinging to her sleeve.

Level-Up Checklist: ✅ Task One — COMPLETE. ✅ Task Two — COMPLETE. ✅ Task Three — COMPLETE. ✨ New Task Unlocked: Make Kim Namjoon take a vacation. Without planning it.

Jieun groaned. “Namjoon plans his calendar emojis. This is actual doom.”

Jimin grabbed her wrist like a man prepared to face death-by-agenda. “Quick. Before he alphabetizes his shoes.”

They vanished in a blur of glitter, wingbeats, and whatever the opposite of preparedness was.

And far above them, in the quiet celestial halls, Supervisor Kang sipped his cracked coffee, stared at the Divine Mirror, and sighed.

“They’re gonna destroy the heavens,” he muttered.

But somewhere, underneath the sigh...

He smiled again.

Because the universe was a mess.

But so were they.

And maybe, just maybe, that was what made them work.

☾⋆⁺₊✧⁺₊⋆ ☁︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

EARTH REALM, 8:47 AM — KIM NAMJOON’S SCHEDULED BURNOUT AND UNSCHEDULED BEACH TRIP] (Where the only thing hotter than his aura is the rage of two dumb Cupids who can’t believe they’re doing this for a man with ten calendars)

A portal yawned open above Namjoon’s apartment with the exhausted drama of a deity who’d pulled three all-nighters and was now spiritually done. It coughed once—glitter, rage, and two flaming croissants shot out before promptly vomiting out two shrieking Cupids mid-air.

And for the first time in cosmic history, the universe betrayed Jimin.

Jieun fell directly on top of him.

Right on his face. Wings everywhere. An elbow to his ribcage. A knee possibly dislocating his pride.

“OH MY GOD, MY RIBS!” Jimin wheezed.

“WHY ARE YOU MADE OF BONES?” Jieun shrieked, trying to roll off him but somehow making it worse. Her wing smacked him again. Their halos tangled. A potted plant judged them from the nightstand.

“Did you forget how to fall gracefully?” he gasped.

“I forgot how to fall with your stupid face under me!”

They flailed like two flaming pigeons until Jieun finally somersaulted off, only to crash into Namjoon’s perfectly organized bookshelf, knocking over twelve philosophy books, three endangered succulents, and a porcelain owl named “Productivity.”

“I think I fractured my dignity,” Jieun groaned from the floor, covered in self-help guides and shame glitter. Her voice was thinner than usual—still sharp, but tired beneath it. Like her sarcasm had been stretched too many times and now it was fraying at the edges.

Jimin, still untangling his leg from a curtain rod, peeked through a book titled Time Management for Beings with Wings. “Did we land in an Excel spreadsheet?” he quipped—then winced and rubbed at his shoulder.

The joke landed, but there wasn’t the usual mischief behind it. Just the same tired bravado he’d been clinging to since Task Two.

They both looked around.

Namjoon’s apartment was immaculate in that way only obsessive burnout survivors can manage. A whiteboard covered in precise hourly blocks loomed over them like an emotionally repressed ghost.

The air smelled like overbrewed tea and suppressed screams. Every surface had a to-do list. His laundry had labels. Even the shadows were sorted.

Jieun floated up slowly, dragging herself mid-air more than flying. She hovered near the ceiling, arms crossed, eyes taking in the relentless order with something like recognition. “This place feels like if a mental breakdown went to therapy and started journaling.”

Jimin came up beside her, quieter now. “Everything’s so... tense. Like even the air’s scared to make noise.”

And at the center of it all: Kim Namjoon. Sitting on the couch. Eyes glazed. Surrounded by four calendars, three iPads, a planner labeled “DO NOT TOUCH”, and one very judgmental bonsai tree.

He was wearing house slippers and a frown of existential fatigue.

Jieun stared at him. She didn’t say anything at first. Just drifted down a little, wings lowering without her noticing.

“Is he okay?” she asked, softer this time.

Jimin didn’t answer right away either. He floated beside her, gaze flickering from Namjoon’s blank stare to the tight curve of Jieun’s shoulders. She hadn’t slept since the last mission. Neither of them had. Their halos were still dim from the last hex burnout.

“He hasn’t blinked in a full minute,” Jimin finally whispered. “Either he’s downloading enlightenment or planning to ascend from burnout.”

Jieun frowned. “This is worse than we thought.” Her words were automatic, but the quiet ache beneath them wasn’t. Because she saw it, mirrored back in Namjoon’s stillness...the exhaustion she hadn’t let herself admit. Not yet.

“Look at his aura,” Jimin said, eyes wide. “It’s literally sparking.”

Namjoon muttered something to his planner in a haunted tone: “If I delay the sleep block by 42 minutes, I can still fit in dream journaling--”

“Yeah okay, abort mission, he’s actively unwell,” Jieun said. But her voice cracked halfway through, just a hair. She turned away fast, wings twitching.

Jimin reached out. His hand hovered near her elbow—not touching, but close. Steady. “We’ve got this,” he said gently.

She exhaled slowly. And nodded.

The scroll had been clear: Get Namjoon to take a vacation. Without planning it. Without resistance. And definitely without spreadsheets. A suicide mission, basically.

But maybe they knew what they were doing this time.

“Okay,” Jieun muttered, hovering over his phone. “Step one: mild sabotage.”

She zapped the screen with a Cupid hex. The calendar app exploded into a glitchy mess of sparkles, goat emojis, and a repeating event that read: “♡ Chill or Perish ♡”

Namjoon blinked once. “...What?”

Then came Jimin’s contribution.

“I may or may not have given his assistant food poisoning,” he whispered, tossing out a half-eaten cursed sandwich. “Gently. Magically.”

“YOU WHAT?”

“She’s fine! She’ll just be violently napping for 12 hours.”

Jieun facepalmed. “Fine. Step two: diversion.” She produced a scroll marked URGENT: Government Summit on Eco-Spiritual Poetry and slipped it under Namjoon’s door.

He read it and paused.

He blinked.

He stood up slowly, like a tired tree remembering how to dance. “This is in Jeju…?”

His brow furrowed for a second.

This wasn’t on the calendar. It didn’t feel scheduled. And that should’ve bothered him more than it did.

But somehow... it didn’t.

Just this once, he let the unease float past like a paper boat.

Thirty minutes later, he was in a cab to the airport.

With the wrong suitcase.

Jieun and Jimin watched from the luggage carousel, barely containing their laughter.

Because instead of documents and emergency spreadsheets, Namjoon was now the proud owner of a rainbow duffel bag packed with floral shirts, glittery flip-flops, a bottle of coconut-scented glitter lotion, and a copy of “Softness: An Unlikely Revolution”.

Jieun leaned against Jimin’s shoulder, just for a second. “We are so going to glitter hell for this.”

“Oh totally,” Jimin smirked. “But he’s going on vacation.”

And for the first time that day, Jieun smiled. Small. Real.

They didn’t say it out loud, but they both felt it: a flicker of pride. A flicker of something warm under all the tired.

Still a long way to go.

But this?

This was progress.

☾⋆⁺₊✧⁺₊⋆ ☁︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Later That Day — JEJU ISLAND — 5:42 PM Where Burnout Goes to Die (or Nap on a Hammock)

Namjoon arrived at the resort looking like a man personally betrayed by his suitcase and the gods of out-of-office replies.

He stood in the hotel room, holding a neon pink shirt that read “Chill Vibes Only” like it had insulted his ancestors. Around him: a rainbow of tropical horrors. Pineapple shorts. Flip-flops with glitter pineapples. A loofah shaped like a heart.

“Where are my files?” he muttered. “Where are my socks? Why is there a seashell in my moisturizer?”

Jieun, invisibly lounging across the hotel bed like a tiny beach witch, whispered, “Step three: forced surrender.”

Jimin, upside-down in the mini-fridge, tossed her a grape. “What now?”

“Now,” she said, “we make sure he relaxes. Even if it kills us.”

And it nearly did.

They hexed the elevator so it only went to the spa floor. They made every menu item pun-based: Tuna Peace Roll, Inner Calm Curry, Let That Shit Go Latte.

Jieun used her chaos magic to swap his beach towel with a romantic poetry book titled “Toes in Sand, Heart in Hand.” Every time he tried to toss it, it reappeared in his hand like a cursed romance boomerang.

Namjoon resisted for hours. The Wi-Fi refused to work unless he typed “I deserve rest” in the password bar. Every time he tried journaling, the pen wrote “bro, go nap” in loopy calligraphy. His tea kept tasting like lavender rebellion.

By the time the sun started melting into the sea like a lazy peach popsicle, Kim Namjoon was officially losing his grip.

He sat on a striped beach chair like it had betrayed him. The 'Toes in Sand, Heart in Hand' poetry book rested on his lap, its dog-eared page stubbornly refusing to close no matter how many times he glared at it.

His hair was tousled. His shirt said “Beach Please” in neon green cursive. There was sand in his smartwatch. His calendar app had deleted itself out of self-preservation.

And his legs bare, tan, free—were crossed at the ankles, as if his bones were gently reminding him what peace might look like.

“I don’t know who I am anymore,” he muttered, staring at a very friendly crab who’d taken residence by his foot. “I used to have plans. Schedules. A color-coded life.”

The crab tapped his toe twice in what may have been a warning or an encouragement.

Up in the air, Jieun watched from under a conjured cloud umbrella, eyes wide with quiet awe.

“He’s crumbling,” she whispered. “And yet... he’s also kinda glowing.”

“Because he’s fighting it,” Jimin said beside her, upside down again, watching Namjoon the way one might watch a dam about to burst. “His whole identity is built on control. And now he’s watching it unravel in real time.”

Jieun was silent for a moment. Then she tilted her head and added, “Is it wrong that I’m kinda proud?”

“No,” Jimin said. “It means he’s healing. Slowly. Painfully. Like a spreadsheet caught in a paper shredder.”

Below, Namjoon reached for his phone, probably to search for ‘Emergency Excel Fix’, but paused.

The sea breeze brushed his face. The sky purred in shades of gold. Somewhere in the hotel lobby, someone was playing a saxophone with the confidence of a beginner and the soul of a jazz legend.

And Namjoon... exhaled.

Like something tight in his chest had finally loosened.

Like his ribcage had stopped clenching his ambitions into panic knots.

He let the phone slip back into the sand.

Then leaned back with his eyes closed.

And took a deep breath. A man, finally, finally off the clock.

“I think...” he whispered to no one in particular, “I think I’m still me. Even when I stop.”

Up in the sky, Jieun hovered on a conjured beach cloud-raft, sipping fake coconut juice out of a halo-shaped straw, watching the scene like she’d just directed the most chaotic art film of her life.

“Is that... is that a smile?” she whispered, eyes squinting. “Did he just smile at a crab? Jimin. He’s smiling. Like, actual serotonin.”

Beside her, Jimin had upside-down sunglasses perched on his halo and was drawing stick figures in the air with a glitter pen. “He’s glowing. He’s actually glowing. I thought that was a myth. Like ethical landlords or calorie-free chocolate.”

Jieun grinned. “We broke him.”

“We un-broke him,” Jimin corrected, smugly flipping over mid-air. “That is the unhinged smile of a man who's finally snapped in the right direction.”

“I want to scream,” she whispered, shaking with the pressure of proud chaos. “We did that. With flip-flops and a cursed latte menu.”

He put a hand to his heart. “Blessed be the Let That Shit Go Latte.”

They fist-bumped mid-air. It caused a small glitter explosion that made a seagull choke and flee.

In the background, Namjoon was reading to the crab again. Possibly poetry. Possibly tax law. Who cared? He looked happy.

Jieun kicked her legs in the air like a child on sugar and serotonin. “Okay, I'm done watching this from the sky. I want the beach experience. I want toes in the sand. I want to befriend that crab. I want to cannonball into the ocean.”

Jimin blinked. “...Do it, coward.”

“Excuse you—”

“I triple dare you.”

“Oh, it’s on.”

She immediately launched herself off the cloud like a confused goose, somersaulting into the shallow waves with a squeal. Water splashed high, her wing caught a jellyfish-shaped towel, and a couple on the boardwalk applauded.

Jimin screamed. “I DIDN’T MEAN NOW—”

Too late.

She crash-landed into the shallows, water flying everywhere. A wave smacked her halo. Her wing tangled in seaweed. A passing fish made a judgemental face.

Jimin, floating just above the chaos, was laughing so hard he nearly fell off his cloud. “Graceful as ever, Swan Princess! Elegant dive! 4.7 from the judges, with bonus points for comedic despair!”

She came up gasping, drenched, with a starfish on her forehead. “I hope your scrolls rot in retrograde.”

“I’d rather rot with flair than bellyflop like a hexed umbrella!”

“I will personally end your legacy.”

“You already are.”

Before she could respond, karma flapped down in the form of a rogue seagull, who divebombed Jimin with the accuracy of divine justice. He flailed. He yelled. His legs bicycled through the air. And in perfect, stupid, poetic timing—he crash-landed directly into the surf.

And into Jieun.

SPLASH. A scream. Possibly a curse in angelic Latin. Definitely a crab flipping someone off.

“WHAT IS YOUR DEAL?” she spluttered, spitting out saltwater. “Why do you fall like a haunted mattress?”

“I WAS AMBUSHED BY A BIRD WITH VENGEANCE IN ITS SOUL!” Jimin wheezed, still on top of her, soaking wet, halo tilted like a drunk halo-crown.

Jieun shoved at him. “If I’m going down, you’re going down uglier.”

She grabbed his wings and tried to dunk him. He shrieked and retaliated with a splash so dramatic it hit a couple on a paddleboard twenty feet away. A war broke out. Seaweed was weaponized. Sand was thrown. Wings were mangled. An inflatable dolphin got involved somehow.

“OW. That was my rib!”

“Good! Maybe it'll stop being dramatic!”

“You elbowed my spleen!”

“Then stop leading with it!”

Soon, they weren’t even fighting. They were just laughing. Arms flailing, sand in places sand should never be, wings trailing seaweed like fashion statements, and laughter bursting from their lungs like fireworks that forgot they weren’t supposed to be falling in love.

At some point, Jimin picked her up to toss her into a wave, except she clung to him like a caffeinated koala, and somehow they both ended up tangled together in the surf, gasping, giggling, and way too close.

The waves lapped around them, warm and bright. Their laughter quieted just a little, leaving behind a strange fluttery hush. Like two hearts had suddenly remembered to pay attention.

Jieun looked at him. Her cheeks were flushed, her hair a dripping halo of chaos. Water dripped from her nose. She’d never looked more ridiculous. Or more beautiful.

“I’m starting to think you throw yourself into my trajectory on purpose.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Can you blame me?”

That shut her up. Just for a second. Because he wasn’t grinning when he said it. He looked... soft. A little shy. A lot sincere. And her heart did that infuriating thing again, that swoopy, traitorous flutter that made sarcasm feel like armor.

“Gross,” she muttered eventually, splashing him again like she could wash the moment off.

He chased her with a smirk. “You love it.”

“I love violence.”

“Sure. That’s all it is.”

“Don’t read into it, Cupid Boy.”

But before she could escape, he caught her wrist and spun her around, water swirling around their knees. And suddenly, the world hit pause.

They stood there, close. Closer than chaos should allow. His thumb brushed her wrist like it didn’t know how to let go. Her hair clung to her cheeks. His halo floated crooked in the water. Neither said a word, but the space between them buzzed...alive with all the things they weren’t ready to admit.

Then she blinked. “Your eyes are really brown.”

“You mean devastatingly handsome?”

“I mean tragic.”

“You mean soulful.”

“I mean muddy.”

He smiled. “Sure. Muddy.”

And it wasn’t about his eyes. They both knew that.

But he didn’t look away. Not yet.

Just for a breath, the grin faltered, like something softer was fighting its way through the sparkle.

But he was already laughing, splashing her again, and she yelped and ran into the next wave.

Somewhere above, the sun shone extra gold. The air smelled like salt and relief. And the crab waved at them from Namjoon’s sandal.

But before the moment could fully settle...

THWACK.

A scroll smacked Jimin in the forehead with the force of divine pettiness.

“WHAT IN THE---CAN I GET A HEAD INJURY CLAIM UP HERE?!” he yelped, flopping backward into the water as the scroll bobbed away like it had no regrets.

Jieun howled with laughter. “Again?! That scroll really has it out for your face.”

“That’s the third time!” Jimin yelled, rubbing his forehead. “It’s got a personal vendetta.”

“Maybe it just hates timing,” she muttered under her breath.

Jimin blinked. “What?”

“Nothing,” she said too fast, cheeks suspiciously pink. “Maybe you just have a punchable aura.”

She snatched the scroll out of the surf and read it aloud, voice still hiccuping with laughter.

Level-Up Checklist: ✅ Task One — COMPLETE ✅ Task Two — COMPLETE ✅ Task Three — COMPLETE ✅ Task Four — COMPLETE ✨ Final Task Loading…

Jimin groaned as the scroll snapped shut and vanished in a puff of peach glitter. “You’d think completing four borderline impossible missions would earn us a break.”

“We just hijacked a beach, guilt-tripped a workaholic into enlightenment, and got chased by a crab,” Jieun said, brushing sand from her hair. “We’re clearly not built for simple.”

He looked over at her, not teasing this time. Just quiet. Steady. The kind of look that didn’t shout but stayed with you long after the moment passed.

Jieun didn’t say anything. Her throat felt tight in a way she wasn’t used to. She wanted to joke. Or throw a shell at him. Anything to dodge how warm his gaze made her feel.

But then he smiled. The kind of smile that meant too much. The kind that stayed in the ribs like a secret. And her heart did that flutter thing again...louder now.

Neither of them said anything for a beat.

But something passed between them. Something fizzy and terrible and sweet. The kind of thing that crawled into your chest and refused to leave. It felt like possibility. Like butterflies. Like all the stupid metaphors from that poetry book they left in the crab’s custody.

Her chest fluttered.

“Okay,” she said, offering her hand before her heart could talk her out of it. “Let’s go back before Kang declares us missing and replaces us with sentient seaweed.”

Jimin took her hand without hesitation. 

“Together?” 

She squeezed once. “Always.”

As they lifted off, wings brushing, still dripping saltwater and stubbornness, Namjoon raised his glass of coconut water from his lounge chair.

“To chaos,” he declared.

The crab clicked in solemn agreement.

Above them, Supervisor Kang dragged a hand down his face and muttered, “They’re falling. Took them four missions and a sentient crustacean, but they’re finally falling.”

He squinted at the sky, grumbling.

“Still not letting them kiss yet, though. One mission to go. Let them sweat.”

And somewhere, very faintly, the stars giggled.

☾⋆⁺₊✧⁺₊⋆ ☁︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

CUPID HEADQUARTERS, 7:01 PM — THE INTERVENTION OF THE STUPIDLY IN LOVE (Where Denial Gets Dragged, Threads Get Mended, and Four Idiots Learn Feelings Are Contagious)

The probation lounge had never been so quiet.

Somewhere in the corner, a love fern drooped dramatically into its third burnout this week. A cluster of enchanted muffins sighed in unison from their basket, one of them whispering, “No one ever chooses me,” in a voice like day-old butter.

Even the cursed espresso machine, normally responsible for six emotional meltdowns and two marriages, was uncharacteristically still. It gurgled once, mournfully, then fell back into silence like it, too, had given up.

Jieun lay upside down across the heart-shaped couch, wings splayed gracelessly across a halo-scented blanket, one sock halfway off. She was methodically stabbing a love muffin with her sparkle fork, muttering under her breath like she was interrogating it for answers.

“Do you think I peaked with the ghost exorcism?” Jieun muttered, stabbing the muffin again. “Is that it? That was my moment? Now I’m just a side character spiraling into obscurity with stale carbs?”

“Stop threatening baked goods,” Jimin muttered from the floor, where he lay sprawled like divine roadkill. His hair was a disaster. His wings were crooked.

He’d been eating the same glitter macaron for twenty-three minutes. Not because he liked it. But because chewing was the only thing stopping him from asking out loud if burnout applied to celestial beings.

It had been quiet. Too quiet. Which, in the world of baby cupids, was rarely a blessing. It was more like a curse winding up its punch.

When the scroll appeared, it didn’t crash through the ceiling or explode in glitter. It simply... hovered.

Slowly. Deliberately.

Wrapped in velvet-red ribbon.

Jieun sat up so fast she dislocated the sofa. Her eyes tracked the scroll like it was a live grenade.

Her limbs shook...not from chaos, but from the fear of losing everything she and Jimin had built.

“Why is it red?” she whispered.

Jimin was already on his feet, expression sharp. “Internal color code. Red means Cupid-level.”

Her wings twitched. “Like... us?”

The air thickened around them. Her breath caught in her throat like glitter dust that wouldn’t go down.

He didn’t answer. Just caught the scroll midair with both hands. The parchment was warmer than usual. Heavier too. Like it was carrying something it didn’t want to say.

Jieun hovered beside him, unusually quiet. When he unrolled it, they read it together.

The words didn’t explode.

They settled.

Low and final.

FINAL MISSION Category: Cupid Internal Repair Type: Emergency Wingmate Bond Fix Subjects: Kim Taehyung & Jeon Jungkook Status: Bond Weakening — Emotional Sync Failing Reason: Long-term Disconnection. Magic Link Unstable. Risk: Permanent Reassignment as Separate Cupids Time Limit: 6 Hours Note:This could’ve been avoided. We're officially annoyed.

For a long, aching moment, neither of them said a word.

Jieun’s voice finally came, soft and cracked at the edges. “No. No, no, no, no...”

Jimin didn’t blink. “It’s real.”

“Taehyung and Jungkook? Our Tae and Kook? They’ve been a pair longer than we’ve had wings. They literally invented synchronized sarcasm. This has to be a mistake.”

He passed her the scroll. “It’s not.”

She read it again. Slower this time. The words refused to rearrange themselves.

“Bond weakening...” she whispered. “Reassignment...?”

Jimin exhaled, low and tired. “Cupid pair bonds are monitored through magical sync threads. Not soulmate-level, but still coded. When wing-mates, co-matchers, or emotion-linked pairs start falling out of sync emotionally or magically...their bond weakens.”

“But...people fight all the time.”

“Not like this,” he said. “If the sync drops below fifty percent and stays there for more than one lunar cycle, the system starts marking the pair for separation. Reassignment to different floors. Different duties. Different paths.”

Her stomach turned. “You’re saying if they don’t fix whatever happened, ”

“They’ll stop getting paired together. Stop being assigned together. The magic literally starts to forget them as a pair. Forget how they work together. How their magic balances. How they read each other without speaking. The system starts unspooling that memory. Like they were never a match at all.”

“But that’s...” She broke off. Her voice had gone too thin.

Jimin’s hands were fists now. “I saw Jungkook two days ago. He was rerouting portal traffic alone without backup. He didn’t even summon a spare charm. His wing was twitching.”

Jieun swallowed hard. “I saw Taehyung in the Emotional Alignment Wing. He was... smiling. But it wasn’t his usual one. It was that too-perfect one.”

The one that meant I’m breaking and I don’t know how to stop it.

They stared at each other across the lounge.

“I don’t understand,” she said. “They’re the closest pair in the department. They used to finish each other’s hexes. What even happened?”

Jimin’s voice lowered. “Something did. And neither of them will talk about it. Not even to us.”

Jieun’s gaze drifted down to the scroll again.

Reclassification.

The kind of word that sounded clinical.

But meant goodbye.

She took a shaky breath, then stood.

“No,” she said. “No way. We’ve done four chaos missions. We fixed a corrupt cooking competition, un-haunted a musical genius, emotionally relocated a possessive ghost, and gave Namjoon an unplanned beach epiphany. We are not letting our best friends get celestial-divorced because the system lost patience.”

Jimin nodded slowly. “We’re not losing them.”

“But how do we even start? Do we have a plan?”

He hesitated. Then smiled faintly, though his eyes were a little glassy. “Does it matter?”

She paused.

Then smiled back. “Nope.”

They didn’t speak again. Just glanced at each other once—and that was enough. Then, without another word, they vanished in tandem. Two blurs of chaotic resolve. Wings sharp. Eyes bright.

Not angels of war. Not messengers of love.

Just friends. But the kind who’d burned skies for each other.

On a mission that felt too close to home.

There was a strange stillness in Cupid Headquarters when they split.

Not the normal hush of cloud corridors or the fluffy quiet of the love fern conservatory. This stillness felt deliberate. Watchful. Like the very air had been told to sit down and listen.

They peeled away like magnets flipping polarities—Jieun veering left toward the Cloud Practice Annex where Taehyung often escaped under the excuse of “wing fluidity drills,” and Jimin turning right toward the Archery Hall’s far corridor, where Jungkook always claimed he liked the light but really liked the solitude.

The air grew quieter the farther they walked. Even the magic in the walls seemed to hold its breath.

☾⋆⁺₊✧⁺₊⋆ ☁︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Jieun found him exactly where she thought she would: floating mid-air in the middle of Practice Room 7½, spinning slowly in place with the kind of detached elegance that looked like meditation from a distance and avoidance up close.

Taehyung’s wings were half-folded, as if even they weren’t sure if they belonged to him right now. His robe was clean, pressed to perfection. His halo gleamed like a display model. On the outside, he looked like the Cupid of the Month.

But the air around him told a different story.

It was too cold. Too quiet. His aura, once soft gold and wild-pink, now flickered faint lavender. The color of fatigue. Of fading bonds.

Jieun didn’t speak right away.

Her chest tightened. Taehyung floated like he’d forgotten how to land, like gravity didn’t know what to do with him anymore.

She floated into the room and hovered near the wall, watching him spin slowly in the air like a record without a song.

He knew she was there.

He just didn’t stop.

It wasn’t until the fourth rotation that he finally said, voice casual and strange, “Let me guess. Kang sent you to check my wing torque.”

She rolled her eyes, crossing her arms. “No one checks wing torque. That’s not a real thing.”

“Sure it is,” he replied, still not looking at her. “It’s in the supplemental manual.”

“Taehyung.”

He finally stopped.

Turned.

And smiled.

But his smile was too polished, too gentle. Not even close to real.

Jieun hated that smile more than she’d ever hated a glitter explosion.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” she asked quietly. Not accusing. Just... sad.

His eyes flickered. “Tell you what?”

“That you and Jungkook are...” Her voice caught. “That the system thinks you’re done.”

He drifted lower, landing softly on the clouds, toes just brushing the floor.

“Didn’t seem worth it,” he said. “Besides, nothing’s wrong.”

She flinched. “Don’t do that. Don’t lie in a voice that soft.”

Taehyung met her gaze with eyes that were too still. “It’s not a lie,” he began, voice barely more than a whisper. He ran a hand through his hair, as if trying to comb out his own regrets. “It’s what I told myself to sleep easier at night.”

Jieun stared at him.

This was the boy who used to choreograph spark spirals in the lounge just to make Jungkook laugh. Who enchanted breakfast muffins to deliver compliments. Who once hexed an entire hallway to smell like forest rain because Jungkook said he missed Earth.

She took a step forward and asked gently, “Tae. What exactly happened?”

He looked down. His halo tilted forward slightly, like it didn’t want to see either.

“We fought,” he said at last. “And not like the cute kind. Not like you and Jimin bickering about cosmic eyeliner. This was... sharp. It stuck.”

Jieun didn’t move.

“I told him maybe we shouldn’t be paired anymore,” he said. “And he didn’t say anything back. He just...left.”

She inhaled, chest tight. “Why would you say that?”

His fingers curled in his sleeves. “Because I’m in love with him.”

It came out like a confession he hadn’t meant to say out loud.

Her breath caught.

“I thought I was the only one feeling it,” Taehyung said, his voice cracked and too quiet. “I kept looking at him and wondering if I’d made it all up. The connection, the moments, the look in his eyes-what if I saw what I wanted to see?”

He took a slow breath, trembling. “So I pulled back. I thought if I gave it space, the ache might go away on its own. That maybe... I couldn't feel it before it hurt more. Before I embarrassed myself. But now that he’s actually gone...” he broke off. “Now the ache’s worse. And it’s all I can feel.”

The ache behind his voice was too familiar.

She knew that ache. She’d buried it under jokes and chaos and glitter, but it had the same weight. The same shape. The same quiet, gnawing voice whispering: what if they don’t feel the same?

It hit her low in the ribs, where she’d buried all the things she hadn’t said yet. Things like: I care about him too much to break this. Things like: What if I say something and he stops being mine, even a little?

She realized she’d been running from that exact ache—jaded love fear, just like his.

She looked at Taehyung and saw herself.

And it terrified her.

☾⋆⁺₊✧⁺₊⋆ ☁︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Across the building, Jimin hovered outside the hallway of Portal Egress Three, where a soft glow flickered beneath the half-open archery doors.

Jungkook was inside.

Not practicing or sparring.

Just...sitting on the ground with his head down, back to the wall.

His wings were open, barely fluttering.

Jimin remembered when those same wings used to start every room-wide prank. Now they barely moved. As if Jungkook was afraid even the air would give up on him.

A bow lay beside him, untouched. A pile of unopened scrolls sat on his right. And his eyes...

Jimin had never seen his eyes like that.

Not fiery or cocky.

Just....tired.

Jimin slipped inside without a sound and sat down beside him, back to the wall, letting the silence settle first.

They didn’t speak for a long time.

Then Jungkook said, without looking up, “Is it true?”

Jimin didn’t pretend not to know. “Yeah.”

“They’re reassigning us?”

“Not yet,” he said. “But the thread’s unstable.”

Jungkook nodded slowly, like he’d known it, deep down, the way you know when a plant’s dead even if you keep watering it anyway.

“I tried,” he said. “I tried talking to him. But he shut down. So I got mad. So he shut down more. And I...I said something I didn’t mean. And then he said something he did mean. And that was it.”

“What did he say?”

Jungkook’s voice broke. “That we’d be better off apart.”

Jimin closed his eyes.

“I told myself it was fine,” Jungkook went on. “That I didn’t need him. That I could do solo routes. Perhaps we were just...temporary. But every time I walk into a mission room and he’s not there, I can’t breathe right. And the worst part?” He laughed once, low and bitter. “I didn’t even tell him how I felt. Not really. I kept waiting for the right moment. And now it’s just...gone.”

Jimin wanted to scream.

Because he knew that moment.

That pause before truth. The ache that said what if you say it and they don’t say it back?

That fear had lived in his chest for months now.

He didn’t know what scared him more: losing Jieun to silence, or losing her to the truth.

He’d convinced himself waiting was safer. That pretending didn’t cost as much as confessing. But every time she didn’t smile the way she used to, something inside him cracked.

“You haven’t lost him,” Jimin said. “Not yet.”

Jungkook didn’t reply.

But he didn’t walk away either.

Jimin’s heart clenched because he'd seen that look in Jieun’s eyes too, during Namjoon’s beach mission.

So he stood, quietly offered Jungkook a hand, and simply said, “Come on.”

The rest didn’t need to be explained.

☾⋆⁺₊✧⁺₊⋆ ☁︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Minutes later, high above the regular clouds, the four of them gathered in the portal room. A place too quiet for accidents, too sacred for denial.

Jieun had picked it on purpose.

It was near the edge of the celestial curtain, where the atmosphere was thinner and the air smelled like stormlight and possibility. She'd always thought of it as the place where fates paused. A space in between.

Now it was holding four of them.

They stood in a loose square. No one quite facing the other. Four pairs of wings casting long shadows on the walls. The silence between them crackled like static, thick with everything unsaid.

Taehyung stood nearest the railing, his posture deceptively casual, fingers curled slightly behind his back like they were hiding their tremble.

Jungkook hovered just opposite, arms folded tightly across his chest, jaw tense.

Jieun and Jimin flanked the space between them, both pretending not to be watching each other as much as they were watching the pair they’d brought here.

No one spoke. The only sound was the faint hum of stalled portal magic as if the world was holding its breath.

Jieun pressed a hand to her chest, trying to still the storm behind her ribs. Her mouth was dry, and her wings wouldn’t stop twitching.

Finally, she sighed. Loud and Dramatic. She turned to Taehyung, then to Jungkook, and said flatly, “Alright. This is stupid.”

Taehyung arched a brow. “Define stupid.”

“You two,” she said, waving a wing at them like they were misbehaving children. “This. Us trying to fix something that’s literally been screaming to be fixed for weeks.”

Jungkook scoffed. “And dragging us here is the solution?”

“Yes,” Jimin cut in, stepping forward now. “Because you’re not doing it yourselves. And the system doesn’t wait forever.”

Taehyung laughed once, bitter. “Right. The ‘system.’ Because love should be measured in sync ratios and thread pulses.”

“No,” Jieun said softly. “But you matter. And if we’re the only ones who remember that right now, then fine. We’ll remind you.”

Jungkook didn’t look at her. His eyes were fixed on the floor, as if afraid that looking anywhere else might make something break.

Silence stretched again.

Jieun stared at the space between Taehyung and Jungkook like she could physically shove it closed. “You two were the ones who taught us how to be a team. Remember? You did wing drills together like they were dance routines. You gave each other enchanted dumbbells for fun. Taehyung, you used to write dumb poetry in Jimin’s glitter pen just to make Jungkook smile.”

“And Jungkook, you enchanted Taehyung’s tea to sing compliments when it was steeping,” Jimin added, more quietly now.

“They were love poems,” Taehyung muttered, barely audible.

That made Jungkook lift his head.

He didn’t speak.

But something in his face cracked.

And then he said, “You told me we weren’t a good match. You looked me in the face and said we were better off apart.”

“I didn’t mean it,” Taehyung said, voice barely more than breath.

“Then why did you say it?”

Taehyung’s wings fluttered once, then stilled. His fingers curled at his sides like they were holding back something enormous. His voice came in pieces.

“Because I was scared,” Taehyung snapped, louder now. “Because you looked at me like I was everything, and I didn’t know how to hold that without breaking it.”

Taehyung's fingers twitched once where they hung by his sides. His voice, when it finally came, was rough.

“I was scared,” he said. “Of what I felt. Of how much I felt it. You looked at me like I was a future. Like I was a promise. And I didn’t know what to do with that.”

Jungkook stared at him, every line in his face locked tight.

Taehyung continued, slower now. “It was too much, all at once. You were...everything. And I started asking myself if maybe I was reading too much into it. Maybe I’d confused partnership with something else. Something that only existed in my head.” He paused. “So I did what I always do when I feel too much.”

“You ran,” Jungkook said, low.

Taehyung winced. “I pulled back. I told myself if I stepped away, the feelings would quiet down. That the space would help me let go.”

“You never said anything,” Jungkook snapped, voice rising.

“I didn’t know how!” Taehyung’s voice broke. “I didn’t know how to say I was falling for you while still being terrified I’d imagined it all.”

Jungkook took a breath like he was trying not to drown in it.

“I thought we were... us,” he said. “Unshakable. Even without words. I kept waiting for you to say something. Anything. But you just... disappeared. I thought I’d screwed it up. I thought I pushed too hard. I thought I was the only one who cared.”

They stared at each other.

Too much distance. Too many things unsaid.

Then Taehyung stepped forward.

“Every time I saw you after that, I wanted to speak,” he whispered. “But the longer I waited, the more I convinced myself I’d already ruined it. That if I said it then, it wouldn’t matter anymore.”

“You should’ve said it anyway.”

“I’m saying it now,” Taehyung breathed.

Jungkook didn’t move. His jaw was clenched. His hands were shaking.

“Say it,” he whispered. “Don’t imply it. Don’t hint. I can’t take the maybe anymore.”

Taehyung’s chest rose with a breath he hadn’t allowed himself in weeks. And then...softly, surely--

“I love you,” he said. “I’ve loved you for longer than I knew it. I love you now. And I’m sorry I let fear feel louder than that.”

Silence.

And then suddenly,

Jungkook was in motion.

He crossed the space between them in three steps, grabbed Taehyung by the collar, and kissed him like he was starving. Like he’d waited years. Like he’d built a home out of silence and it was finally burning down in the best way.

Taehyung clutched him back like he never wanted to let go again.

They didn’t need magic.

The spark between them lit everything.

And Jieun couldn’t breathe.

It was like watching someone fall into gravity after floating too long.

“You both kept trying to protect each other from your own hearts,” she said. “But it doesn’t work like that. That’s not love. That’s fear dressed up in logic.”

“Spoken like someone who’s been dodging her own feelings for ages,” Taehyung said without looking away from Jungkook.

The room shifted.

Jieun blinked. “What?”

“Oh, come on,” Taehyung said. “You and Jimin have been in a full-blown enemies-to-lovers slow burn for years.”

Jimin’s eyebrows shot up. “Excuse me...”

“Do you think we haven’t noticed?” Jungkook cut in now, turning toward them. “You bicker like divorced witches, protect each other like soul threads, and blush every time someone says the word partner.”

Jieun flushed. “We do not blush.”

“You just did.”

“I’m allergic to drama!”

“You’re made of drama!”

“Okay!” Jimin shouted, stepping forward, louder than he meant to. His voice cracked. “Yes. Fine. I’m in love with her.”

“Jimin…” her voice came, soft as breath.

He exhaled hard, like he’d been holding it in for centuries. “I didn’t say it because I thought I’d ruin everything if I did. We’re a team. We’re chaos. We work. And I was scared that if I said the one wrong thing, I’d lose all of that.”

He looked straight at Jieun, hands clenched. “But I don’t care anymore. I’d rather blow up every mission than keep pretending it’s not real.”

“I’m in love with you,” he said again, slower now. “I think I’ve been in love with you since the day you threatened to hex my shoes for stealing your muffin. I’ve tried to pretend it’s just chemistry. Chaos. Partnership. But I’d rather fail every mission for the rest of eternity than not tell you anymore.”

Jieun’s breath hitched. His words rippled through her chest, igniting tendrils of wonder and fear. She studied his face: the vulnerability in his eyes, the gentle curve of his wings, the way his wings, shoulders, and heart all leaned toward her.

She swallowed. Tension crackled in the space between them. Every mission they’d survived together...the laughter, the fire, the near-disasters- they all crystallized into this moment.

Time slowed. Air trembled. Their wings hovered, caught between fear and hope. Tension crackled in the space between them like magic too scared to land.

Her wings trembled. She reached out, nearly shaking. And then, as though defying gravity, let her fingers tug at his sleeve. “Jimin…” Her voice trembled. Everything in her chest felt too big for her ribs. She looked at him. And in his eyes, she didn’t see mockery. She saw hope. Fear. And something that looked like home.

He held her gaze even though his heart trembled in fear of rejection.

“I thought I was just being dramatic. Running on adrenaline. But the first time your hand brushed mine during the kitchen fiasco, I felt it. The thing I never let myself name.” Her voice caught. She inhaled, louder now. “I was scared you’d laugh. Scared you’d pull away. But in that moment… I realized I wasn’t complete without you.”

She stepped into his warmth.

Closer than she’d ever dared. Close enough to see the way his chest rose too fast. The way his eyes held something wild, something terrified, and certain all at once. Her hand found his sleeve, fingers trembling.

He didn’t move.

Didn’t speak.

Just stared like he was still waiting to wake up.

“Jimin,” she whispered, “I’m in love with you.”

And that was it.

He surged forward, crashing into her like the tide-urgent, breathless, hungry in the way only the heartsick can be. His hands gripped her waist like they didn’t know how to let go. Her fingers tangled in his hair as she kissed him back, every second stolen from all the ones they’d lost.

It wasn’t clean or practiced.

It was the kind of kiss you give when the world’s been cruel and silence has been long and you’ve finally been handed the one thing you never thought you’d get to keep.

She whimpered against him...barely a sound, but it tore through him. His hands moved up her spine, across her cheek, desperate to touch every part of her he’d ached for in secret.

Her lips parted beneath his and he melted into the space she made for him, kissing her slower now. Deeper. Like he was memorizing the shape of her yes.

And when she pulled back, eyes glassy, he chased her like a prayer.

Their foreheads pressed together. Breaths shallow. Hearts frantic.

But neither spoke. They didn’t need to.

And then, Jimin kissed her forehead.

Gently. Reverently. Like that touch was more sacred than anything he’d ever been trusted with.

She closed her eyes, tears slipping free, and he brushed them away with shaking thumbs.

“I thought I’d lost you, there for a second,” he breathed, voice breaking.

“You never did,” she whispered. “You never could.”

He laughed. Choked and messy. His arms wrapped around her like he was afraid the stars might change their mind and take her back. She clung just as tightly, burying her face in his shoulder.

“I love you,” he said again, against her hair now. “I love you so much it ruined every second I couldn’t say it.”

She pulled back just enough to meet his eyes. Her own rimmed red. Shining.

“And now?” she asked.

His smile was soft and wrecked and everything she’d ever wanted to see.

“Now I get to say it forever.”

She kissed him again. Slower. Smiling through the tears this time.

And for the first time in all their chaotic, glitter-drenched, hex-prone lives,

They didn’t feel like a storm.

They felt like home.

And across the room, Taehyung and Jungkook looked at each other again...eyes softer now, shoulders less tight.

Jungkook stepped forward.

“I don’t want a different match,” he said. “Even if the thread breaks. Even if we mess it up again. I still choose you.”

Taehyung didn’t smile.

He just reached out and took his hand.

And whispered, “Same.”

And that’s when it happened.

For a heartbeat, everything held still. Then their wings trembled in unison, and the air warmed.

First...a soft pulse. Then another, stronger. Like the room itself had taken a deep breath.

A golden light swept through the air, curling around them, humming low and warm through their bones.

Their wings shivered. Their halos sparked. And something deep inside their bond, their thread, woke up and remembered itself.

Four heartbeats aligned. The magic, sensing their choice, wrapped them in gold.

Their wings glowed, and their auras flared. The celestial thread, cracked and frayed, pulled itself whole again, as if the magic had just been waiting for permission.

They stayed like that for a moment, hovering in the hush that always comes right after something sacred breaks open. Their hands still clasped. Their wings still warm.

And in that glow, four Baby Cupids stood.

Not perfect. Not whole...yet. But seen. Chosen. And not alone.

☾⋆⁺₊✧⁺₊⋆ ☁︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

EPILOGUE — THE ONES WHO LOVED FIRST (Where two baby Cupids find their wings — and everyone remembers why love is the strongest magic of all.)

Cupid Headquarters had never, in all of its immortal bureaucratic existence, been this loud without a formal disaster protocol in place. The Hall of Promotions wasn’t glowing so much as screaming in color.

Glitter poured from the ceiling vents like divine dandruff. Banners flickered with erratic fonts that kept changing mid-word. One of them read “CONGRATULATIONS!” until it hiccuped and glitched into “CONFLAGRATIONS!” which honestly felt more accurate.

There was a thunderstorm of enchanted applause, hands clapping out of sync in the background. The love confetti had unionized. Someone had given a cherub a megaphone, and that cherub was now freestyle rapping about the history of divine incompetence.

And in the middle of this absolute celestial meltdown stood the reason for it all.

Jieun and Jimin.

Former baby Cupids. Current problems. Eternal icons.

Jieun was covered in at least five layers of celebratory sparkle, standing on the podium like a war hero returning from battle, except the war had involved muffins, ghosts, and violating nearly every rule in the Divine Intervention Handbook.

Her grin was feral. Her eyes were leaking emotion like her tear ducts had gone rogue. A garland of roses hung off her arm, possibly stolen from a ceremonial arch.

Next to her, Jimin stood in a robe that looked like it had been dragged through seventeen promotions and a musical. His halo was slightly tilted, glitter-streaked, and he was proudly holding the ceremonial muffin aloft like it was the celestial torch of Cupid Olympics. Someone had kissed his cheek. Probably Jieun. He winked at nothing.

Taehyung and Jungkook stood beside them, not quite holding hands, but also very clearly not not holding hands. Jungkook’s face looked like it had gone twelve emotional rounds and was now clinging to Taehyung’s sleeve for stability. Taehyung looked like he was about to start writing sonnets out loud. Neither of them could stop smiling.

And then, through the sea of sentient cupcakes and celestial chaos, Supervisor Kang emerged.

Oh, Kang.

His robe had a coffee stain the size of divine wrath. His wings were semi-folded in defeat. A confetti streamer was lodged in his hair like it had legally claimed squatter’s rights. His expression was somewhere between Why do I exist and I’m too old for this dimension.

But his eyes?

Tired, yes. Frustrated? Eternally. But undeniably, irrevocably, soft.

When he looked at Jieun and Jimin, it wasn’t the way a supervisor looks at paperwork. It wasn’t even how a boss looks at chaos; he’s contractually forbidden from smiting. It was the look of someone who had witnessed a miracle unfold across broken rules, burning scrolls, and two tiny idiots who didn’t know when to quit, and somehow made everything better because of it.

He tried clearing his throat. No one noticed. Jieun was busy yelling “GLITTER IS JUST STARDUST WITH AMBITION!” at a terrified intern, and Jimin was dramatically slow-dancing with the muffin.

So Kang did what any ancient, overworked, emotionally compromised supervisor would do.

He slammed the ceremonial scroll against the dais with enough force to quiet an apocalypse.

The silence that followed was instant. Sacred. One confetti cannon choked mid-explosion. A harp cried in fear.

Kang raised one hand slowly. And then, like the sky remembered how to soften...he smiled.

A real one. Not his usual dry twitch of sarcasm. No, this was warmth carved into a man who had carried centuries of burnt toast and unfiled reports, and for once, was proud enough to forget the paperwork.

“I’ve seen a lot of promotions in my time,” he began, his voice gravel-soft, like it had been waiting to say this for centuries. “Thousands of Cupids. Most follow the rules. Check the boxes. Memorize the hymns. Get promoted quietly.”

His gaze locked on Jieun.

Then Jimin.

And something deep in his expression cracked open—like light was trying to get out.

“But you two?”

He exhaled a laugh that was equal parts disbelief and awe.

“You didn't just break the rules. You shredded them, set them on fire, and fed them to a sentient squirrel. You questioned every mission, offended four Council members, set an oven on divine fire, and personally insulted a phoenix intern so badly, it applied for sabbatical.”

Jieun’s mouth twitched. Her eyes shimmered.

Jimin wiped at his cheek like he could pretend he wasn’t crying.

Kang’s voice grew steadier now, laced with something bigger than pride—something holy.

“But you also braved a ghost’s heartbreak. You pulled a song out of silence. You glitter-bombed burnout and made the stars weep from joy. You healed mortals. You gave divine second chances. And you reminded everyone, every Cupid, every human, every reluctant god, what our job actually means.”

He turned now, not just to them, but to the crowd.

“You think being a Cupid is about matchmaking,” he said, voice rising, echoing off stained-glass skies. “About kissing montages and serendipity and romantic endings.”

He looked back at Jieun and Jimin like he already knew they’d rewrite every rule ever written.

“It’s not.”

He pointed to his chest.

“It’s about love.”

The kind of love that starts in the most silent places. In shame. In fear. In loss too deep to name. The kind that doesn't arrive with fanfare or fireworks, but shows up, trembling and raw, but still stays.

Love that says, ‘Even when you are shattered, you are still worthy.’

Love that says, ‘I will not leave you. Even when you think you don’t deserve to be held.’

And then, Kang turned toward the floating scroll behind them, the one still glowing, gold and proud, pulsing with the record of every miracle they made.

“You reminded Kim Seokjin that brilliance doesn’t need applause to exist. That the heart of a cook is not in perfection, but in the joy of being enough.”

Jieun hiccuped. She still had the memory of that kitchen. Of Seokjin’s laugh as the crowd cheered. Of the way the oven light caught the pride in his eyes. The way Jin finally looked like he belonged in his own story.

“You gave Min Yoongi his music back,” Kang said, nodding at Jimin. “You pulled his music out of the grave of his own perfectionism. You taught him that melody isn’t the absence of pain — it’s pain turned into art. That healing doesn't mean silence. It means singing anyway.”

Jimin bit his lip. His fingers curled around the edge of his robe. He remembered Yoongi’s piano. The way the notes shook. The way the melody finally bloomed, imperfect and perfect all at once

“You freed Jung Hoseok from the weight of someone else’s grief,” Kang continued. “You taught him that love is not supposed to leave bruises. That sometimes, letting go is not abandonment. It’s grace.”

Taehyung looked away for a second. Jungkook reached over, brushed his knuckles lightly.

“You gave Kim Namjoon the most forbidden thing of all — Permission to stop. To rest. To crumble and not be ashamed. You told him he didn’t have to carry the universe to be loved. You made him understand that healing is not a detour. It’s the way home.”

By now, Jieun was crying openly. Her whole frame trembling, radiant.

Jimin had stopped pretending he wasn’t.

And then Kang looked at them both with the kind of gentleness that should’ve been impossible for a man who once cursed a spreadsheet.

“And in the end, you didn’t just fix strangers, but your own too,” he said, voice breaking as he gestured to Taehyung and Jungkook, “You reminded these two that it’s okay to be scared. That loving someone doesn’t require you to be perfect — just brave.”

“You did all of this…” Kang added, voice dropping now, intimate and raw, “While being afraid yourselves. While loving each other and pretending you didn’t”

Jieun finally looked at Jimin.

He was already looking at her.

“And still,” Kang whispered, “you chose love. For them. For yourselves. And for that...”

He stepped forward now, robe rustling like a whisper of centuries.

From his sleeve, he drew two sigils; glowing, star-shaped, brilliant like promise incarnate.

“You are no longer baby Cupids,” he said, placing one into Jieun’s palm, the other in Jimin’s.

“You are love.”

The silence shattered into joy.

Screams. Applause. Cupids flying into walls. Someone sobbing into a glitter cannon.

Taehyung launched himself at Jieun and spun her like a glitter-drenched Beyblade. Jungkook tackled Jimin into a hug so violent it set off an alarm.

Jimin shrieked. “WE’RE LEGALIZED!”

Jieun was sobbing. “WE HAVE DENTAL!”

“WE HAVE RESPECT,” Jimin added, as he tripped over his own robe and fell into a ceremonial cloud.

“You never had respect,” Kang muttered, trying not to laugh as a muffin tried to hug him.

“YOU LOVE US,” Jieun screamed, glitter exploding from her hair.

“Don’t touch me.”

“YOU’RE OUR CELESTIAL DAD.”

“I’m filing for retirement.”

“YOU CRIED.”

“I WILL SMITE YOU.”

They all dog-piled him anyway.

And he hugged them back.

Tightly.

Like a man who had watched two tiny chaotic hearts become something beautiful, and still didn’t know how to say he was proud without crying again.

And when no one was watching, he smiled so wide his wings lit up again.

Much, much later, after the muffins had stopped serenading the judges, after the skybridge stopped playing “A Whole New World” on loop, Jieun and Jimin stood together at the edge of the heavens.

Their robes glowed. Their halos were steady. Their wings — earned, whole — unfolded behind them like stories finally told.

Below them, Earth turned quietly.

“You think we’ll be good at this?” Jieun whispered.

Jimin looked at her. Took her hand.

“We already are.”

And somewhere, in a room too full of stars to count, love smiled.

Because chaos may have brought them here.

But love?

Love made them stay.

☾⋆⁺₊✧⁺₊⋆ ☁︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Author’s Note: Hi! Lovely souls, Makaira here. I brought Supervisor Kang here for a few final words. He’s a little shy with mortals, so be gentle. He only cries once a century, and he just used up this cycle’s allotment on two idiot Cupids.

Ahem

SUPERVISOR KANG’S EMOTIONALLY REPRESSED FAREWELL TRANSMISSION

Yes. It’s me. The grumpy one with the coffee. The one you’ve all mentally labeled “exhausted sky dad.” The one who’s been putting up with sparkle-infused drama and celestial malpractice for longer than any of you have been alive.

You want a final word?

Fine.

I am... proud.

There. I said it. That’s your quota. Clip it. Frame it. Immortalize it in glitter calligraphy, I don’t care.

But I am.

I watched two absolute disasters...Jieun, who once tried to duel a vending machine over a muffin, and Jimin, who charmed a hexed arrow into doing jazz hands, become the kind of Cupids this universe didn’t know it needed.

They healed what couldn’t be healed.

They made love out of grief, laughter out of fear.

They did what no scroll could teach and no training could contain:

They loved. Loudly. Stupidly. Relentlessly.

And somewhere in the middle of all that,

They became mine.

I don’t say it often. I don’t say it ever.

But they’re my kids.

And if any of you hurt them, I will personally rain judgment down with the fury of a caffeine-deprived volcano god.

I hope you cried.

I hope you laughed.

I hope, even for a second, you remembered that love isn’t about roses or fate or poetic declarations.

Sometimes, it’s about yelling at someone until they believe in themselves again.

Makaira’s closing the scroll now.

You’ll miss them.

I already do.

– Supervisor Kang (First of His Name, Breaker of Muffins, Caffeine Father of Chaos)

☾⋆⁺₊✧⁺₊⋆ ☁︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

• Main Masterlist

[ephyreart]

Cigars & Wine ─ Captain Price x OC

[A/N] First time posting writing here! Hope it does well and is liked, it is also on my ao3!

Content ─ Angst, Fluff

Word Count ─ 1090

───────────────

A celestial pearl in the darkened sky, a silver imperfect sphere surrounded by an ethereal glow, a stellar body of enchanting beauty as its light shimmered upon us, his ocean-like optics illuminated as he gazed within the warmth of my honey-painted orbs.

Calloused hands soon found themselves upon my waist, fingers slipping beneath the fabric of my oversized shirt before he gradually began tracing delicate circles over my porcelain-like skin. Our bodies now woven, like threads interlaced jointly— his larger frame engulfing mine, the intoxicating fragrance of his musky aroma, a symphony of whiskey, cigars and cedar filling the room, hung heavy in the air, filling in my senses as I savoured his scent. The firewood crackled peacefully, a luminous glow radiating warmth, accompanied by a sweet melody as our bodies began to sway to the slow rhythm of the music, waltzing gracefully across the floor.

''Cheeky girl, putting that record on.'' He let out a low chuckle before he lifted my arm over my head, spinning my body around and immediately drawing me back into his embrace, his nose scrunching a little, a smile forming upon his lips as his gaze locked within my own. ''Still fixated on it, am I right, love?'' John leaned forward, his voice throaty and low as he whispered, the warmth of his breath tickling my skin, his lips soon pressing a gentle kiss upon my earlobe.

''I can't help it, John.'' I pouted a little as a shiver ran down my spine, melting into his touch, surrendering to the magnetic pull between us. His strong hands guided me effortlessly, our bodies moving in perfect harmony, flowing seamlessly, each step an echo of the other, like a pair of celestial bodies forever bound to orbit around each other, our paths intertwined in a cosmic waltz. ''I know, just teasing you, love, no need to get all pouty on me.'' He let out a throaty laugh, smirking before leaning forward— our lips meeting in a tender embrace, a burst of sweetness with a hint of liquor lingering upon as his facial hair tickled my cheeks. A rush of emotions surged through me; our kiss was like a summer breeze, soft and warm, caressing my skin gently as if time had stood still.

[ I wish it had. ]

''Keep talking like that, and maybe you'll wake up with no beard tomorrow.'' My cherry-tinted lips curved upwards, lifting my gaze to meet his own, letting out a muffled chuckle. My hands wrapped around his forearms, fingertips tracing patterns upon the fabric of his clothing before trailing up to his shoulders, soon cupping his face gently. ''Ah, threatening me now, aren't you, darling?'' John teased, his hands finding my hips and pulling me closer to him as my thumbs drafted circles against his cheeks, his beard poking my delicate skin.

My eyes twinkled with mischief as my lips curved into a smirk. I gracefully rose upon the tips of my feet, closing the gap between us with a gentle lean, our lips meeting in a tender, fleeting kiss. With a soft hum, I pulled away, our hands soon intertwining and with a playful grin, I guided John towards the couch— our steps slow and deliberate as we sat upon the velvety cushions. 

''I hope you don't mind me stealing one of your cigars.'' I smiled, and with a swift motion, my hand darted towards the coffee table, fingers deftly clasping the pack nestled amidst scattered magazines, pulling one out before positioning it between my lips, igniting the tip with a lighter. ''And here I thought you hated my cigars.'' John tilted his gaze— crystalline blue eyes twinkling with amusement, watching me take a slow drag, a slender stream of smoke curling from the end of the cigar held delicately between my fingers. ''Still haven't cut off your habit, eh?'' He murmured, a hint of worry lacing his voice.

''You're the one to talk, John.'' My eyes rolled as I swiftly rose from the couch, my body swaying as I spun around, walking with measured steps towards the kitchen bar counter. My fingers embraced the wine bottle with a gentle yet confident grip as I remained to ponder. Perhaps he was right; my habit of smoking had become too uncontrollable. With every puff, a silent betrayal unfolded, the toxic smoke infiltrating my once vibrant lungs, slowly eroding their vitality, choking the very breath of life from within, consuming me whole, drowning my sorrows— seeking to forget as I slowly continued destroying my very own body and mind with unhealthy habits.

 ''You need to let me go, Charlotte.''

My ears perked up, the bottle slipping from my grip, crashing upon the ground, glass shards scattered as my body froze. An eerie silence settled upon the room as if even the air held its breath. The absence of sound was deafening, creating an unsettling void that amplified every creak and rustle.

''What are you talking about?'' 

A faint whisper escaped my lips, choking on my words as I held a tight grip on the edges of the counter. Reality beckoned like an insistent call, drawing me back from the depths of my imagination. The images that had danced before my eyes dissolved like smoke, my world crumbling apart all over again. Eyes once full of life— bright and sweet like honey, the sparkle that once kindled my gaze had dulled, replaced by a haunting sadness.

Like crystalline dewdrops forming on a delicate flower petal, tears welled up within the depths of my eyes, transforming the honey-brown irises into a liquid haze, blurring my vision. My emotions overflowed— consuming my mind whole as the glistening droplets clung to my eyelashes, my body trembling in fear as I desperately gasped for air.

''John?''

I had now burnt out like a fading star— the gentle yet once fierce flame within me had now dimmed to a mere ember, as my once radiant light now flickered weakly, like a celestial body finally nearing the end of its life cycle, leaving behind a hollow emptiness, now replaced by a dim, distant twinkle. The moon shone upon my figure as I dropped to my knees, tears overflowing, dribbling down my cheeks, as the firewood persisted in crackling gently, our record on repeat.

And in that solitary moment, my heart shattered as I finally grasped that the dance I had cherished so dearly was a tender embrace with his ghost, forever lost to the depths of my own imagination.

[drops-of-moonlights]

What's the weapon of each sailor?

aight so:

Moon, contrast to the source material, only gets three (3) wands/rods - the Moonlight Wand (based on the Moon Stick - when Princess Sailor Moon uses it, it turns into a sword), the Spiral Heart Moon Rod (obtained as she gets Super Sailor Moon in the Black Moon arc - I should probably make a post about the plot beat changes...) and the Eternal Crosier (based off the Eternal Tiare but with a different look). Other than that she keeps the chakrams as well.

Mercury's past incarnation used a spear, but the girls on average don't vibe with their past life weapons, so they instead manage to create their own - and so she creates a shield harp she names the Harmony Shield.

Mars, of course, has her ofuda. Her past incarnation used daggers, later she creates a longbow instead which she calls the Sacred Fire Bow.

Jupiter originally just uses her fists as is good and proper, and her past incarnation used a greatsword. She ends up creating plant-themed wind and fire wheels later on, named the Forest Wheels.

Venus only uses the Holy Blade during the first arc, and once she gets to make her own weapon she immediately turns to chains. She gets an extra weapon she fuses with said chains though - a microphone, a holdover from her Sailor V days that she returns to. The chain is called the Charm Chain, while the microphone is the Charm Mic.

Earth gets a sword, being the only one to create the same type of weapon as their past life version, though compared to the wide blade Beryl!Earth used she made something closer to a rapier. Beryl did not name her sword, but Mio calls hers the Mantle Blade.

Endymion used a longsword, Tuxedo Mask opts instead for using his sunflowers as darts, as well as a quarterstaff later on.

Uranus and Neptune keep the Space Sword and Deep Aqua Mirror, though Neptune manages to mold the mirror to become a dagger for close combat. She also later creates a violin.

Sailor Vulcan, fitting her celestial body's name, wields a warhammer named the Forge Smasher.

Pluto, like Uranus and Neptune, keeps her Garnet Rod and Orb.

As Chibimoon, she wields the Cutie Moon Rod, and she keeps it as Sailor Nemesis though under the name of Black Moon Rod. Then as Eclipse she first wields the Heart Mace, a crystal-like blunt weapon, before wielding the Kaleidoscope Sword and then finally the Eclipse Pistol.

Saturn keeps her Silence Glaive as is good and proper, though the design of it is vastly different from the one her first incarnation wielded.

Ceres uses the Spring Wand, Pallas uses the Winter Orbs, Juno uses the Autumn Daggers and Vesta uses the Summer Whip.

Finally, the real Nemesis uses a small shield, named the Mirror Shield.

Will I draw all of these? quite probably lmao but later.

[night-lakmen]

"I grant the gift of leadership and dominion over the skies."

"I grant the gift of harmonious unions and enduring partnerships."

"I grant the gift of swift communication and clever wit."

"I grant the gift of valor and unyielding courage in battle."

"I grant the gift of music and healing"

"I grant the gift of the wilderness and the moon's guidance."

"I grant the gift of magnetic attraction and boundless passion."

"I grant the gift of innovative creations and unparalleled artistry."

"I grant the gift of abundant harvests and flourishing growth."

"I grant the gift of insightful knowledge and strategic foresight."

"I grant the gift of ecstatic celebrations and uninhibited revelry."

"I grant the gift of comforting homes and welcoming hearths."

In the majestic hall of Olympus, the atmosphere was charged with anticipation. The grandeur of the surroundings, adorned with celestial motifs and shimmering lights, created a backdrop fit for the gods. As the deities assembled, their diverse presence filled the space, each one exuding an aura of power and grace.

At the heart of the gathering, a glowing golden pulse captured everyone's attention. Its radiant light cast a soft, ethereal glow, casting shadows that danced across the marble floors and reflecting off the intricate frescoes that adorned the walls. The gentle hum of conversation ceased as all eyes turned to the pulsating orb, its rhythmic throbbing a testament to the divine energy it contained.

Slowly, almost imperceptibly, the golden pulse began to split into two halves. They spun ever so slowly, one clockwise and the other anticlockwise almost like they were two ends of the same spectrum. Two halves seperated just so one didn't become too powerful or destructive, forever meant to need to the other to function.

Hades, who had been summoned to Olympus from his own domain simply for the present occasion, spoke up with his words filled in a sense of disdain for the family he had tried to distance himself from simply due to their habits. "Bestowing such gifts on mortals is cruel! We're gods, we control our own domains. Expecting two young children to bear such a heavy responsibility, having their life already written down before they're allowed to be born- it's downright cruel!"

The other gods looked at each other and then back at Hades, the words of the God of the underworld shaking some of their own guilt. The big three had to put a pause to their own pact for the task in hand, find a surrogate for the burning merges of power which would make the host a living weapon, a sheild, a blade for the gods which would protect the forefront of Olympus. Fates were cruel, but it was the best thing for the gods to do. The threat of monsters constantly trying to over throw Olympus meant they'd need someone who would be able to fight the threat with the force of all of them.

Someone human.

Poseidon, his trident held loosely by his side, nodded solemnly. "It was a necessary decision," he agreed, his voice steady and resolute. As much as the God wanted to take his words back, he knew him taking his words back would mean the responsibility would be given to Zeus- and both Hades and Poseidon did not trust Zeus with choosing a suitable mortal to mother the host of the power.

The king of the gods turned his head towards Hades, his stormy eyes narrowing in dangerous rage.

"You question our decisions, Hades, yet you offer no solutions," Zeus retorted, his voice tinged with a hint of thunderous anger. "You speak of cruelty, yet you fail to see the greater purpose. We cannot afford to let Olympus fall to the whims of fate and chance. We must act with decisiveness and strength to protect our realm. Tell us at once if you want to back up your words, we do not have time to waste."

With a reluctant sigh, Hades moved towards the center of the gathering where the golden pulses had once been. He reached out, hesitating for a moment before his fingers closed around one of the warm power hotspots. As he lifted it, the pulsating energy slowly transformed, its vibrant glow dissipating to reveal an exquisite fruit. The fruit was a deep shade of e/c, its surface adorned with specks of shimmering gold, casting a mesmerizing pattern against the light.

As Hades backed away, his gaze locked with Poseidon's, who had approached the second pulsating hotspot. With a solemn expression, Poseidon picked up the other glowing orb of energy. Similar to Hades's, the energy gradually settled, giving way to a stunning fruit. This one was a radiant shade of azure blue, its skin smooth and glossy, emanating a sense of calm and tranquility.

As Poseidon turned to leave, his trident glinted in the soft glow of the hall. Zeus, noticing his departure, called out, "Poseidon, where do you think you're going?"

Poseidon paused, his expression sour as he glanced back at Zeus. "Since we're supposed to find a surrogate for the host," he remarked, his tone laced with bitterness, "I already have a woman in mind. If you don't mind, I must go woo her properly."

With a dismissive flick of his hand, Poseidon turned on his heel and strode out of the hall, leaving behind a trail of tension and uncertainty in his wake. The gods could feel the cold emotions radiating off the other god who held the e/c colored fruit on his palm. The cold specks in it seemed to swirl in his sight, a cold fist closing around his heart.

Lowering the hand, he too turned around from the other gods and walked away with the intention of staying in the underworld, by his wife's side so as to spare him the pain of fathering a child who would be raised as a lamb of sacrifice. The father he'd never asked to be, but now was forced to bear, for the sake of Olympus' survival.

With heavy hearts and troubled minds, the remaining gods and goddesses slowly dispersed, their footsteps echoing solemnly against the marble floors of the grand hall. Each deity carried with them the weight of the decisions made and the uncertainties of the future. The spots which had once held the pulsating energies lay barren, slowly turning darker as fates sealed their cruel iron hand over the heads of the children who'd be unlucky enough to be born under the curse.

The curse of power. The curse of strength.

The curse of being chosen by the gods.

[clean-bubbles-aka-bubbles]

┆ ° ♡ • ➵ Prologue✩ ◛ °

In the vast expanse of the multiverse, where galaxies danced to the rhythm of cosmic energies, there existed a point of convergence. It was a place where the fabric of reality shimmered and wavered, a nexus of infinite possibilities and boundless potential.

From the depths of this cosmic crucible emerged a being unlike any other, born from the very essence of creation itself. They were (Y/n), a celestial entity woven from the threads of existence, their form a tapestry of light and energy that pulsed with the heartbeat of the universe.

As consciousness stirred within them, (Y/n) found themselves awakening in a celestial realm that defied description. It was a realm of swirling nebulae and shimmering starlight, where time flowed like an endless river and space stretched to infinity. Here, amidst the cosmic symphony, (Y/n) took their first breath and opened their eyes to behold the wonders of creation.

"Where... am I?" They spoke into the unknown, having been brought to an unfamiliar place with no memories of being there. 

But as if the universe was aware of their creation, it spoke, "You... are the embodiment of the multiverse." 

The voice resonated through the fabric of existence, reverberating within (Y/n)'s essence. It was not a voice in the conventional sense but rather a chorus of celestial harmonies, each note vibrating with cosmic significance.

"(Y/n), you are the convergence point of all things, the culmination of endless possibilities," the voice intoned, its cadence both soothing and profound. "You are the essence of creation itself, the spark that ignites the fires of life across the cosmos."

As (Y/n) absorbed the weight of these words, a sense of purpose began to stir within them. They gazed out into the expanse of the celestial realm, feeling the ebb and flow of cosmic energies coursing through their being.

"But why me?" (Y/n) questioned, their voice conveying uncertainty amidst the cosmos' vastness.

"Because, (Y/n), you possess the power to shape reality itself," the voice responded, imbuing each word with a sense of cosmic significance. "You are the guardian of balance, the steward of creation, the safeguard of order and chaos. It is your destiny to watch over the tapestry of existence and ensure that harmony prevails."

With each passing moment, (Y/n) felt the weight of their newfound role settle upon their shoulders. "What can I do for now?" They softly chirped to the unknown beauty of space.

As (Y/n) pondered their purpose amidst the celestial expanse, the voice of the universe resonated once more, guiding them with ethereal wisdom.

"You must learn," it whispered, the cosmic harmonies weaving through the fabric of reality. "Learn the intricacies of existence, the dance of creation and destruction, the delicate balance between light and darkness."

With a gentle gesture of their hand, (Y/n) conjured a shimmering orb of cosmic energy, its iridescent hues swirling with the universe's secrets. They reached out, feeling the raw power coursing through their fingertips, and embraced the orb with a sense of reverence.

"Seek knowledge, (Y/n)," the voice urged, its echoes permeating the celestial realm. "Explore the wonders of the world you choose to watch over. Embrace the diversity of life and the infinite possibilities that lie within."

A soft-spoken gasp left them as they held a soft but kind smile, excited and understanding the responsibility of their task. "I will..." 

Eons passed in the blink of an eye as (Y/n) wandered through the celestial expanse, their essence intermingling with the nature of the cosmos. They witnessed the birth and death of stars, the collision of galaxies, and the dance of celestial bodies across the vast canvas of space. They held tightly onto their book that knew of how every world, universe, and planet works.

As the ages passed and civilizations rose and fell, (Y/n) remained alone, isolated, and steadfast, a silent guardian watching over the world from the far reaches of the universe. Amidst the infinite expanse of the cosmos, a particular universe had caught their eye for quite some time. The world was called the Magic Realm.

Magic Realm was a fantasy-like world with kingdoms, dragons, princesses, witches, wizards, and mages. However, most of the population was filled with magical beings, witches, wizards, and mages. Listening and observing closely, they heard magic was commonplace. The majority of the population holds magic, while some others do not... referred to as muggles. 

Where arcane energies flowed like rivers and wonders abounded at every turn, (Y/n) found themselves drawn to the vibrant tapestry of mortal life. The most exciting part was finding out how the magic ranking system works. There were these 'magic marks,' which determined how much a person could use. 

Magic Marks are a unique system that governs individuals' magical abilities. In the world (Y/n) watches over, magic is an integral part of society, and those who possess mystical abilities are known as Witches and Wizards. Everyone believes that magic is a gift given by God itself.

Magic Marks measure a person's magical potential and proficiency. Each individual has a Magic Mark, essentially a numerical value representing their magical prowess. The higher the Magic Mark, the more powerful the individual's magic. Magic Marks are typically measured on a scale from 0 to 9999, with higher numbers indicating stronger magical abilities.

* Single-liners are individuals with the lowest level of magical ability. They possess only one Magic Mark on their body, usually somewhere visible, like their hand or face. Despite their limited magical power, Single-Liners can still perform basic spells and incantations.

* Double-Liners are individuals with a moderate level of magical ability. They have two Magic Marks on their body, indicating a higher proficiency in magic than Single-Liners. Double-liners are capable of casting more complex spells and techniques.

* Triple-Liners are individuals with the highest level of magical ability. They possess three Magic Marks on their body, signifying mastery of magic. Triple-Liners are extremely powerful and are capable of performing advanced spells and feats of magic that surpass those of Single-Liners and Double-Liners.

Everything seems peaceful and in smooth harmony. (Y/n) could move beyond to explore other words. Yet, amidst the majesty of the cosmos, they also felt a longing stirring within them.

A yearning to experience existence in a different form, to walk among mortals and feel the warmth of mortal life. 

(Y/n) remained apart, a silent observer lurking on the fringes of existence, knowing better than to trifle with mortal affairs. Even with a heavy heart of desiring an experience they never felt, they turned and began walking away from the platform they used to spectate the world.

Yet their heart refused to listen to their mind, pondering the mysteries of mortal life and wondering what it would be like to walk among them. Despite (Y/n)'s role as the guardian of balance and the steward of creation, some of them yearned to walk among the mortals and experience life in a tangible form.

They stopped in their tracks, their heart filled with uncertainty and hesitation as they kept stealing glances at the Magic Realm below. (Y/n) wanted to leave the Celestial World to live with mortals, but they didn't want to leave their comfort zone, uncertain of what dire consequences would come. Would the voice of the cosmos get mad at them? Would it punish them? Who knows?

As they pondered their next move, the voice echoed through the vastness of space, stirring the very essence of their soul.

"(Y/n), child of the multiverse, your desire is not without purpose," the voice intoned, its words carrying the weight of eons. "To experience life as a mortal is to understand the beauty of impermanence, the fleeting moments that define existence."

"W-What?" They softly gasped. 

"If you wanted to leave your home," it softly whispered. "You could've done so without my permission."

As the voice's words washed over them, (Y/n) felt a sense of relief flood their being. They had hesitated to act on their desires, fearing repercussions from the cosmic forces governing their existence. But now, with the voice's reassurance, they felt a newfound sense of freedom.

With a determined glint in their eyes, (Y/n) made a decision. They would venture forth into the mortal realm, embracing the uncertainty of the unknown and experiencing life in a way they had never before imagined.

With a graceful gesture, they conjured a shimmering portal that stretched out before them, leading to the world of Magic Realm. As they embarked on this grand adventure, the voice of the cosmos echoed softly in their minds, a comforting presence guiding them on their path.

"Go forth, (Y/n), my child," it whispered. "Embrace the beauty of mortal life, and may your journey be filled with wonder and discovery."

[88-constellations]

✦ . 　Aspects

In astrology, aspects describe the relationship between two celestial placements. There are a lot of different aspects, but there are only Five Major ones that all astrologers need to know.

Conjunction (0°): Conjunctions refer to two celestials right next to each other. This is considered a soft aspect, as conjunctions mean that the energies of the celestials are overlapping and combining.

Sextile (60°): Sextile refers to two celestials exactly 60 degrees apart that share the same polarity (e.g., negative [earth/water] signs are sextile with the next closest negative). This is considered a soft aspect, as the sextile brings camaraderie and a sense of familiarity to the relationship.

Square (90°): Square refers to two celestials exactly 90 degrees apart that share the same mode (e.g., mutable signs are square with the next closest mutable). This is considered a hard/difficult aspect, as the square brings tension as the energies of the two celestials clash.

Trine (120°): Trines refer to two celestials exactly 120 degrees apart that share the same element (e.g., fire signs are trine with the next closest fire). This is considered a soft aspect, as the trine represents harmonious and mutually beneficial energy between the two celestials.

Opposition (180°): Opposition refers to two celestials exactly 180 degrees apart that share the same mode and polarity but are six signs apart (e.g., Aries [Fire, Cardinal, Negative] is in opposition with Libra [Air, Cardinal, Negative]). This is considered a hard aspect, as the opposition refers to a total separation of the energies. This results in even more tension than a square and a cosmic tug-of-war battle between celestials.

✦ . 　Orb of Influence

Every aspect has an orb of influence (commonly called just orb). This refers to when a person begins to feel the impact of the aspect.

While the energy is strongest when the aspect is exact, you will feel the aspect a few days before and after it reaches exactness.

It is commonly agreed that ±5 is an acceptable orb for all aspects except for oppositions with an acceptable orb of ±10. When an aspect is approaching exactness, it is called applying. When an aspect has already experienced exactness, it is called separating.

divider by @/blinkees

[bunny-claws]

planetary aspects & orbs 💫

aspects refer to the angular relationship between planets or other celestial bodies on the ecliptic circle of a chart, whether this be your natal chart or a chart detailing the planetary alignment of any given time. orbs refer to how much an angle made by two points differs from the exactness of an aspect (i.e. a trine is exactly 120 degrees, so if two points are 123 degrees apart, the aspect is a trine with an orb of 3 degrees). it is said that the larger the orb, the less powerful or meaningful the aspect’s effects are. 

(in the image above, the two points come together at a 90 degree angle, and therefore, the aspect shown is square - image from astrolibrary.org)

while it’s common to use aspects and orbs in regards to astrology, they can be used for spellwork as well - using aspects and orbs can help you decide the compatibility of the energy between two or more objects in the chart. here are some basic aspects and their qualities.

harmonious - positive, compatible, cooperative, synergistic disharmonious - typically negative, challenging, conflicting, tense

major aspects

conjunction [☌]  - 0°, harmonious

opposition [☍]  - 180°, disharmonious

sextile [⚹]  - 60°, harmonious

square [□]- 90°, disharmonious

trine [△]- 120°, harmonious

minor aspects

biquintile [bQ] - 144°, harmonious

inconjunct [⚻] - 150°, neutral

quintile [Q] - 72°, harmonious

semisextile [⚺] - 30°, neutral

semisquare [∠] - 45°, disharmonious

sesquisquare [⚼] - 135°, disharmonious

vigintile - 18°, disharmonious

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