#bird's robe records

[gbhbl]

Album Review: sleepmakeswaves - It’s Here, But I Have No Names For It (Bird’s Robe/MGM/Dunk Records)

The lack of inhibition that makes up the sleepmakeswaves sound is on full and focused display here, and there’s no denying the impact they have.

Australian instrumental post-rockers sleepmakeswaves will release their new album ‘It’s Here, But I Have No Names For It on April 12th, 2024, via Bird’s Robe/MGM and Dunk Records. Photo Credit: Declan Blackall Beginning the album off in atmospheric and melodic fashion, building up in cinematic style, before exploding into a robust post-rocking rhythmic groove, sleepmakeswaves set the senses…

[elikajinnie]

Soulmarked Rivalry - Y.J

P: Slytherin!Jungwon X Fem!Reader

Requested by @bamguetismee <3 (i hope i got ur vision :3)

Warnings: Teasing, Forced Proximity, Soulmarks/Soulmates, Hurt/Comfort, Tension, Rivalry, Fluff, Confessions, Jealousy, Soobin Cameo (love triangle??), Peeves being a menace.

Synopsis: As a model student and prefect, your future at Hogwarts seems set—but Yang Jungwon, a Slytherin prefect, likes getting under your skin. To make things more complicated, he's your soulmate. Should you embrace fate or resist?

a/n: HELLO?? 500 FOLLOWERS?? WAHH!! THANK YOU GUYSS! <3

masterlist

--

You had always worked hard as a student. That’s what the teachers at Hogwarts liked seeing—hardworking students with the ability to excel both in a team and on their own. And you fit perfectly. You were a model student with good marks, excellent control over your magic, and a natural ability to care for others, whether they were in your house or not. It wasn’t a surprise when you were named a prefect in your fifth year.

You carried that badge with pride. You loved being a prefect—patrolling the corridors, helping younger students, and upholding the rules that kept Hogwarts running. You loved Hogwarts, period.

Well, all except for one thing.

Yang Jungwon.

The Slytherin prefect who, despite his innocent face and disarmingly sweet smile, seemed to make it his life’s mission to drive you completely insane.

It wasn’t the usual kind of rivalry either. Sure, Slytherins clashed with other houses from time to time, but this wasn’t just about house pride. No, this was personal. It was in the way he smirked whenever he caught you on patrol, somehow managing to be just a little too late to help out when you were swamped with first-years who couldn’t find their common room. It was in the way he’d charm his way out of detentions, even when he’d been the one sneaking enchanted fireworks into the Great Hall during breakfast.

Worst of all, it was in the way he made you feel like you were the one always losing control, like you were the one who couldn’t keep your composure when he was around.

“You missed a spot,” he drawled one evening, leaning against the corridor wall as you adjusted the Ravenclaw notice board. His voice was light, teasing, like he had nothing better to do than stand there and watch you work. “Top corner. Might want to straighten it out before McGonagall sees it.”

You shot him a glare over your shoulder. “Don’t you have patrols to be on?”

He shrugged, the emerald trim of his robes catching the light. “I could say the same to you, Miss Perfect.”

Your jaw tightened. That nickname.

You turned back to the board, determined to ignore him, even as you felt the heat rising to your cheeks.

But of course, Jungwon didn’t leave. He never did.

Yang Jungwon had a way of getting under your skin like no one else could. He was frustratingly clever, sharp-tongued in a way that wasn’t outright cruel but always cut just enough to make you grit your teeth. It wasn’t what you’d expected from a Slytherin prefect. No, on paper, Jungwon was everything you were: a model student with stellar marks, impeccable spellwork, and a spotless disciplinary record.

And that’s what made him so infuriating.

Because no matter how much he teased, no matter how many snarky remarks he threw your way, Jungwon had an uncanny ability to slip through the cracks of authority unscathed. He always masked his mischief with that disarming smile, that soft-spoken charm that even the professors fell for.

“Honestly, Professor Flitwick,” he’d say with wide, innocent eyes after you’d caught him charming the suits of armor to sing off-key Christmas carols in the corridors, “I was just practicing for the Yule Ball choir audition. I had no idea they’d move on their own!”

And Flitwick, much to your disbelief, had waved it off as “creative magic.” Creative magic!

But when it came to you, he didn’t even bother to pretend.

Take the time he’d enchanted a batch of parchment birds to follow you around the library, each one whispering “Miss Perfect” in soft, sing-song voices. You’d stormed over to him in the Potions section, where he sat with his feet casually propped up on the table, looking as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

“Seriously, Jungwon?��� you hissed, holding up one of the parchment birds, which was now fluttering around your head like an annoyingly persistent fly.

He’d looked up from his book with that infuriatingly serene smile. “Oh? Are they bothering you? I must’ve used the wrong spell. They were supposed to cheer you up.”

“They’re driving me insane,” you snapped.

“Well, that’s not very cheerful of them,” he mused, flicking his wand with a practiced ease that made the birds disappear. Then, without missing a beat, he leaned forward, resting his chin in his hand. “But I’ll admit, it’s kind of cute how flustered you get when you’re mad.”

Your face burned at that, and you’d stomped away, leaving him chuckling softly behind you.

And yet, despite his constant antics, you couldn’t really catch him doing anything blatantly wrong. That was his specialty. His mischief always danced just on the edge of trouble—never enough to get him punished, but always enough to make you want to hex that smirk off his face.

Like during joint prefect meetings. While you were diligently taking notes on the patrol schedules, he’d lean just a little too close, peering over your parchment.

“Wow, your handwriting is so neat,” he’d whisper, just loud enough to catch your attention. “Did you learn calligraphy in secret? Or is this just natural talent?”

“Jungwon, do you mind?” you’d mutter, trying to shift your parchment out of his view.

“Not at all,” he’d reply, his tone maddeningly light. “In fact, I think I’ll start sitting next to you every meeting. You’re so good at organizing things—it’s inspiring.”

You’d glare at him, but he’d only give you a saccharine smile before turning his attention back to the meeting, his quill poised as if he’d been paying rapt attention the entire time.

It was moments like these that made you want to scream. How could someone so irritating also be so annoyingly good at everything? How could he act like he had all the time in the world to bother you and still keep up his reputation as one of the best students in the school?

But perhaps the most frustrating part wasn’t the teasing itself. It was the way he always seemed to know just how to get under your skin, just how to push you to the edge of losing your cool. And no matter how hard you tried to ignore him, Jungwon always found a way to make sure you noticed him.

So why, out of all the people in the world, did he have to be your soulmate?

When you first got your soulmark, a delicate little outline of a cat, you’d been ecstatic. A cat felt dignified, graceful—everything you imagined your soulmate would be. You’d hoped for someone respectable, someone who would balance your ambitious nature and match your unwavering dedication. Someone… well, not Jungwon.

But no. Of course, your soulmate had to be the one person who spent more time ruffling your feathers than anyone else.

You discovered the truth entirely by accident, during an otherwise routine Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson in your sixth year. The professor had asked everyone to practice conjuring a patronus, and when Jungwon stepped forward to demonstrate, a sleek, silver cat had leapt from the tip of his wand.

Your stomach had dropped. Your quill slipped from your fingers.

It didn’t take much to put two and two together. How else could you explain the way your heart raced every time he got too close to you? Or the way your pulse quickened whenever his teasing voice whispered in your ear? You’d always chalked it up to frustration, but now you weren’t so sure.

You hadn’t realized you were staring until Jungwon caught your eye, that damn smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “What?” he’d asked, his voice low enough for only you to hear. “Impressed?”

You’d quickly snapped your head down, pretending to write something in your notebook. “Hardly,” you muttered, but your shaky grip on your quill betrayed you.

After that, you went out of your way to keep your distance from him whenever patronuses came up in class. You’d never cast yours in front of him, and you planned to keep it that way. The last thing you wanted was for him to connect the dots—your dots.

Because if Jungwon found out? If he knew that every teasing remark, every sly grin, every infuriatingly perfect move he made was destined to tug at the invisible string that tied your souls together? You were certain you’d never hear the end of it.

You could already imagine the smug grin on his face.

“Oh, Miss Perfect,” he’d drawl. “I always knew you had a soft spot for me.”

No. That would not happen. As far as you were concerned, he could live his life blissfully unaware. And you’d do the same, no matter how much it gnawed at you to keep the secret.

At least this way, you could hold onto the tiny shred of dignity you had left. Even if that dignity felt a little more fragile every time he leaned in close, his voice a low hum in your ear, and your heart betrayed you all over again.

For months, you buried the truth deep down, pretending like the invisible string between you and Jungwon didn’t exist. You carried on with your duties as a prefect, kept your head high, and worked tirelessly to ignore the way your heart betrayed you whenever he was near.

But it was getting harder.

He was everywhere. Patrols, prefect meetings, the library, even the hallways—you couldn’t escape him. It was like fate itself was conspiring to push you together. And the worst part? He wasn’t making it any easier with his constant teasing.

Like the time he caught you nodding off during a late-night patrol. It had been a long day, and you were leaning against a cold stone wall in the fourth-floor corridor, struggling to keep your eyes open.

“Falling asleep on the job, Miss Perfect?” His voice came out of nowhere, soft and playful, making you jolt upright.

You glared at him, cheeks burning. “I wasn’t sleeping.”

“Sure you weren’t.” He stepped closer, his emerald tie slightly askew, his expression amused. “If you need a break, I could always cover for you. I mean, I am the more capable prefect.”

You scoffed. “Capable? Says the one who nearly let Peeves set off an entire box of Dungbombs in the Great Hall last week.”

He raised his hands in mock surrender, a grin tugging at his lips. “Touché. But in my defense, Peeves likes me better than you.”

“Because you encourage him,” you shot back, crossing your arms.

Jungwon just chuckled, leaning against the wall beside you. His shoulder brushed yours, and you tensed at the sudden proximity. It was a casual touch, nothing out of the ordinary, but it sent your heart racing all the same.

“Relax,” he murmured, his tone softer now. “You work too hard, you know.”

And there it was again—the part of him that left you confused. The Jungwon who teased you relentlessly, but then turned around and said things like that, catching you completely off guard.

You didn’t respond, afraid your voice might crack. Instead, you stepped away, mumbling something about needing to finish your patrol. But as you walked off, you swore you could feel his gaze lingering on you, like he knew something you didn’t.

You descended the staircase as quickly as you could without breaking into a run, your heart pounding harder with every step. It wasn’t just from the way his gaze lingered or the softness in his voice—it was the growing fear that maybe he did know something you didn’t.

You tried to push the thought away, shaking your head as you patrolled the quiet corridors. The castle was calm tonight, the flickering torches casting long shadows on the walls. It was peaceful, the perfect atmosphere to collect your thoughts and shove down the gnawing feelings Jungwon always seemed to drag to the surface.

But of course, peace didn’t last long when it came to him.

“Hey, wait up!” His voice echoed down the corridor, and you inwardly groaned.

You stopped, turning slowly as Jungwon jogged to catch up with you, his prefect badge glinting in the dim light. His hair was slightly messy from the wind on the Astronomy Tower, but he didn’t seem to care. In fact, he looked downright smug, like chasing you down had been his plan all along.

“What do you want, Jungwon?” you asked, crossing your arms in an attempt to seem unaffected.

He came to a stop in front of you, hands in his pockets as he tilted his head. “What’s with the rush? We’re on the same patrol route, you know.”

“I prefer working alone,” you replied curtly, turning to walk away again.

But he sidestepped, blocking your path with an infuriatingly easy grin. “That’s no way to treat your partner, Miss Perfect. We’re supposed to be a team.”

“Team?” you scoffed, narrowing your eyes. “Last time we worked as a ‘team,’ you disappeared halfway through and left me to deal with Peeves in the trophy room.”

He laughed, the sound low and warm, and it sent an unwelcome shiver down your spine. “That’s because you’re better at dealing with him. He listens to you.”

“No, he doesn’t,” you snapped, pushing past him. “He threw a whole stack of awards at my head.”

“Well, you’re still alive,” Jungwon called after you, his teasing tone making your blood boil. “So I’d say you handled it pretty well.”

You didn’t dignify him with a response, instead quickening your pace down the corridor. But Jungwon, being Jungwon, didn’t take the hint. He fell into step beside you, his hands still casually tucked into his robe pockets as if this was all some leisurely stroll.

“Why do you always run away?” he asked suddenly, his voice quieter now.

You froze mid-step, your breath catching in your throat. Slowly, you turned to face him, finding his dark eyes fixed on you with an intensity that made your heart skip.

“What are you talking about?” you asked, your voice sharper than you intended.

“You know what I’m talking about.” He stepped closer, and you hated the way your body instinctively leaned back against the wall as if you needed the extra support. “Every time I get too close—every time we talk like this—you find an excuse to leave.”

“That’s because you’re annoying,” you said quickly, but even to your own ears, it sounded weak.

His lips quirked into a small, almost triumphant smile. “Am I? Or is it something else?”

Your throat felt dry, and you didn’t trust yourself to speak. He was too close now, close enough that you could see the faint freckles dusted across his nose, close enough to catch the light scent of parchment and peppermint on him.

“Why do you care?” you finally managed, forcing yourself to meet his gaze.

For a moment, he didn’t respond, his eyes searching yours as if trying to unearth a secret you didn’t want to give away. Then, he took a step back, his expression shifting to something softer, something almost vulnerable.

“Because I think there’s something you’re not telling me,” he said quietly.

You opened your mouth, but no words came. Because he was right, and you hated it. You hated that he could read you so easily, hated the way he seemed to see through every wall you put up around yourself.

But most of all, you hated that part of you didn’t want to keep running anymore.

“Goodnight, Jungwon,” you said finally, your voice steadier than you felt. Then, before he could say anything else, you turned on your heel and walked away, this time determined not to look back.

--

It started as a simple enough task: cleaning up the mess left behind by a pair of second-year Ravenclaws who had apparently thought it would be a brilliant idea to practice Summoning Charms in the Trophy Room. Broken glass, scattered awards, and stray parchments were strewn everywhere, and the professor who caught them had, of course, decided that this was a job for the prefects.

“Character-building,” Professor McGonagall had said. “It’ll teach you both responsibility.”

Both? At the time, you hadn’t asked who the “both” referred to, foolishly assuming you’d be able to handle it alone. After all, you preferred it that way. The less you had to deal with anyone—especially him—the better.

You arrived at the Trophy Room late in the evening, wand in hand, ready to sort out the chaos quickly and efficiently. The room was silent except for the faint rustle of the enchanted banners overhead. For a moment, you allowed yourself to relax. No distractions, no interruptions. Just you and the task at hand.

Or so you thought.

“You know,” came a familiar voice from behind you, smooth and laced with amusement, “you’d think they’d give us a thank-you note for cleaning up after them.”

You froze, your wand nearly slipping from your fingers. Turning slowly, you found Jungwon leaning casually against the doorframe, his prefect badge glinting in the torchlight. His tie was slightly loosened, his hair tousled in that infuriatingly perfect way that made it seem like he hadn’t even tried.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, unable to keep the irritation out of your voice.

“Same thing you are,” he replied, pushing off the doorframe and strolling into the room like he owned it. “Apparently, the professors think I’m responsible enough to help clean up messes now. Who knew?”

“Great,” you muttered under your breath, turning back to the mess in front of you. “Just don’t get in my way.”

“Don’t worry, Miss Perfect,” he said, his tone dripping with mock sincerity. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

You ignored him, focusing on the task at hand. With a flick of your wand, you began repairing a shattered glass case, the shards floating back into place with a soft ping. But of course, Jungwon wasn’t content to let you work in peace.

“You missed a spot,” he said, pointing to a stray shard on the floor.

“I see it,” you snapped, flicking your wand again to send the shard to its rightful place.

“You’re welcome,” he said with a grin, crouching down to pick up a fallen plaque. As he straightened, he tilted his head, examining the inscription. “Huh. ‘Most Promising First-Year, 1983.’ Wonder what they did to earn that.”

“Why do you care?” you asked, not bothering to look at him.

“I don’t,” he replied, placing the plaque back on its stand. “But if I have to be here, I might as well make conversation.”

“Well, don’t. I’m busy.”

“Oh, I can see that.” He leaned against one of the display cases, watching you with a lazy smirk. “You’re very good at this, by the way. It’s almost like you’ve done it before.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to focus on a particularly stubborn spell that refused to reattach a decorative plate to its stand. “If you’re not going to help, at least stay quiet.”

“But where’s the fun in that?” He stepped closer, just enough that you could feel the warmth of his presence beside you. “Come on, Miss Perfect, lighten up. It’s just the Trophy Room. It’s not like we’re scrubbing cauldrons in the dungeons.”

You ignored him, muttering the spell under your breath again. The plate finally clicked into place, and you let out a small sigh of relief. But before you could move on to the next task, Jungwon reached over, plucking a stray ribbon from the pile of debris.

“Do you think this would suit me?” he asked, holding it up to his chest with a mock-serious expression.

You glanced at him, exasperated. “It’s a participation ribbon for a broomstick-polishing contest.”

“So?” He pinned it to his robes with a flourish. “I think it adds character.”

You couldn’t help it—a small laugh escaped you before you could stop it. The moment you realized what you’d done, you quickly turned away, hoping he hadn’t noticed.

But of course, he had.

“Was that a laugh?” he asked, his tone triumphant. “Did I just get the oh-so-serious prefect to crack a smile?”

“No,” you said quickly, focusing on another broken display case. “You’re imagining things.”

“Oh, I don’t think so.” He stepped closer again, his voice dropping to a playful murmur. “You know, if you let yourself relax more often, you might actually enjoy my company.”

You turned to glare at him, only to find that he was much closer than you’d realized. Close enough that you could see the faint sparkle in his dark eyes, the way his smirk softened into something almost genuine.

“Highly unlikely,” you said, your voice quieter now.

Jungwon tilted his head, studying you like he was trying to figure out a particularly tricky potion. “You know,” he said, his voice softer than usual, “you’re kind of fun to mess with.”

“Glad I can be your entertainment,” you muttered, stepping back to put some much-needed distance between you.

But as you turned away, you couldn’t help but feel his gaze lingering on you again, that same unsettling mix of mischief and something deeper that always left your heart racing.

The worst part? You weren’t entirely sure you hated it.

You busied yourself with repairing another shattered trophy case, desperately trying to ignore the heat creeping up your neck. Jungwon always knew exactly how to push your buttons, and worse, he seemed to enjoy it.

As you flicked your wand, mumbling an incantation to reattach the intricate golden handles to the glass case, you could still feel his presence behind you. Not doing anything—just standing there, watching you.

“Are you just going to stand there, or are you actually going to help?” you snapped, not bothering to look over your shoulder.

“Oh, I’m helping,” he said, and you could practically hear the smirk in his voice.

You turned, narrowing your eyes at him. “Really? How, exactly?”

Jungwon held up a dusty trophy he’d picked off the floor. “Moral support.” He grinned, wiping the plaque halfheartedly with the sleeve of his robe. “You’re doing great, by the way. Truly inspiring.”

“Unbelievable,” you muttered, turning back to your work.

But before you could even begin the next spell, Jungwon’s voice interrupted again.

“Hey, you’ve got a little…” He trailed off, gesturing vaguely to your face.

You frowned, brushing your cheek self-consciously. “What?”

“Here.” He stepped closer—too close—and reached out, his fingers brushing the side of your face. For a moment, time seemed to freeze. His touch was light, barely there, but it sent a jolt of electricity through you.

“There,” he said softly, pulling his hand back to reveal a speck of dust on his fingertips. “Got it.”

You stared at him, your heart pounding so loudly you were sure he could hear it. He was looking at you now, his teasing smile replaced with something softer, something that made your breath catch.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you blurted, taking a step back to put some distance between you.

“Like what?” he asked, his voice low, almost curious.

“Like—like that!” You waved your hand vaguely, refusing to meet his eyes. “Like you’re… plotting something.”

His smile returned, softer this time but no less infuriating. “Who says I’m plotting anything?”

“Because you’re always plotting something,” you shot back, turning away from him and focusing on the pile of broken trophies again. “It’s practically your personality.”

“Harsh,” he said with a mock wince, though his tone was still playful. “You wound me, Miss Perfect.”

You rolled your eyes, determined to ignore him as you began repairing the next trophy. But Jungwon wasn’t done.

“You know,” he said after a moment, his voice taking on that familiar teasing lilt, “for someone who claims to hate me, you sure spend a lot of time thinking about me.”

Your wand slipped, sending a crack straight through the trophy you were trying to fix. You cursed under your breath, quickly repairing the damage before whirling around to face him.

“I don’t think about you,” you said firmly, though the heat rising to your cheeks betrayed you.

“Really?” Jungwon leaned casually against the nearest display case, his arms crossed as he regarded you with that maddeningly smug expression. “Because you’re looking a little flustered right now.”

“I’m not flustered,” you snapped, crossing your arms defensively.

He stepped closer again, his grin widening as he leaned in, just enough to make your breath hitch. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” you said quickly, though your voice came out shakier than you’d intended.

For a moment, neither of you moved. His dark eyes were locked on yours, and for once, there was no teasing glint in them—just an intensity that made your stomach flip.

“Jungwon,” you said finally, your voice quieter now. “You’re standing too close.”

He tilted his head, his lips quirking into a small smile. “Am I?”

“Yes,” you said again, though you made no move to step away.

For a brief, terrifying moment, you thought he might say something—something that would shatter the delicate balance between you. But instead, he stepped back, the teasing smile returning to his face like nothing had happened.

“Alright, alright,” he said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “I’ll give you some space.”

You exhaled, not realizing until that moment that you’d been holding your breath.

“Good,” you muttered, turning back to the trophies.

"Do you think the founders ever argued over who got the biggest house common room?" Jungwon asked as you muttered a spell to repair another shattered trophy.

You sighed, not even glancing at him. "I don’t know. Maybe."

He hummed thoughtfully, as though your answer was the most profound thing he’d ever heard. "Do you think Salazar Slytherin was the type to hog all the butterbeer at parties?"

You flicked your wand sharply, fixing another display case. "Probably."

"And what about Godric Gryffindor? I bet he couldn’t resist showing off in duels."

"Sounds likely," you replied curtly, focusing on levitating a stack of plaques back into their proper places.

Jungwon leaned casually against a nearby display, his hands in his pockets, watching you with barely contained amusement. "Alright, last one—do you think Helga Hufflepuff secretly kept a stash of snacks in her robes?"

At that, you paused, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. "Definitely," you said, surprising yourself with a small smile.

Jungwon grinned like he’d won a prize, clearly pleased that he’d managed to drag more than a one-word answer out of you. "See? I knew you had a sense of humor buried under all that seriousness."

You rolled your eyes, quickly turning your attention back to the mess. The sooner you finished, the sooner you could get out of here and away from him. The room felt warmer than it should have, in a way that made it hard to breathe. You could feel Jungwon’s presence behind you, close enough that your skin tingled, your soulmark on your arm warming pleasantly every time he leaned just a little too close.

You tried to ignore it, brushing the feeling aside as nothing more than nerves, but it was impossible. It was suffocating and exhilarating all at once, and you hated how much it affected you.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you placed the last trophy back in its case and lowered your wand.

“There. Done,” you said, your voice tight.

“Impressive work, Miss Perfect,” Jungwon said, clapping his hands lightly. “You really are a perfectionist.”

Ignoring him, you grabbed your bag and headed for the door, desperate to escape before the room—and him—got the better of you.

But just as you reached the threshold, Jungwon’s voice stopped you.

“Leaving so soon?” he called, his tone laced with amusement. “I was starting to enjoy our little bonding session.”

You didn’t turn around, gripping the strap of your bag tightly. "We’re done here. Go bother someone else, Jungwon."

You stepped out into the corridor, the cool air a welcome relief against your flushed skin. But even as you walked away, you couldn’t shake the lingering warmth on your arm, the way your soulmark had come alive just from being near him.

You hated it.

And yet, deep down, you knew it wasn’t hate at all.

The cool air of the corridor did little to ease the warmth in your chest. You tightened your grip on the strap of your bag, walking briskly to put as much distance between yourself and Jungwon as possible.

“Hey!” a familiar voice called from further down the hall. You looked up to see your Slytherin friend, Minji, striding toward you. Her dark robes swished behind her, and her usual confident smirk lit up her face. “You look like you’ve just seen a ghost. What happened?”

You sighed, falling into step beside her as she turned to walk with you. “Trophy Room duty. With Jungwon.”

Her eyebrows shot up, and she gave you a knowing grin. “Ah, the infamous Yang Jungwon. What did he do this time?”

“Same as always,” you muttered, your tone clipped. “Teased me, asked a million pointless questions, and stood way too close for comfort.”

Minji laughed, the sound echoing softly in the empty hallway. “Well, that sounds about right. He’s got that whole charming nuisance thing down to an art.”

You shot her a glare, but it lacked any real bite. “It’s not charming. It’s infuriating.”

“Sure, sure,” Minji said, waving her hand dismissively. “But you’re still blushing.”

You froze mid-step, your hand flying to your face. “I am not!”

“You so are,” she said with a smug grin, clearly enjoying your reaction. “Come on, just admit it—he gets under your skin, doesn’t he?”

You groaned, resuming your pace and trying to ignore the warmth creeping back into your cheeks. “That’s not the same thing as liking him.”

“Hmm,” Minji hummed, her smirk widening. “If you say so.”

The two of you turned a corner, the dimly lit hallway now empty except for the faint flicker of torches on the walls. Minji glanced at you, her expression softening slightly. “But seriously, are you okay? You seem… tense.”

You hesitated, your fingers brushing over the strap of your bag. “It’s just—being around him is exhausting. He’s so... persistent. And—and the way he looks at me sometimes—”

You cut yourself off, realizing you’d said too much.

Minji stopped walking, grabbing your arm to make you face her. “Wait. What way does he look at you?”

You shook your head quickly, trying to dismiss it. “Forget I said that. It’s nothing.”

“Oh no, no, no.” Minji’s eyes sparkled with mischief now. “You’re telling me that Jungwon—Jungwon—might actually like you? This just keeps getting better.”

You felt your stomach twist at her words, a mix of denial and something far more complicated. “He doesn’t like me,” you said firmly, though your voice faltered slightly. “He just likes messing with me.”

“Uh-huh,” Minji said, clearly unconvinced. “And what about you? Do you like him?”

“No!” you said quickly, too quickly.

Minji raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. “You’re a terrible liar, you know that?”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “Why am I even friends with you?”

“Because I’m the only one who’s brave enough to call you out on your nonsense,” she said with a grin, pulling your hands away from your face. “Listen, if you ask me—which, by the way, you should—I think you and Jungwon would be kind of perfect together.”

Your heart skipped a beat at her words, but you shook your head furiously. “Not happening. Ever.”

“Alright, alright,” Minji said, holding up her hands in surrender. “But for the record, if he ever stops teasing you, you’ll know you’re in trouble.”

You rolled your eyes, but a small part of you couldn’t help but wonder if she was right.

The days that followed were nothing short of exhausting. It had become a routine of sorts—this competition between you and Jungwon to see who could outshine the other as a prefect. Both of you were model students, but being better than him was a point of pride you weren’t willing to give up.

Unfortunately, Jungwon seemed to have the exact same idea.

“Let’s see who finishes the patrol of the East Wing faster tonight,” Jungwon said casually one evening, walking just a step ahead of you as the two of you began your rounds.

You glared at the back of his head. “It’s not a race, Jungwon. The goal is to thoroughly patrol the area, not sprint through it like a Quidditch match.”

He turned his head slightly, flashing you that insufferable smirk. “Oh, but you’re just saying that because you know I’d win.”

You scoffed, quickening your pace to walk beside him. “You wouldn’t win. You’d probably miss half the patrol spots because you’re too busy smirking at yourself in the reflection of the windows.”

Jungwon placed a hand over his chest, feigning hurt. “You wound me. But, for the record, I don’t smirk at myself. I save those exclusively for you.”

You felt your cheeks heat up and turned your face away to hide it. “You’re ridiculous,” you muttered, ignoring the way your soulmark tingled faintly at his words.

“Ridiculous, but efficient,” he countered, his tone light and teasing. “Unlike some people, I don’t waste time lecturing first-years about being out past curfew. I just send them back to their dorms and call it a night.”

“That’s because you let them off too easy,” you shot back, stopping to peer into an empty classroom. “A good prefect sets an example. You’re supposed to be teaching them, not coddling them.”

“And you’re supposed to be having fun,” Jungwon replied, leaning casually against the doorframe. “Merlin forbid you loosen up for five seconds.”

You gave him a withering glare, but it only seemed to fuel his amusement. He pushed off the doorframe and strolled past you, hands in his pockets, like he didn’t have a care in the world.

“Tell you what,” he said over his shoulder. “I’ll handle the rest of this hallway. You can take the next one. We’ll see who finds more troublemakers by the end of the night.”

“Fine,” you said sharply, determined to beat him. “But don’t go cutting corners like you always do.”

Jungwon turned back to you with an exaggerated look of shock. “Cut corners? Me? Never.”

You rolled your eyes, muttering under your breath as he sauntered away.

The rest of the night passed in much the same way—him teasing you, you firing back with sharp retorts, and both of you secretly trying to outdo the other in your duties. By the time patrol ended, you were both walking back to the common areas, still exchanging jabs.

“So, how many rule-breakers did you catch tonight?” Jungwon asked, his tone casual but his smirk betraying his competitive streak.

“Three,” you said smugly. “And you?”

“Four,” he replied, his grin widening when you scowled.

“Liar,” you accused, narrowing your eyes at him.

Jungwon gasped dramatically, placing a hand over his heart. “You wound me, Miss Perfect. Are you saying I’d lie about something so serious?”

“Yes,” you said flatly, though you couldn’t stop the corners of your mouth from twitching upward.

“Well, believe what you want,” he said with a shrug, walking ahead of you toward the main staircase. “But next time, maybe you’ll think twice before underestimating me.”

You watched him go, shaking your head in exasperation. No matter how infuriating he was, there was a strange comfort in the back-and-forth banter between you. It was almost... fun, in its own twisted way.

But as you turned to head toward your dormitory, you caught yourself smiling and quickly wiped it off your face. Jungwon didn’t need to know that, for all his teasing and smug remarks, he made your prefect duties just a little less tedious—and a lot more complicated.

--

The air in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom was cool, the steady drone of the professor’s voice filling the room as they explained the intricacies of Dementors. You should have been paying attention, but the lesson was one you had mastered ages ago. Instead, your thoughts wandered, your quill idly twirling between your fingers as you gazed out the window.

That was until a small folded piece of parchment fluttered directly in front of your face. You blinked in surprise, catching it before it fell onto your desk. Frowning, you carefully unfolded it, unsure of what to expect.

Inside was a drawing—a portrait of you. The lines were soft, delicate, and surprisingly skilled. It captured you in a way that made your breath hitch for a moment. You looked… pretty.

Your cheeks warmed as you glanced around the room, searching for the culprit. Your eyes landed on a tall Gryffindor boy sitting a few desks away. His face turned bright red the moment your eyes met his, and he quickly looked away, pretending to focus on his notes.

You couldn’t help but smile, a small, amused laugh escaping your lips.

When class ended and everyone began filing out, you gathered your things and stepped into the corridor. Before you could get far, a voice called out behind you.

“Uh, excuse me?”

You turned to see the same Gryffindor boy standing there, his hands nervously clutching the strap of his bag. He was tall, broad-shouldered, with soft eyes and a shy smile that revealed dimples.

“Yes?” you asked, tilting your head slightly.

He cleared his throat, his face still tinged with embarrassment. “I, um, I was wondering if—if you don’t have any more classes today—maybe you’d like to study together? In the library, I mean.”

He was cute—really cute. And as luck would have it, he was a prefect, too, which made him even more appealing in your eyes. His nervousness was endearing, and you found yourself smiling softly.

“Sure,” you said, much to his visible relief. “I don’t have any other classes.”

The two of you walked to the library together, falling into an easy conversation. He introduced himself as Choi Soobin, and you quickly discovered he was funny, charming, and incredibly sweet. By the time you reached the library, you were already at ease in his presence.

The two of you sat down at a quiet table near the back, pulling out your books and parchment. At first, you tried to focus on your work, but Soobin`s quiet jokes and playful commentary kept pulling your attention away. Before long, you were laughing softly, your hand covering your mouth to stifle the sound as Madam Pince shot you both a stern look.

Unbeknownst to you, someone else had entered the library.

Jungwon strolled in, his usual confident smirk on his face as he made his way to the front desk to offer Madam Pince some assistance. He had volunteered to help her organize the new shipments of books—a task he didn’t particularly enjoy but knew would score him some house points.

But as he approached the desk, a sound stopped him in his tracks.

A laugh.

His head turned instinctively toward the source, his gaze landing on you. You were sitting at a table near the back, your head tilted slightly as you giggled at something the Gryffindor boy across from you had said. Soobin.

Jungwon’s chest tightened at the sight.

The Gryffindor was leaning closer to you, his dimples on full display as he smiled down at you, clearly pleased to have made you laugh. And you—Jungwon had never seen you so at ease, so… radiant.

His grip on the stack of books in his hands tightened as an ugly, unfamiliar feeling began to bubble in his chest. Jealousy.

Why were you laughing like that with Soobin? Why were you sitting so close to him, looking at him with such bright, open eyes? Jungwon had seen that smile before, but it had never been directed at him. And the realization made something in him twist painfully.

He tore his gaze away, his happy demeanor now replaced with a sour expression. He tried to focus on the task at hand, stacking books onto shelves and sorting parchment, but his eyes kept wandering back to you.

Every time Soobin leaned closer, every time you laughed softly, it was like a needle pricking at his chest.

You were supposed to be bickering with him, not smiling at some dimply Gryffindor prefect.

And worse, you didn’t even notice him. For the first time, it felt like you were completely out of his orbit, and it made his jealousy burn even brighter.

By the time he finished his chores, he couldn’t take it anymore. He shot one last glare in Soobin`s direction—though the Gryffindor was oblivious—and left the library, the ugly green feeling sitting heavy in his chest.

As he stalked through the corridors, his thoughts raced. He didn’t know what was worse: the fact that he was jealous, or the fact that he had no idea what to do about it.

The days that followed were... different. Soobin, with his warm smile and easygoing demeanor, seemed to find every excuse to be around you. Whether it was walking with you between classes, sharing a table in the library, or even just stopping to chat in the halls, he was always there.

And to your surprise, you didn’t mind. He had a way of making you laugh without even trying, his gentle humor and wide-eyed innocence making it hard to resist smiling.

“Do you always study this much?” Soobin asked one evening, leaning slightly over your shoulder as the two of you sat in the library.

“It’s called being responsible,” you teased, not looking up from your parchment.

“Well, if responsibility looks this good on you, maybe I should try it,” he joked, his dimples flashing.

You rolled your eyes, biting back a grin. “Good luck with that.”

Moments like these had become the norm, and while you enjoyed his company, you couldn’t ignore the way Jungwon seemed to be watching your every move lately.

Every time you and Soobin crossed paths with him, Jungwon’s eyes would narrow, his jaw tightening ever so slightly. It was subtle—no one else seemed to notice—but you did. And you couldn’t ignore the way his usual smirk seemed to vanish whenever Soobin was around.

It didn’t help that Soobin, in his blissful obliviousness, seemed entirely focused on you.

“Do you think he’s going to explode one day?” Yuna, one of your closest friends, whispered to you during lunch, nodding subtly toward Jungwon, who was sitting a few tables away. His eyes were fixed on you and Soobin, his expression unreadable but intense.

You followed her gaze, your stomach flipping slightly when your eyes met Jungwon’s. He didn’t look away, and for a moment, it felt like he was daring you to do something—anything.

“He’s just... annoyed,” you muttered, breaking the eye contact and focusing back on your plate.

“Annoyed?” Yuna raised an eyebrow, a sly smile creeping onto her face. “That boy looks like he’s ready to hex Soobin into next week.”

You didn’t respond, mostly because you couldn’t deny it. Jungwon’s glares had grown sharper with each passing day, and it didn’t help that you’d somehow ended up with more patrols and prefect duties with Soobin lately.

At first, you’d chalked it up to coincidence, but now it was starting to feel deliberate. Maybe the professors had noticed how well you worked together, or maybe Soobin had requested it. Either way, it only seemed to worsen the already fragile balance between you and Jungwon.

It wasn’t like you hadn’t noticed the way your soulmark had been acting up, either. The once-pleasant tingling had turned into an uncomfortable burn, a constant reminder of the growing rift between you and Jungwon.

It was ironic, really. For years, your “rivalry” with him had been the one constant in your life at Hogwarts. From the moment you’d both become prefects, it had been a steady back-and-forth of playful banter and one-upping each other. But now, things felt... different.

This was the first time since first year that you and Jungwon weren’t entirely in sync. And as much as you wanted to ignore it, to push down the guilt that came with the thought, it stung.

One evening, during yet another patrol with Soobin, you caught yourself lost in thought as he talked animatedly about something—a story about his younger siblings, if you remembered correctly. His voice was soft and warm, but it faded into the background as your mind wandered.

You couldn’t help but wonder what Jungwon was doing right now. Would he be patrolling the opposite side of the castle? Sitting in the common room with his friends, glaring at the fire in frustration?

“You okay?” Soobin’s voice pulled you back to the present, his kind eyes filled with concern.

You nodded quickly, offering him a small smile. “Yeah, just tired.”

“Don’t push yourself too hard,” he said gently, his concern only making your chest tighten.

You forced yourself to refocus, to push away the thoughts of Jungwon. But as you walked beside Soobin, his voice filling the quiet corridors, you couldn’t ignore the way your soulmark burned faintly against your skin, like it was trying to remind you of something you weren’t ready to face.

--

It had been an exhausting day. Between classes, your prefect duties, and Soobin’s persistent presence, you were feeling utterly drained. Tonight’s patrol was supposed to be simple—just a quick check of the corridors before returning to your common room.

But, as always, trouble had a way of finding you.

The moment you stepped into the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, you knew something was off.

A group of younger students was gathered at the far end, laughing nervously and huddling close together. As you got closer, you noticed a faint shimmer in the air, followed by a creeping chill that made your skin prickle.

A Dementor.

Or rather, a Boggart pretending to be one, you realized quickly. But the younger students didn’t know that. Their faces were pale with fear, their breaths coming out in short gasps as they stumbled back against the cold stone wall.

Without thinking, you acted on instinct.

“Stay back!” you called to the students, pulling out your wand.

The Boggart shifted its attention to you, gliding forward with a slow, deliberate menace. Even knowing it wasn’t real, you felt a spike of unease as the air grew colder.

You raised your wand, your voice steady. “Expecto Patronum!”

A bright, silvery light burst forth from your wand, taking shape in the form of an animal. Its figure moved with an elegant agility, leaping forward and sending the Boggart scuttling back into the shadows. The students gasped in awe, their fear melting into relief as the warmth of your Patronus filled the room.

It wasn’t until the Boggart disappeared completely, retreating into a chest, that you realized you weren’t alone.

From the corner of your eye, you caught movement. Turning your head, your stomach dropped.

Jungwon stood at the entrance, his dark eyes wide and locked onto your Patronus. The silver light of the animal reflected in his gaze, his expression shifting from shock to something deeper—something you couldn’t quite place.

Your Patronus lingered for a moment longer before fading, its light dissolving into the cold air. The students quickly scrambled past Jungwon, murmuring their thanks as they made their way back to their dorms. But you barely noticed them leave.

It was just you and Jungwon now.

He didn’t say anything, but you could see it—the moment of realization dawning on his face. His eyes flicked to your arm, the same spot where your soulmark had always rested, hidden beneath your sleeve. And then, almost involuntarily, his hand moved to his own arm.

Right where his soulmark would be.

Your heart dropped into your stomach.

“Jungwon—” you started, but your voice caught in your throat.

He stepped closer, his movements slow and deliberate, like he was piecing everything together in real time. His hand remained pressed against his arm, his fingers curling slightly as if he could feel the truth burning beneath his skin.

“Your Patronus,” he said softly, his voice steady but quiet.

You swallowed hard, unable to meet his gaze. “It’s not—”

“It’s the same...." he interrupted, his tone carefully controlled, but you could see his jaw clench. “The same as my soulmark.”

Your breath hitched. You knew there was no use denying it—not when the evidence was staring him right in the face.

“It doesn’t mean anything,” you said quickly, the words tumbling out in a rush. “It’s just a coincidence, Jungwon. That’s all.”

He let out a soft, humorless laugh, and when you finally looked up, you were startled by the look in his eyes. It wasn’t anger, like you expected. It wasn’t even annoyance.

It was hurt.

“A coincidence?” he repeated, his voice low. His hand finally dropped from his arm, hanging limply at his side. “You think a Patronus matching my soulmark is just a coincidence?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words wouldn’t come. The burning sensation in your arm flared up, as if your soulmark itself was scolding you for trying to deny the truth.

Jungwon took another step closer, his gaze searching your face. “How long have you known?”

“Jungwon, I—”

“How long?” he pressed, his voice breaking slightly.

You hesitated, your heart pounding in your chest. There was no point in lying now. “Since last year,” you admitted quietly, your voice barely above a whisper.

His jaw clenched, and he took a step back, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “Last year,” he repeated, his tone laced with disbelief. “You’ve known this whole time, and you didn’t think to tell me?”

“I didn’t know how!” you shot back, your voice rising despite yourself. “What was I supposed to say, Jungwon? ‘Hey, by the way, we’re soulmates’? You would have laughed in my face!”

He stared at you, his expression unreadable. “Is that what you think of me?”

“No,” you said quickly, the word rushing out before you could stop it. “No, I don’t think that. I just—” You let out a shaky breath, rubbing at your arm as if that would ease the burning sensation. “I didn’t want to ruin everything. We’ve been—whatever we are—for so long, and I didn’t want to mess that up.”

Jungwon was silent for a long moment, his gaze dropping to the ground. When he finally spoke, his voice was softer, but no less firm.

“You didn’t ruin anything,” he said. “But lying to me—hiding this from me—it hurt. It hurts.”

Your throat tightened, guilt twisting in your chest.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” you said quietly.

He looked up at you, his dark eyes filled with a mix of emotions you couldn’t quite untangle. For the first time, he looked vulnerable, the walls he always kept so carefully in place beginning to crack.

“I don’t know what this means,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I think we owe it to ourselves to figure it out. Don’t you?”

You nodded, unable to trust your voice.

After that night in the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, you found yourself plagued by questions and uncertainty. Jungwon’s quiet hurt echoed in your mind, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were standing on the edge of something you didn’t fully understand. Soulmates. The idea had always seemed so distant to you, something that other people talked about with a dreamy look in their eyes. But now that it was your reality, it felt different—complicated, messy, and, honestly, terrifying.

For the next few days, you threw yourself into researching everything you could about soulmates. You spent hours in the library, digging through old books and scrolls, hoping to find some concrete answers. You wanted to know more about the connection, the rules—or lack thereof—that came with having a soulmate. Was there a timeline to follow? Did you have to accept it? What did it mean for your future?

You also started asking your friends about their own experiences, although you were careful not to reveal too much. Yujin was the first to notice your sudden interest in the subject. You’d pulled her aside one evening, after class, and asked about her soulmark.

“Oh,” Yujin had said, glancing at you with a knowing smile, “it’s a small bird, right here.” She pointed to her wrist. “It was weird at first, but once we met, everything just clicked. It was like a weight lifted off my shoulders. My soulmate’s a Hufflepuff, actually.”

You nodded thoughtfully, trying to hide the way your heart twisted at the thought of your own situation. “And do you feel different? I mean, with him?”

She hesitated, then smiled softly. “Yeah. It’s like we’ve known each other for ages. I don’t know how to explain it, but you just know.”

You didn’t ask more, knowing you couldn’t handle hearing too much about the ease with which others seemed to fall into their soulmate connections. You wanted to learn, but you weren’t ready to hear about how it all just worked for others.

The next day, you sought out Jeongin, hoping for a more analytical approach. You had always admired how level-headed he was, and you figured he’d give you a more logical perspective. After all, he’d been pretty matter-of-fact about everything, including his own soulmark.

“I don’t think it means anything special,” he said, leaning back against the wall in the common room. “It’s just a way of knowing who’s yours. You’re connected in ways you can’t explain, but don’t overthink it. It’s not some kind of fate that’s pulling you together. It’s more like... a bond, I guess.”

You nodded again, relieved that he seemed to have a more grounded view of the connection. But something in his words unsettled you. “So, it’s not destiny?”

Jeongin chuckled. “Not for me. Maybe it`s just destiny for someone.”

His words sent a jolt through you, and you quickly brushed off the discomfort with a half-laugh. “I’m not sure I believe in destiny,” you muttered, hoping he wouldn’t pry further.

He gave you a long, measuring look but didn’t push. “Well, whatever it is, you’ve got to figure it out, yeah?”

You agreed, even though you weren’t entirely sure how to figure it out.

Meanwhile, your interactions with Soobin had taken on a new complexity. He seemed determined to win your attention, constantly seeking ways to make you smile, to make you laugh. He was sweet and caring in his own way, and you couldn’t deny that you liked being around him. But every time he called you “cute” or flashed that charming grin of his, something in you tightened—because you knew Jungwon was still watching, and you could feel the way his gaze lingered on you from across the room.

You had decided to keep the soulmate connection to yourself, at least for now. You didn’t want to hurt Soobin, especially when he seemed so genuinely happy to be with you. You liked him, you really did. But something about Jungwon’s presence, the pull between the two of you, was undeniable. You couldn’t ignore it any longer, even if you tried.

Jungwon, however, didn’t seem to share your same restraint. You noticed him more and more—his gaze following you and Soobin whenever the two of you were talking. His posture was stiff, his mouth set in a firm line whenever Soobin made you laugh, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly when you exchanged playful glances.

It wasn’t until one afternoon in the courtyard, when Soobin had made another attempt to charm you with one of his witty remarks, that you saw it.

Jungwon was standing near the entrance to the courtyard, watching the two of you from a distance. His jaw was clenched, and his gaze was dark. You felt a flicker of unease. You’d always known there was a rivalry between you and Jungwon, but this was insane.

When Soobin noticed your hesitation, he smiled brightly and nudged you playfully. “What’s wrong? Did I say something weird?”

You shook your head quickly, forcing a smile. “No, nothing’s wrong. I’m just... distracted.”

“By Jungwon?” he teased, his eyes glancing over your shoulder. “You know, he doesn’t look too happy with us.”

You followed his gaze and found Jungwon standing there, looking like he was about to storm off. His eyes flicked to you and Soobin, then quickly away, but not before you saw that flicker of something—you weren’t sure what it was. But it didn’t look friendly.

Your heart skipped a beat as you turned back to Soobin. “Maybe we should head inside,” you suggested, trying to ignore the discomfort gnawing at you.

“Sure,” Soobin agreed, still oblivious to the tension you could feel. “Let’s go study, yeah?”

Studying with Soobin in the library was, for the most part, uneventful. He was focused, eager to discuss theories and share notes. But despite his attempts to make the session lively, your attention kept drifting, pulled by something you couldn’t explain. Every few minutes, you found yourself glancing up from your textbook, only to find Jungwon walking past your table again.

It was subtle at first. A quick, casual stroll down the aisle between the shelves, as if he were simply helping Madam Pince organize some books. But as the minutes ticked by, it became increasingly obvious that he was lingering near your corner. His footsteps were quieter now, and you could feel the weight of his gaze on you, even when he didn’t look directly at you.

Soobin, thankfully, didn’t seem to notice. He was too busy scribbling notes on his parchment, talking about a spell he’d just learned in class. But you could feel the heat creeping up your neck, a strange tension building in the space between you and Jungwon, even though you were doing your best to ignore it.

"Do you think I should try this spell in the next class?" Soobin asked, snapping you out of your thoughts. "I feel like it could be fun, don’t you?"

You blinked, forcing your focus back onto him. "Uh, yeah. I think you’ll do great with it. You’ve got the precision down."

But even as you spoke, your gaze drifted over to Jungwon again. This time, he was standing just a few feet away, pretending to adjust a stack of books on the shelf directly across from your table. You could feel his presence, his eyes lingering on you from the corner of your vision. His movements were slow, deliberate, and each time he walked past, he seemed to be just a bit too close for comfort.

Your stomach tightened, and your heart started to race, the familiar unease creeping up again. You couldn’t help it. The bond that had ignited between you and Jungwon—the one you had been trying to ignore, to push down—was becoming harder and harder to control.

Soobin, oblivious to your inner turmoil, continued speaking. "I was thinking we could practice it in the courtyard later today. Maybe you could come with me? You know, as my study partner."

Before you could respond, Jungwon’s figure appeared again, now walking past your table on the far side of the library. He glanced in your direction as he passed, and for a split second, your eyes locked. It was brief, but you could see the flicker of something in his gaze—something that made your chest tighten. His eyes dropped quickly, and without another word, he kept walking, the sound of his boots echoing faintly on the stone floors.

You felt the burn of your soulmark pulse against your skin.

Soobin didn’t seem to notice the shift in the air, his voice continuing without interruption. "What do you think? Should I go ahead and try the spell? I mean, I know we’ve got a lot to study, but—"

"Yeah," you interrupted, trying to shake off the lingering unease. "That sounds great. But, uh... I think I’m done for today. I’ve got some stuff to take care of."

You closed your textbook with a soft snap, feeling the sudden urge to leave. You stood up quickly, gathering your things, but before you could say goodbye, Soobin was looking at you with a puzzled expression.

"Already?" he asked. "I thought we were doing great."

"Yeah," you said, offering him a strained smile. "But I really do need to go. I’ll, uh... catch up with you later."

Soobin nodded, his dimples showing as he smiled. "Alright. I’ll see you later, then. Maybe we can talk more about that spell."

You quickly walked away, making your way toward the exit of the library. But as you passed through the aisles, you could feel it—the subtle shift in the air as Jungwon followed behind, his presence heavy and undeniable.

You didn’t turn around. You couldn’t. But your heart was pounding, and as you exited the library, you heard his footsteps fall into sync behind you. He was following you.

When you stepped into the hallway, trying to calm your thoughts. Before you could even think to react, a hand gripped your wrist, pulling you gently but firmly into a small, dimly lit room just off the main corridor. The door clicked shut behind you, and you found yourself pressed against the cold stone wall, with no clear way out.

Your breath hitched, and you instinctively looked down, avoiding the sharp intensity of Jungwon’s gaze. The silence between you both hung heavy, almost suffocating. You could hear the faint beat of your own heart, louder in your ears than the soft rustling of his clothes as he moved closer.

“Look at me,” Jungwon’s voice cut through the silence, low and demanding.

You hesitated, a part of you afraid of what you might see in his eyes. Slowly, you lifted your gaze, finding his face inches from yours. His dark eyes searched your expression, his jaw tense as if he was trying to contain something—something he didn’t know how to put into words.

“You’re avoiding me,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Why?”

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his words press down on you. Your mind raced, but the only thing you could focus on was the distance that had grown between you two lately. Not just physically, but emotionally. “I’m not avoiding you,” you replied quietly, but the words didn’t sound convincing, even to yourself.

“Yes, you are,” Jungwon said, stepping closer, his proximity making your pulse spike. “I see it in the way you look at me now. The way you look away when I’m near.” His hand hovered near your face, but he didn’t touch you—not yet. “You’ve been different ever since you’ve been spending so much time with Soobin.”

Your chest tightened at the mention of his name, and for a moment, you looked away, unable to meet his gaze. “I didn’t—” You stopped yourself. The last thing you wanted was to cause a scene, or worse, make it clear how much it hurt to see Jungwon’s jealousy, to see how much it bothered him that you were spending time with Soobin.

Jungwon wasn’t having any of it. “You didn’t think it would affect me?” His voice was firm, but there was something in it—an edge, a vulnerability you hadn’t heard before. “You didn’t think I’d notice?”

You felt a knot twist in your stomach. “Jungwon, I don’t—"

“Don’t lie to me,” he cut in sharply, his eyes intense. “I can’t stand it. I can’t stand you pretending like this isn’t happening.”

His words hit you like a wave, and suddenly everything you’d been trying to keep bottled up came rushing to the surface. Your chest was tight, and the burning sensation from your soulmark flared again, reminding you of the connection that you could no longer ignore.

“I didn’t want to hurt you,” you whispered, finally finding the courage to speak the truth. Your voice shook slightly, but you pushed through. “I didn’t want to hurt anyone, but it’s not easy, Jungwon. It’s not easy to just… admit that everything is changing. That we’re changing.”

He stared at you for a long moment, his expression softening slightly. But even as his gaze softened, the intensity never quite left his eyes. “You think I haven’t felt that, too?” he murmured. “You think it’s been easy for me, either? Watching you with him, knowing you’re spending time with Soobin because you’re not sure about us? Not sure about me?”

The words stung, and you averted your gaze again, your heart aching at the raw honesty in his voice. “It’s not like that,” you said weakly. “Soobin’s just... a friend.”

Jungwon’s lips tightened at the word. “A friend, huh?”

You nodded, but it felt hollow. You weren’t sure if it was true anymore—not when Soobin made you laugh so easily, not when he made your heart feel lighter in ways that Jungwon didn’t seem to. But the truth was, you couldn’t let yourself go down that path. You couldn’t let yourself hurt Soobin, not when you still cared about him. And you did care about him, in a way that you weren’t sure how to explain.

“I’m sorry,” you said, almost instinctively, the words tasting bitter on your tongue. “I didn’t mean to make you feel like that. I just... I don’t know what I’m doing, Jungwon. I don’t know how to fix this.”

His hand finally reached up, cupping your chin gently to tilt your face so that you were looking at him once more. His thumb brushed lightly over your cheek.

“You don’t have to fix anything,” Jungwon said, his voice quieter now. “But you can’t keep pushing me away. Not when we’re already this far into this.” He paused, searching your eyes as if trying to read the truth between the lines. “If you’re my soulmate, then I don’t want to keep pretending like it doesn’t mean anything.”

You blinked, the weight of his words sinking in. You didn’t know how to respond—not when the truth was so complicated, not when everything felt like it was teetering on the edge of something you weren’t ready to face.

“I don’t know how this works,” you admitted quietly. “But I can’t just ignore it either. I—” You took a deep breath, trying to find the right words. “But I don’t want to hurt anyone in the process, either.”

Jungwon’s expression softened, the intensity in his gaze giving way to something gentler. “Then let’s figure it out,” he said quietly. “We don’t have to have all the answers right now. But we can’t keep running away from it.”

You nodded, feeling a sense of relief wash over you.

Just as the air between you and Jungwon began to settle, and you were both preparing to leave the small room, a sudden, unmistakable sound echoed through the hallway outside. The telltale cackle of Peeves reached your ears.

"Oi, what's this? A little lover's quarrel?" Peeves' voice was high-pitched and mocking, and you could hear the sound of him shuffling on the other side of the door.

Before either of you could react, the door locked with an audible click, trapping you both inside. You and Jungwon exchanged a quick glance, both of you already understanding what had just happened.

"Peeves, open this door!" you called out, your voice sharp with irritation. "This isn’t funny!"

But instead of an answer, the only thing you heard was Peeves’ signature cackling, growing fainter as he moved down the hall. "Not so fast! You two have got plenty to talk about! Have fun!" His voice echoed as it faded into the distance.

Jungwon let out a frustrated sigh, stepping forward and trying the door, but it didn't budge. He pressed his palm against the wood, his frown deepening.

"Great," he muttered, the annoyance evident in his voice. "We’re stuck here now."

You crossed your arms, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks at the awkwardness of the situation. Of course, Peeves had to pick the exact moment when things were finally starting to make sense between you and Jungwon to lock you both in a room together.

"I guess we should sit down and wait for the magic to wear off," you said dryly, trying to lighten the mood. You were half expecting Jungwon to make a sarcastic comment in return, but when you looked up, you found him watching you, his expression softened, though still a little tense.

"Not exactly how I pictured this," he said with a half-smile, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. His gaze lingered on you for a moment before he shifted his focus elsewhere, like he was trying to process everything that had just happened.

"Yeah, well, Peeves does have a knack for timing," you muttered, your own smile faltering. You both took a step back, leaning against opposite walls, leaving some space between you.

You couldn’t help but steal a glance at Jungwon, your chest tightening a little at how the room felt smaller now, despite the fact that the walls were the same. The quiet between you two had changed, from tense silence to something that felt heavier, like something important had shifted and you were still trying to figure out exactly what it was.

"So, uh...," you said, breaking the silence. "This is fun, huh?"

Jungwon chuckled lightly, shaking his head. "I’m trying not to think about it. Honestly, I just... I don’t know what I’m supposed to say now. We’re soulmates, but I can’t just expect you to drop everything and choose me, especially with everything that’s been going on with Soobin."

You blinked, feeling a mix of emotions flood you—guilt, confusion, and a strange sense of relief that he was being honest with you. "I never expected you to just—" You cut yourself off. What had you expected? Had you been expecting Jungwon to just accept that you’d be together because of your soulmark? Was that fair to either of you?

"It’s not easy, Jungwon," you said finally. "I care about Soobin. I do. He’s been there for me in ways I didn’t think anyone else would be."

Jungwon’s eyes flickered toward the door, then back to you, and he let out a long breath. "I know you do. And I’m not trying to tell you to stop spending time with him. I just... I don’t want you to think that I’m going to disappear because you’re with him." His voice softened, and he looked at you. "I’m still here, and I’m not going anywhere."

You felt a lump form in your throat at his words. Jungwon's vulnerability was something new, something raw that you weren’t used to seeing from him, especially like this.

You both fell into silence, the weight of the room pressing down on you, heavier than the stone walls surrounding you. Neither of you spoke.

You shifted your position, feeling the warmth of Jungwon’s body too close to your own. Every time you tried to step away, your back brushed against the cold wall, and the small room only seemed to shrink around you. You knew you had to do something to get some space, but the proximity felt... different than it had before. It wasn’t uncomfortable exactly, but it was undeniably intimate in a way that made your heart beat faster.

"Jungwon..." you whispered, shifting slightly, trying to create some distance between you two. But with your movement, his hand instinctively reached out, grabbing your waist and pulling you back toward him.

“Don’t,” he murmured softly, his voice strained, almost as though he were trying to convince himself as much as you. His face was flushed, his breath shallow. His gaze flickered down for a moment before he quickly looked away, a slight embarrassment coloring his features.

“I—uh...” He cleared his throat, still not meeting your eyes. "I think it’s better if we don’t move too much. We’re stuck in here for now, so..."

His words trailed off as you both stood there, your chest pressed against his, the quiet intensity of the moment thick between you. You could feel the warmth of his body against yours, the faintest tremor in his hand still holding onto your waist, keeping you there with him.

You felt a twinge of awkwardness, but there was also a flutter in your stomach, something you couldn’t quite identify. Jungwon wasn’t acting like the confident, teasing prefect you were used to. He seemed almost... shy now. He avoided your gaze, and you could see his cheeks were flushed.

“Jungwon,” you repeated, your voice a little softer this time. You weren’t sure if you were trying to calm him down or if you were trying to ease the tension between the two of you. “You’re really close.”

He winced, as if he hadn't realized just how close you both were until you said it. "Sorry," he muttered quickly, but he didn’t let go of your waist. Instead, he awkwardly shifted to give you a little more space, though it wasn’t much.

You couldn’t help but laugh softly at the absurdity of the situation. Here you were, trapped in a small room, with Jungwon.

A sudden noise broke the tension though —footsteps, echoing from the hall outside. Jungwon straightened, eyes narrowing, before he turned to you.

"Someone’s coming," he said, his tone a little more hopeful. "Let’s see if we can get out of here before Peeves realizes we’re not giving him the satisfaction of getting angry."

You nodded, a faint smile tugging at the corner of your lips. "Sounds like a plan."

Jungwon gave a quick nod and moved toward the door, banging on it with the flat of his palm. You joined him, calling out through the thick wood. “Hey! Is anyone out there? We’re locked in here!”

For a few moments, there was nothing but silence. Then, faintly, the sound of approaching footsteps reached your ears. Your heart leapt. Someone had heard you!

“Keep banging,” Jungwon said, his tone lighter now, and you both resumed your effort.

Finally, the footsteps stopped just outside the door. There was a brief pause before a familiar voice called out, “What’s going on in there?”

“Minji?” you called, recognizing the voice of your fellow prefect. Relief flooded through you. “It’s me! Unlock the door!”

There was a muffled sound—probably Minji sighing in exasperation—before you heard her mutter a quick unlocking spell. The door clicked open, and before either of you could adjust, it swung outward, leaving you and Jungwon stumbling forward into the hall.

You nearly tripped over your own feet, but Jungwon’s hand shot out, gripping your arm to steady you.

Minji stood there, her eyes wide as she took in the sight of you and Jungwon emerging together, slightly disheveled and far too close for comfort. Her gaze flickered from you to Jungwon and back again, her eyebrows arching in silent question.

“What—?” she started, but you cut her off quickly, desperate to explain before her imagination ran wild.

“Peeves locked us in,” you blurted out, gesturing toward the now-open door. “He thought it’d be funny to trap us in that tiny room and leave us there.”

Minji’s eyes narrowed slightly, her expression skeptical. “Right,” she said slowly, her tone clearly implying she wasn’t entirely convinced.

You glanced at Jungwon, hoping he’d back you up, but the sight of him made your words falter. His face was still slightly flushed, a sheen of sweat glistening on his forehead. His usually composed demeanor was cracked just enough to reveal how flustered he was. And worse, he was still standing far too close to you, his hand lingering on your arm as if he’d forgotten to let go.

“Uh, right?” you prompted him, your voice a little too high-pitched.

“Yeah,” Jungwon said quickly, finally releasing your arm and taking a small step back. His voice was steady, but you noticed how his eyes avoided Minji’s and instead flicked toward the floor. “It was just Peeves being Peeves. Nothing more.”

Minji crossed her arms, her lips twitching upward in a knowing smirk. “Uh-huh. Nothing more.”

You felt your cheeks heat up, and you quickly turned the conversation back to the situation at hand. “Anyway, thanks for letting us out,” you said, brushing a stray piece of hair behind your ear. “We were starting to think we’d be stuck in there all night.”

“Anytime,” Minji replied, her smirk deepening. Her gaze lingered on the both of you for a moment longer, and you could practically see the gears turning in her head.

“Well,” she said finally, taking a step back, “I’ll leave you two to... whatever it is you’re doing. Try not to get locked in another room together, yeah?”

“Minji!” you protested, but she was already walking away, her laughter echoing down the hall.

You sighed, running a hand over your face. “Great. Now she’s never going to let this go.”

Jungwon chuckled softly beside you, and you turned to look at him. His usual teasing expression was back, but there was something softer in his eyes now, something almost... fond.

“Well,” he said, his voice light, “at least we’ve got a good story to tell, right?”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the small smile that crept onto your face. “Sure. A great story.”

For a moment, the hallway was silent. You stood there, staring at Jungwon, and he stared back. His dark eyes seemed to search yours, like he was trying to figure out what to say—or maybe he was waiting for you to say something first.

The weight of his gaze made your stomach twist, and your cheeks grew warm under the tension that hung in the air. You opened your mouth to say something—anything—to break it, but the words wouldn’t come.

Jungwon shifted slightly, leaning against the wall. His expression softened, the usual teasing edge gone, replaced by something gentler. “Hey,” he started, his voice low and almost hesitant.

It was too much.

“Goodbye!” you blurted, your voice louder than you intended.

Jungwon blinked, startled, but before he could respond, you were already turning on your heel, speeding off down the hallway like a first-year trying not to miss the train to Hogwarts.

Your heart was pounding in your chest, and your soulmark tingled faintly under your sleeve, but you refused to look back. You didn’t trust yourself to face him—not after everything that had just happened.

What was wrong with you? Why did he always make you feel this way? It wasn’t fair.

“Goodbye?” Jungwon called after you, his tone incredulous but amused. You could hear the faint chuckle in his voice, and it only made you pick up your pace.

You turned the corner and pressed your back against the wall, out of his line of sight. Your hand flew to your chest as if that would calm the rapid thumping of your heart.

What was that? Why did it feel like every time you were near him, the air grew thinner, the world smaller?

You groaned softly, covering your face with your hands. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Jungwon was your rival—your frustrating, irritating rival who lived to tease you and get under your skin.

So why did it feel like he was becoming so much more?

--

The crisp autumn air carried the comforting scent of butterbeer and roasted chestnuts as you strolled through the cobbled streets of Hogsmeade. It was your first free weekend in what felt like forever, and you were determined to enjoy it. You’d already picked up a few books from Scrivenshaft's, a bag of Honeydukes' finest chocolates nestled in your arms, and had plans to end the afternoon with a warm mug of butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks.

It was supposed to be a peaceful day.

That is, until you heard the familiar sound of raised voices near the outskirts of the village.

At first, you didn’t think much of it. Arguments weren’t uncommon in Hogsmeade, especially with so many students running around. But as you drew closer, a nagging feeling began to creep up your spine.

You froze when you recognized the voices.

Jungwon and Soobin.

Heart pounding, you hurried toward the commotion, weaving through a small cluster of curious onlookers. The scene that greeted you was enough to make your jaw drop.

Jungwon and Soobin stood face-to-face, their wands clenched tightly in their hands. The tension between them crackled in the air like static electricity, and neither seemed willing to back down.

“I’m saying,” Jungwon snapped, his tone sharp enough to cut glass, “you’re wasting her time. If you actually cared about her, you’d stop pretending you have a chance and leave her alone.”

Soobin’s jaw clenched, his usually soft demeanor hardening into something unrecognizable. “And what makes you think you have any right to decide that? You don’t own her, Jungwon. She’s not some prize for you to claim.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

They were arguing… about you?

You took an instinctive step forward, but neither of them noticed you. Their focus was entirely on each other, the frustration and unspoken emotions they’d been holding back for weeks finally spilling out into the open.

“She deserves better than someone who doesn’t even know what she wants,” Jungwon hissed, his knuckles white around his wand. “You don’t know her like I do.”

“And what do you know, Jungwon?” Soobin shot back, his voice rising. “That you’ve been dragging this on for years, pretending you don’t care, only to step in the moment she starts looking at someone else? You’re just jealous.”

Jealous? Jungwon’s expression darkened at the word, his lips pressing into a thin line. “Jealous? Don’t flatter yourself, Soobin. This has nothing to do with you.”

“It has everything to do with me when you keep butting in!” Soobin snapped, his dimples deepening as his grip on his wand tightened. “For once, stop acting like the world revolves around you and let her decide what she wants!”

The words hit like a lightning strike, and for a moment, Jungwon faltered.

“Enough!”

Your voice rang out before you even realized you’d spoken, startling both boys. They turned to you in unison, their expressions shifting from anger to surprise—and then something close to guilt.

“Just what do you think you’re doing?” you demanded, crossing your arms as you stared them down. “Are you seriously fighting over me? In the middle of Hogsmeade?”

Neither of them responded, their silence only fueling your frustration.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into you two,” you continued, your tone firm, “but I’m not some object for you to argue about. I don’t need either of you deciding what’s best for me or who I should spend my time with.”

Soobin looked away, his shoulders slumping slightly, while Jungwon’s gaze remained locked on yours. There was something in his eyes—something vulnerable—that made your stomach twist, but you refused to let it distract you.

“If you can’t act like the grown wizards you’re supposed to be, then maybe I don’t want to spend time with either of you,” you said, your voice softening but still laced with disappointment.

You turned on your heel, clutching your bag of sweets tightly as you marched back toward the village square. The crowd of onlookers quickly dispersed, whispering amongst themselves as they returned to their shopping.

Behind you, you heard Soobin let out a frustrated sigh.

“This isn’t over,” Jungwon muttered, his voice low enough that he probably thought you wouldn’t hear.

But you did.

For days after the argument in Hogsmeade, you stuck to your plan. You avoided both Jungwon and Soobin with a steadfast determination, pouring all your energy into your studies and prefect duties. It wasn’t easy, not when they seemed to pop up everywhere you went, their longing glances and hesitant attempts to talk to you a constant reminder of the rift between you all.

But you were determined to teach them a lesson.

You didn’t stop to acknowledge Soobin when you passed him in the halls, even when his usual cheerful greeting was replaced with a soft, “Hey…” that trailed off when you didn’t respond. You ignored the way his shoulders slumped, or how his dimples didn’t show as much when he smiled at others.

And Jungwon? You didn’t even glance his way during patrols, even when you could feel the weight of his gaze following your every move. You ignored the way your soulmark burned faintly whenever he was near.

It was torture.

Not just for them, but for you too.

You told yourself it was necessary. That they needed to understand how their actions affected you. But that didn’t stop the ache in your chest when you caught Soobin sitting alone at the Gryffindor table during meals, his usually lively voice replaced by silence. It didn’t stop the pang of guilt when you walked into the library and found Jungwon there, staring blankly at an open book, his jaw clenched tightly as he pretended not to notice you.

It hurt.

It hurt to see Soobin’s dimples fade, to watch Jungwon’s confident smirk replaced by a quiet stillness. And it hurt to know that you were the reason for it.

But you didn’t stop.

Every time your resolve wavered, you reminded yourself of that day in Hogsmeade. Of the argument you’d walked in on, the way they’d fought over you like you were some prize to be claimed. You reminded yourself that they needed to learn that you weren’t theirs to argue over.

Still, the distance weighed on you.

There were moments when you almost caved. When Soobin would pass you a small note in class, his handwriting shaky but hopeful, asking if you’d like to meet in the library. When Jungwon would linger after patrols, his expression softening as he quietly said your name, only for you to turn away.

Each time, you swallowed the lump in your throat and pushed forward, ignoring the way your chest tightened and your soulmark burned.

But the worst moment came one evening during dinner.

You were sitting with your friends, trying to focus on the conversation, when you glanced toward the Slytherin table. Jungwon sat at the far end, his head resting on one hand as he absently pushed food around on his plate. His usual liveliness was gone, replaced by a quiet, almost defeated air that made your heart twist painfully in your chest.

Your gaze flickered to the Gryffindor table, where Soobin was seated with a group of his housemates. He was laughing, but it didn’t reach his eyes. His dimples appeared faintly, but they lacked the warmth you’d grown so fond of.

For a moment, you considered getting up. Walking over to them, breaking the silence you’d forced upon yourself and them.

But you didn’t.

Instead, you stayed rooted to your seat, gripping your fork tightly as you forced yourself to look away.

You told yourself this was for the best. That they needed to understand how much their actions had hurt you. But as you sat there, ignoring the ache in your chest and the burn of your soulmark, you couldn’t help but wonder if you were hurting yourself just as much as you were hurting them.

You questioned if this was worth it.

You spent the next few days lost in thought, unable to focus on anything except the whirlwind of confusion inside your mind. The more you thought, the more questions piled up, each one more pressing than the last.

Did Soobin like you enough to consider it love? You could feel the tenderness in his eyes, the way he always seemed to know when you needed a laugh or when your mood shifted. His affection felt genuine, but was it love? Or was it just his natural warmth and kindness? You wanted to believe he cared for you deeply, but could you really be sure?

And Jungwon… You ran your fingers over your soulmark absentmindedly, tracing the faint burn that seemed to pulse with his presence. Was he drawn to you because of the bond you shared, or was there more to it? Did he really like you as a person, or was he just following the pull of fate, following the path that had been set for him? His actions made it hard to tell, and every time you caught a glimpse of his conflicted expression, you only felt more lost.

You sat in your room that evening, a blanket wrapped tightly around you as the cool air from the window brushed against your cheeks. You stared blankly at the wall, the weight of your thoughts pressing down on you. You’d never been one to let yourself get overwhelmed by emotions, but right now, it was impossible not to.

What am I supposed to do? You couldn’t keep ignoring them, couldn’t keep pretending that it didn’t matter how they were affected by your silence. But you also couldn’t let yourself be pushed into a corner, forced to choose between them just because of some soulmark. You were so much more than that, weren’t you?

The tears started without warning—hot, bitter drops that slid down your face as the realization hit. You had no answers. You had no idea what you were doing, what the right choice even was.

The room felt too small, the weight of everything around you closing in. You buried your face in your hands, trying to stifle the sobs that wracked your body. You were exhausted from holding everything in, from pretending that the pain of making this decision didn’t tear you apart.

Why is this so hard? You thought bitterly, as the tears continued to fall, your vision blurring with each passing second. You hated this feeling. You hated that you could hurt both Soobin and Jungwon by simply existing between them, by trying to find your own way without causing pain.

You wanted to be strong, to find clarity, but all you felt now was the sting of uncertainty and the emptiness of not knowing where to turn.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, but your heart still ached, the silent cry you had been holding in for so long now finally spilling over.

How had everything gotten so complicated?

--

You had tried to go about your day as best as you could, despite the storm of emotions brewing inside of you. You needed a distraction, something to pull you out of your spiraling thoughts. But of course, the universe had other plans.

As you walked down one of the quieter hallways, lost in your own thoughts, you failed to notice the telltale signs of Peeves’ latest prank: a small, harmless-looking puddle of water on the floor. Or, what you thought was harmless. As your foot landed in it, the floor suddenly gave way beneath you, and before you could even react, a burst of confetti and loud horns went off above your head.

The water splashed up around you, and your foot slipped, sending you sprawling to the ground with a sharp thud. The confetti rained down on you, a mocking reminder of Peeves’ relentless mischief.

You groaned, pushing yourself up with shaky hands, the sharp pain in your ankle telling you that this wasn’t just an embarrassing fall. You forced yourself to stand, wincing with each movement. It took everything in you to push through the pain, but you knew you couldn’t stay there. You had to get to the hospital wing.

It felt like an eternity as you limped through the halls, your leg throbbing in protest with every step. But eventually, you made it. Madam Pomfrey immediately ushered you onto a bed and began checking you over. You winced as she poked and prodded at your ankle, muttering under her breath.

You had never been one to ask for attention, but it was clear you couldn’t hide the injury, not when it was as obvious as it was. After Madam Pomfrey wrapped up your ankle and began to administer a pain-relieving potion, you closed your eyes, trying to relax. You really just wanted a moment of peace, to recover from everything.

But peace didn’t seem to be on the menu that day.

The door to the hospital wing creaked open, and you opened your eyes to see both Soobin and Jungwon stepping inside. Their eyes locked on you instantly, their expressions unreadable. Soobin was the first to speak, his voice warm but laced with concern.

“Hey… Are you alright?” he asked softly, taking a few steps forward.

You nodded, trying to smile, but the discomfort from your ankle made it difficult to do so. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just a little… well, you know, Peeves. Same old story.”

Jungwon, who had been standing a bit further away, finally moved closer. His gaze flicked from you to Soobin, then back to you, his jaw clenching just slightly. "You’re really lucky you didn’t hurt yourself worse," he said, his tone more curt than usual.

You didn’t miss the tension between the two of them. The way Soobin hovered near you, his eyes full of concern, and Jungwon’s more guarded expression. The air between them felt thick, like the two of them were both trying to control the emotions they didn’t want to express.

Soobin, sensing the silence hanging between them, cleared his throat and gave you a soft smile. “I’ll make sure you’re okay. We can talk later, right? After you rest a bit.”

You nodded again, grateful for his kindness. “Yeah, thanks, Soobin.”

Jungwon was still standing off to the side, looking like he was holding back a thousand thoughts he didn’t want to share. He glanced at Soobin once more, before finally turning back to you, his expression softening—just a little.

“You should rest,” he murmured, his voice almost hesitant.

You met his gaze, but before you could say anything, both of them stepped back.

After they left, the tension between them still lingered in the air. You could see it in the way they avoided eye contact, in the short, clipped exchanges they had with each other.

--

Your ankle had finally healed, and you found yourself walking through the hallways, your steps purposefully quick, but your mind racing even faster. You had spent days trying to sort through your feelings, to understand everything that had been happening. Now, you knew exactly who you needed to talk to.

You spotted him from a distance — standing by one of the doorways, lost in thought. It was as if everything else around you faded into the background. Your heart started to beat a little faster, and before you could second-guess yourself, you crossed the hallway and grabbed him by the arm, pulling him with you toward an empty classroom.

He stumbled for a moment, clearly caught off guard by your sudden action. "Hey, what’s—" he started, but you didn’t let him finish. You pulled him all the way inside, closing the door behind you with a soft click, your breath quickening in your chest. The room was dim, the sunlight filtering through the tall windows casting long shadows on the stone floor.

When you let go of his arm, you stepped back, eyes not leaving his face. He blinked, his expression shifting from confusion to something more guarded, almost unsure. “What’s going on?” he asked, his voice quiet.

You took a deep breath, your heart pounding as you finally asked the question that had been eating at you for so long. "Jungwon," you began, your voice steady but laced with uncertainty. "What do you feel about me?"

His eyes softened, and for a moment, he didn’t speak. The silence between you stretched, heavy with the weight of unspoken words. He seemed to gather himself, his gaze never wavering from yours, before he finally answered.

"I..." Jungwon hesitated, running a hand through his hair, and you saw the vulnerability in his eyes. "From the very first time I saw you, sitting there, waiting to be sorted into a house... I knew I wanted to get to know you. Even if it meant teasing you at first, I just... I wanted to be around you."

You could feel your chest tightening, the words he was saying hitting you harder than you expected.

He took a step closer, his voice softer now, almost like a confession. "But as the years passed, my feelings for you... they grew stronger. It was more than just wanting to know you, it was about needing to be with you." He paused, as if the weight of the truth was difficult to say. "Every time I saw you, my heart would beat faster. My palms would get sweaty. I couldn’t stop thinking about you. And when I saw your Patronus... and I realized you were my soulmate, I was so happy. I thought everything was perfect." Jungwon’s gaze dropped for a moment, his voice turning quiet. "But then I found out you were hiding it from me. You kept it from me, and it hurt, more than I can explain."

You wanted to say something, to tell him that you were sorry, but you waited.

"As much as it hurt, my love for you didn’t change. It only made me want to be with you even more, to be the one who gets to be with you. But..." He glanced away briefly, as if gathering his thoughts before looking back at you with a pained expression. "When I saw you with Soobin, when I saw you laughing and being so close with him... it hurt. I couldn’t help but feel jealous. I wanted that to be me, not him. I wanted to be the one making you smile like that."

The words hung in the air, thick with emotion, and you felt your heart twist. The truth was out.

You took a shaky breath, your mind spinning with everything he had just said. "Jungwon..." you whispered, not sure what else to say.

His gaze softened, and for a brief moment, he looked like the person you had always known—the one who had been by your side all these years, even when you didn’t realize it. "I just want to be with you."

Your heart raced, the weight of his words sinking deep inside you. It was a confession that you had been waiting to hear.

Jungwon took a step closer, his hand reaching out slightly, as if unsure whether to close the distance between you.

You reached up without thinking, your hand trembling slightly as you cupped his cheek, your fingers brushing against the warmth of his skin. The contact sent a wave of emotions crashing over you—uncertainty, longing, but also an overwhelming sense of rightness. For a brief moment, the whole world seemed to pause, leaving just the two of you standing there in the quiet room, hearts racing in sync.

Jungwon’s eyes searched yours, his breath coming in shallow bursts. You could feel his pulse beneath your fingers, and something deep inside you whispered that this was the moment. No more hesitations, no more confusion.

Before you could second guess yourself, you leaned in. His breath caught in his throat, and for the briefest second, it felt like time stood still.

Then your lips met, soft and hesitant at first, but it didn’t take long for the kiss to deepen. It was as if the world around you melted away, leaving only the connection between the two of you. Jungwon’s hands moved quickly, finding their way around your waist, pulling you closer against him, the warmth of his embrace a comforting anchor.

You responded in kind, your arms sliding up to wrap around his neck, pulling yourself even closer. The kiss was both gentle and urgent, a mixture of emotions that neither of you had fully expressed until now.

Your soulmark burned to life beneath your skin, the familiar warmth spreading through you in a wave, almost like a gentle hum.

You broke the kiss just enough to look at him, your foreheads resting together as you caught your breath. Jungwon’s eyes were dark with emotion, his lips slightly swollen from the kiss. He was staring at you as if he had just found something he had been searching for all this time.

"I never thought it would be like this," you whispered, your voice thick with the emotions you couldn’t quite put into words.

"Neither did I," he replied softly, his hand gently cupping your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin. "But it feels... right. Doesn’t it?"

You nodded, your heart fluttering in your chest as you leaned back in, your lips meeting his again. The kiss started softly, a gentle exploration of each other's mouths, but soon it grew more intense.

Jungwon's breaths became heavier, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he held you close, your hands entwined in his hair.

Suddenly, with a surge of strength, Jungwon lifted you up, his arms around your waist, and set you gently on the desk behind you.

As you landed on the desk, your arms instinctively went underneath Jungwon's Slytherin robe, your hands finding the warmth of his skin. You could feel the muscles of his back as he held you in place.

Jungwon's kisses became more urgent, his tongue teasing and exploring, as if he couldn't get enough of you.

You, feeling the intensity of Jungwon's kisses, decided to playfully pull back, your lips curving into a mischievous smile. As you withdrew, Jungwon's lips followed, his eyes sparkling with a hint of surprise.

"You like that, do you?" you teased, your voice soft and filled with amusement. "Can't get enough of me, huh?"

Jungwon's lips curled into a grin, a smile of mischief. "I could kiss you all day," he replied, his voice low. "Your lips are like a drug, and I'm addicted."

You giggled, a sound that was both playful and inviting. "Well, you better not overdose then," you said, your eyes sparkling with mischief. "Or we might have a problem."

Jungwon's grin widened, and he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours gently. "I'll take that risk," he murmured, his breath warm against your skin. "Because being with you is worth any risk."

You melted into his embrace, your arms slipping around his neck, inviting him to continue the dance of kisses. Jungwon's hands, which had been roaming your body with a possessive touch, now caressed your cheeks, his thumbs tracing the curve of your lips.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered, his voice filled with admiration and adoration. "And your kisses... they drive me wild."

His touch was gentle but insistent, like he couldn't quite get enough of you, and honestly, neither could you. Every kiss, every caress sent a thrill through you.

His lips trailed to your jaw, then to the sensitive spot behind your ear, making you shiver involuntarily. "I never thought it would feel like this," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "Like... everything I’ve been waiting for, all at once."

You smiled softly, your hands sliding down to his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart, matching your own. "I never thought it would happen, either," you whispered back. "But I’m so glad it did."

Jungwon pulled back slightly, looking at you with eyes full of wonder, as if seeing you for the first time. "You make everything feel right," he said, his voice a tender confession. "Like I’m where I’m supposed to be."

Your heart swelled at his words, and you leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. "I feel the same way," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "I think I always have."

For a moment, you both just stayed there, caught in the magic of the moment, the silence between you full of understanding and comfort.

Then, with a soft laugh, Jungwon pulled you closer again, his arms wrapped securely around your waist. "I think we’re going to be just fine, don’t you?" he said, his lips brushing against your forehead.

You nodded, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. "Yeah," you whispered, your voice filled with certainty. "We’re going to be more than fine."

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Taglist: @ilyunjina @nshmrarki @starf4lls @obyyyy

Wanna be in the perm taglist? Lmk <3

[rooksamoris]

I've come to humbly request and spread propaganda for Jamil L/N.

Jamil taking his s/o's name strikes 3 birds with one stone: freedom from the Asims (you can't tell me there hasn't been a single Viper who didn't marry into another family and adopt their trade), freedom to marry the love of his life, and guaranteeing freedom for his descendants. Depending on how things go with Najma, they could erase the Viper name and, by extension, their servitude.

Also how does he react being called Mr.L/N?

💞 — in which jamil marries you and takes your last name.

💞 — jamil viper x reader

💞 — warnings: none, this is pure fluff and romance

💞 — 1.2k words. i ended up writing a mix of drabbles and headcanons <33 your propaganda turned into me making even more propaganda for this idea. honestly, seems very plausible that he would do something like this.

“I’ll take your last name. If we want to get married, I have to take your name, or else you’d be stuck serving with me,” Jamil said, breaking the silence. His eyes remained on the book in his lap, looking through the various pictures from his parents’ wedding. He would be wearing his father’s old garments. 

The man had an intricate belt with a jambiyah (dagger) tied around the waist of his thobe (long dress-like garment), and his hair was done in various braids with a shemagh (men’s headscarf) tied over it. He had a few ornate pieces of fabric draped over him like a cape and a spot of henna on the inside of his palm. The usual kohl (eyeliner) was a bit smudged from all the festivities—Jamil had never seen his father look this happy. 

His mother was dressed similarly, with old pieces of gold and silver jewelry about. Her big earrings had matched the rings his father wore, and she had kohl drawn on both her eyes and her chin, in the shape of ancient tattoos. Here hair had scented plants interwoven in the strands, and Jamil wondered if he should do the same with his hair, draping a shemagh over it. It seemed like something you would enjoy, and he would enjoy you taking them out at the end of the night. He spoke again, “What do you think of that?” he asked, concerning him taking your name.

You smiled and rested your head on his shoulder, flipping the page to another picture of his parents’s wedding, this one featuring his mother shyly lifting a piece of her sitara (long piece of fabric with various designs which directly translates to ‘curtain’) to hide her face from her husband, “I think it's a wonderful idea.”

🩷 — Taking your last name was probably the best decision he could have made. He indulged in the marriage festivities with you for both your sake and his parent’s sake. What he was excited about was signing the contract that officially gave him your surname—freeing him from the shackles of the Viper clan.

🩷 — He did it after the festivities when it was just the two of you guys and the imam as well as a legal advisor. You both were still in the wedding clothes, sitting on an ornate rug with a little table in front of you. 

🩷 — Jamil could feel the tremors of his heart in his hand as he lifted the pen and signed his name beside yours. This time, Viper was nowhere to be found.

🩷 — With that, Jamil shook hands with the imam and then handed the page to the legal advisor to be put in the Scalding Sands’s records. It all felt so surreal. He glanced over his shoulder to see you gleefully talking to the imam about the marriage and showing off your wedding band. 

🩷 — It was a thin gold ring that he had made with the antiquities left by his family. Nothing fancy—he wanted to give you diamonds, and yet you were so smitten with it and him.

Once nightfall came, Jamil lay beside you in your bed. A bed for the both of you. It was a bed he bought under his new name, Jamil (L/N), under the surname you gifted him. His charcoal eyes watched as you sat down at the edge of the bed, your night robe dipped down your back. It matched his nightgown, save for the patterns. He helped you fall in love with the comfortable garb of his homeland.

You turned slightly to see him, your eyes growing tender at the sight of him all disheveled. This was a sight just for you, “What are you thinking about?” you asked, reaching out to take his hand.

Jamil pulled you closer to him by your hand, forcing you to lay on top of him. He kissed your knuckles, “Thinking about you, hayati (my life),” he muttered, before letting his hand trail up your arm and to the back of your neck. His gaze had softened and his features relaxed, “Thank you,” 

You did not need to ask why he thanked you. You knew he felt indebted to you for being patient with him and becoming his spouse. You gave him the greatest gift ever, freedom. Free to be yours, free from Kalim Al-Asim. You freed his descendants… he would spend the rest of his life as your husband, repaying you with kisses across your skin and warm meals in your belly.

🩷 — It takes him a long time to get used to his new name, as well as his newfound freedom. After your wedding, he takes you out to do many of the things he could not do before, such as travel to another country, but even simple things like going out to parks.

🩷 — He did not have to worry about Kalim anymore, just your and his enjoyment.

🩷 — Jamil still has yet to get used to being called by your surname. When he notices it, he is filled with a smug and quiet pride, but most of the time he just ends up ignoring whoever is calling for him, or glancing over at you in confusion, thinking that they are speaking with you and not him.

🩷 — This was particularly apparent when it came to the reunion at Night Raven College.

🩷 — He did not want to go, but he could not reject you either. You were excited about seeing your silly friends, and who was he to stop you from going? Instead, he just sighed and went along with you, standing off to the side and watching as you ran about to gather Ace and Deuce, as well as greeting your other friends.

“If it isn’t the new Mr. (L/N),” Azul approached his former classmate with a suave grin. He had grown up, but it was clear he still kept that usual ‘evil businessman’ charm to him. His suit was freshly pressed and his hair, which had grown a bit, was brushed back neatly. Though, he was still wearing the same thin-rimmed glasses.

Jamil turned around when he heard your surname being called, and it took him a moment to realize what was happening. He was your husband. Sure, he remembered your wedding—he carried a picture from it all the time, but it was still strange hearing it affirmed by someone else. He tried to hide how happy he was to hear it behind a raised brow and his usual frown, “What do you want, Azul? My spouse isn’t going to be pulled into one of your schemes anymore,” he said, arms crossed.

Azul laughed at that, tilting his cane a bit as he leaned away from Jamil, “You wound me, Jamil. As if I would try anything like that anymore,” he replied, and the irony was not lost on him at all. Instead, he sighed and watched as Jamil’s eyes found your figure again. You were chasing Epel around, trying to get a hug from your old friend. It was just like before, except now you wore a ring from Jamil and he wore a name from you.

“You don’t seem so poor and unfortunate now,” Azul said.

Jamil could not bite back the slight twitch of his lips, “Not at all.”

[jupiter-letters]

Harvey being your husband would include

Fem! or GN! Reader TW: None

A/N: This is me finally putting into written form the things I think about Harvey doing. Yes I am in love with him, thanks for asking. 

Waking up on a cool autumn day, the early morning light peeking in through the window. You see the sight of Harvey in a deep slumber beside you, cheek pressed into the pillow, hair messily strewn across his face and the pillow. The soft sounds of his snores along with the chirping of the birds outside. His eyes flutter and open to see you looking at him, he smiles at you. He rubs the sleep out his eyes and moves his hand to caress your shoulder. He stares into your eyes and traces random patterns on your arm. He asks you what you plan to do while he’s at work and tell you how much he’ll miss you when he’s gone.

After a hard day's work he tells you to take off your shoes for a personal foot massage and a nice cup of tea. He makes sure to remind you to get new shoes so your feet don’t hurt anymore. He moves up to rub your calves, and he tickles you under your knee. You slap his hands away and move to tickle his neck, he pulls you into a bear hug on the floor and you both can’t stop laughing. 

Working in the fields during the summer, Harvey is on the porch with a misting fan and a new book. You stop for a moment and call his name. You make your way up to the porch and he pulls out a bottle of water for you. “I love watching you work, you always look beautiful when you work. You take such good care of the farm. I’d like you to teach me more about it so I can help out more.” He smiles up at you, cheeks flushed from the sun, his freckles more prominent.

Loving getting clean with him, showers or baths doesn’t matter to him. He runs a bath for you both, putting in all your favorite salts and scents. A candle or two don’t hurt either ;))) It’s a very large clawfoot tub to accommodate Harvey’s long legs otherwise it wouldn’t be very comfortable. Whether you sit back to chest or across from each other he doesn’t much of preference with that either. The feeling of your back against him and your head next to his is one of the best feelings in the world. Then again being able to look at you from across the tub, flushed from the hot water looking at him with a sweet smile, is everything. 

Sneaking off together during the flower dance. Kissing each other breathless behind a tree. Feeling his hands gently cradling your face, he can’t stop giggling as he kisses you over and over again. Once you’ve had enough you fix each other's clothes and head back like nothing happened. Your friends all look at you both with knowing looks and laugh at his poorly redone tie. 

Harvey walking around in his comfiest robe on his days off, shuffling in his slippers from his shelf of prized jazz vinyls to the record player on his desk. You watch him from the doorway humming along to the song and opening a new model plane box. He notices you out of the corner of his eye, he pulls you towards him. You both stand chest to chest, his hand behind your back, forehead to forehead. Enjoying each other's presence and gently swaying to the music.

Thanks for reading! Lemme know what you think.

[harmonyrae]

Power Couple

CHAPTER TWO - Hook, Line & Sinker

Concept: AU of how Sylus & you (reader) met. Both are leaders of large factions in the N109 Zone, Onychinus (Sylus) and Himitsu (you). They have been cutting into your territory over the past few weeks, so you decided an introduction is required. You laid the trap and Sylus walked right into it. But this is just the beginning...

The next morning you roll over and try to block out the stinging rays of sunshine pouring through your windows. You sit up, immediately regretting the decision. You take a deep breath to steady yourself and smell the distinct scent of coffee and cinnamon sugar. Your chef, Maddy, had arrived and was preparing your breakfast. You toss the heavy blanket off your body and reach for your robe hanging beside your bed. Standing slowly to glide your arms through the silk. You glance at your pillow. The distinct stain of makeup smeared across the black fabric. You roll your eyes and walk over to the mirror to see the damage when the door swings open.

“Dorian! What the hell are you doing here so early?” 

“Well, we have a bird ready to sing and a very angry client ready to rip apart our contract. I told him to wait until tonight to make a decision. We need to make a move on Onychinus as soon as possible. Today, preferably.” The way he furrows his brow shows you how important this is. Hitsumi is about to lose a major client, just as you suspected. 

You turn on your heel and head straight for the bathroom. Dorian follows you and continues to tell you about the hissy fit the client had on the phone with him not 10 minutes earlier. You slam the door in Dorian’s face. 

“What the f– BOSS!” Dorian yells through the door impatiently. 

“Give me 20. I’m showering, drinking a coffee and then we can head down.” You can’t hear Dorian’s reply as you turn on the shower. If you’re going to handle this interrogation personally, which you don’t do very often, you damn well better look good doing it. 

The shower is not nearly hot enough to relax your tense muscles. You’re reviewing the plan in your head for the 10th time when your makeup is finally fixed. You open the door to your walk-in closet and let your hand graze the expensive fabrics. You remove a pair of sleek black high-waisted trousers from their hanger. Slipping on a delicate red lace camisole and the matching fitted black blazer. You gather your hair into a high-ponytail and flick a final quick swipe of burgundy lipstick across your lips. You carry your heels to your bedroom door and open it to greet Dorian leaning on the door frame impatiently. 

“Record timing. Shoes.” It wasn’t a question, but a demand. You pass your heels to him as he kneels to help you step into them. You adjust your earrings and button a single button on your blazer allowing the lace to peek through. Following Dorian to your front door you stop briefly at the kitchen island and grab the to-go box Maddy made for you. She’s used to you not having time to sit down for a proper breakfast. You give her a quick hug before you leave the penthouse.

As the elevator door opens to the basement, you steal your resolve as you start down the hallway. The soft clicks of your sleek heels bounce off the walls as you pass the masked men holding heavy weaponry leaning against closed doors. At the end of the hallway, the final door is illuminated by the dim glow of a small light hanging above it. You pause, taking a deep breath. Dorian squeezes your hand. You carefully turn the handle and swing the door open quietly. 

A young man sits strapped to a single metal chair in the middle of the room. His head hangs to his chest. His wrists raw from the handcuffs locking him in place. A discarded mask on the table in the corner catches your eye. You walk over silently and pick it up. Dorian settles next to the door, crossing his arms. You hold the bird mask lightly and walk up to the man in the chair. 

“Is it Luke? Or are you Kieran?” You make sure your voice is gentle. The man looks up at you, his handsome freckled face riddled with bruises and cuts. Strands of curly ginger hair hang around the bandage around his head. His dark eyes soften when he looks at you.

“Luke.” He mutters.

You turn the mask over in your hands. Feeling the fabric and stitching, you close your eyes briefly to focus your senses. You don’t feel a tracker. You smile at Luke.

“I’m Y/N.” Your gaze slowly hardens as you allow your innocent act to slowly fade away. “And if you tell me what I want to know, you’ll walk out of here, a free man, in 5 minutes.”

Luke tenses and he squints at you. “You’re the interrogator for Himitsu? That’s… unexpected.”

You don’t correct him. Instead you smile at him sweetly. “Yes. I am. And I’m sure you’d rather go home than take a trip to the bottom of the ocean.”

Luke’s eyes widen before closing them and allowing his head to hang down to his chest once more. His chest rises and falls faster as fear settles in.

“Two pieces of information. And we drop you off at the hospital, no questions asked. And I’ll make sure you get your mask back.” 

Luke looks up and stares at the mask in your hands. You catch a glimpse of sadness in his eyes before turning his gaze to you. 

“What do you want to know?” His voice is hoarse and low.

“One: the location of Onychinus’ base of operations. Two: your boss’ name.” You return to the table where you picked up the mask and pick up Luke’s phone. You circle around the back of Luke’s chair and press his thumb to the phone to unlock it.

“That’s it?” Luke sounds surprised, yet reserved. “Thought such a prominent group like Himitsu would already know that stuff.” 

“You are not here to ask questions. The next words out of your mouth will be an address and a name or we will be taking a trip to the pier.” You pull up the contact list and wait for Luke’s next words. 

“Industrial District. Red brick mansion with a black gate. Sylus.” Luke’s voice breaks and he stares at the floor.

You scroll through the phone and find the name with a little crow emoji beside it. You stride to the door. You nod at Dorian who opens it and you take a stroll down the hallway. 

You press the green button and press the phone to your ear. The low rings rumble in your ear and you feel your heartbeat quickening. You know the plan and have no doubts, but the twinge of anxiety remains. 

“Luke.” A deep voice tickles your ear. You’re taken back by the voice, unsure what you expected. 

“I’m curious. Why does Luke have a crow emoji next to your name on his phone?” You are met with silence. A full minute passes before the voice pipes up again.

“I assume you have demands?” Sylus doesn’t miss a beat or play into your game. You hear the soft clink of ice in a glass through the phone. 

You sigh. This is your chance, not just to eliminate the competition, but to finally learn more about the elusive leader who has a reputation with every resident of the N109 Zone. You needed to know who this man was. You needed to have an upper hand. 

“Actually, Hunter wants to offer a cease fire and a peace offering.” Your voice offers a cheery disposition. 

“Is that so?” Sylus chuckles. “Didn’t take him as one to surrender.” 

You grit your teeth. You are not surrendering, you would never. But the cocky tone in his voice is exactly what you were hoping for. 

“Hunter just wants this bloodshed to stop. They want Luke to return home safely.” Sylus clears his throat at the mention of Luke’s name. You make a mental note, Luke is important to him.

“Is Hunter really offering Luke as the peace offering?” 

“Yes. One of them.” You’re sure he can hear you smiling. 

“What’s the catch?” Finally, he’s taking the bait.

“An introduction. Hunter wants to meet you. Discuss the cease fire and pass along the peace offering in person. Luke and an antique Winchester shotgun.” Sylus is silent for a moment before a soft laugh flows through the phone. 

“Hunter knows I’m a collector. Flattering. I don’t know much about him. I guess this is my chance to learn a thing or two.” Hook…

“Blackburn Bar, tonight at 8pm. No guns or nosey backup. Oh, and an evol suppressor. Hunter will be wearing one as well.” Line…

“Tell Hunter I look forward to meeting him.” Sinker. 

The drum of the dial tone rings in your ear as Sylus hangs up. Your smile is growing, hurting your cheeks. You slowly walk back down the hall to the interrogation room and knock on the door twice. Dorian emerges and closes the door softly. His eager eyes digging into yours, searching for answers.

“Looks like we are caging a crow.” 

Chapter 1: https://shorturl.at/Bx95C Chapter 2: https://shorturl.at/3PwTi Chapter 3: https://shorturl.at/a7xnF Chapter 4: https://shorturl.at/fKYgX

Tag List (comment if you wanna be added!):

@trishiepo0

[witchofthesouls]

OH MY STARS! WE TOTALLY NEED SOME WRITING OF BIRB JACK WITH SOUNDWAVE. :000

More AU of a Cyber!Earth!Au with the Darbys directly under Soundwave’s care.

The being that was once June Darby was a dangerous creature.

That ferity hadn't disappeared once he managed to coax her out of that endless dream. Within her, old human sensibilities of civilian life and civilization warred with the new instincts that were capable of devouring everything in its path.

Nor had Soundwave wanted to suppress those instincts fully. To tame them. No; it would serve them both well among the Decepticons and the strange, new world they were navigating. They needed to simply nurture the bridge and guide the process. Ease it.

The inhibition collar had done little to quell the microtransformations as she armed the edges of her robes with serrations, masking it with a deceptive gentleness as the sparklings hid by her legs whenever one of the more foolish mechs attempted anything.

(If anyone was stupid enough to think that June Darby was any less dangerous in a femme root-mode. That the collar was enough after her rampage across the ship as she hunted after her stolen child. It was their own passage to the Unmaker.)

Her son, Jack, echoed it.

Optics blown wide with the white pupil mechanisms drowned out everything else, the sparkling's frame shifted and rippled between the metal of shadowed hull and his own physical body as he mimicked the crooning birds perched upon his shoulder.

Croaking and chattering. A mix between organic ruffling feathers with metal plates sliding and soft transformation seams. It was difficult to discern between the sparkling and the birds. Only the multiple optics popped out of the seamless blend.

In the gleam of those dark, shiny optics, Soundwave saw the reflection of that strange robed figure.

Jack's mouth moved, but it wasn't words, just a spill of noise. Not even birdsong or a close mimicry. A mix of pattering rain, distant rolling thunder, and a gentle breeze through swaying branches.

The boy met his visor and seared into his mind was yellow robes standing within a clearing where many of the mining operations had disappeared. Something writhing behind them, dissected limbs with peeled musculature and fuel lines neatly entwined with one of the metal trees.

Soundwave quietly filed away the abomination that was Silas. Breakdown's paintjob, no matter the degradation, was a custom one by Knock Out's hands.

The spymaster kneeled down. He ignored the hissing birds as they ruffled up. What mattered was Jack's reaction, and Soundwave had poured so much work into ensuring his charge was comfortable in his presence. A careful prod to allow their EM fields to overlap. Jack didn't pull away as Soundwave anchored into his space, circling the sharp, bizarre notes as the birds became more distressed.

Jack's main attention was pinned to the distant figure calling for him (and his mother), but a small part still focused on Soundwave.

"Jack." Soundwave played out the haunting recording of June's many-layered voices of her monstrous alt-mode. "Jack. Jack. Jack. Where are you?"

The sparkling finally blinked. Connection severing. That grey-blue hue returned as he tentatively stepped into Soundwave's reach. He ignored the shrill squawking and crash of teeth and data-cables as Soundwave crushed the blackbirds and their foreign influence as Jack curled into his hold. Like a puppet with severed strings.

Luminosity hissed from the corner before barreling over, clambering across Soundwave's back-plating as she pushed her own quelling danger senses into them. She spoke in rapid squeaks and chirps, punctuated with hard flaps of her wingspan as Jack pressed himself deeper into Soundwave's hug. His mind jumbled in strange breaks as Jack attempted to reorder himself, and Soundwave gently reinforced the lowered mental defenses, sweeping away the scent of ashes and the boiling-freezing imprints.

Of course, the birds weren't real. Even with his speed and the sensation of crushing them, Soundwave felt only the walls of the ship.

[fleurb1ue]

Sleeping with the Sawyers

(not in a sexual way just sharing a bed w/ them for one night)

Drayton

he’s opposed to it but if you give him a valid reason he’ll let you sleep with him.

wears an undershirt and lounge pants to sleep in.

is a snorer so it might take you a while to fall asleep. 

will share the blanket and pillow(s) but will keep a distance from you. his back is facing you the whole night.

early bird so he’s already out of bed and gone once you wake up. 

expects you to make up the bed in the morning.

Bubba

doesn’t mind you sleeping with him. 

has his own pj’s to wear

loud snorer so it depends if you’ll fall asleep or not. you might get a headache in the middle of the night.

he’s a big guy so he’ll take up most of the space. it’d be good for both of y’all to have your own pillow and blanket. 

wants you to be comfortable 

will help you make the bed in the morning.

the mask never comes off 

Nubbins 

you ask to sleep with him for the night and he just giggles at you. weirdo. 

doesn’t snore that much

takes a while for him to fall asleep so you’re the first one knocked out.

moves in his sleep so he might kick you once or twice.

good luck sharing the blanket cuz he hogs most of it. you get your own if you can’t pull it back on your side.

either sleeps with the same clothes on or goes shirtless.

will sneak a picture of you when you’re asleep. 

will wake up early if he’s planning to go out in the morning, if not he sleeps in but Drayton doesn’t accept that. 

doesn’t care if you make the bed or not.

you may wake up in his arms. 

Chop Top

“you’re s-scared to sleep on your own, ain’t cha?” he teases. 

(idk what he’d wear to sleep. maybe just a shirt and boxers or an old robe?) 

you’ll have a hard time trying to sleep, not cuz he’s snoring but cuz he keeps on talking to you. bro’s a chatterbox.

at least he’ll share the blanket and pillow(s) with you. 

doesn’t move in his sleep as much as Nubbins does. however, he tends to roll off the bed so you better catch him before he hits his head.

(will think you pushed him off if he suddenly wakes up on the floor)

he sleeps with dead Nubbins whether you like it or not. 

he’ll wake you up by playing music on the radio or record player. 

doesn’t care if the bed is made or not either.

[hoboblaidd]

Codex Entry: The Emergent Compendium

Messere Darvies, you said that a scholar's life is not for everyone. Now I understand—I couldn't be more frustrated by the marvel I have sent you. Chief among its pre-Tevinter strangeness, the volumes are automatos: new entries appear of their own accord, with no scrivener's quill in sight. When a mage consultant says it's impossible, but your own eyes see it happen—and often—it's clearly a wonder.

But the content! Each new addition is single image created unseen, accompanied by a line of gibberish. And what bogglers these imitari! Records of the mundane and the fantastic with no rhythm or weight. I have observed a dragon in flight, a man in regal robes but of a complexion I have never seen, countless peoples at the moment of death, and no end of devices I cannot fathom in the least. The only image remotely familiar was extremely so: mine own wife! But the babble of the legend gave no hint to the significance, and that volume has since vanished.

I cannot imagine the purpose, or the library that could hold what has surely been accumulated. It would be as though transcribing the individual birds of a flock twittering about you. A dozen images appeared as I wrote this, and by the time you hold this, they will be lost in a thousand more. To be granted the world at once both intimate and distant is almost unbearable. I know so much is there, but can never know it, myself. It makes one feel very small, indeed.

The newest pages:

- A newborn of Rivaini complexion subtitled "bE qlK" - A hornless Qunari with tightly braided hair, subtitled "viqpbkle abfi vlskb beQ" - My wife again! Subtitled "illc x akxypre obe ,prqflz qplM" - Two shadowed spheres among stars subtitled "aboofqp iboxE'kbC px bpmfizb kX"

—The notes of Scholar Bodaliere on The Emergent Compendium in the Original Tongue, author unknown

In order, the deciphered phrases are:

- "Not He" - "The envoy lied honestly" - "Post coitus, her husband a fool" - "An eclipse as Fen'Harel stirred"

[scotianostra]

On 8th July 1647 Frances Stuart, known as “La Belle Stuart” was born.

Frances was the daughter of Walter Stewart, or Stuart, a physician in the court of Queen Henrietta Maria, wife of Charles I who was in exile in France.

When the Stuarts returned to the throne with the Restoration she went with them. In 1662, she became a Maid of Honour to Charles II's bride, the Infanta of Portugal, Catherine, and then a Lady in Waiting to the new Queen.

Reportedly, Charles became infatuated with the girl, but she resisted his advances. In 1664, after England won several naval victories against the Dutch, the king had medals struck depicting the figure of Britannia, he chose Frances for the model. The King was so besotted with her that he considered divorcing Catherine to marry her. Samuel Pepys, the diarist, recorded that she was the greatest beauty he had ever seen.

Considered a great beauty, she had numerous suitors, eventually she eloped with another Charles Stuart, a fourth cousin of the king and the 4th Duke of Richmond and 6th Duke of Lennox in March 1667. She fell out of favour at court for marrying without royal consent.

About 1669 she became seriously ill with smallpox and the king reportedly rushed to her bedside and forgave her for marrying. Upon her recovery, she was appointed Lady of the Bedchamber for the Queen. The king appointed the duke ambassador to Denmark, but Frances stayed at home, managing the estate and business affairs.

The duke died in December 1672 and as he had no heir his estates reverted to the Crown. Charles II granted Frances a 1000 pound pension per annum for life. In 1702 Frances arranged to purchase the estate of Lethington. She died that same year leaving her estate to her nephew Lord Blantyre who renamed Lethington Lennoxlove in her honour.

Pics include two paintings of “La Belle Stuart” and a remarkable wax effigy she ordered that had made of herself dressed in her coronet, robes and shoes worn at Queen Anne's coronation,. She had it set up in Henry VII's chapel near the grave of Ludovic Stuart, cousin of James I, in Westminster Abbey, the effigy survives and beside it you will see an African Grey parrot, which was her “companion” for some 40 years, the parrot died a few days after her.

As seen in the last pic, very few mounted bird specimens survive from this period but x-rays show that the entire skeleton of the bird is intact including its skull. This was a very primitive technique but the parrot probably survived because it was kept in a showcase. It is perhaps the oldest stuffed bird in existence.

[adobe-outdesign]

If it's not getting tiresome would you mind reviewing the mynci? They've been my favorite since childhood

The Mynci is our only primate Neopet (not counting TNT staff, the freaks) and it's... alright. Honestly, I'm kind of amazed we only got a singular monkey Neopet for this category, considering how diverse primates are all-around—you have baboons, gorillas, monkeys, lemurs, etc. It's not a bad thing, but it's head-scratching compared to the number of dragons and birds we have.

As our only primate Neopet, the Mynci is about as literal as you could get with a monkey—long tail, big ears, snub nose (their most distinctive feature tbh) and what seems to be exposed flesh over their ears, face and stomach, down to even having a belly button. I feel like they're kind of like Lupes, being real animals, but they don't have as incredible as a selection of colours to support them like Lupes do.

I guess my main problem with them is that there's no fur indicated on their bodies, just two hairs on their heads, which always gave them this weird feeling of being bald. I feel like just a few small tufts of fur in the right spots would've helped avoid this. Their body shape is also pretty standard. Out of the designs that were voted on, I kind of gravitate towards Mynci #2 here, which both has more fur and a more interesting body shape, as well as a more obvious personality to it. (Though I will admit that #3 is the most Neopet-ish of them all.)

Mynci were basically left untouched by customization aside from gaining a fist, so that's a plus.

Favorite Colours:

Stealthy: Stealthy pets sometimes end up looking incredibly busy, with too many details and colors, but the stealthy Mynci gets it just right. I like the subtle dark green and gold palette used to accent the stealthy colour's natural navy and bright blue eyes, and little details like the stitch marks. I also love how the symbols on its headband and belt are clearly in the shape of a Mynci's nose. The only minor thing that bugs me is that those two hairs on top shouldn't be visible.

Royal: I have no idea why these are Shenkuu-based and I do not care (I guess it's because China has a fair amount of monkey species IRL?). Either way, these designs are super pretty, and work well eith the Mynci's design. Both the royalboy and royalgirl feel on par with each other, with both sporting long flowing robes (hanfu) and luck charms—the main difference being the color palettes and the royalboy having a beard and hat while the female has a headdress.

For the record, both versions are fine with the UCs obviously being better, though there are some weird things we lost in the conversion—like, what happened to the RB's beard and tail cuffs, and why did its eye color change? What happened to the RG's ring? Why did the grey in the RB's eyebrows get lighter? But regardless, these are still solid.

Toy: Come on, it's a symbol monkey! You can't not like it. The purple base is pleasant as well and goes well with the red and peach accents, and it looks nice and plastic-y. Bonus points for hiding the fist. (The eyes should've been purple or red though.)

Bonus: If you want something more ape-like and don't vibe with the Mynci's overall design, give the mutant version a spin. I really like the gorilla-like stance and anatomy, the more muted colors with bright red accents, and little details like the devil-shaped tail and extra fur. My only nitpick is that having both ears and horns feels weird—should be one or the other.

[dark-angel-of-muses]

The Gift Of The Mag(Pie)

Lu Wing Bois AU by @breannasfluff

AO3 Link

“How do I look?” Hyrule spun around to show off his yukata. It was forest green, with light yellow maple leaf imprints dotted across the fabric. Naturally, there was no back so his wings could stretch free behind him, so the top was tied behind his neck in a pretty bow.

“You always look lovely. How about me?” Ravio opted for a navy blue set of robes, with white dots speckled across the fabric to imitate a night sky. He also twisted his hair to include a crown braid framing his bangs, holding the braid in place with a lapis lazuli bead clip.

“If it weren’t for the feathers on your ear, I’d be saying you were trying to attract some suitors.” Hyrule’s laugh sounded like bell chimes.

Ravio blushed, but brushed off the comment. He and Mr. Hero were still at a bit of an impasse. He was hopeful his flockmate was interested, but they still hadn’t put anything into words yet. Wild and Hyrule loved teasing them for it. Even if it made him flush with embarrassment and want to bury his face into his wings, he was glad they seemed to support their relationship. Maybe the teasing would help Mr. Hero make a move.

“Are you ready to meet up with the others?” Hyrule slipped on his geta, handing Ravio his own pair.

The bowerbird made a flock call in assent, put on his shoes, and the two made their way to the festival.

xxx

Lorule’s Kakariko village was a den of thieves and cultists. Ravio had to stop going long before he ran away from his kingdom entirely for fear of losing his money and/or life. 

By contrast, Mr. Hero’s Kakariko was vibrant and happy. A center of commerce and safety. For the festival, streamers and paper lanterns had been strung up throughout the public square. Temporary stalls with games, street food, and specialty wares were lined up in rows alongside the walkways. 

“I’m surprised you didn’t open up a stall here, Ravio.” Wild was wearing some of the Sheikah clothes he’d gathered over his travels, hair tied held in place with two crossing hairsticks. His own yukata was sky blue like his Champion’s wrap, with a pattern of multicolored pastel lines criss-crossing the fabric. 

“Trust me, he tried. I convinced him that he should take at least one year to enjoy the festival with flock before trying to turn it into a business opportunity.” Mr. Hero wore a red yukata with crimson flowers printed on the ends of the sleeves. His pink hair was curled, giving it a bit of extra volume and bounce. There were ruby clips slid into his hair right above the red shock of hair that framed his face. Ravio felt his wings shuffle and flash as he drank in the image.

“Oh, look! That tent has ocarinas!” Hyrule’s wings flared in excitement as he bounded for the shop. Ravio managed to tear his gaze away from Mr. Hero and followed the Thrasher.

It seemed to be a handcrafted instrument store. There were reeds of varying sizes and colors, from silver flutes to wooden recorders. The ocarinas were the most eye-catching, porcelain painted in all sorts of bright patterns and colors. Hyrule’s fingers hovered over one that was wooden, but with gold paint in swirling little lines to imitate blossoms.

“You want one?” Wild asked, chin resting on Hyrule’s shoulder as he peeked over the wares.

“It’s so pretty when the flock plays ocarina when I sing, it’d be cool to do that on my own!” Hyrule’s wings fluttered, making Wild laugh as they tickled.

“Wouldn’t it be pretty hard to play the ocarina and sing at the same time?” Mr. Hero raised an eyebrow.

“That- Oh. Hm. You’re right.”

“You might not be able to play a woodwind, but what about these?” Ravio directed his flock over to the percussion section. There were maracas in every color and pattern, rain sticks, egg shakers, hand drums, and bells.

“Ooo!” Wild reached over to grab a sample egg, shaking it wildly to hear the rice inside. That bird possessed absolutely no sense of rhythm.

“Oh, this is darling!” Hyrule picked up a tambourine, giving it a test shake and trilling in delight as the cymbals chimed. The skin stretched over the middle had a print of a sunflower, yellow petals reaching to the light wooden frame holding everything together.

Hyrule seemed so delighted, a song bubbling in his throat as he admired the craftsmanship. Ravio made his decision right there. “How much for the tambourine?”

“Five hundred forty rupees.”

“I’ll take it! Hyrule, do you want it wrapped?” On the pricier side, but not unreasonable for something clearly hand-crafted with a lot of care.

Hyrule squealed. “Oh thank you, Ravio!” He chirped in excitement, melodic as he clutched the sunflower tambourine to his heart. No amount of rupees could pay for that sweet smile and soft hug as the Brown Thrasher sang in excitement. Ravio leaned into the hug, before his eyes caught a flash of yellow feathers in his peripheral vision.

Mr. Hero was looking at him, wings spreading. Ravio swallowed thickly as he saw those pretty yellow feathers rise and fluff, and averted his gaze as his own wings rose on instinct. The Flame Bowerbird wasn’t fair, flustering him like that. He was just being nice; it was rude to tease!

xxx

Hyrule played with his new toy for a bit, singing and drumming rhythms. With the purchase of a gift for one flockmate, Ravio was naturally on the hunt for two more.

It hit when he saw the flash of the most beautiful blue from the corner of his eye. All his instincts screamed and he darted into the rows of clothes. He heard Legend yelp, but Hyrule and Wild were laughing so it was probably fine.

The blue fabric belonged to a dancer’s costume. There was a long skirt, with beads sewn into a diamond pattern near the waistband. The top was separated, a black crop with blue tassels of bead dangling over it. Ravio might be a clothing size too big for it, but…

“Wild, come look at this!” He chirped a flock call, and the magpie trotted over to him. The moment Wild saw the outfit, his eyes widened and his wings fluttered. 

“Oh, that’s so pretty! I’d love to wear it.”

“You should!They have a dressing room over there!” Ravio extended one wing to point towards the tent. 

Wild cooed in agreement, then snatched the clothes off the rack and raced to put them on. As soon as he stepped out of the tent, he twirled, showing off the blue fabric. The hue matched the back of his wings perfectly, The skirt was loose, meant to lift and settle to showcase a dancer’s movements. Wild’s little spin had the skirt billowing beautifully. Additionally, the blue bead tassels clicked and jingled from the movement. It was beautiful.

“Nice outfit you have there, Wild.” Legend walked up next to Ravio, bumping wings. Mr. Hero had a little growl in his throat as he said it, and Ravio tried to bump wings back to alleviate it. Silly bird, he was just appreciating their flockmate.

“Oh, they have this little veil that comes with it!” Wild pulled out the item in question. Instead of cloth, there was one singular band that went over the nose and had dangling chains of rhinestones to cover the face. They caught light and sparkled at the tiniest bit of movement.

Wild giggled. “I’d love wearing this to Gerudo Town. Riju would be so jealous.” He did another twirl, soaking in the fabric and beads all spinning with him.

“Then you should, because I’m buying it for you!” Ravio declared, bringing out the ten gold rupees he saw as an asking price to give to the cashier. 

Wild stared at him for just a moment in surprise, then launched at the Bowerbird in a hug. “You’re the best flockmate, Ravi!”

“What am I, chopped boko guts?” Legend grumbled.

Wild looked up, putting on an innocent front. “Well, if you wanted to get me something too, I wouldn’t say no.”

“Greedy little magpie!” Legend huffed in accusation, and Ravio laughed at the both of them, melting into Wild’s hug. It was worth the lightness of his wallet to see them so happy.

xxx

Getting Legend something should have been obvious. He was such a silly bird, with his obsession for red things. Ravio didn’t get it, when blue was right there, but he’d indulge Mr. Hero’s strange tastes today.

That said, finding which red thing to give him had been a challenge.

Legend was a hoarder, and had no shortage of rupees. As soon as something genuinely caught his interest, he’d whip out his wallet faster than Ravio could. A red fan, a pair of carbuncle earrings, a red makeup palette, a strawberry apron, a red luminous rock nightlight, red leather belt, red dagger. If it was on prominent display and seemed like Legend would have liked it, he had already taken it and stashed it in his magically deep pockets.

Ravio clicked his teeth in annoyance. Legend’s obsession was really getting too far at this point. He was going to buy out the entire festival’s stock, at this rate, and Ravio wouldn’t be able to get him a good present!

The day was getting longer and he was getting desperate. Each merchant stall they hit was another potential source crossed off the list.

Finally, Ravio broke down. “Hyrule, I need your help.”

“Hm?” The Thrasher allowed Ravio to pull him aside.

“I’m going to need you to stall Legend from getting to the next booth. I want to get there before he does. Can you do that?”

If you were a stranger, you might have called Hyrule’s answering smile sweet. But all his flock understood it as the terrifying omen of chaos it was.

“Done and done. When you hear Legend’s screeching, make a break for it.” Without giving Ravio the time to ask what he was planning, Hyrule bounded off to enact his plan.

Ravio didn’t look a gift horse in the mouth. Even if he was deathly curious what Hyrule had said to get Legend so puffed he was showing off the scandalous skin under his scapulars. Wild seemed to have joined in on the assignment unprompted, grabbing something from the Flame Bowerbird and flapping his wings to fly away in a game of chase. 

Tearing his eyes away from Legend’s stunning wings, Ravio booked it to the next stall. They were a goldsmith, rings and bracelets glittering on their display tables.

“Sorry sir, you wouldn’t happen to have anything with a red gem or charm on it, would you?”

The merchant’s frown made Ravio’s stomach drop. “Sorry. All out of red gems.”

Ravio’s wings drooped. There weren’t that many stalls left to check out, and he didn’t know how much time Wild and Hyrule were going to buy him.

“...I could paint one of my existing charms. But I’ll need help color matching the dye.”

Ravio perked up. “Really?”

The merchant brought out a clear stone, and a pot for dye. “Do you have anything red on you?”

Ravio brought out a red rupee. He’d rather give something less expensive, like the skins of their apples or one of Legend’s infinite supply of red garbage, but he had no time.

“I’m going to need at least five of those, and you won’t be getting them back. That’s in addition to the product cost which is gonna be another 60. Is that alright?” 

His wallet was getting down to a few green rupees and a wish. But it was worth it. He wanted to get something nice for his flockmate.

The merchant was fast, inserting the rupees into the magical dye pot and creating a brilliantly shining red, dipping the clear stone into the pot. With the paint dripping from it, Ravio saw the stone was hollowed out, clearly drilled through. The paint dried in less than a minute. (Maybe something about the magic in the dye substance?)

The smith grabbed a gold ring and quickly looped it through the hollowed stone, finishing by wrapping the gold wire around the makeshift bead.

“And like this, it spins. Great for people who like keeping their hands busy.” The smith demonstrated, and Ravio snorted. Every Link seemed to have a penchant for playing with tiny trinkets and treasures. He trilled a call of thanks and snatched up the box. It might have been a hundred rupees more expensive with the dye, but he was just grateful to grab something before Legend could buy out an entire village.

By the time he returned to his flock, the situation had escalated.There was a beautiful blue streak in Legend’s pink hair, although based on the yelling the Flame Bowerbird wasn’t happy about it. Hyrule’s hands were criminally the same shade of blue, Legend edging away from them in fear. Wild was grounded again, though still seemed to be mastering a game of keep-away with- Oh. Was that the bracelet Ravio gave Mr. Hero all that time ago, when they first met? Huh. Wild should… probably give that back.

“Mr. Hero!” Ravio bounded in, interrupting the standoff as all three birds greeted him with a flock call on instinct.

“Ack, sorry Ravi. These two are just being idiots.” The apology was unnecessary since Ravio asked for it in the first place, but he wisely kept his mouth shut.

“Um, I wanted to give you something.”

Legend tilted his head, anger giving way to curiosity.

“Here!” Ravio thrust forward the box, flipping back the top to show the ring nestled inside. Ravio’s wings fluttered on instinct, opening just a bit.

Legend made an odd choking noise. Ravio bit his lip. Did he like it? Or was it too plain, a small, non magical ring?

“You’re giving me a ring. A red ring.” There was an odd warble in the Flame Bowerbird’s voice.

“Uh, yes. I wanted to get something for everyone in the flock. If you don’t like it, I’m not sure if I can return it since it was custom, but I can find you something better!” Ravio tried to keep bravado in his voice instead of giving into the instinct to curl his wings around him and crouch into a ball of feathers.

“Oh, so this is a gift for a flockmate?” Did he sound disappointed?

“Um, yes. Sorry if it’s not much, I really can buy something better later-”

“Stop that!” Legend interjected. “It’s wonderful and I love it!” The words were yelled in such an aggressive tone Ravio had to take a second to get the meaning.

“You really like it?” Ravio’s voice brightened with hope.

“Of course I like it, you bird brain! You know that’s my favorite color! And you said it was custom?” Legend picked the ring out of the box, violet eyes sparkling. He still was using his usual array of insults, but there was an unmistakable smile on his face as he looked it over.

Ravio sighed in relief. He’d have to thank Hyrule for whatever it was he did later. As he looked over Legend’s shoulder, he saw Wild and the Thrasher in question elbowing each other, smiling like they knew something he didn’t. 

Silly birds.

xxx

The last stall of the festival was a local knitter. Quilts, potholders, beanies. She used soft yarns, it was a joy just to run his fingers along the display wares.

Then he saw it.

The most perfect scarf that he had ever seen. 

It was lovingly knitted in a gradient, from a bright teal down to a smoky indigo. Along the range of vibrant blues were little sections of white cloth meant to resemble clouds. It was so perfect! Ravio reverently ran a thumb across the cloth, and marveled at how the blue somehow made it feel even softer. His senses were delighted, and his wings fluttered on instinct.

“Excuse me, ma’am, how much for the scarf?” He had to own this. It was destined to be his.

“200, sir.”

200? For something so well made, that was trivial! Ravio excitedly pulled out his wallet, not realizing the problem until his hand was inside, sorting through the few green rupees he had left.

Ah, right.

Well, he treated money like it was no object for his flock. He didn’t regret that, even if the beautiful scarf belonged with him. 

“I’m sorry, I don’t have enough-”

“I’ll take it!” Wild jumped in, startling Ravio into a yelp. The magpie threw two silvers onto the counter, turning back to Ravio.

“You’ve been so nice to us all day, it only makes sense to give you something back.” The magpie bumped Ravio with his shoulder, beaming.

Ravio clutched the precious scarf, now a gift from his flockmate. He didn’t even try to hold back the happy tears. He didn’t regret a rupee of kindness spent on flock.

[letsgostealthelouvre]

This image is categorized in the record simply as “Virgin” and I was like “How can you tell” both jokingly and also wondering if there was something visual that signified virginity. I knew of course that they probably meant this is a portrait of the Virgin Mary, which does have some typical signifiers: the draped robe, the beatific smile, the red jewel indicating the “sacred heart”. 

Turns out this statue also had the most important signifier, the Baby Jesus, except at some point he got damaged -- so some enterprising artist carved him down until he was a ball, and now it’s like, Virgin Mary Preparing To Bowl A Strike.

[ID: A small ivory statue of the Virgin Mary, dressed in flowing robes and with a crown securing her head covering; one hand is curved upwards and holding nothing (apparently she used to be holding a bird in that hand) while the other one clutches a sphere, slightly smaller than a bowling ball, to her breast.]

[osddsilver]

Intricacies of a War Machine

A look into the mind of the Fireball Tamori shipped out to Fort Ciaran.

The sky above you settles into storm clouds lit from within by dull purple light. There are gaps between the clouds which you think indicate they are not entirely natural. There are stars behind them that indicate your location. Both the wizard who called you into being and the wizard who lent him that ability were gifted astronavigators. You did not need to know astronavigation, and so you do not. The clouds, though… a moment's thought and you know that they could be a form of abjurative magic or its byproduct. 

What is your name?

The man she was with, Silver, they call him, spares a glance at you and your ilk before he and his company are led in different directions. They will travel at the middle of the procession. More defensible, should Gaothmai attempt an advance. An officer orders you and 14 others to the back. 15 to the front. You will be the defense. It is a long road; you know how to march.

Names show where you come from. There is nobody from the Citadel. They are, at most, three generations removed from one of many other places. The Citadel has no names.

You must look ahead, but you can hear beautiful noises in the distance. They fall silent with your approach but there are always those too far ahead to have heard you and far enough behind to forget you. You overhear one of the lower ranking war wizards calling it birdsong. The snapping of twigs as some wildlife runs away into the woods. You wonder if you would be able to name it, if you caught a glimpse of it. 

What the Citadel does have are monikers that eclipse the person who claims them. The wizard who spoke to you was called Sky.

It is after two nights of marching that you notice the quiet ahead of you. You know what is to come now. The birds at your back still sing, at least.

You cannot speak to her motivation in leaving her name behind but you can feel the ghost of your creators’. The fear of his deeds left unrecorded. The fear of his deeds recorded.

They appear to have waited until the center of the procession was immediately before them. They have the ranged casters and archers alike hidden in the trees. Several foot soldiers approach the carriages in the center where the guard is at its thinnest. Hidden in their green robes but not invisible. Anything could be hiding in the trees and the narrow road makes detonations risky.

What kind of name would somebody like Sheer even be able to offer? A coward running from his actions as he takes them. You would destroy yourself immediately upon your creation- like many of your brethren before you- rather than accept his name. 

Your procession is being overwhelmed. With her eyes on the archers, your commander does not seem to have noticed the soldiers on your side of the road, approaching those most important wizards in the center. It is a strange sensation, breaking formation and stepping into the trees. Defiance of a direct order still in service of the empire. Someone might write a paper about you.

Names give people power over you, you do know that. A spirit whose true name is discovered is bound. You have had enough binding for several lifetimes, ones far longer than the one you have been given. 

You are delighted to find that the foliage does not burn at your touch. You move quickly but there is something in your path. A small creature with spindly legs that stares up at you, frozen in fear, from a bed of tamped grass. It would be in range. There's a small rock next to you and you toss it, right next to the thing’s hiding space. It bolts off, deeper into the woods. The noise could have alerted someone to your presence. The outcome would be the same for you.

They will talk about what you have done, of course, but your deeds will be attributed to that wizard which created you. You will be one anomaly of many. To discuss you will be to describe a path through a cladogram. You hope this means you will be put to rest sooner, but you know you were created by a very thorough people.

Your final act, your hand reaching into your own chest and grabbing tight, feels more familiar than anything else you have witnessed or done in the past days. When the boundary between what is you and what is not fails, it fails catastrophically. You try to hold on to the feeling of leaves on your skin, earth beneath your feet, and resentment in your heart, but they are all made of the gas currently fueling this thermal runaway. As the forest, the loam, the silent birds in the trees, the soldiers in their cloaks, and the road beneath them are transformed into a perfect, charred circle on the earth, you train your awareness on the snapping of twigs. Further, and further, and further away from here.

[sixisnotaprettynumber]

𝙲𝙷𝙰𝚁𝙰𝙲𝚃𝙴𝚁    𝙰𝙴𝚂𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚃𝙸𝙲𝚂 :

COLOR.       ——       red. brown. orange. yellow. green. blue. purple. pink. black. white. teal.  silver. gold. grey. lilac. metallic. matte. royal blue. strawberry red. charcoal grey. forest green. apple red. navy blue. crimson. cream. mint green. magenta. pastels. bubblegum pink. blood red. ivory.

ELEMENTAL.      ——        fire. ice. water. air. earth. rain. snow. wind. moon. stars. sun. heat. cold. steam. frost. lightning. thunder. sunlight. moonlight. dawn. dusk. twilight. midnight. sunrise. sunset. dewdrops. clouds. light. dark. shadow.

BODY.       ——       claws. long fingers. fangs. teeth. wings. tails. lips. bare feet. freckles. bruises. canine. scars. scratches. ears. wounds. burns. spikes. feathers. webs. eyes. hands. sweat. tears. feline. chubby. curvy. short. tall. normal height. muscular. slender. trained. piercings. tattoos. strong. shape shifting. svelte. long hair. short hair. dark circles. big. small. prosthetic. experimented. cyborg. halos. horns. wolfish.

WEAPONRY.        ——       fists. sword. dagger. spear. scythe. bow & arrow. hammer. shield. poison. guns. axes. throwing axes. whips. knives. throwing knives. pepper sprays. tasers. machine guns. slingshots. katanas. maces. staffs. wands. powers. magical items. magic. rocks. power loader. flamethrower. metal rod. shotguns. needles.

MATERIAL.        ——        gold. silver. platinum. titanium. diamonds. pearls. rubies. sapphires. emeralds.  amethyst. metal. iron. rust. steel. wood. porcelain. paper. wool. fur. lace. leather. copper. silk. velvet. denim. linen. cotton. charcoal. clay. stone. asphalt. brick. marble. dust. glitter. blood. dirt. mud. smoke. ash. shadow. carbonate. rubber. synthetics. yarn. slime. ivory.

NATURE.       ——       grass. leaves. trees. bark. roses. daisies. tulips. holly. lavender. lilies. petals. thorns. sunflowers. seeds. hay. sand. rocks. snow. ice. roots. flowers. ocean. river. lake. meadow. forest. desert. tundra. savanna. rain forest. swamp. caves. underwater. coral reef. beach. waves. space. stars. clouds. mountains. fungi. cliffs. sunlight.

ANIMALS.       ——       lions. wolves. black panther. eagles. owls. falcons. hawks. swans. snakes. turtles. ducks. bugs. roaches. spiders. birds. whales. dolphins. fish. sharks. horses. cats. dogs. bunnies. praying mantis. crows. ravens. misc. lizards. frogs. bears. werewolves. unicorns. pegasus. dinosaurs. dragons. felines. foxes. centaurs.

FOOD & DRINK.      ——      sugar. salt. water. candy. bubblegum. wine. champagne. hard liquor. beer. coffee. tea. spices. herbs. apple. orange. lemon. cherry. strawberry. watermelon. vegetables. fruits. meat. fish. pies. desserts. chocolate. cream. caramel. berries. nuts. cinnamon. burgers. burritos. pizza. vanilla. cookies.

HOBBIES.       ——        music. art. piercing. watercolours. gardening. knitting. smithing. sculpting. painting. sketching. fighting. fencing. riding. writing. composing. cooking. sewing. training. dancing. acting. singing. martial arts. self - defense. electronics. technology. cameras. video cameras. video games. computer. phone. movies. theater. libraries. books. magazines. poetry. philosophy. cds. records. vinyls. cassettes. piano. violin. cello. guitar. electronic guitar. bass guitar. harmonica. synthesizers. harp. woodwinds. brass. trumpet. flute. drums. bells. playing cards. poker chips. chess. dice. motorcycle riding. eating. climbing. tree climbing. running. vivisection.

STYLE.       ——       lingerie. armor. cape. dress. robes. suit. tunic. vest. shirt. boots. heels. legging. trousers. jeans. skirt. shorts. jewelry. earrings. necklace. bracelet. ring. pendants. hat. goggles. crown. circlet. helmet. scarf. neck tie. brocade. cloaks. corsets. doublet. chest plate. gorget. bracers. belt. pauldrons. sash. coat. jacket. hood. gloves. socks. masks. cowls. braces. watches. glasses. sunglasses. visor. eye contacts. makeup. pantyhose. stockings. thigh highs. eye patch. collar.

MISC.       ——        balloons. bubbles. cityscape. landscape. light. dark. candles. war. peace. money. power. percussion. clocks. photos. mirror. pets. diary. fairy lights. madness. sanity. sadness. happiness. optimism. pessimism. realism. loneliness. anger. family. friends. assistants. co-workers. enemies. lovers. loyalty. smoking. alcohol. drugs. kindness. love. embracing. [[Tagging: Anyone who is interested]]

[hel-the-growl]

Cultural Annotations on New Gods: Yang Jian -Part 3-

Part 1｜Part 2

I counted five periods of Yang Jian’s life that were depicted within the scroll.

1 - his childhood.

2 - teenager cleaving Peach Mountain. His hair is in a half updo, opposed to his full updo as an adult. The totem on his pauldrons is most likely Yazi (睚眦) - the second son of the Dragon King, who has the body of a dragon and head of a jackal. As a creature that likes to fight and is aggressive, Yazi’s image is often used to adorn armor and weapons, normally found on cross-guards on swords. The Yazi here is a cute pup, fitting for baby Jian.

3 - As a general in the war against Shang. His armor is decked with a red cape and he wields his signature trident. On his helmet are a pair of pheasant tail feathers called Lingzi (翎子) - which is indicative of the wearer as a warrior figure. The length of the feathers is also an indicator of the warrior's rank. This event was probably during the Battle of Muye, the decisive battle between Shang and Zhou. These flashbacks, like with Nezha Reborn, are the traditional depictions of the characters and are emphasized by the different art style.

4 - the disaster of the three realms twelve years ago. In Journey to the West, he was described as wearing “boots that were lined with cloth of gold; dragons coiled round his socks; His jade belt was decorated with the eight jewels”. He seems to have gained a new chest plate and notice how Yazi has also grown over the years from a cute pup to a ferocious beast with large fangs.

5 - bounty hunter. A tie-dyed bandanna covers his third eye - tie-dye was popular during the Eastern Jin and Southern and Northern Dynasties, where the extraction method of indigo dyes was recorded in the agricultural text Qimin Yaoshu (齐民要术).

His clothing is also described in chapter 40 of IOTG - “This Daoist wore a cloud crown with a fan, a robe the color of water with a silk sash around his waist, and hemp shoes on his feet.” This attire was typical of Disciples of Chan Daoism.

Wrist guards wrap around his index finger while his bounty hunter’s tally hangs from his belt. Despite falling into poverty, he still maintains an air of aristocracy with his white robes showing subtle intricate cloud details.

Blink and you’ll miss - during the battle at Mount Hua, he ripped his pants at the crotch lol.

Not that I think that the placement of Go pieces have any real significance, but I recreated the board for fun. Despite some minor inconsistencies (some black pieces disappeared and reappeared between shots, and the spot where Yang Jian hovered his piece is an illegal move), the game was mostly accurate. Btw, black is winning.

Yang Jian had a noble upbringing and has retained his discipline over the years - his left hand is clenched while his right palm lies flat on his lap.

What the hell is a Fenix? In the movie, the Xuan Bird was translated as Fenix, however there is no direct english equivalent for this mythological bird. “Xuan” means black or mysterious, so some sources describe it as a black bird, while others call it a swallow. The Book of Songs dedicated a line to it: The Book of Songs dedicated a line to it: "The Xuan Bird of destiny descends to give birth to Shang."

Fa Tian Xiang Di (法天象地) translated as “Heaven and Earth I rise to Thee” is the law of heaven and earth that is commonly mentioned in ancient texts. In Journey to the West, invoking Fa Tian Xiang Di grants the user the power to rise as high as the heavens and as vast as the earth. Only Erlang and Sun Wukong have this ability.

The inscription on Yuding’s giant sword reads “福生无量”, a Daoist mantra. They are written in small seal script, an archaic form of Chinese calligraphy, and a variant form of seal script that became the standard during the Qin Dynasty. The characters are separated by the horizontal lines of the eight trigram figures.

The moment Yang Jian knew exactly what would happen when Chenxiang ran toward his mother, yet was powerless to stop him. This scene BROKE me.

In the post credits scene, Yunxiang (Nezha) asks Wukong “you couldn’t beat him?”, a nod to their battle at the beginning of Journey to the West where Erlang was able to subdue Wukong after 300 rounds of fighting.

In the teaser for the sequel, Yang Jian is seen overlooking East Sea City/Donghai (the same city Nezha: Reborn was set), commenting “so many years have past again”. What he meant was, about 1500 years since Chenxiang cleaved Mount Hua. “So many years” is a gross understatement.

FAQs

What is Yang Jian’s origin story?

Yang Jian is a disciple of Chan Daoism, the third generation disciple of Yuanshi Tianzun, known as the Primeval Lord of Heaven, one of the highest deities of Daoism. The Jade Emperor really is his uncle. According to some legends, his mother Yaoji was imprisoned under Peach Mountain for falling in love with a mortal, breaking the laws of heaven. Yang Jian cleaved the mountain in order to save her.

If he’s heaven's prince, how did he fall so low? And where is his uncle the Jade Emperor?

Yang Jian doesn’t exactly have a great relationship with his uncle. It was the Jade Emperor who imprisoned his own sister under Peach Mountain, and Yang Jian wrecked havoc in heaven over this incident (not unlike what Sun Wukong did a few hundred years later). So obv he doesn’t associate with the other gods in the heavenly court, choosing instead to live elsewhere along with his six sworn brothers of Plum Mountain.

As for the whereabouts of the Jade Emperor, this is something the movie has not hinted. However in Nezha Reborn, Ao Guang mentioned it’s chaos up there [in heaven] right now.

If Yang Jian lost his powers, how was he able to phase through the jail’s barrier and overpower all of his opponents?

Most of the powers he lost pertain to the powers of his Eye of Heaven, which had the ability to differentiate truth from lies and see through deceptions and disguises and be used as an offensive weapon to fire continuous, highly destructive blasts of light energy and/or divine fire. He also lost the ability to manifest his primordial spirit, as well as the ability to fly. He does however retain his skills in the martial arts, primarily his “Nine Turns Mystical Arts” (九轉玄功), which grants him vast, physical durability of undefined limits and nigh-invulnerability to conventional weapons and various magic spells. His 72 transformations should be a part of this skill so whether he retained it or not remains to be seen.

It would be awesome to see him be able to transform though, it would suck if he were stuck bounty-hunting for the next 1500 years.

So how powerful is Yang Jian exactly?

In Journey to the West, he was unrivalled and the most ruthless among all of the gods - even the Monkey King could not defeat him. Another time, he single-handedly killed a beast that Wukong and Pigsy were struggling to fight. At the beginning of the movie, we got to see him finish off the ogre before it even had time to react. When outnumbered by Boss Hai and his goons, none of them could even lay a finger on him. Yang Jian is so powerful that even with his powers nerfed, the toughest opponents seem like small fries to him. During the battle at Mount Hua, his primordial spirit was so unbelievably massive that its body couldn’t even fit in the frame. The combined efforts of four gods could not hold him down and just one swipe of his axe was able to destroy Master Yuding and three heavenly kings. Yang Jian is no joke.

How old is Yang Jian?

We know that Yang Jian was born after Jiang Ziya, a real life figure who was born in 1128 BC. Jiang Ziya was peers with his master Yuding, who already had a head of gray hair when he took Yang Jian in as a child. Going by this logic, we can estimate that Yang Jian’s age was about 20-30 when he participated in the battle against Shang, making his birth year between 1075 and 1066 BC. His age when he cleaved Peach Mountain is a broad estimate, as he looked much older than Chenxiang when he cleaved Lotus Peak, so it might not be that long before the events of IOTG. Yang Jian would’ve been about 1512 years old when Chenxiang was born, 1525 at the start of the movie, and 3093 years old today.

What is Yang Jian’s relation to Nezha?

They were allies. After the final battle in IOTG, a few of heaven’s warriors including Yang Jian and Nezha came to court to inform that they did not desire positions and wealth and asked to be liberated from service.

How does this tie in with Nezha Reborn?

I read a tragic leaked original ending for Yang Jian where they weren't able to free the fenixes and he was the one that becomes trapped under Lotus Peak. It took another 1000 years before Nezha freed him... talk about tragic life. By now, it is pretty much given that Yang Jian ending up in Donghai over a millenia later has something to do with the new Order of the Gods. It was repeated in Nezha that Ao Guang wants to establish a new order to improve his ranking on the list, and some theories say that the the fenixes being freed from Mount Hua heralded the end of the old Order. Sun Wukong also alluded that the list had been re-ordered more than once.

Part 1｜Part 2｜Part 4

[valena-nedela]

Huntokar, the Destroyer (Pathfinder Deity)

An obscure and peculiar deity, Huntokar is known only through her holy text, a thin volume that bears her name and, supposedly, was originally a recording of her own words. Notably, there is no one official version of the text, and ruminations, anecdotes, embellishments, and folk wisdom added by her followers have accumulated over time such that each copy is likely unique. The only portion of the text that remains untouched and consistent is what is known as “The Confession of Huntokar”, which is held to be the actual words of the goddess.

The Confession also stands out among deific texts. Rather than being a collection of teachings, praise for her glory, or a recounting of her accolades, the Confession is a somber account of Huntokar’s failure to protect her original followers, the mistakes she made in her ignorance and hubris, and the catastrophic consequences of her actions. As such, her modern followers do not treat the text as commands to follow, but instead a lesson to be learned — though several of Huntokar’s remarks in the course of telling the story are treated as commandments of a sort, such as “Intentions never matter” or “No action is without consequence.”

Due to the communal and varied nature of the text of Huntokar, the teachings and practices of her cults differ. However, a few common themes are generally shared among her followers.

Actions should be judged by outcomes.

Perfection does not exist. The continual improvement of ourselves, our community, and our environment are more important than seeking perfection.

Face reality and accept the truth, no matter how painful either of those things may be.

Our bonds with one another are the foundation of our existence. Value those bonds that give you strength.

A life that merely continues is worth nothing. For a life to have value it must be one worth living.

 Descriptions of Huntokar are nearly as varied as the lessons of her faith, but a few things stay consistent. She is always shown as a woman in robes, though some depictions have her robes worn and tattered, some have them simple yet finely made, and others show them made in a primitive manner using hides and furs, or even formed from natural elements like vines. In some depictions, she has the head of a deer. In others, a wolf's head with the horns of a stag. At times, either version is depicted as a mask, either of bone or hide.

A few of Huntokar’s most faithful claim that the goddess creates elaborate charts and diagrams in the sky, which clearly show her guidance, and explain the secrets of the world. Most, though, suggest those followers are just seeing something more mundane, like weird birds. This more common position holds that Huntokar only rarely communicates with her people, and that it is more important to take her story to heart and live one’s life according to her lessons. However, there are the occasional tales of strange, faceless messengers arriving with cryptic notes, or portents seen in the actions of vermin.

I wrote this up a while ago when I was bored and almost forgot about it, then stumbled upon it again and figured I'd share it.

Huntokar and her quoted dialogue is property of Welcome To Night Vale. The artwork of Huntokar is by SunnyClockwork and used without permission. I found it on the WTNV Fandom Wiki. The skull mask image is a costume piece from Attitude Studio.