#i know the answer in SPIRIT of the question but by the LETTER of it. its still the rona.

[istherewifiinhell]

Spending more effort looking for a post than it would be to just. Remake a post but otherwise i HAVE. reaffirmed my timeline

Sept 12th. Get the rona. Put [1? 2?] Ep of tf 07 in fever haze

Sept 13-19 watch utena

Sept 20 [like 3-6 am] The Good Fic

Sept 21 -> 84 tf.

Also my first rona sts was in there sept 17 and i was stuck on the couch watching like 5 eps of tng. Thats not really related to the arc its just a good [bad] time

[beloveds-embrace]

(john price x reader who basically manifests him into her life)

It all started with a pie.

A blackberry pie, to be exact. One that you’d spent a good part of the morning perfecting- balancing the sweetness and tartness with the precision of a master alchemist concocting a love potion. You were almost convinced that this particular pie might finally be the answer to your mother’s prayers: an offering so mouthwatering that it would distract her from once again insisting you marry that insufferably dull miller’s son, Thomas.

You had just placed it on the windowsill to cool, the aroma curling through the cottage like a siren’s song, when your mother barged in, cheeks flushed with determination. “I’ve invited Thomas for supper.” She announced, as if she was a witch summoning a dark spirit.

You almost dropped the teapot. “Mother, no.”

“Mother, yes. Darling, you’re not getting any younger.” She clasped her hands like a pious martyr, staring heavenward as if appealing for divine assistance. “Why, you are practically ancient now. Do you know how many children I had at your age? Three! And you- still unmarried. People are talking.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but that’s when inspiration struck. Perhaps it was the sweetness of the pie that made your thoughts reckless, or perhaps the desperation of avoiding Thomas’s endless ramblings about grain prices, and so you straightened your spine. “… But I already have a suitor.”

Your mother paused, mouth pursed like she’d bitten into a particularly sour lemon. “You what?”

“Yes.” You adjusted your apron with all the gravitas of a queen revealing her long-lost heir, except you were revealing a beloved. “He’s a soldier. Off fighting bravely in the war. Captain… John Price.” You plucked the name from thin air, thinking it sounded stalwart, military-ish and utterly believable.

Your mother’s eyes narrowed. “And why haven’t I heard of this… Captain before?”

“Well, we didn’t want to make a fuss. You know how people talk.”

Her suspicion melted, replaced with gleaming hope. “A soldier, you say? A captain?”

“Yes,” you continued, your voice growing bolder. Let ir never be said that you did not inherit some of your father’s love for theatrics. “He writes to me. Beautiful letters, whenever he has the chance to, and I always reply. I’ll… I’ll show you one!”

That’s how you found yourself hunched over your rickety desk that night, ink staining your fingers, spinning an epic tale of love and longing so good you justknew Shakespeare was probably rolling in his grave

Dear Captain John Price,

My heart is but a lonely swallow without you. The days stretch long and tiresome in your absence, but I hold steadfast, knowing that one day you will return to me- my brave, rugged soldier.

Yours, faithfully.

You took great care in writing the letter, wanting it to look as if it had been penned by a devoted girl waiting patiently for her beloved captain. Before folding it, you pressed a dried flower between the pages and lightly scented the paper with a dab of your favorite perfume, the fragrance soft and sweet, leaving no doubt that the writer was a gentle, affectionate soul and not an absolutely insane woman tricking her parents. You even tied it with a delicate ribbon, imagining how any soldier would feel cherished to receive such a letter.

To your utter (non)surprise, it worked. Your mother clutched the letter to her chest with a tearful sigh, whispering something about true love. And from that moment on, Captain John Price became your imaginary lover, a sturdy bulwark against matchmaking attempts.

And so, the years passed, and John Price became a part of your life. You wrote letters to him whenever the pressure to marry reached critical mass, each one a little more elaborate than the last. You even took to carrying one of his supposed letters (which you also wrote yourself) in your apron pocket, just in case anyone questioned your devotion.

You never expected, however, for the Captain himself to show up at your doorstep.

It was a crisp autumn evening when the knock came. You barely registered it, too busy trying to salvage the stew that was steadfastly refusing to thicken. When the knock came again, louder and more insistent, you huffed and flung open the door, still clutching your wooden spoon like a weapon and a mighty glare on your face.

There stood a man. A mountain of a man, truthfully. Tall, broad-shouldered, with a commanding presence that seemed to make the very air hold its breath. His face was framed by a well-groomed beard, his eyes a piercing blue beneath a well-worn cap. And clutched in his large hand was a bundle of letters- scarily familiar letters, actually.

His mouth curved into a slow, wolfish grin. “Well, love. You’ve got some explainin’ to do.”

You froze, spoon hovering mid-air. “You- how- who are you?”

He chuckled, the sound more than a little smug. “Name’s Captain John Price. You might recognize me from your rather… heartfelt correspondence.” He held up one of the letters, the familiar scrawl of your handwriting a stark betrayal.

Your stomach dropped. “…Coincidence.”

“Oh, I don’t think so,” he drawled, stepping inside as if he owned the place. “Imagine my surprise when your letters kept landing in my hands. At first, I thought it was just some lonely girl scribbling fantasies. But the boys kept handin’ them to me- said they lifted spirits, readin’ how you were waitin’ for me.”

You spluttered, backing up as he prowled forward. “But- how did they-“

He shrugged, almost casual. “You put my name and rank on the letters. Found their way to me eventually. You’ve been rather… devoted, haven’t you?”

You sputtered. “Devoted? I was just- avoiding marriage!”

His eyes darkened, jaw tightening. “Didn’t stop me from thinking about it. About you. When I read how you longed for me- waited so faithfully- made a man think. Would’ve kept any other bastard from sniffin’ around, I’d hope.”

Your tongue felt heavy in your mouth. “I didn’t think you were real!”

He leaned closer, the scent of tobacco and gunpowder curling around you like a trap. “Oh, I’m real, love. And now I’m here. Reckon you owe me a bit of hospitality after all those love letters, no?”

Your mouth opened and closed like a landed fish.

“Didn’t matter if you didn’t mean it, you still wrote it. Made me think of comin’ home to you, of claimin’ what’s mine.” His fingers brushed your jaw, thumb tracing your cheek with surprising tenderness. “You made yourself mine. And now, I’ve come to collect.”

Before you can muster a protest, he leans down, capturing the corner of your lips in a kiss, your face frozen solid in shock. When he finally pulls back, his thumb brushes your swollen lip.

“That clear enough for you, wife?”

p2

[saudad3]

Private Photoshoot

Prison Au! Stack x reader Word Count: 1,595 Summary: These letters just ain't cutting it for poor little Stack, who's stuck behind bars for the foreseeable future. Warnings: smutty af, minors dni

𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃

Anticipation.

The gnawing feeling that filled many of your Wednesday afternoons since your beau, Elias “Stack” Moore, was locked behind bars in the Mississippi State Penitentiary just late last year. His crime? Having taken part in transporting various liquors and spirits across state lines, and got caught by a prohibition officer who just couldn’t be bought this time around. 

The length of his sentence? Absolutely too goddamn long.

You didn’t know exactly what kind of business Stack and his twin brother, Smoke, got into in their free time. Stack kept you relatively innocent of many factors of his lifestyle, answering your questions with more questions or slick remarks.  This doesn’t mean you were completely in the dark, though. You weren’t stupid, and he wasn’t exactly great at hiding the pistol he kept in his suit jacket or his bloodied collared shirts. As long as he still came to visit at the end of the day and filled you with pleasure throughout the night, you always kept room for him in your prayers.

But that was then. Now? Aint shit sweet. 

Stack wrote to you every single week. Long, detailed letters on what he’s doing and how he’d rather be doing something much, much sweeter – you. How when he gets out of that damn prison, the first he’ll do is split your legs open and eat your pretty cunt like a damn peach cobbler. Hell, he was ravenous in there. Counting down the seconds it’d take to get back into your arms into that perfect little pussy of yours.

You crossed your legs at the thought of his release date, feeling an immediate ache thrum at your clit. 

In last week's letter, Stack had so graciously let you know that these letters and the photos you were sending were simply not doing enough for him. He was going fucking insane in there. You raised a curious eyebrow, reading over his ever-so messy handwriting.  

You ignored the fire starting in the pit of your stomach as he wrote in the postscript of the letter, “That photograph you sent me in last week's letter just about sent me over the edge. Your pretty ass face and that yellow dress you was wearing got me whirling, girl. I'm starting to hallucinate you in here with me. Take some more photos for me, pretty please?” 

You knew what type of photos Stack was expecting you to send him, causing a deep warmth to creep over your cheeks. 

Your mind trailed off to one particular night when Stack asked to bring out his new hand-held camera that he paid a pretty penny for, to “savor the moment.” You sat in front of him on the bed, the strap of your nightdress slipping off your bare shoulder, exposing the top of your soft breasts. The cold air of your bedroom hardened your nipples below the thin white material. On your face, a soft smile and the innocent eyes that made Stack go weak in the knees. 

Stack sat in the armchair adjacent to your bed and positioned the camera over his eye, snapping a number of photos of you in different positions. 

“Stack, baby, what are these for?” You asked him sweetly, shifting under the camera’s gaze.  Stack placed the expensive camera on the bedside table before getting up and kneeling in front of your closed legs. 

“What’s wrong with wanting to capture my woman?” Stack slipped his rough hands under your nightdress and rubbed devious circles on your soft thighs. “I have the prettiest damn woman right here in front of me, Ima take advantage of the oppurtunity I’ve been given.” Stack chuckled, the glint of his gold fang grill catching the candlelight. “I ain't buy that camera for nothin.”

“Oh, Stack-” you were cut off by your beau hooking his finger into your undergarments, pulling them off at a slow pace. As if on instinct, you parted your thighs to make it a bit easier for him, a blush cascading over your face.

It’s a known fact that Stack hated to waste time. Everything about him was so fast-paced: his cars, his slick tongue, and especially his temper. 

But with you, he loved to take his time. He parted your thighs even wider, giving himself a full view of your beautiful slit, already so wet and ready to be worshipped. He looked up at you from his position between your legs, his signature mischievousness evident in his eyes. He planted wet kisses on the sensitive parts of your thighs, causing them to tremble and ache. 

You let out a small whine, leaning back on your elbows, eyes begging him to start devouring your cunt that got soppier by the second. 

“My pretty, pretty girl,” Stack cooed, taking in all of you. The strap of your nightdress slid lower, exposing your right breast, and you looked at him with such a pathetically needy look on your face. Stack stuck his thumb in his mouth before grabbing your breast with a rough hand, circling your nipple with the cold wetness of his saliva. “I just wanna take you all in.”

“Stack, please~” Another whine left your mouth as you threw your head back, belly filled to the brim with anticipation. 

You didn’t have to ask again before Stack placed a sloppy, wet kiss onto your pussy. A curse left your lips as you felt Stack use his tongue to split you open and run over your folds. After a few seconds of teasing kitten licks, Stack found your hardened clit and latched on relentlessly. Sinful sounds of sucking and slurping fill your bedroom as you arched your back, clinging onto the sheets. 

Stack used his hands to part your thighs even wider, plump lips sucking on your bundle of nerves, nipping every so often. You felt like you were going insane, feeling his tongue work wonders over your sensitive clit. 

“Ohmygo-” you jolted, feeling Stack slip in a single large finger into your entrance, curling and massaging. Stack detached his mouth from your cunt to watch himself pump in and out, seeing your wetness run down his long finger and onto his palm. He flashed a devilish smile at you, his beard soaked with your pleasure. 

You moaned in ecstasy, avoiding his eyes and slipping a hand in his curls, bringing his mouth back to your pleading pussy. He obliged, flicking his tongue over your clit with such a quick pace it made your brain fuzzy. 

“Jesus, Stack~” your moan trailed off, followed by a string of incoherent words and whines. As Stack worked his wonders to get you off, he could feel the head of his cock become sticky with pre-cum in his suit pants. 

“Stack, harder pl-” He planted a firm smack on your ass, working his mouth even harder than before, causing that knot in your stomach to coil so, so tightly. You bucked your hips on his chin, chasing that release you so desperately begged for. 

Stack had one hand repeatedly kissing at your g-spot, his other gripping at your plump ass, all whilst his god-sent tongue lapped mercilessly as your clit, Faster, harder, and sloppier by the second. 

You raised your head to look at how Stack gredily ate your cunt as if it was the last meal he’d ever have on earth. His chocolate eyes made contact with yours before snap-

You bucked your hips before releasing onto your lover’s mouth, ecstasy dripping from your pulsating hole and his glistening chin. Stack gave you a few more soft licks and kisses, allowing you to ride out your high before parting his plump lips from yours with a pop. Your chest heaved up and down as you tried to calm yourself down from experiencing heaven on Stack’s tongue. 

“Look at you,” Stack stood up from between your thighs and began to unbuckle the brown leather belt fastened around his hips. “What a fuckin sight you are.”

You attempted to string a sentence together in response, but gave up very quickly on the matter. You noticed Stack begin to palm himself through his trousers, eyes scanning your ruined body before landing onto your plump, lush lips. His towering, strong figure leaned over you before he planted a soft kiss on your lips. 

“It’s daddy’s turn now, pretty girl. Can you open up for me again?” 

You used your remaining strength to nod eagerly, allowing Stack to part your legs with his rough, calloused palms and position himself at your entrance. 

– 

Your lewd memories were interrupted by an abrupt knock at your front door, which was followed by a “Good Afternoon, miss. Your mail for the day has arrived!” You straightened your posture, now acutely aware that you were gripping last week’s letter from Stack within your manicured clutch. 

You quickly hurried to the door and opened it to see a boyish mailman, sheepishly holding a stack of envelopes addressed to you in his hand. “Here ya go, miss.” 

You blinked at him before offering him a charming smile and receiving your mail, resisting the urge to shoo him from your porch.  After bidding each other a good day, you ran inside and disregarded every bill and pointless letter sent to you in pursuit of your man.

Finally, you came upon a letter addressed from the Mississippi State Penitentiary and plopped on a couch in your sunroom, a sudden heat taking over your body once more. You just had to know how Stack reacted to the impromptu photoshoot you made especially for him after receiving his letter last week.

𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃

Author's Note: This idea came to me in a dream last night. This is the first fanfiction that I've published on Tumblr, so please be kind and tell me how you like it. I really had to put this onto paper, and I need Stack in a biblical sense -- its scary.

[moonriizing]

invisible string | s.jy (18+)

Less than a month before your wedding, a stranger calls, introducing himself as Jay Park—the exact name of the man you once believed to be your soulmate. Driven by a reckless sense of fate, you abandon everything and fly to Italy to meet him, convinced this is destiny’s final chance to set things right.

Genre: destination au, mistaken identity, smut Pairing: Sim Jaeyun/Jake Sim x afab!reader Warnings: mature themes, explicit sexual content (18+), MDNI, lying Notes: 21k words. Loosely based on the 1994 film, Only You. I noticed that long fics are uncommon in 5th gen fics here on Tumblr, but I'm shooting my shot with this one. I hope you like it! Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know them personally nor claim they would ever behave in real life like they were portrayed in this story. ALSO, if you see a similar story from a different blog for a different idol, that is me. lol xoxo, cal.

Enjoy~

The flickering candlelight shone on your faces as you, your sister, and Katie huddled around the Ouija board, the air cold from the summer storm raging outside your house. A shot glass, upside down and resting on the board, was the only thing standing between you and whatever spirit you had just summoned.

“Are you here?” Katie whispered, looking around slowly and nervously.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then slowly, unnervingly, the glass inched toward YES.

You all yelped, immediately shushing each other. “Keep your hands on the glass!” your sister hissed, eyes wide. “If we let go, the spirit might get mad.”

Your fingers clung to the glass tighter, your pulse hammering in your throat. Katie exhaled sharply. “Okay, okay. Um… what’s your name?”

The glass trembled beneath your fingertips, dragging across the board. J. Then O. Then N.

“Jon?” you echoed.

“Jonathan?” Katie guessed.

Your sister shushed you both again, her face serious. “Don't interrupt. It might stop talking.”

A chill ran down your spine. You weren’t sure if it was from the candle’s wavering light or the idea that there really was something with you in the room, something unseen but present.

One by one, you and Katie took turns asking questions—How did you die? Are you a good spirit? Will we be rich someday?—each answer making you shriek, then dissolve into nervous giggles. But when the laughter faded, the heavy silence that followed always felt chilling.

Then, feeling reckless, feeling thirteen, you blurted out the one question that had been on your mind for years. “Who’s my soulmate?”

Katie gasped. Your sister shot you a look. “Are you sure you wanna ask that?”

But the glass had already started moving. It slid to J. Then to A. Then to Y.

You barely breathed as you read the letters aloud. “Jay…”

A rush of excitement fluttered in your stomach, getting more nervous. “Do you know his last name?”

The glass stilled for a second. Then it moved again. P. A. R. K.

“Jay Park,” you whispered. You repeated the name to yourself, the way it rolled off your tongue, the way it already felt right. Destiny had spoken. The universe had handed you a name, a direction, a soulmate. And from that night on, you chased it.

You had a comfortable life—a good job, a cozy home, loyal friends, and Sunghoon, your kind, dependable boyfriend. He’d proposed a year into your relationship. Your family adored him, your friends admired him, and you felt… happy, for the most part.

But something was off. The thought of marrying him felt too easy, like a decision you were supposed to want, yet couldn't fully commit to. After the proposal, you confided in Katie, admitting you weren’t sure if you loved him enough to take that step.

“It’s not the right time yet,” you lied, knowing it wasn’t time that was the problem. You loved the idea of stability, the way Sunghoon made everything seem simple, like life would follow a clear, predictable path. But something about that terrified you more than it comforted you.

“Maybe you’re just scared,” Katie had said. “But he’s a good guy, and he loves you. You should talk to him.”

You hadn’t, though. Instead, you bottled it up, relieved that Sunghoon hadn’t told anyone about the proposal yet. You said you’d think about it, and that’s all you’d done for the last few days.

Now, lying in his bed, his arm wrapped around you, you tried to picture forever. It should’ve felt comforting, but it didn’t.

“You’re awake,” he murmured, his breath warm against your neck.

“Yeah. I was just thinking about us,” you replied, almost in a whisper.

His voice fell when he spoke, and guilt twisted inside you. “I know it’s sudden. If you’re not ready, I understand.”

“No, I’m fine. Let’s do it,” you replied briskly, smiling at him and hiding the fact that you couldn’t look him in the eyes.

“Are you sure?” he asked softly, pressing a soft kiss on your forehead. “I don’t want to force this on you.”

Your dearest Sunghoon—so gentle and thoughtful. You forced another smile. “I’m sure, Hoon. Let’s get married.”

The warmth of Sunghoon’s presence should reassure you, but instead, it felt like a tether pulling you further into something you didn’t know how to escape. When he kissed your forehead, you wished you could love him the way he deserved—but the words 'Let’s get married' tasted hollow, even as you forced yourself to say it.

Days passed quickly, and suddenly, the wedding was just twenty days away. The venue, guest list, and reception were all set—only the invitations and the final dress remained. Your mother pushed for a custom gown, but you insisted on RTW, wanting at least one decision to be entirely yours.

At the boutique, Katie and your sister helped you pick dresses. It was fun at first, but with every gown you tried on, the unease in your stomach deepened.

“Okay! This is the tenth one,” your sister called, and as you stepped out, the room fell silent and everyone had their hands over their mouth. 

Curious, you looked at yourself in the mirror and sure enough, you even ended up gasping at the beautiful image reflected back to you. The dress was perfect—elegant, breathtaking. It fit like a dream, like it belonged to someone sure of what they wanted.

“You look stunning!” Katie gushed, hugging you.

Your sister teared up. “My baby sister is getting married!”

But as you stared at yourself, the lace felt suffocating. Your stomach churned. The boutique walls seemed to close in. Your breath turned shallow, ragged. Panic gripped your chest. Then the room began to spin, forcing you to close your eyes.

“Excuse me,” you muttered, pushing past them. You barely made it to the sink before throwing up.

Katie and your sister rushed in after you. “Are you okay?” Katie asked, concern etched in her face.

“You’re not pregnant, are you?” your sister blurted.

“No, of course not,” you said, shaking your head. Your hand instinctively touched the implant in your arm, reassuring yourself it was still there. “No, I’m not.”

“Oh, dear,” your sister sighed, wrapping an arm around your shoulders as you stepped out of the restroom. “It’s the stress, isn’t it?”

She might have been right. Stress often manifests this way for you. But they didn’t ask again until you were sitting at a nearby coffee shop, sipping a citrus drink to calm your nausea.

“You’re still not sure about this, are you?” Katie asked gently.

You hesitated and they could see it in your eyes. “What’s bothering you?” your sister asked softly.

You sighed. “I don’t know if I’m overthinking or if I really just don’t want this.”

Your sister’s gaze softened. “If you need more time, take it.”

“It’s not time,” you admitted. “It’s him. I love Sunghoon, but I never pictured us getting married. Now that it’s happening, it all feels… wrong.”

Your sister’s expression turned serious. “Then don’t. It’s not just nerves if it doesn’t feel right.”

Katie took your hand. “Talk to him. Whatever happens, choose what makes you happy.”

You promised them that you would, but you couldn’t. Not when you came home to him smiling brightly at you, kissing you tenderly and holding you in his arms as warmly as he always did.

The next day at the office, you were in your boss’s office to get some paperwork signed when the secretary’s phone started ringing. You ignored it at first, knowing it wasn’t your job to answer. But after the third ring, you picked it up, just in case.

“Mr. Lee Heeseung’s office. How can I help you?”

“Hi. Is Heeseung there? He’s not picking up his cell, and I need to talk to him urgently,” came a clear voice on the other end.

You grabbed a pen and pad. “He’s out for lunch right now, probably left his phone behind. But I can pass on the message.”

“That’ll work. Thanks.”

“No problem. Can I get your name, so I can let him know who called?”

“Jay Park. Just tell him I need to chat.”

You froze, fingers tightening around the receiver. “Sorry—what was your name again?”

“Jay. Jay Park.”

The name echoed in your head like a spell conjured straight from the past. Jay Park. Your Jay Park. The one the Ouija board had spelled out ten years ago. The name you had whispered to yourself on sleepless nights, half-laughing at the absurdity of believing in it, half-wishing it meant something.

Somewhere along the way, you had let it fade. You had convinced yourself it was just a childhood whim. But now—out of nowhere—he was real. On the other end of this call.

“Jay Park,” you repeated, voice barely above a whisper.

“Uh… yeah?” He sounded mildly amused. “Listen, I was supposed to meet Heeseung, but I overslept, and now I’ve got a plane to catch. Can you let him know I called?”

“A plane?” you asked, gripping the receiver tighter. “Where are you going?”

“The airport,” he replied casually. “Heading to Venice.”

“Venice?!” you blurted, trying to figure out how far Venice was from where you were. You didn’t know for sure, but you knew it was very far.

He chuckled, probably at your stunned silence. “I know. It’s a shame we couldn’t meet, but unavoidable. Anyway, gotta run. Can I count on you?”

Don’t go yet. “No,” you blurted before quickly correcting yourself. “I mean, yes. Yes, of course.”

“Cool. Thanks a lot. Bye.”

“No. Wait—” But the call had already ended, and all that ever made it back to you was the beeping tone of the call being hung up.

You lowered the phone onto the desk, your hands trembling. Then, in a single breath, you dropped your folder onto Heeseung’s desk and sprinted out of the office.

By the time you reached your own desk, you had already dialed Katie. She picked up after two rings.

“I found him!” you burst out.

“Who?” she asked, sounding distracted.

“Jay Park!”

She paused, then said, “Remind me how I know a Jay Park?”

“Jay Park! The guy from the Ouija board!” you practically shouted, adrenaline coursing through you.

A beat passed before her excited squeal echoed through the phone. “Wait. You’re telling me you found your soulmate Jay Park?”

“Yes! He’s friends with my boss, and he’s heading to Italy—right now!”

“Italy? Why Italy?”

“I don’t know!” you squealed, pacing wildly. Your heart was racing, your skin tingling, your mind whirring in a thousand directions. You squeezed your eyes shut and took a deep breath. When you spoke again, your voice was steadier, but the conviction was the same.

“Katie… I think this is it. The sign. I’m in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“Oh my god. Girl, no,” she deadpanned.

“Katie, my dearest friend, we have been through everything together.”

“Yes, and you are not an impulsive person. Don’t start now.”

But that was the thing, wasn’t it? You had spent your whole life making careful, rational choices. Always choosing the safe, predictable path. And now, standing on the edge of something wildly uncertain, the thought of staying still terrified you more than the thought of running.

“I love you. I’m going to Venice.”

“Wait—”

You hung up, hands shaking as you pulled up flight tickets. The screen loaded painfully slowly, your pulse hammering with every passing second. Maybe this was insane. Maybe you were making the biggest mistake of your life. But something about this just felt right.

But maybe, just maybe, it was exactly what you were meant to do.

When you were thirteen, you played Ouija with your sister and Katie during a blackout. It was supposed to be just for fun, but when you asked the board for your soulmate’s name, the glass moved—spelling out Jay Park.

As a teenager, you half-believed it. Enough to spend hours searching the internet for a Jay Park that felt like your Jay Park. There were plenty, but what were you supposed to say? Hey, a spirit spelled out your name on my Ouija board. Are we soulmates? It was ridiculous. Katie had laughed at you then, telling you that if it was fate, you wouldn’t have to search—he’d find you eventually.

Now, pacing around her living room, you pointed at her dramatically. “This is it, Kate. The moment you were talking about! I forgot all about him, and now, just when I’m questioning everything, he appears.”

Katie watched you with her arms crossed, unimpressed. “This is madness.”

You stopped mid-step, the playful grin slipping as you turned to her. “I know.” Your voice was quieter now, more uncertain. “But what if this is my chance?”

She sighed, giving you a long, hard look, clearly hoping you’d snap out of it. But when you didn’t, she exhaled sharply and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Fine. But I’m coming with you. I’m not letting you run off to Europe alone for some random guy.”

Joy burst through you, and before she could change her mind, you threw your arms around her. “Good! Great! We’re going to Venice!”

Katie groaned. “I hate you already.”

Later that evening, you came home to find Sunghoon lounging on the couch, feet propped up, half-asleep in front of the TV. He looked up when you walked in, his face lighting up as he beckoned you over. Without a word, he wrapped an arm around you, pressing a soft kiss to your temple.

“How was your day?” he asked.

“Crazy. How was yours?”

He exhaled dramatically. “Oh, you would not believe it. First, I had to assist a seven-hour surgery where the patient suddenly went into cardiac arrest, and while we were reviving him, the head neurosurgeon decided it was the perfect time to grill me about my suturing technique—because, you know, that’s obviously what matters when a guy’s flatlining on the table.”

Your eyes widened. “What the—?”

“Oh, it gets better,” he cut in, shifting so he could see your face properly. “After that, I went to the university to teach a class of third-years, and right in the middle of my lecture, one of the students passed out—just full-on face-planted onto the desk. Turns out he was pulling three all-nighters in a row, living off nothing but caffeine and biscuits. Poor kid woke up to me standing over him and thought he had died and I was some kind of angel.”

You burst into laughter. “No way.”

“I swear.” He nodded solemnly. 

“You do look like an angel though,” you mused, kissing his cheek.

“I spent half an hour convincing him that no, he was not dead, and yes, he should consider eating a proper meal from now on.”

You shook your head, still laughing. “Okay, that’s insane.”

“Not as insane as yours, I bet,” he said, his smile softening as he studied your face. “What happened?”

Your laughter faded as nerves twisted in your stomach. You’d rehearsed this conversation a dozen times on the way home, bracing yourself for anger or heartbreak. But when you turned off the TV and faced him, you saw only warmth in his eyes.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” you started softly, “and I would never want you to think you deserved anything less than the best. But… I don’t think I can marry you, Sunghoon.”

For a moment, silence settled between you. Then, to your surprise, he let out a quiet breath and cupped your cheek. “I know.”

The words hit you like a punch to the chest. “You do?” you whispered.

He nodded. “I’ve known since the moment I asked you.”

“How?”

He took a deep breath and kissed your knuckles. “Because it wasn’t just you. I’ve felt it too—this… feeling that something wasn’t right. I kept brushing it off, thinking maybe I was just overthinking things, but then I saw it in you too. And I realized, no matter how perfect we seemed, something was missing.”

Your throat tightened. “Oh, baby…” You curled into him, pressing your face against his shoulder.

“I love you,” he murmured. “I know that for sure. And I kept hoping that if I proposed, that strange feeling in my gut would go away.”

“Did it?” you asked, though you already knew the answer.

“It got worse.”

A shaky laugh escaped you. “Yeah. I know what you mean.”

Sunghoon exhaled, his fingers brushing your hair. “I don’t regret us. Not for a second. But I think we both deserve more than just… settling.”

You nodded, blinking back tears. “I love you, Sunghoon.”

“Just not enough to spend the rest of your life with me,” he finished for you.

Your silence was answer enough. His lips pressed against your forehead, lingering there, before he pulled back with a sad smile.

“I’m sorry I asked,” he said. “It wasn’t fair to you.”

“I’m sorry I let it get this far,” you admitted. “I almost dragged you into an unhappy marriage.”

His expression softened. “I wouldn’t have been unhappy with you. I just… would have always felt like something was missing.”

“Yeah.” You swallowed hard. “Me too.”

For a long moment, you just sat there, wrapped in each other’s arms, knowing this was one of the last times you would. It was strange, how love could still be there—real and warm—but not enough to hold you together.

Sunghoon let out a slow breath. “So… what do we do now?”

You told Sunghoon you were going to Italy with Katie for some soul-searching, leaving out the part where the ‘soul’ you were searching for might actually be your soulmate. He only nodded, telling you to have fun, and after a calm discussion, you both decided not to call off the engagement just yet—only to cancel the wedding date.

A part of you ached at the thought of what you were leaving behind, but another part felt relieved. You weren’t wrong. This wasn’t where you were meant to be. So that night, you held onto Sunghoon, whispering sweet nothings into the darkness, both of you pretending this wasn’t the beginning of the end.

The next morning, he drove you and Katie to the airport. There were no dramatic goodbyes, no messy emotions, just an exchange of quiet I love you’s that somehow felt like a farewell. He pulled you in for one last hug and a small kiss on your temple.

As you walked away, you resisted the urge to turn around, knowing he was still watching. And as the plane lifted off, a thrill surge through you, something unfamiliar and intoxicating. Fear. Freedom. Possibilities.

Whatever it was, you knew there was no turning back now.

The flight to Italy was long, but you didn’t feel tired at all. Instead, you were giddy, filled with excitement about searching for your soulmate. Your boss had called your story ‘mental’ when you told him, but he still gave you Jay’s Instagram, warning you that Jay mostly kept to himself and rarely used electronics.

“Why do you think he loves Italy so much? It’s the vintage charm. He goes every year,” Heeseung had explained.

You had thanked him for his help, but he waved it off, saying it was the least he could do since this was your first real vacation in the three years you’d been with the company. You even asked for a photo of Jay, but Heeseung couldn’t find one. Jay’s Instagram was just filled with landscape shots and street photography. Apparently, he does photography part-time and had been contributing to the magazine ever since its launch, but his work was mostly behind the lens, not in front of it.

“Shouldn’t you have known if a Jay Park was contributing to your magazine?” Katie had teased.

“Katie, I’m an accountant. I don’t know anything about who’s behind the production side.”

When you landed, you wasted no time pulling up Jay’s profile. A fresh post showed a hotel in Venice, and you and Katie rushed to get there. But speed was impossible in a city of canals, so you settled for soaking in the scenery, capturing snapshots as you floated past elegant bridges and centuries-old buildings.

“Whatever happens with this search, we have to go sightseeing,” Katie gushed. “It's so beautiful I could literally pass out. Look at that gargoyle sculpture thing!”

You giggled, finding it cute how easily impressed she was. A few minutes later, you arrived at the hotel and a porter helped you off the boat, carrying your luggage with a polite inquiry about where you were headed.

At the front desk, Katie immediately asked about Jay Park.

“Jay Park?” the elderly receptionist asked back. In heavily accented and broken English, he said he does not give out information about their guests.

“Look, sir,” Katie persisted, leaning in with determination. “We came all this way to see him. If you could just tell us if he’s here, that would be enough.”

You tugged at her sleeve. “Let’s just check in. His post was only an hour ago—he’s probably still here.”

“Fine,” she muttered. Then, turning back to the receptionist, she added, “But just so you know, my best friend thinks this guy is her soulmate. So, if you’re withholding information, you’re basically interfering with fate.”

“Katie!” you hissed, scanning the lobby to make sure no one overheard.

“The boatman said there are five branches of this hotel. We need to know if we’re even in the right one!” she insisted.

Just then, a smooth voice cut in. “Excuse me, ladies. May I help?”

You both turned to see a handsome Italian man watching with amusement. He had the kind of charm that made heads turn, confident but not overbearing.

“Yes, thank you!” Katie said, exhaling in relief. “Could you please tell this kind old man that my best friend’s soulmate is Jay Park, and we just need to know if he’s here?”

A flicker of amusement crossed the stranger’s face, but he dutifully translated your story to the receptionist. The two of you stood there gawking cluelessly. If he was translating for real or talking crap about you in Italian, you wouldn’t have known. You just trusted this stranger to do your work for you.

After a brief exchange, he turned to you. “It looks like Mr. Park has already left the premises.”

“Left? He was here just an hour ago,” Katie questioned.

“Indeed he was, but he left just a few minutes ago. I’m afraid you missed him.”

The receptionist said something else and the Italian stranger translated smoothly. “He stayed the night and left just after breakfast.” Then, the receptionist held up a key with a number on it, adding one last detail.

“He also said your friend is heading to Rome.”

“Rome?” you repeated, heart pounding.

The elder man nodded with a smile. “Yes, Rome.” 

You thanked them both and got ready to leave, pulling up your phone to see if Jay had a new update. But just as you were stepping out of the building, the Italian man called after you.

“Ladies!” 

You turned, and he approached with an easy smile. “I am under the impression that you need a place to stay for the night.”

You hesitated. “Thank you, but we really need to find this guy.”

“Yes, but Rome is a long way from here.” He gestured around with a flourish. “It’s Venice. Wouldn’t it be a shame to leave without seeing its beauty?”

“He’s right,” Katie said, already walking toward him. “We could use a tour. And a nice handsome local to show us around.”

They exchanged flirtatious looks, and you sighed, giving in. Maybe you could use a little break from the chase. You were tired, anyway.

Andre, as he’d introduced himself, took you on a motorboat to another hotel. The ride was short, the cool breeze skimming over the water as the city lights flickered against the rippling surface. Soon, your luggage was being hauled out of the boat and into an elegant, upscale hotel. You and Katie booked a suite with a Queen-sized bed to share, and the moment she told you to head up first, you wasted no time making a beeline for the bathroom.

A hot shower worked wonders, washing away the fatigue from the long journey. By the time you stepped out, towel-drying your hair, you found Katie sprawled on the bed, giggling at her phone.

“Where’s Andre?” you teased, eyeing her amused expression.

“Oh, he left,” she replied with a sly grin. “Said he had to take care of something at his store.”

“His store?”

“Yep. A dress shop.” She wiggled her brows. “He must be doing pretty well, ‘cause he paid for this room.”

You paused mid-step. “He paid for the room?” Katie hummed, still grinning. You raised an eyebrow. “And you just let him?” 

“It’s fine, he likes me.” She flipped onto her stomach, propping her chin on her hands. “A girl shouldn’t buy her own drinks at the bar, and a lady definitely shouldn’t pay for her room in Italy.”

You snorted. “Sounds like you’re cashing in on ‘pretty privilege.’” You nudged her foot off your lap as you walked to the dresser for the hairdryer.

“Hey, his words, not mine,” she shot back, sticking her tongue out.

Rolling your eyes, you turned on the dryer, running your fingers through your damp strands. “So, has Mr. Andre invited you to dinner yet?”

“No, but,” she sing-songed, “he did say he’d be back at seven to take us to an opera house.”

“Ooh, fancy.”

“Right?” Katie wiggled her eyebrows. “You should come.”

You and Katie spent the rest of the day sightseeing, hopping from one landmark to another, filling your phone with endless snapshots of the city’s charm. You tried a variety of food that left you both stuffed but happy as you wandered through the nostalgic streets. By nightfall, Katie was dressed in a sleek black bodycon dress, ready for the opera. You clapped, approving her choice, and took a few pictures for her Instagram.

She struck a few playful poses, flashing sultry smirks and mischievous winks.

"Are you sure you don’t want to come?" she coaxed, swiping through the pictures. "It might be fun! You never know what might happen."

"I’m fine, Katie," you reassured her. "After all that walking, I’m beat. Besides, I’m sure Andre would appreciate having you all to himself tonight."

She giggled. "You're right, but I’d hate to leave you all alone."

"Just go, hun. And make sure he’s not a creep."

Katie laughed. "If he was, would you come with me?"

You made a show of heading for your suitcase. "Let me grab something nice, and I’ll join—"

"No, no!" she interrupted with a dramatic wave of her hand. "I’m a big girl. I can handle myself."

You smirked. "Seems like you’re the one who wants some alone time with him."

She giggled again, clearly unbothered. "Well, he is cute."

Shaking your head, you plopped back onto the bed, waving her off with a teasing have fun! The moment she left, you flipped on the hotel TV, settling in for a cheesy romcom. It wasn’t the most thrilling way to spend the night, but it did the job of passing the time.

Halfway through the movie, drowsiness crept in. You were just about to doze off when your phone buzzed.

Jay just posted a photo!

You shot up, tossing the remote aside. Heart pounding, you opened the app. A single image filled the screen, accompanied by a cryptic caption: “Two.”

Confused, you studied the photo—a collection of pastel dresses. When you tapped the location, your stomach sank a little. A dress shop in Rome.

“He really is in Rome,” you sighed, standing up to pack your stuff quickly. As soon as the day breaks, it’s GO time for you and Katie.

What were the odds that the dress shop Jay visited was owned by Andre? Maybe 0.10%—unless he secretly owned every boutique in Italy. But as luck would have it, he owned that specific one, which was how you found yourself cruising to Rome in his sleek convertible, seated in the back while he and Katie shamelessly flirted in front of you.

Not that you were paying much attention��you were too busy scrolling through your phone for any updates.

“How much longer till we get there?” you asked, stretching your legs. Two hours in the car had you itching for a break, so when they pulled over by the roadside, you stepped out for some air. The road stretched endlessly ahead, mostly empty, but the surrounding scenery was breathtaking. Rolling hills, sunlit fields, and rustic vineyards—it was like something out of a postcard.

“Just thirty more minutes,” Andre replied, gesturing toward an approaching crossroad. “If we take this route, we should arrive sooner.”

Katie, who had borrowed your phone to stalk Jay’s feed, suddenly shot up from where she’d been lounging on the grass. “How much sooner?”

“Fifteen, maybe twenty minutes.”

“Perfect, let’s go now,” she declared, shoving the screen toward you. “Our mystery man is at this church.”

Your eyes widened as you grabbed the phone. "Two minutes ago?!"

"I know! Let’s move!"

Your heart pounded, caught between her infectious excitement and a nagging sense of guilt. Katie didn’t have to come along on this ridiculous chase, yet here she was, urging you forward like she always did. Since you were kids, she had been there through every wild idea, every leap of faith, every heartbreak—cheering you on, even when she didn’t share your beliefs about fate and love.

With Katie, you had come to understand that love in friendship was just as powerful, just as unwavering.

“Is this it?” Katie asked as the three of you stood before an imposing church.

“Yes. Basilica of St. Agnes,” Andre confirmed. “Same one in the photo.”

You compared the images, your gaze sweeping over the church’s grand façade. Even after confirming it was the right place, you couldn’t help but be awed by its sheer beauty. Tourists wandered about, snapping pictures, their voices echoing through the open square.

“Something’s off,” Andre murmured.

“What do you mean?” Katie asked.

He pointed at the entrance of the church. “It’s closed. No visitors allowed in.”

Your stomach dropped slightly. “Why?”

“I’ll go find out,” Andre said, walking off in search of an answer.

You and Katie remained where you were, scanning the crowd for any sign of Jay Park—not that you even knew what he looked like. All you had to go on was a name and a vague assumption that he was probably Asian. Yet, even as you studied every possible contender, you couldn’t make a single guess.

“If the church is closed, does that mean he never made it inside?” you asked, glancing at Katie.

“For all we know, he could’ve left ages ago,” she sighed, frustration creeping into her voice.

When Andre returned, he confirmed that the church was undergoing renovations. You longed for a break, but Katie insisted on looking around first. You humored her, even going so far as to ask random Asian men if their name was Jay Park—unsurprisingly, you had no luck.

As lunchtime approached, you finally admitted defeat and suggested heading to a nearby restaurant. Normally, pasta could lift your mood, but today, it tasted bland.

You were starting to feel like coming here was a bad idea. A part of you is still giddy for the adventure but seeing Katie made you feel like you were bothering people for something ridiculous. Even Andre, a complete stranger, had been roped into this wild search, all because of your stubborn belief in fate.

You shook your head, pushing the guilt aside. Instead of feeling like a burden, you reminded yourself to be grateful. Katie was here because she cared. And while Andre’s interest seemed to lie more with her than with you, he had stuck around too.

You ate in silence, scrolling through Jay’s feed again. His photographs were breathtaking. You wondered if he was as beautiful as the images he captured—if he was as delicate as the subjects of his photos. Did he take them at random, or was there meaning behind every frame?

As you mindlessly scrolled, something caught your eye—an old post from last year, taken in Italy.

So he really does come here every year, you realized, your heart racing.

You kept scrolling, and a pattern emerged. The very first picture from that trip was of a hotel in Venice, captioned simply, “1.” The next was a dress shop in Rome—“2.” Then the church you had just visited. The sequence continued, leading to a restaurant, also tagged in Rome. You scrolled back another two years. Different photos, same places.

“He travels in a pattern,” you blurted out.

Katie and Andre stopped mid-flirt to look at you. “Who?”

“Jay. Look at this!” You thrust your phone toward Katie, your excitement bubbling over as you explained the pattern you’d discovered. She caught on immediately.

“So if you’re right, he’ll be at this restaurant next?” she asked, her eyes shining with anticipation. You nodded confidently, feeling a surge of hope.

Katie turned the phone toward Andre. “Do you know this place?”

He read the location and nodded. “I do. It’s a local favorite, about fifteen minutes from here.”

Since it was already past lunchtime, you assumed Jay would go there for dinner. Andre confirmed that the restaurant opened at 3 PM, making it primarily a dinner spot.

After checking into a hotel downtown, you planned to rest before the evening. But you were feeling restless, and instead of lying around, you decided to explore the city. Katie offered to join, but you urged her to take a break. She didn’t argue, which only confirmed what you already knew—she preferred to spend time with Andre. Not that you minded. It was nice to see her having fun, rather than just being dragged around by your whims.

You wandered through charming streets, going in and out of shops, mostly window-shopping but picking up a few souvenirs along the way. Andre was adamant that you visit his dress shop and told you its location. He said he’d call them to let them know you were coming. You felt grateful for his help in this journey, and decided to take him up on it.

The moment you stepped inside, the staff greeted you by name. Within minutes, a few attendants gathered around, treating you with the kind of care reserved for VIP clients. As it turned out, Andre had instructed them to help you pick out something stunning for the evening.

Accepting such generosity from someone you had just met felt daunting, but you were grateful nonetheless. The staff encouraged you to choose your favorites, and you eagerly tried them on, feeling giddy at the prospect of finally meeting Jay.

An hour later, you returned to the hotel with a large box containing a dress far bolder than you’d planned. You pouted as you walked in, immediately catching sight of Andre and Katie looking cozy on the second bed of your suite.

“I really appreciate this, Andre, but why make me go through all those trouble if you were just gonna pick the dress for me anyway?” you asked, feeling both shy and exasperated.

Andre raised his hands in innocence and pointed at Katie. “It was me,” she admitted, grinning. “To be fair, you still got the dress you chose,” she added, looking far too pleased with herself.

“Yes, but not the color!” You huffed. “I almost freaked out when they insisted I take this one.”

Katie sauntered over and lifted the lid, revealing the dress inside—red satin, draped elegantly over white feathers.

It was a really nice dress. The original cream color you had chosen was soft, classic, safe. But in red? It was something else entirely. Vivid. Captivating. Sultry.

Dinnertime arrived before you knew it. Katie helped you get ready, lacing you into the dress and fussing over your makeup. You stared at your reflection, feeling nervous. The dress was daring and bold but your delicate makeup felt like it didn’t match the fire of the outfit.

“What are you talking about? You look amazing!” Katie reassured you. She grinned, adjusting the straps on your shoulders. “The goal is to get noticed, hon. Red will definitely grab his attention. And unless Jay Park is blind, you’ll be the star wherever you go tonight.”

You sat by the window of the restaurant, curiously looking around the quiet place. You are now convinced of Andre’s influence, getting you a table easily even with the long queue outside. You wondered if Jay was already here or if he was outside queueing. 

The thought crossed your mind to message him but that made your stomach twist. You had flown across the world to find him, yet the idea of actually reaching out felt more terrifying than anything else. And what would you even say?

“Hey. I followed you all the way to Italy because I think you're my soul mate.” Cringe.

For now, you were content with just catching a glimpse of him. You’d decide what to do next after that. Surely you’d know if he was the one, right? It wouldn’t be something you could explain, but it should feel right.

“Now where are you, Mr. Park?” you muttered to yourself as you refreshed his feed, heart fluttering when you found his most recent upload—a table filled with food, one that looks similar to your table. He’s here! 

Your fingers tightened around your phone as you examined the photo, scanning for any identifying details. In the corner, you spotted a glimpse of navy blue fabric—a sleeve, barely visible. You leaned back, gaze flickering around the restaurant, searching for a navy blue jacket. Several of them were dressed in similar shades, their jackets blending into the dim ambiance.

Then you looked at the picture again and wondered if instead of him, maybe it was whoever he was with. Maybe he wasn’t alone. With that thought, you could narrow down your search to tables with two people in it.

You sighed, shaking your head at yourself. “I’m a creepy stalker,” you muttered under your breath.

The waiter soon arrived with your order and you took the opportunity to ask him. “Excuse me, but… is there a Jay Park dining here tonight?”

The waiter blinked, then broke into a knowing smile. “Jay Park? Ah, Mr. Park! Yes, he’s here.”

“Are you sure it’s him?” You couldn’t help but question.

The waiter chuckled confidently, “Madam, Mr. Jay Park always makes his reservations a year in advance. He is here tonight. Right there.” He pointed toward a table halfway across the room.

You followed his gesture, and your eyes landed on two Asian men seated together. Both wore navy blue—one in a sharp suit, the other in a button-down shirt. Your breath caught in your throat, but your excitement wavered.

Which one was Jay?

You turned to ask the waiter again, but he was already walking away.

You turned to ask the waiter again, but he was already walking away. Sighing, you picked up your fork, pushing your food around your plate as you stole glances in their direction. From here, you could faintly make out their features.

The one in the suit had medium-length hair, styled in a comma hairstyle that was trendy nowadays. The other had longer hair that reached the nape of his neck. A mullet, maybe? You weren’t sure. They looked similar in build, and from the way they were seated, you couldn’t tell which one was taller.

So one of them was Jay Park. They look great, but now what?

They stayed for a while and you stayed too, mostly because you didn’t know where to go and you were hoping they’d somehow glance your way and you’d manage to take a better look at their faces. But since you only stole glances instead of flat-out staring at them the whole time, you wouldn't have known if either of them noticed you at all.

By the time you finished your fifth glass of wine, a tipsy warmth had spread through your skin. Katie had been checking in through texts, and as you lazily tapped out a response, your fingers moved a little too freely over the screen.

Katie: What do they look like? You: I’ll take a picture of them after paying.

You waved down the waiter for the bill, fumbling slightly with your bag as you reached for your card. But before you could hand it over, the waiter smiled and said, “No need, madam. Mr. Jay Park has already covered it.”

Your stomach plummeted and your head snapped toward their table, pulse racing only to find that was already empty. The chairs were neatly tucked in, the wine glasses half-finished. They were gone.

He paid for your food. He noticed you. How can he pay for your food and NOT talk to you at all? That’s just ridiculous. 

Without thinking, you bolted out of the restaurant, the cool night air hitting you like a shock. Your eyes darted wildly over the crowd, searching for navy blue amidst the crowd of tourists and locals. And then, you spotted him—the man in the suit, walking ahead in an unhurried pace.

“Hey.” you called out to him, but he was too far to hear your voice over the noise of the city. You pushed forward, weaving through people, determined to catch up.

As you did, your heel got caught in a crack in the pavement. You wobbled, nearly toppling over, cursing under your breath as you yanked at your foot. The damn shoe wouldn’t budge, and he was getting farther away, disappearing into the sea of moving figures.

“Fuck it.” you grunted, kicking your foot free, abandoning the shoe entirely as you took off barefoot, chasing after him.

The uneven pavement pricked at the soles of your feet, but you didn’t care. You ran and ran, until finally—he was gone. The streets stretched before you, unfamiliar and strange. The city surrounding you was lively, but all you could feel was the disappointment and defeat sinking into your chest.

He was right there. Just almost within reach, but you’d been too shy to approach him, now he was gone. What was the point of all this, then? Did you really come all the way here to find him, and assumed it would all magically fall into place?

Your foot throbbed where the missing shoe should have been, and that reminded you that it was a shoe your sister had gifted you. The thrill of the chase had fizzled into something hollow, leaving you standing there, lost in a city that no longer felt exciting. You felt ridiculous. Heartbroken over someone you had never even met.

With a sigh, you slumped down onto the edge of a fountain and pulled out your phone, fingers trembling as you dialed Katie. It didn’t take her long to find you.

“We were close by. What happened? Where’s your shoe?” she asked, her worried gaze sweeping over you.

You exhaled shakily. “He’s gone.”

“Who, Jay? Did you meet him?” she asked, but you shook your head, staring blankly ahead.

That’s when a man approached you, asking in Italian if you were alright. He was holding your abandoned shoe with a smile playing on his lips. Amidst the words you didn’t understand, you caught a chuckle as he referred to you as Cinderella.

“Your shoe!” Katie exclaimed at the man. “Thank you, sir! Thank you!”  she beamed, while you remained dazed.

The man’s eyes lit up. “Ah, finally, someone who speaks my tongue,” he said, kneeling beside you. “Allow me?”

“Thank you,” you mumbled, barely paying attention. He carefully pulled out a handkerchief and began wiping your foot, brushing away the dirt from your reckless chase.

“My, is that you, Prince Charming?” Katie teased, making the guy chuckle.

“You look gorgeous, by the way. Mind giving me your name?” he asked smoothly.

His question went past you as your turned to Katie. “Should I just DM him?” you murmured, anxiety creeping into your voice.

“Honestly, I was wondering what was taking you so long to do just that,” she replied, smirking.

“You’re right. That would’ve saved us a lot of trouble,” you sighed, pulling out your phone and staring at the screen like it held all the answers.

Katie nudged your shoulder. “So what happened at the restaurant?”

“Well…” You hesitated, replaying the events in your head. “He paid for my meal. That has to mean he noticed me, right? But if he noticed me, why didn’t he talk to me? Was he just out there paying for everyone’s dinner tonight?”

“Hey, I don’t mean to interrupt,” Prince Charming interjected, “but may I ask how long you’re staying in the city?”

You didn’t look up from your screen, leaving Katie to respond. “Not long. We’re here looking for someone.”

“Would you tell me his name? Maybe I know him. The Asian community isn’t that big in places like this.”

Katie shrugged. “I don’t know… He’s a tourist, not a local.”

“Oh, I’m a tourist too, so—” he started, but you suddenly stood up.

“I did it. Let’s go. I can’t be here when he replies. I’d freak out,” you blurted, grabbing Katie’s wrist and dragging her toward the car. “Oh! Thanks a lot, by the way!” you called over your shoulder, offering him a quick bow.

“Wait!” He rushed after you, stepping in front of the car door to block your way. “I didn’t catch your name.”

You reached for the handle, unimpressed. “I didn’t say it.”

“Well, I’d love to know it.”

“Thanks for finding my shoe, sir, but I really have to go.”

His lips twitched. “Then at least tell me who you’re looking for. If I can’t have your name, I’ll take that instead.”

“Who is it then? The guy you’re looking for? I’ll take that if you can’t tell me yours,” he insisted. 

You sighed in frustration, staring straight at him. You gasped when you realized who he was. “It’s you.”

He backed away slightly. “You know me?”

“No, not really, but…” You swallowed, trying to steady yourself. “At the restaurant. I saw you there.”

A smile curled his lips, his sharp cheekbones lifting with amusement. “Yeah, I saw you there too.”

Your breath hitched, exhilaration coursing through you. “I’m actually looking for Jay Park,” you admitted, pulse racing. “He paid for my dinner.”

His jaw dropped for a split second before he quickly recovered. “That’s funny because…” He let out a short laugh. “I’m Jay Park.”

Your knees nearly buckled. The rush of wine, adrenaline, and disbelief swirled together, making your head spin. Before you could stumble, his arms caught you, steadying you on your feet. His hands were warm against your skin, his eyes wide with concern.

“Whoa, are you okay?”

You swallowed hard, gripping his forearm for balance as you stared at him—really stared at him. “Yeah,” you murmured, still breathless. 

“It’s just… I’ve been looking for you since I got here.” Your voice wavered. “As a matter of fact, I’ve been searching for you way longer than that.”

Jake felt a pang of guilt for lying, but the truth could wait. If he told you now, you’d get in that car and disappear from his life forever. He’ll just tell you the truth later.

So he smiled, tilting his head slightly. “Well,” he chimed, “I guess you found me.”

Rome at night was magnificent, and you were reveling in it as you walked the cobblestone streets with Jake, who you now believed to be Jay. You had no idea of his pretense, but you were on cloud nine, convinced you had found what you came for. He was everything you had dreamed of, and considering he had found you while you were chasing someone else, you couldn't help but believe fate was behind the whole thing.

“Accountant? That’s cool. I work for a fashion brand.”

You hummed. “Let me guess… shoes?”

He chuckled. “What gave it away?”

You shrugged. “I’m not sure, but you were pretty delicate with my foot tonight, and you even mentioned it wasn’t the right size. That was true, by the way. These were gifts, and they’re a size too small.”

“They look beautiful on you either way,” he chimed.

You scowled at him, though you couldn’t quite suppress your smile.

“And I’m a photographer for the brand,” he added. “Not a designer or anything.”

“Photographer, huh? Yeah, I heard you were.”

Jake stepped over a short fence enclosing a neatly trimmed lawn, then reached out to help you over. You hesitated for a second before taking his hands, letting him pull you in.

“Please tell me you don’t have this weird fixation on…” You paused, pursing your lips before adding, “…feet.”

He laughed loudly, tossing his head back. “For a first date, that’s a pretty big question.”

You chuckled. “This is a date?”

“I hope so,” he murmured, tilting his head as he studied you. A warmth spread through your chest. “And to answer your question,” he continued, smirking, “no. Some feet are pretty, but no, that’s not my thing.”

“I see. Good to know.” You sat down on the lawn, and he followed suit, stretching his legs out beside you.

Jake propped himself up on his hands, then nudged you lightly. “Come here.”

You leaned in without hesitation, resting your head on his shoulder. The night sky stretched vast and deep above you, the stars hidden, but the moon glowing bright. Wisps of clouds drifted lazily across it, painting soft streaks in the dark.

“That’s pretty,” you murmured, admiring the waning moon.

“It is,” he agreed. “But it’s prettier in Positano. By the beach, with the stars and the sea breeze.”

“You’ve been there?” you asked, instinctively leaning closer to his warmth.

“Yeah, once. A long time ago, during a short break in college. I’ve come here several times since, but I never really went back there; I was mostly just here for work.”

“I see. Your Italian is really good.”

“Well, I come here often. One of our designers lives in Rome. He holds a showcase every year, and I always come to take the photos.”

“So… you’re busy?”

He shook his head. “Not anymore. The show was earlier today. I’m officially off the clock.”

You hummed in acknowledgment, letting the quiet settle for a moment. Jake relaxed beside you, resting his cheek against your hair.

“Take me to Positano,” you murmured, trying to sound confident despite the shyness in your chest.

He hummed, nuzzling into your hair slightly. “I’ll take you tonight if you want me to.”

You scoffed, nudging him playfully. “Tomorrow, maybe?”

“Tomorrow then.”

You smiled to yourself, but a thought tugged at the back of your mind, prompting you to sit up and turn toward him. “Right. Earlier tonight, at the restaurant.”

Jake straightened slightly. “What about it?”

“You paid for my food. Did that mean you noticed me?”

He exhaled, a low chuckle escaping his lips. “Are you serious? Of course, I noticed you. Ever since you walked in, actually. I could barely keep my eyes off you.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “Then why didn’t you talk to me? I was eyeing you all night.”

He ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head. “If I had known that, I would’ve approached you. But I was with a friend, and I didn’t want to disturb you. Plus… I didn’t think you’d be alone all night.”

“Why is that?”

Jake shrugged, his lips lifting into a smile as he gazed at you with warmth and admiration in his eyes. “You were too beautiful. It was hard to believe you were alone in that restaurant.”

You couldn’t help the grin that formed on your lips. “Well, we should be grateful you picked up my shoe then.”

“I know,” he chuckled, exhaling like he had narrowly escaped something. “I was actually on my way back to the restaurant to see if I could talk to you, but then I found you running around and leaving a shoe behind like Cinderella.”

You giggled, shaking your head. “Quite a story.”

“One for the books, if you ask me,” he agreed, smiling, his dreamy eyes fixed on you. 

You met his gaze, caught between feeling self-conscious and utterly seen, as if he could stare at you forever. And the way he looked at you like you were something precious, something to be cherished made your heart swell.

“Do you believe in fate?” he asked, his voice low and thoughtful.

You snorted. “Are you seriously asking me that? Me, the person who flew all the way here because I believed in fate a little too much?”

You had told him everything: the Ouija board, the search, how you had followed him just because you’d answered a call that wasn’t meant for you.

“Touché,” he shrugged, lips curving into a smile. They looked so full, so inviting, even under the moonlight. You stared at them for a second too long, wondering if they were as soft as they appeared.

“Would you like to try and see?” he asked, catching your gaze on his lips.

Your breath hitched. “Huh?”

Heat rushed to your cheeks at his indirect invitation, and before you could compose yourself, he tapped his bottom lip. You instinctively bit your own in an attempt to mask your shyness, but it only revealed your hesitation.

Then he leaned in. His intention was obvious, with your lips set as his goal. You could tell him no, dodge, even make a move to refuse, but you didn’t. Instead, you leaned forward, meeting him halfway.

Your lips brushed, then pressed together, soft—just like you imagined they’d be. But as he moved, his kiss grew firm, insistent, claiming yours in a slow, deep pull that sent warmth coursing through your veins. Instinctively, your hands found his neck, fingers curling at his nape as you surrendered to the moment, eyes fluttering shut.

When he finally pulled away, you opened yours to find his beautiful brown ones gazing right back at you. He smiled, and your heart swelled.

“Hi,” you blurted out, brain momentarily short-circuiting.

Jake laughed, then stole a brief kiss—quick, playful—before pulling you back into his arms.

It was past midnight when you finally parted, lingering at your door, neither of you willing to let go. His fingers brushed against yours even as he talked about tomorrow, and you kept saying "yes" to Positano, over and over, as if the promise of it wasn’t already sealed between you.

If it weren’t for Katie scolding you for leaving the door wide open, you might have spent the entire night just standing there, lost in each other’s eyes.

“See you in the morning,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead as you rested your head against his chin.

“See you in the morning, Jay.”

You felt him freeze at the name, his expression flickering for a split second before he smiled, saying nothing. Instead, he waved, taking a few steps backward before finally turning to leave.

As soon as the door clicked shut, the giddy rush bubbled over, and you twirled in place, unable to contain it.

Katie chuckled from the couch. “You look obscenely happy.”

“Thanks. I am,” you admitted, a proud smile stretching across your face as you stepped into the bathroom for a quick wash, the warmth of his kiss still lingering on your skin.

The morning was beautiful from your window, but sadly, you were set to leave Rome today for the beaches of Positano. You were excited and it seemed like Katie was too because she was the first to drag her stuff out of the room. 

A hotel attendant helped with your luggage, leading you down to the parking area, where two sleek cars and two equally gorgeous men were waiting.

“Good morning,” Jake greeted, opening his arms just as you ran into them. “Are you excited?”

“Can’t wait.”

He chuckled and tapped your nose affectionately. Glancing over at the other car, Jake asked if they were ready too. Andre raised a thumb in response.

“We’ll be right behind you,” he told Jake, who waved before ushering you into the car.

The ride was lively, filled with music and wind whipping through your hair. Jake’s camera rested in the center console, and when you asked if you could use it, he handed it over without hesitation, walking you through the settings. Once you got the hang of it, you turned the lens on him, snapping pictures as he drove.

Noticing this, he started posing dramatically, making you giggle.

“You look great, Jay,” you commented, flipping through the shots.

“I’ll take pictures of you later,” he promised, reaching over to press a kiss to your hand.

Positano unfolded before you in a breathtaking display—lush greenery, vibrant cliffs, and the sparkling sea stretching beyond them. Compared to Rome, it was quieter, more provincial, yet no less stunning. Jake mentioned your hotel was right by the beach, and after a few more winding roads, you arrived. The driveway was expertly lined with tall trees on each side, giving it a majestic entrance.

“Food!” Katie declared the moment she spotted the hotel restaurant. “Great, because I’m starving.” She grabbed your wrist and dragged you along, leaving the men to handle the check-in and your luggage.

You ordered a feast, and before long, Jake and Andre joined you at the table, both noticeably lighter without their bags.

“Miss Destiny,” said Andre, referring to you by the nickname he’d coined for you as he sat next to Katie. “I hope you don’t mind if Katie and I share a room.”

You cocked an eyebrow at Katie, who smiled sheepishly. “Oh, come on. You have Jay,” she reasoned, pouting. “You won’t be alone.”

You met Jake’s gaze, and he gave you a small nod. “If you’d rather have your own room, I can book another,” he offered.

“No, it’s fine,” you replied, even as the thought of sharing a room with him so soon made you nervous.

“Are you sure?” he asked, his hand resting lightly over yours on your thigh.

You placed your free hand on his arm, offering him a reassuring smile. “Yes. I don’t mind.”

“Alright.”

The food was, as expected, incredible. Katie had picked the restaurant’s best-selling dishes, earning her praise from both Jake and Andre. You were especially impressed by how familiar Jake was with the cuisine and language. Despite his earlier claim that he only visited Italy for work, he seemed to really like it here.

Later, as you wandered the beach together, he continued to share small facts about the seashells you picked up, his camera never straying far as he snapped random pictures of you. You listened intently, amused by his little trivia moments.

“That one’s different,” he commented, taking a shell from your hand for a closer look. “It’s not usually found here. Must’ve been carried in by the current.”

“It looks like you,” you mused, holding it up beside his face for comparison.

He grinned. “How?”

“The color. It’s got the same deep brown as your eyes. This shell is you, Jay.”

Jake laughed, taking the shell and tucking it into his pocket. “I’ll keep it then. Souvenir from the best vacation of my life.”

You scoffed playfully. “You’re such a flirt, Mr. Park.”

“That’s because you’re pretty, Miss,” he shot back, pulling you snugly against his side.

You giggled, slipping your arm around his waist as you continued walking, the waves crashing softly in the distance.

At some point, you managed to steal his camera again, snapping pictures of him as he stood against the backdrop of the sea. He looked regal through the lens, but even the camera couldn’t quite capture what you saw in real time. He was breathtaking, like the sea breeze and the view right before you. He was gorgeous and golden, like the sun that was setting down the horizon.

“Look,” he said suddenly, pointing toward the sunset as he stopped in his tracks. You followed his gaze, taking in the golden hues painting the sky.

Without thinking, you leaned into his chest, letting his warmth wrap around you as silence settled between you. None of you were talking, tired from goofing around all afternoon and just utterly speechless by this—the quiet, the beauty, the understanding between two people who had stumbled into something that felt impossibly perfect.

Yet, in the back of your mind, a small fear was lurking. This moment felt too good, too perfect, and you didn’t want it to end. You wished you could stay here forever, pressed against him, watching the sky change colors until night fell and the sun eventually rose again.

“Would you be surprised to hear that I might be falling in love with you?” Jake asked, his voice soft, almost hesitant—like he hadn’t meant to say it aloud.

“Yes,” you admitted, tilting your head slightly. “But it would make me happy to hear it too.”

His heartbeat was steady beneath your cheek. “I like being here,” you murmured. “Right by your side. It feels right. It feels good. And I don’t think I’m gonna let anyone take this away.”

Jake pressed a kiss to the top of your head, making you look up. On impulse, you reached for him, capturing his lips in a soft kiss.

“Would you stay?” you whispered against his mouth.

He lifted your chin, deepening the kiss just enough to seal his answer before pulling back slightly. “I’ll be wherever you are,” he murmured, brushing his thumb along your jaw. “Wherever you want me to be.”

And so, as the last traces of sunlight dipped below the horizon, you kissed again, understanding, without needing to say it, that this moment wasn’t just fleeting. It was the start of something inevitable. Something fated.

Days with Jake blurred into a dream of sun-drenched adventures and stolen kisses. You went boating, scuba diving, hiking, and cruising along the coast in Andre’s small yacht. If you weren’t taking pictures of each other, you were tucked away somewhere cozy, his lips moulding with yours. In the privacy of your suite, you were tangled together beneath the sheets, talking about each other’s lives, strengths and fears, childhood memories, favorite songs, and the kind of futures you had always imagined. Five days in Positano had you realizing you had never told so much about yourself to anyone until now. 

He photographed you endlessly, claiming the camera loved you almost as much as he did. And you, oblivious to the truth, still believed he was Jay Park—the person fate had written into your story.

Jake, on the other hand, found it harder to maintain the lie. The closer you got, the heavier it sat on his chest. He told himself it shouldn’t matter. A name was just a name. But you spoke about destiny with such conviction, as if the universe had carefully arranged every thread of your lives to lead you here. You still believed that thread was tied to Jay, but Jake wanted to believe it was tied to him. Maybe it was. Maybe fate had simply used another name to bring you together. He wanted to believe that when you eventually find out, you’d understand. 

But when you looked at him like this, like you were certain that he was the Jay Park of your dreams, he wasn’t so sure anymore. What would happen if you found out?

“Jay, where are we going?” you asked as he led you through the dense bushes.

“You’ll see.”

Faint orchestral music drifted through the air, growing louder with each step. Beyond the hedge, golden lights shimmered, illuminating a grand estate that looked more like a palace than a house. Silhouettes of elegantly dressed guests moved through the gardens, their laughter mixing with the music.

You tightened your grip on Jake’s hand. “Please tell me we have an invitation for this.”

He barely glanced at you before chuckling. “Of course not. We’re not Italian socialites.”

Your jaw dropped. “We’re gatecrashing?”

He pressed a finger to his lips, eyes twinkling with mischief. “We’re just a couple of lost tourists who took a wrong turn looking for the bathroom.”

“Yeah, no. I’m going back.”

“Come on, where’s your sense of adventure?”

“Oh, it’s currently having tea with my common sense. Let me go.”

But Jake didn’t let go. He just grinned and kept walking, tugging you along with him.

You exhaled sharply, scanning the lavish scene. “I have a feeling you’ve done this before.”

“For once, you’re wrong,” he said, too cheerfully. “This is my first time.”

Your head snapped toward him. “Wait—so you don’t have an exit plan?”

“Have you heard of spontaneity? You should try some.”

You scoffed. How dare he say that to you, of all people. “I literally flew to Italy on a whim.”

Jake straightened his tie and smoothed his jacket. You did the same, thanking the fact that you were both out for a fancy dinner tonight and your nice clothes are helping you blend in easily with the crowd.

With an exaggerated bow, he held out his arm. “Welcome to the Baron’s Ball, my lady. Shall we?”

Despite yourself, you giggled, slipping your arm through his. “Lead the way, my lord.”

Inside, the grandeur was almost dizzying. Gowns and suits shimmered beneath the glow of a massive chandelier. There was an actual orchestra playing a waltz, and while some guests lingered by the edges of the room, others twirled effortlessly at the center.

Jake maneuvered through the crowd with ease, nodding and offering brief greetings as though he belonged here. The casual confidence made you feel a little less like an imposter—until he steered you straight toward the dance floor.

“What are you doing?” you hissed under your breath.

He only squeezed your hand in reassurance. “We can’t pass up a chance to dance at a swanky party,” he whispered in your ear, kissing the side of your head right after and leaving you warm and nervous.

“Good evening,” a passing gentleman greeted, and Jake nodded smoothly in return.

“Good evening,” he replied, his posture relaxed, his charm effortless.

That’s when you realized—he’d been doing this all night. A nod here, a smile there. Enough to make you look like you belonged. And somehow, against all logic, it was working.

The moment you reached the dance floor, Jake pulled you into position, guiding you effortlessly into the same graceful stance as the other couples. One hand settled gently on your waist, the other laced with yours, while you rested your free hand on his shoulder, your thumb unconsciously stroking the nape of his neck.

“Relax, love,” he murmured, his lips brushing your ear. “You got me. We’ll be fine.”

His voice was a melody of its own, putting you at ease. You closed the gap between you, pressing your ear on his chest as you swayed. Just like how it had always been ever since you met him, you felt the fulfillment of belonging to something, to someone. It put your heart at ease.

You had been right to book that flight, and fate had been generous to let you pick up that call. Everything in your life had felt uncertain for so long, but now, with him here, it was as if the universe had finally put things into place, you were right where you were supposed to be. 

“Is this destiny?” he asked. You lifted your head, smiling as you met his gaze. He was already smiling too, cheekbones lifting and eyes crinkled at the corners.

“It is,” you said softly. “Because if it isn’t, then it shouldn’t feel this right, Jay.”

His smile faltered for just a second—so brief you might’ve imagined it—before he masked it with a kiss to your forehead. “I’m just asking because I’m not big on destiny and soulmates and all that stuff. But a friend told me that everything you do, everywhere you go, everyone you meet, you meet them for a reason. The reason was destiny. Do you think so too?”

You nodded. “I always have. I believe people are placed in our lives on purpose. Every friend we’ve lost, every enemy we’ve made, every person we’ve loved and stopped loving. Even the stranger at the grocery store or the student scrolling through his phone on the train—we were meant to cross paths. Sometimes we play a role in their lives, sometimes we don’t. But every meeting happens because it was supposed to. And we begin in a random place, navigating through people and relationships and places until we find where we belong.”

“That’s beautiful.”

You smiled, tiptoeing to press a soft kiss to his lips. “It’s even more beautiful now that I’ve found you. This… this is where I belong.”

His arms tightened around you. “I feel the same,” he whispered. “Does that mean everything that lead up to this moment doesn’t matter anymore? I mean, we’re here now. We’ve found each other.”

The music shifted before you could think of a response. People started cheering and heading for the dance floor, cramping the space. Someone bumped into you, throwing you off balance, but Jake caught you immediately.

Your heart pounded as you took in the scene. Everyone was moving into formation. Everyone except for you two.

“I have a bad feeling about this,” you muttered. The music had paused, and the dancers stood poised, waiting for the cue to begin. You glanced around anxiously. “Should we leave?”

Jake only grinned. “Relax. It’s a cotillion. Just blend in.”

Before you could argue, the music resumed—and the dancers sprang into motion with eerily coordinated formations and synchronized steps. Jake twirled you, laughing at the ridiculousness of it all.

“Dance, love! Dance like this is your last night in Italy!” he beamed.

With a breathless laugh, you gave in, mirroring his exaggerated, silly dance moves. The embarrassment melted away in the absurdity of it, but it wasn’t long before you noticed heads turning. People were starting to watch you.

“The guy in the red suit,” Jake said under his breath, “I think he’s a guard. Or a butler. Or something.”

“What?” You followed his gaze and spotted a man flipping through what looked like a guest list. Your stomach dropped.

Jake leaned in. “When he comes this way, we run for that door.”

Your head whipped toward the exit he was pointing to. “Wait, that’s not where we came from—”

“It’s a better escape route.”

“Oh god,” you breathed, eyes darting back to the guard. He was looking right at you now, brows furrowed in suspicion. You didn’t wait for Jake’s signal—you grabbed his hand and bolted.

“Oi! Hey!” a voice called out behind you.

Jake abruptly stopped, dropping to his knees. “Shoes.” He tugged at your heels. “They’ll slow you down.”

Cursing, you kicked them off, barely giving him time to grab them before you both took off again.

Shouts rang out behind you, the man barking orders in rapid Italian, but you didn’t look back. You tore through the grand entrance, past a sprawling garden, and straight toward the massive gates.

The guards outside barely had time to register the sight of two guests sprinting into the night before you were already gone.

You didn’t stop running until you were far from the venue, your laughter mixing with Jake’s as you both collapsed by the seawall. Breathless and giddy, he hoisted himself onto the ledge, patting the spot beside him in invitation.

You sank down next to him, still panting, and leaned against his side for support.

“You good?” he asked, his arm coming around you, his fingers kneading gently at your shoulder.

“Yeah. You?”

“Better than ever.” He grinned, and you both broke into laughter again—genuine, breathless, and a little bit wild.

After a moment, you straightened, turning to look at him. His face was still alight with exhilaration, his eyes gleaming under the dim streetlights. “You’re a bad influence,” you murmured.

His grin widened. “I know.” Then, after a breath—“Can I kiss you?”

You glanced at his lips. “I thought you’d never ask.”

He closed the gap between you in a kiss that was long and slow, lingering like the adrenaline still thrumming in your veins. He kissed you until neither of you could tell if your lightheadedness was from the run or from this—whatever this was between you. And by the time you pulled apart, breathless and undone, you were sure of one thing.

You didn’t regret a single second of it.

When you arrived at the hotel, the receptionist greeted him as Mr. Sim. You frowned, catching his sleeve as the elevator doors closed behind you. “Mr. Sim? I thought you were Mr. Park.”

He barely looked at you, too busy tugging you flush against him. “Probably another Asian guest. To these people, we all look the same.”

You laughed because, knowing him, he was probably right. But before you could dwell on it, his lips were on yours, swallowing any thought that didn’t involve him. You barely made it to his suite before your hands were everywhere—fingers tangled in his hair, nails scratching at the fabric of his shirt as he pressed you against the door, kissing you like he was starving.

You knew where this was going, had known it since the first time his lips brushed against yours. But even as you gasped against his mouth, even as he trailed kisses down your neck, you forced yourself to slip from his grasp, your hands still lingering on his shoulders.

“There’s something you should know,” you murmured, breathless. His fingers were already tracing the curve of your waist, sending shivers down your spine. “It might change things.”

He exhaled a laugh, resting his forehead against yours. “I don’t think anything you say can change how I feel about you.”

Your chest tightened, his words making your resolve waver. You kissed him, long and deep. His mouth traced a path down your jaw, nipping at your pulse, making you shudder. “The truth is…”

“Hm?” he hummed, lips brushing your collarbone.

“I’m…” You cupped his face, forcing him to look at you. “…engaged.”

Everything stopped. His grip on your hips tightened, his heavy-lidded eyes snapping open. “You’re what?”

“I’m engaged. I was supposed to be married in a week.” You exhaled, searching his face.

He backed away just enough to take a good look at you. He was still holding your arm when he asked, “Then why are you a thousand miles from home looking for a soulmate in a complete stranger?”

“I don’t know! I didn’t want to get married. And I—I answered your call by accident. It was meant for my boss, Lee Heeseung. But when you told me your name… I don’t know, I just felt like I had to find you.” Your fingers traced his cheek. “I thought maybe it was fate.”

His silence made your heart pound, but then he kissed you again, deeper, hungrier—like he had decided for himself what fate meant. He lifted you effortlessly, carrying you toward the bed as his lips claimed every inch of skin he could reach. You arched against him, his hand slipping underneath you to unzip your dress.

“That doesn’t change anything?” you asked.

His mouth curved against your shoulder. “If we found each other… isn’t that all that matters?”

You nodded, pushing your hand inside his shirt, desperate to feel his skin against yours. “Well, yeah. What could be worse than that?”

He flashed a grin before he kissed you breathless, pressing you into the mattress. His hands roamed lower to palm your breast, setting your skin on fire, but just as you started to lose yourself in him, he mumbled against your lips, “My name’s not Jay Park.”

In a daze from the sensation of his kisses and his touches, you couldn’t quite process what he just said. “You're not?”

“My name is Jake Sim.”

Suddenly, clarity crashed down on you. “WHAT?!” You shoved at his chest, but he barely budged.

He groaned, laughing breathlessly. “Oh, come on. You just said none of it matters!”

“Yes, except for that!” With a burst of strength fueled by sheer outrage, you pushed him off of you. He tumbled onto the floor with a thud.

He groaned, rolling onto his back. “Wow, you’re strong.”

“You lied to me?” you asked, appalled like you couldn’t believe he was capable of doing that.

“Hey, it’s just a name.”

You stood up angrily, grabbing your purse, coat, and shoes from where they were scattered across the room. “You’re a liar. A jerk! A horrible, horrible person!”

“Hey, calm down,” Jake tried, reaching for you, but you shoved his hands away.

“Don’t touch me!”

He held up his hands in surrender. “Okay. Alright. I lied. But only about my name. The rest of it was true. All of it. My dreams, my hopes, how I feel about you... all of it. My dreams, my photography, I didn’t lie about any of those.”

“You lied about the one thing that mattered most!” you snapped.

Jake exhaled, shoulders sagging. “Come on, love—”

“Don't call me that.”

“I thought you liked it.”

“I did when I thought you were Jay.”

His jaw tensed as he followed you to the door. “Jay isn’t even the guy you think he is. Be real. He’s a stranger. You don’t know him.”

“You would be a stranger too if you hadn’t lied about being him.” You pressed the elevator button, glaring at him. “Do you even have a conscience?”

He stepped closer. “Just—please. Give me a chance. How do you even know he’s the man you’re looking for?”

“I’ll figure that out myself.” You stepped into the elevator and pulled the steel gate shut before he could follow. “Why did you even do that?”

Desperation flickered in his eyes. “I did it because I’m in love with you!”

You scoffed, completely, utterly frustrated and exasperated. “And you expect me to believe that? What am I stupid?”

“Baby!”

“Leave me alone!” you hollered, just as the elevator door closed.

You pounded on Katie’s door with trembling fists, your vision blurred by tears. When it finally opened, she stood there, bleary-eyed from sleep, Andre peering over her shoulder. You didn’t care. Pushing past them, you collapsed onto the couch by the window, sobbing uncontrollably.

Katie rushed to you, her hands rubbing soothing circles on your back. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

“Let’s go home, Katie.” Your voice cracked between sobs. “You were right. This was madness—coming here, chasing after some ghost, believing in stupid fate. All of it. This is the worst trip of my life.”

Katie glanced at Andre, silently asking him to give you both space. He understood and slipped out without a word. She sat beside you, offering a glass of water once your sobs quieted.

“What happened? Where’s Jay?”

You let out a hollow laugh. “He’s not Jay, Katie. He lied. His name is Jake Sim.”

Her brows furrowed. “What? Why would he do that?”

You shot up from the couch, pacing the room. “Because he’s a terrible person, that’s why! He probably thought this was all some joke. Like he could just lie his way into my bed and get away with it. Well, guess what? His honesty was five days too late! He wasted my time, my effort, everything! I will never believe in fate or destiny or love or any of that crap ever again!”

Katie sighed, taking the glass from your shaking hands. “Are you sure?”

“Yes!” you snapped.

Her voice softened. “Really? You won’t believe in fate or destiny? And love too?”

The words hit sent a pang in your chest. You sat back down, burying your face in your hands. Your whole life, you had believed in love and destiny. Every good thing that happened to you, you thanked fate. Every bad thing, you told yourself it was leading you to something better. You believed in love because your parents had shown you it was real, because you grew up in a home where love was the foundation of everything. And now, just because one stranger had broken your heart, you were ready to throw all of that away?

Katie’s arms wrapped around you, pulling you close. “Maybe this is destiny too,” she murmured. “Getting hurt is part of everyone’s growth. What he did was wrong, and he was a jerk for doing it, but don’t let him be the reason you stop believing in the things that make you who you are.”

You sniffed, wiping at your damp cheeks. “Let’s go home, Katie.”

She squeezed your hand. “Okay. We’ll go home.”

The next morning, Katie was alone in the hotel room, packing up both your things and hers for your flight home. She had taken it upon herself to gather all your belongings from the room you had shared with Jake, finding it empty when she arrived. You had left early with Andre to book tickets, determined to get out of Italy as soon as possible, leaving Katie to clean up.

She was nearly finished when a sharp knock sounded at the door. At first, she thought it was you or Andre, but when she opened it, she was greeted by a massive bouquet of flowers. Katie sighed, immediately swatting it away, already knowing who was behind it.

“What are you doing here, Mr. Not-Jay-Park?”

Jake peeked over the bouquet. “Katie. Is she here?”

“She’s not.”

Jake exhaled sharply. “Can you tell me where she is?”

Katie scoffed. “She’s booking tickets for our flight home.”

“You’re leaving already?” His voice dropped slightly.

“Yes. Early tomorrow. But if she finds a flight for today, she’ll take it. The sooner we leave, the faster she forgets about the jerk she met in Italy.”

“Come on, Katie. Not you too,” he pleaded. Katie just scoffed louder and started closing the door, but Jake wedged his hand against it. “Okay, I know. I know I messed up. But can you please hear me out?”

“You’re not worth my time, Jake.”

“I get that,” he sighed, pushing his way inside. “But I’m begging you. Please listen to me because she won’t.”

Katie folded her arms across her chest. “Fine. Three minutes.”

“Great.” He set the bouquet on the table. “The thing is… I’m in love with her.”

Katie let out a sharp, mocking laugh. “Are all guys like this? Willing to say anything to get laid?”

“Hey, for the record, I have no problem getting laid.”

“You’re admitting that you sleep around? Gross.”

“No—wait. That’s not what I meant—” He ran a hand through his hair and took Katie to sit down on the chair before he crouched on the floor before her. “Listen to me.”

Katie rolled her eyes but stayed put. “Make it quick.”

He nodded. “Okay. So, I never believed in fate the way she does. I think it’s crap.”

“Is that why you tricked her? Because you think she believes in crap?”

“Will you let me finish?”

She motioned for him to continue, unimpressed.

“I wasn't even supposed to be here. I was supposed to be home, taking care of my dog. For the first time since I started working, I finally had a vacation. But then—boom—last-minute call. The photographer who was supposed to come here canceled, and I got sent instead.”

He took a deep breath. “So there I was, back in Italy, tired of shooting the same things every year. Taking pictures of that old, grumpy Marchetti’s shoes—which, by the way, are nice, but not nice enough for him to earn my respect.”

Katie frowned. “You're rambling, Jake.”

“Right, sorry.” He took another breath, refocusing. “So I’m in Rome, relieved the show is over, thinking I can finally go home. Then I run into my old friend, Jay Park. We haven’t seen each other in ages, so we grab dinner. And then—” He gestured dramatically, “in walks this gorgeous, gorgeous woman in a red dress. It’s like whole world was out of focus, and all I can see was her, looking around before sitting alone.”

“She was there for Jay.”

“I know! I mean, I didn’t at the time, but I do now.” Jake let out a breath, rubbing the back of his neck. “I wanted to talk to her, but I had Jay with me, and ditching a friend for a girl is kind of a dick move. So I just… stole glances. Jay noticed and told me to go talk to her. I figured I’d just pay for her food instead, but he insisted.” He gave a small, almost amused shake of his head. “He even paid her bill and said I should repay him by talking to her.”

Katie nodded slowly. “I see. So that’s what happened.”

“Yes,” Jake said, shifting his weight. “And then my friend left, and there I was, just watching her sip wine after her meal, waiting for the right moment. But then—” He huffed, looking away. “I chickened out. So I left.”

Katie cocked an eyebrow, clearly waiting for him to continue.

Jake pushed off the chair and started pacing. “So I left, right? I was walking the streets, thinking about her, and then suddenly this girl rushed past me. Same dress, same hair, and I just knew it was her.” He gestured vaguely, like he could still see the moment playing out. “I followed her because I knew I’d regret it if I didn’t. But your friend is a fast runner, did you know that?”

Katie smirked. “She did track and field in high school.”

Jake snapped his fingers. “That explains it.”

Then, without missing a beat, he went on. “Anyway, I found her shoe, stuck in the cobblestone. So I picked it up and started looking for her. Luckily, she wasn’t hard to spot in that dress.” He shot Katie a pointed look. “Thanks to you, by the way. I heard it was your idea.”

Katie gave a small shrug.

“So, I finally caught up to her, and she was… upset. And then, out of nowhere, you guys were leaving.” Jake exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “I knew I had to stop her. I had to at least get her name because I’d regret it if I didn’t. If she got into that car and disappeared forever—” He shook his head. “I couldn’t let that happen.”

His voice softened. “And then she told me she saw me too. That she had been looking for Jay.” He hesitated before continuing, rubbing his temple. “I thought… I thought it would be easier to make her stay if I just said I was Jay.”

Katie let out a sharp scoff. “Or you could have just said you knew who Jay Park was.”

Jake groaned, throwing his head back. “I know! But hey, I panicked, okay?” He let out a humorless laugh. “I was… desperate, I guess. I’ve never felt this way before. Ever.”

His voice grew quieter. “My mom told me to take this trip. Even though I had to work, she said something great might happen to me here.” He looked down, then back up at Katie, eyes filled with something raw. “And I know this is it. Finding her was the ‘something great’ my mom meant. I don’t know how I know. I just do.”

He swallowed hard. “And now I messed it all up. I can’t let her leave, Katie. Not when I just got to know her.”

Katie sighed, crossing her arms. “That’s actually kind of romantic.” Then, with a pointed look, she added, “But it was wrong from the get-go.”

Jake’s shoulders tensed.

“This was a big deal for her, Jake,” she continued. “She left home to pursue this. She left her fiancé. And you? You lied to her.” Katie shook her head. “She’s mad at you right now, and honestly? If I were her, I’d be mad too.”

“Is there any way I can make it up to her?”

“Bring her to your friend, Jake. She just needs a look, a confirmation that she won’t be making the wrong decision.”

“What? About her marriage?”

“Yes. It's not my place to tell, but she’s conflicted.”

“Yeah, I think I know the gist of it.”

“You know? Good. Then you also know how much this means to her.”

Before he could respond, the door suddenly swung open. Andre stepped in, freezing for a moment when he spotted Jake. Then, with a dramatic shake of his head, he sighed. “Buddy, you messed up, man.”

“I know,” Jake sighed, standing up from the floor and grabbing the bouquet. To Katie, he said, “Thanks, Katie.”

Katie nodded. “Good luck, Jake.”

The tickets were booked, and you were set to leave in the morning. As you knelt beside your suitcase, you gave your belongings a final inspection. “We have to leave super early, Katie. The flight’s early, and we don’t want to miss it.”

“I know, I know,” Katie said, fastening an earring. “Andre and I are just going to drive around for a bit. It won’t take long.”

“You don’t have to rush your date,” you said, zipping up a side pocket. “Have fun tonight. Just make sure we’re on time tomorrow. We have to leave before that jerk comes looking for me.”

You hesitated, fiddling with the zipper pull. “Did he… come looking for me?”

Katie turned to you with a knowing smirk. “You like him, don’t you? You’re crazy for him.”

You scoffed. “I am not. I mean… I liked him because I thought he was someone else. I thought he was my soulmate.”

Katie tilted her head, considering your words. “So you liked him just because you thought he was your soulmate? And now that he’s not, your feelings just disappeared? That doesn’t really sound like fate to me.”

“You don’t even believe in fate.”

“I don’t believe in chasing fate,” she corrected. “I believe it comes to you when it’s time.”

You let out a frustrated sigh. “Whose side are you on?”

“No one’s.” Katie grinned, clipping on her other earring. “So tell me… you’re really not in love with him?”

“I hate him,” you said with conviction.

Katie’s grin widened. “Good. Because that’s what I told him when he came here with flowers for you.”

Your heart stuttered. “He came here?”

“While you were out booking tickets.”

Your stomach twisted. “And you told him I hated him?”

Katie shrugged, all too pleased with herself. “You don’t?”

You pressed your lips together, looking away as you shoved a pair of shoes into your suitcase. “None of that changes the fact that he lied.”

Katie gave you a look—one of those smug, all-knowing looks you hated. “Good. Then we can go home without regrets. I’ll go sightseeing with Andre, and you can stay here and… I don’t know, weep?”

“You’re mean.”

“Maybe,” she giggled, grabbing her purse and heading for the door. “Have fun being lonely.”

“Katie—”

“Bye,” she called out, slipping through the door before you could protest.

The night came and went. Morning arrived with the sound of birds chirping outside your window, but you hadn’t slept much. Instead of feeling relieved about finally going home, a strange heaviness settled in your chest. Part of you wanted to leave, to put everything behind you—but another part hesitated.

“Ready?” Katie asked as you buckled your seatbelt in the backseat of Andre’s car.

“Ready,” you exhaled, forcing a smile.

Andre started the engine, but just as he was about to pull out, a loud thud made all of you jolt. Jake stood in front of the car, his palms pressed against the hood, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths.

“Wait,” he panted. “Don’t go yet.”

You scrambled out of the car, heart pounding, expecting him to plead his case again. “What are you doing?”

Jake inhaled sharply, then gripped your shoulders. “Please don’t leave. Let me make it up to you.”

You scoffed, shaking him off. “Nothing you do will ever change my mind, Jake.” You made sure to emphasize his real name.

His jaw tensed at the way you said his name, something flickering in his expression—fondness, longing. He swallowed. “Oh god,” he muttered, almost to himself. “You’re so beautiful.”

You blinked. Then, with an incredulous scoff, you turned to get back in the car.

“No, wait—please.” Jake stepped in your way again, more urgency in his voice now. “I messed up, okay? I know you’re mad, and you have every right to be. That’s why I’m here. I want to apologize and make it up to you.”

“How? By sweet-talking me?”

Jake shook his head. “No, Jay. I know where Jay Park is.”

You froze, hand hovering over the car door handle. Slowly, you turned back to face him. “You’re not lying?”

“I’m not.” He ran a hand through his hair before exhaling. “He told me in Rome that he’d be in Amalfi on the 5th. Today is the 5th. He’ll be there for a few days.”

“Amalfi?” you repeated, turning to Katie and Andre. “That’s nearby, isn’t it?”

“It is,” Andre confirmed. “And it’s worth a shot.”

Jake nodded, pulling out his phone. “Here. I have his hotel number. You can contact him.”

Your eyes narrowed. “How did you get this?”

“I pulled some strings,” he admitted. “But I’m sure it’ll work. Have you changed your mind about finding him?”

You hesitated, glancing at Katie for her opinion. She gave you a small nod. You sighed, looking back at Jake.

Looks like Destiny didn’t want you to leave just yet.

You changed your route from the airport to Amalfi. The trip wasn’t long—less than an hour—and soon, you arrived at the hotel Jake had mentioned. He followed, of course, though you had refused to ride with him, settling instead in the backseat of Andre’s convertible. You felt a little ridiculous for pursuing this after everything you’d said about fate being a sham, but you’d come all this way. A glimpse of Jay Park should be enough. You weren’t even trying to see if he was your soulmate anymore—you just wanted to fulfill the goal that had brought you here in the first place.

At the reception desk, you asked to use the phone, and the receptionist pointed you toward it before leaving you alone. Your friends had gone off as well, leaving you standing there, staring at the white receiver as nerves took over.

“Gosh, you can’t back out now,” you muttered under your breath. Just as you reached for the phone, your own buzzed in your hand. Reading the notification made your jaw drop.

By some miracle—one whole week since you’d sent the message—user jaypark_js had finally replied!

You stared at the screen in disbelief before quickly opening the chat. Jay apologized for seeing your message so late, and after a bit of back-and-forth, you asked if he’d be willing to meet for dinner since you were in the area. He agreed without hesitation, even promising to treat you to some great food.

It was set. You were going to meet Jay Park.

Back in your hotel room, you picked out a simple yet elegant white dress from your luggage, getting ready while Katie did the same. She was excited for you—even more so since she and Andre had plans for the night too. You were halfway through getting dressed when Andre arrived, Jake trailing in after him with a box in his hands.

You yelped and ducked into the bathroom, clutching your dress to your chest.

“I’m gonna go,” Katie announced, looping her arm around Andre’s. “See you later, okay?”

“See you!” you called out from inside.

As she passed Jake, Katie smirked. “See you later, Jake.” The way she said his name was teasing, almost conspiratorial, before she shut the door behind her.

Jake knocked on the bathroom door. “I got something for you.”

“Maybe later, Jake. I’m kind of naked right now,” you chided and Jake’s ears reddened at the idea of you naked in there.

“Uh… Just take it. I won’t look. You’re gonna need it.”

You cracked the door open slightly, just enough to grab the box from his outstretched hands. Inside was a pair of white shoes. “Thanks, but how did you even know my size?”

Jake hesitated before grinning. “Uh… intuition?”

You gave him a skeptical look through the gap before shutting the door again.

Left alone, Jake turned away, glancing around your room—until his eyes landed on the dress you’d left hanging in the closet. Without thinking, he plucked it from the hanger, brushing his fingers over the fabric as he moved back to the door.

“Good guess. It fits perfectly,” you called out from inside.

Jake smirked. “Of course it does.”

The door cracked open again, a single hand reaching out. “Hey, Jake, can you grab my dress? It’s the white one on the—”

Before you could finish, he hooked the hanger onto your finger. You blinked, surprised, before pulling it inside. “Thanks.”

Jake then went over to the dresser and picked up a set of earrings and a bracelet. Sure enough, the door cracked open once more.

“Oh, and I also need my earrings—” You stopped when he placed the pair in your palm before you even finished asking. You frowned slightly. “And my silver bracelet—”

Again, he handed it over without hesitation. This time, you poked your head out, eyeing him curiously. He was standing right outside, waiting, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“What?” he asked, amused.

You shook your head. “Nothing. Thanks.”

After getting dressed, you stepped out of the bathroom to find Jake lounging on the couch, flipping through an Italian magazine. He barely glanced up, but when you hesitated, fidgeting with the back of your dress, his eyes finally met yours.

“Can you button me up?” you asked, a little shyly. “I usually manage on my own, but zippers are easier.”

Jake set the magazine aside and pushed off the couch. “Yeah, no problem.” His fingers brushed your exposed shoulder as he gently turned you toward the mirror.

You met his gaze in the reflection—just as handsome as when you first met him. That effortless elegance, his smooth skin, the fullness of his lips. You caught yourself staring, remembering how they felt against yours, your hand absently touching your lower lip. 

Jake fumbled with the buttons, his brow furrowing in concentration. When one hand wasn’t enough, the other left your shoulder, grazing the bare skin of your spine. A slow, warm shiver spread through you.

“Damn buttons,” he muttered under his breath before fastening the last one. He met your eyes in the mirror and smiled. “You look great.”

“Thank you,” you breathed, still caught in his gaze. He clenched his jaw slightly and shoved his hands into his back pockets.

“You should go. Jay’s probably waiting.”

You exhaled, smoothing down your dress. “Thanks for bringing me here, Jake.”

His expression darkened. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Don’t call me Jake.” He took a step closer, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from his body.

“But… that’s your name, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” he murmured, resting his forehead against your shoulder. “And it sounds so good when you say it. It was meant for your lips, for your voice…”

“Don’t do this right now, Jake…”

He let out a sigh that made you hold your breath. His lips brushed against your shoulder in a featherlight kiss. Then he backed away.

“Go to Jay. See if he’s really your soulmate.”

You let out a bitter chuckle, turning to face him. “Are you mocking me?”

But there was no amusement in his expression. Only frustration. Only defeat. “I’m telling you to go,” he said quietly. “Because maybe if he makes you happy, I’ll finally move on.”

Something in you ached at the way he said it. You lifted a hand to his face, and he closed his eyes, leaning into the warmth of your touch. When you started to pull away, he caught your wrist, pressing your palm back against his cheek. His other hand found your waist, tugging you closer.

You weren’t sure what it was that drew you to Jake. Was it his charm? The way he made you feel like you were all he wanted? Or something deeper, something you didn’t want to name? Whatever it was, it pulled you under again, made you tip forward and wrap your arms around his neck just as he captured your lips in a tender kiss.

“Don’t go,” he pleaded, eyes shut, his forehead resting against yours. “Stay.”

You swallowed hard. “This is what I came here for, Jake. I have to do this.”

You let go of him and took your purse. Jake turned his back, not giving you a look even as you bade him good night. 

He opened his eyes, searching yours, then he let go.

You grabbed your purse and turned for the door. He turned away too, not sparing you another glance as you bade him a quiet goodnight.

The night was young, and the breeze carried a biting chill. You regretted not bringing a coat, but the thought barely lingered as you made your way down to the restaurant on the lower floor. The warmth of the space wrapped around you, easing the goosebumps on your arms.

At the entrance, a man greeted you. You gave him the name on the reservation, and he gestured for another to escort you to your table.

Jay was already seated, and the moment you saw him, your intuition from that night in Rome was confirmed. You had followed the dark-haired man back then, and he had turned out to be the real Jay Park.

He stood as you approached, offering a handshake. “Hi.”

You accepted it. “Thanks for accepting my invitation,” you said as you took your seat, the waiter pulling out the chair for you.

“Thanks for asking,” he replied smoothly.

You ordered food and chatted for a bit. He was a bit different from what you thought he would be. You had based his personality on the quality of his photography. They were taken with delicate care and attention so you assumed he’d be the sentimental type, but the man before you seemed to be on the manlier side; suave, easygoing with a more rugged demeanor. His build, his voice, and even his mannerisms. But then again, you reminded yourself that appearances could be misleading.

“By the way,” you said, setting down your glass. “That night at the restaurant in Rome… you paid for my dinner.”

He paused, as if searching his memory. Then his expression cleared. “Oh, the girl in the red dress? That was you?”

You nodded.

“I remember now.” He leaned back slightly. “I was with a friend—Jake Sim. We ran into each other in Rome, and I told him I’d treat him to dinner. Then he saw you.” Jay’s lips curled into a small smile. “You looked incredible, by the way. That dress definitely turned heads. Mine included.”

You chuckled lightly. “Is that why you paid for my meal?”

“Not exactly,” he admitted. “That was Jake’s idea. He wanted to talk to you, but he didn’t want to leave me hanging, so he decided to cover your bill instead. I told him I’d pay and that he should just go talk to you.”

The realization sank in slowly. “Ah… so that’s what it was.” You stared down at your plate, a strange feeling settling in your chest.

You felt an odd sense of dissatisfaction with this meeting. Something that made you feel like you were forced to be here, like you were complying with something even when this dinner was your idea in the first place.

Jay’s voice pulled you back. “Did he?”

You blinked. “What?”

“Did he talk to you at all?”

“Yeah. We talked.” You hesitated. “Actually, he’s the one who brought me here. I really wanted to meet you.”

“Really?” He raised an eyebrow. “I’m flattered. But what for?”

You didn't want to reveal more about the whole crazy soulmate thing to him so you cooked up an excuse. “I’m a fan of your work. I follow you on Instagram and I saw that you were here so I thought I’d meet you since I also happened to be around.”

Jay seemed pleasantly surprised. “Oh, wow. Thanks. I appreciate that.” He paused. “Though, I mainly do photography as a hobby. My wife liked looking at pictures.”

Your heartbeat faltered for a second. Relief flooded through you before you could process why. “You’re married?”

“Was,” he corrected gently. “She passed away a few years ago.”

Your stomach twisted. “Oh. I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he said easily. “I’m fine. I’ve moved on. But right now, I’m not in a place where I can entertain the idea of a relationship. Might sound obnoxious, but I hope you didn’t come looking for me for that.”

You shook your head. “That’s okay. I really just wanted to get to know you.” Desperate to steer the conversation, you added, “My boss, Lee Heeseung, you know him, right?”

Jay’s face lit up in recognition. “Right. Heeseung. Of course. You work for him?”

“Yes. I saw some of your pieces in our magazine. That’s how I knew about you.”

You could barely believe yourself. After all the ways you had tormented Jake for lying, here you were, doing the same to save face. It was minor, sure—but a lie was still a lie.

No, it was completely different. Jay didn’t need to know you obsessed over his name through your teens. You needed to know if the person you almost hooked up with and threw your relationship with Sunghoon for was really Jay. It was different and whatever Jake’s excuse was, he still did a terrible thing to you.

“You okay?” Jay’s voice cut through your thoughts.

“Huh?” You looked up. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

The dinner was nice. Despite the uncertainty you felt in the first part, he turned out to be fun to talk to. You found that you were more alike than you initially expected, interests on a couple of similar things.

Afterward, you agreed to take a walk by the beach, wrapped in his coat to shield yourself from the chill. He mostly told stories about his travels—crazy encounters with strangers, unexpected adventures overseas. He asked about you, too, and you shared a few interesting bits about yourself. At some point, the conversation drifted to how he met his wife in Italy. Ever since, they had visited the country every year, always drawn back to the sea in Amalfi, their favorite place to be.

“Must be nice to be in love like that,” you mused, spotting the restaurant as you neared your starting point.

“It is.” He exhaled, the faintest smile on his lips. “I was lucky to experience that kind of love.”

You hesitated, then said, “I know it’s not my place, but… I think you should try again. Maybe you’ll find someone else who makes you happy. Maybe you’ll get to experience love like that again.”

He chuckled. “You know, sometimes I think she’s up there saying the exact same thing.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. That’s the kind of person she was.” His voice was steady, no trace of sadness—just reminiscent and fond. “She wouldn’t want me to be lonely just because she’s gone. That’s why, instead of grieving, I chose to live. I still revisit the places we loved, still carry those memories with me—but I do it with a happy heart. And if someone else comes along, someone who changes my life the way she did…” He shrugged, smiling softly. “Then I’ll welcome her with open arms.”

You nodded, returning his smile as you reached the stairs leading up to the seawall. He offered his hand for balance, and you took it without hesitation. At the top, you slipped off his coat and handed it back.

“I think we both know that someone isn’t me,” you quipped, prompting him to tilt his head playfully.

“Well…” He slipped his coat back on. “You’re a lovely woman, and I probably would’ve fallen for you in no time, but nah. I don’t think so.”

You both laughed.

“I’m big on soulmates and destiny, you know?” he continued. “I like to believe that if she’s out there, I’ll know. There has to be a sign. Or a feeling. I don’t know exactly what, but when it happens… I’ll just know.”

You felt an odd sense of familiarity with him, not in a romantic way, but in a way that made you feel like you’d known him much longer than just tonight. He was proving once again that you two were more alike than you’d expected.

“That’s funny,” you mused. “Because I actually came here to fulfill my destiny.”

You giggled at how ridiculous you sounded, but Jay only looked intrigued. “You did?”

“Yeah. I was looking for my soulmate. I got his name when I was thirteen, and ever since then, I believed he was the one for me.”

Jay stopped walking, staring at you with growing realization. “Wait,” he said slowly. “Don’t tell me…”

You winced. “Yeah. The Ouija board gave me your name, Mr. Jay Park.”

His eyes widened. He covered his mouth with one hand, but you could see the laughter threatening to spill out.

“Don’t laugh,” you warned. “I’m embarrassed enough as it is.”

He pressed his lips together, but amusement danced in his eyes. “I’m not judging.”

You threw your head back with a laugh. “It’s ridiculous, isn’t it? Now that I think about it, my friend or my sister was probably behind the whole thing. They must’ve rigged the board or something.”

Jay grinned. “Hey, who knows? Maybe you were right to come here.”

You snorted. “No offense, Jay, but I don’t want to be the stand-in for your great love.”

He laughed. “That’s not what I was gonna say.”

“Oh? My bad. Go on, then.”

“I’m saying… you came here looking for something. At first, you thought it was me. But maybe what you were really chasing was your destiny. And maybe, if you stick around a little longer, you’ll find what you’re looking for.”

ou caught a glimpse of Jake at the restaurant’s veranda. He had a glass of wine in hand, which he downed a little too quickly when he realized you’d caught him looking. Then, as if it hadn’t happened, he turned away, pretending to be absorbed in conversation with Andre and Katie. Not even a few seconds later, he stole another glance, only to look away again just as fast.

Meanwhile, Jay was still talking. “I always believe that everything you do, everywhere you go, everyone you meet, you meet them for a reason. The reason was destiny. Destiny brought you to Italy. I’m sure she has big plans for you.”

You froze. A sudden sense of déjà vu swept over you. You’d heard that before from Jake. A friend said it to him. Was that friend Jay Park?

“You know what? I agree,” you muttered, still watching Jake from afar. Then, turning to Jay, you asked, “Hey, listen.”

“Hm?”

“Are you sure you’re not just saying that to be a wingman for your friend?” The accusation in your tone was light, but you were determined to know the truth.

Jay blinked. “What friend?”

“Jake Sim.”

“Oh, Jake?” He looked thoughtful. “No, the last time I saw him was in Rome.” Then, after a beat, he added, “Didn’t you say he was here too?”

“He is.”

Jay perked up. “Great. We should all meet for a drink.”

“We should. Look. He’s right there.” You gestured toward the restaurant. “Would you like to join us? We’re here with some friends.”

“I’d love to.”

“No need to call him. He's right there,” you said, pointing at the restaurant. “Would you like to join us? We're here together with some friends.”

“I would love to.”

Back inside, you led Jay to the bar, introducing him to Katie and Andre—making sure to subtly warn Katie not to act weird around him. You had drinks by the bar, chatting and laughing through the night. 

Jay fit in effortlessly, and Andre took an immediate liking to him, prodding him for stories about his travels. Jake, on the other hand, barely looked at you. His attention was fixed on Jay and Andre, his expression was unreadable, though he chimed in every now and then. 

You, meanwhile, stood by, sipping your drink, quietly laughing along while thinking hard about the Jay Park that you obsessed over, Jake Sim who you thought was Jay, and the fate that brought the three of you here in the beautiful Amalfi.

“Are you okay?” Katie asked, noticing your silence.

“Yeah, I’m just tired,” you replied. It wasn’t even an excuse. You really were tired and just wanted the night to end.

“We can go back now if you want,” Katie offered, her concern evident.

You appreciated it, but after seeing how cozy she was with Andre, you didn’t want to ruin her night. “I’ll be fine. I can go back by myself. You guys have fun.”

Slipping away quietly, you left her to explain your absence to the others. The stairs leading to your suite were winding, and as you ascended, a wave of dizziness hit you. You weren’t drunk—just a little tipsy from the wine and dizzy from all the thoughts about Jaek swirling in your mind. 

You huffed when you reached the second-floor landing. One more set of stairs and you’d reach your suite, so you inhaled and took another step. But you ended up losing balance on your heels and falling over. The next thing you knew, you were on the floor, the impact more frustrating than painful.

“Hey,” came a voice from below, followed by hurried footsteps. Jake reached you quickly, eyes scanning you in concern as he helped you up. “What happened?”

“Your shoes are stupid,” you grumbled, yanking them off and standing with his support. “Why would you even give them to me?”

Jake let out an awkward chuckle. “I don’t know. I saw them and thought you’d look great in them.”

“Well, I did. But they’re crap,” you huffed.

Jake sighed as he walked up the stairs beside you. “Was the date bad? You seem to be in a mood.”

“No. The date was great. Jay is a great guy. He’s funny, he’s nice, and he’s honest.” You emphasized the last word, making sure he caught your point.

Jake exhaled. “I’m sorry. I really am. I brought you here to make it up to you. But seeing that you’re still mad, I guess it didn’t work?”

You stopped in front of your door and turned to him with a stern gaze. “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why did you bring me here?”

“I told you. I wanted to make it up to you.”

You sighed. “By setting me up with your friend? I thought you were in love with me.”

“I am!” he confessed, running a hand through his hair. “But you were mad at me because I messed up.” He let out a defeated sigh. “So to apologize for wasting your time, here’s Jay Park.”

“But you’re in love with me,” you repeated.

“That’s still true.”

You sighed as frustration swelled inside you. Dropping your purse, you reached for his collar and clutched it tightly. “Then why?” you asked, voice raw, close to breaking. “Why would you set me up with him if you’re in love with me?”

Jake seemed startled, his hands instinctively gripping your elbows. Confusion flickered across his face as he searched for the right words. “I… What—What do you want me to say?”

“You even bought me shoes,” you went on, voice shaking. “What if we ended up liking each other? What if he really was my soulmate? Were you just gonna let me go?”

“Fuck, no,” he blurted, quick and desperate, cupping your face in both hands. “I’d fight him for you. I’d keep trying until you told me to get lost. Hell, I’d even follow you back to Seoul and stop your wedding.” His grip tightened, his breath warm against your skin. “If I lost you here—if I missed this chance—I would… I would…”

He exhaled sharply, pulling you into a hug, burying his face in the crook of your neck. “I would never forgive myself,” he murmured.

You stood still, feeling his warmth seep into you, his breaths unsteady against your skin.

He kept going. “I know how stupid it sounds to fall in love with someone so quickly, but I did. I fell in love with you the moment I saw you. I knew you were the one for me. I knew you were everything that was meant to be.” He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes. “And I’m sorry I lied, but I did it because I was scared I’d lose you forever without even knowing your name.”

Your lips parted, but no words came out. Instead, you reached for his cheek, your fingers tracing over his skin as you stepped closer. Then, without hesitation, you kissed him.

He croaked out your name but you silenced him by kissing him again. This time, when you started to pull away, he didn’t let you. His hands found your waist, pulling you flush against him as he kissed you back with everything he had, reeling you into a surge of sensations and emotions that clouded your head. 

When he pulled away for a brief moment to look into your eyes, you wanted to reach for him again, to feel him and be engulfed by his warmth again.

“Take me, Jake,” you pleaded and that made Jake exhale sharply before holding your hand firmly and pulling you into his room.

Jake barely made it two steps inside before he kicked the door shut, hands already roaming your back as his lips devoured yours. Your fingers fumbled at the buttons of his shirt, impatient and desperate. The fabric slipped from his shoulders and hit the floor just as his own hands worked at the fastenings of your dress.

A sharp rip echoed through the dimly lit room. You pulled back, gasping. “Jake!”

“Sorry, love,” he murmured, unapologetic as he tugged you close again. “I’ll get you a new one.”

His lips found yours before you could argue, his kiss hot and consuming, stealing your breath and any lingering protests. He stepped back until his knees hit the bed, sinking down and pulling you with him, your legs straddling his lap. The heat between you intensified, kisses turning feverish—tongues tangling, teeth grazing. His hands slid up your back, deft fingers unclasping your bra with ease, and before you could react, it was gone, flung somewhere into the room. You barely noticed.

His lips traveled down your throat, dragging slow, open-mouthed kisses along your skin, leaving heat in their wake. When his teeth scraped over your pulse, a gasp escaped you. He sucked at the spot, hard enough that you knew it would leave a mark.

You knew how it would look in the morning and you knew everyone would see it but you didn’t mind. The thought of people seeing it tomorrow, seeing proof of tonight, made your head spin.

Your hips rolled against him instinctively, and he groaned, his grip tightening on your waist as you ground down, desperate for friction. His hands roamed greedily, fingers tracing your curves, learning every inch of your skin.

Then, in one swift motion, he flipped you onto the bed, hovering over you, eyes dark and full of hunger. The dress, or what remained of it, slid off with ease, leaving you bare and naked beneath him. Jake’s gaze burned as he took you in, his breath ragged and quick. He reached out, trailing the back of his fingers over your cheek, slow and reverent.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, voice raw. “It hurts.”

Your fingers curled around his wrist, guiding his touch lower, placing his palm right on your breast. “Touch me, Jake,” you pleaded, voice barely above a breath.

His lips parted, a hushed curse falling from them before he obeyed, hands mapping out the softness of your body, fingers exploring, worshipping.

His lips followed the same path, leaving heated kisses down your collarbone, between your breasts, along your stomach. He palmed your breast, kneading firmly before diving in to put his mouth where his hand had been. Your fingers curled in his hair, urging him on, desperate for more. 

“You’re impatient,” he murmured against your skin, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“Jake,” you whined, arching into him, seeking friction.

He chuckled, hands gripping your thighs, pushing them apart. His head followed, teasing at your inner thighs, exploring and inching closer to where you want him to be. The closer he got, the quicker you breathed, and when he finally gave you what you wanted, a gasp tore from your throat.

Your fingers tightened in his hair as pleasure rolled through you in waves. He was relentless, lapping and sucking at your sensitive sex, memorizing which angle made your breath hitch and your body twitched. When your thighs trembled around him, he only gripped you harder, keeping you exactly where he wanted you. 

The pleasure built higher and higher until it crashed over you, leaving you breathless and dazed.

Before you could fully come down, Jake was already moving, lips trailing back up your body, whispering sweet nothings against your skin. He kissed you deeply, letting you taste yourself on his tongue, while his hands slid down your thigh, folding your knees up.

“I need you,” he rasped against your lips, his forehead pressed to yours, breath unsteady.

“Then take me,” you whispered, wrapping your legs around him, pulling him closer.

His gaze locked onto yours, dark and filled with something deeper than lust—something consuming. He reached down to tug his boxers off, manhood springing free. He prodded at your sex, teasing just enough to make you whimper before finally pushing in, stretching you, filling you completely.

A grunt left his lips as he halted, savoring the delightful clench. “Fuck,” he groaned, eyes fluttering shut, as if trying to keep himself together.

Your fingers dug into his back, and you lifted your hips, urging him to move. That was all it took for him to snap, his control falling apart as he began to set a steady rhythm—deep, slow thrusts that had you gasping into his mouth. He kissed you through it, swallowing your moans, his own sounds muffled against your lips.

When you came here, you never imagined having sex with someone, not even the soulmate you were desperately searching for. And Jake—he was a stranger, and the way he made you feel was something entirely new. You’d always been the sensual kind, taking things slow and steady. Jake was steady, but rough. Each thrust sent a sharp, delightful ache through you, unraveling you in ways you hadn’t known were possible.

You gasped, clutching onto him as he moved, hitting that perfect spot that sent your mind spinning. The pleasure built rapidly, coiling tight in your stomach, making you cry out his name.

He moved harder, deeper, chasing his release as you spiraled toward yours. Every thrust, every touch, every breath between you pushed you closer until—

“Oh, Jake,” you gasped, holding onto him for dear life as waves of pleasure surged through you in a dizzying rush.

His movements turned erratic, his grip tightening as he buried his face against your neck, groaning as he followed right after you. His body tensed, and then he froze, his breath warm against your skin as he came undone.

For a long moment, neither of you moved, tangled together, breathless and spent. The only sound was your unsteady shallow breaths, and the pounding of your heartbeats.

Jake finally lifted his head. “Fuck,” he blurted, looking down at your fucked out expression and grinning. He leaned to place a lazy kiss to your lips before rolling onto his side, pulling you against him. 

“Well,” he murmured, his voice hoarse. “That wasn’t how I planned to end the night, but I’m not complaining.”

You let out a breathless laugh, nuzzling into his chest. “Me neither,” you admitted.

His arms tightened around you, and he pressed another kiss to your forehead, murmuring something against your skin that you couldn’t quite catch. But you felt it—in the way he held you, the way he touched you.

And somehow, that was enough.

Two years later, you stood at the podium, facing the person who would be officiating your wedding. Friends and family were present to witness this day, even Andre Marchetti—who, much to Jake’s grumbling, turned out to be the son of the Italian shoemaker he loathed. He and Katie had ended their fling before you left Italy, but he still earned an invitation for playing a role in your love story.

Park Sunghoon was there too, holding his beautiful baby girl in his arms, his wife beaming beside him. The two of you had remained good friends, and as fate willed it, he had even found his own destiny and married before you. Everything had fallen into place, just as you always believed it would.

And now, standing before Jake, it felt like everything had been leading to this moment. He cleared his throat, rolling his shoulders like he was shaking off nerves. Then he smirked—because of course he did—and said, “Before I met you, I never thought much about fate. To me, life was about choices, and love was just something you built, not something written in the stars. And then you happened.”

His grip on your hands tightened. “You came crashing into my life, with all your stubborn belief in destiny, and somehow, despite all my skepticism, I started to believe too. Not because of some cosmic plan, but because I couldn’t imagine a world where I don’t end up loving you. And that’s a big deal coming from someone like me.”

A small laugh rippled through the guests, but Jake kept his eyes locked on you. “So, I don’t know if the universe wrote this for us. But I do know that if I had to choose over and over again, I’d still end up right here. With you.” He tilted his head, smiling slightly. “Even when you drive me crazy.”

You let out a soft breath, eyes stinging, and squeezed his hands back. You tried to steel your resolve, willing yourself not to cry too soon. With a shaky breath, your spoke next, “I spent my whole life believing in destiny. I followed signs, searched for meaning in the smallest things, and held onto the belief that somewhere in this world, fate had written a love story just for me. But no sign, no name on a Ouija board, no whispered wish upon a falling star could have prepared me for you.”

Your voice wavered slightly, but you pushed through just like you’d practiced dozens of times before today. “You were unexpected, messy, and completely wrong by every rule I thought I had set for myself. And yet, I found you because, somehow, even through all my searching, all my mistakes, you were always meant to be the one.”

Jake exhaled, something flickering in his gaze that made your heart ache in the best way.

“I love you not because fate said so,” you continued, voice softer, “but because I wanted to. I chose you. So today, I don’t just promise to love you because it’s meant to be. I choose to love you, again and again, every day, in every lifetime, in every version of the story. I will always choose to love you.”

Jake swallowed hard, his hands tightening around yours, and when the officiant finally spoke, inviting you to seal it with a kiss, you surged forward before he even finished the sentence. The crowd erupted into cheers as Jake kissed you like it was the first time all over again, like he had been waiting for this moment his entire life. 

Across the room, Katie and your sister stood together, glasses in hand, watching as guests approached your table to greet you and congratulate you. At one point, Katie nudged your sister, motioning toward where you stood chatting with Jay Park. 

“Look, it’s Jay Park. The soulmate she was raving about for years. Looks like he played a completely different role in her destiny.”

“Jay Park?” your sister echoed, tapping her glass as she too stared at the guy greeting you and Jake.  “Why does that name sound familiar?”

 “The Jay Park. The one from the Ouija board. The soulmate the spirits chose for her.”

Your sister gasped. “Oh, yeah. The one I made up!” she exclaimed, bursting into laughter.

“What?” Katie questioned, confused.

“Jay Park. I made him up. I didn’t even think hard about it, I just randomly came up with that name.”

“No. You couldn’t have. I was there too.”

“Yeah and you were both dumb enough to freak out over moving glass so I kept messing with you all,” she laughed, taking a sip from her glass.

Katie was fully scandalized. “Do you have any idea how long she held onto that name? She was online searching every Jay Park on the internet and guessing which one was her soulmate. She even had a crush on the singer Jay Park because of it!”

“Of course I know. It was hilarious,” your sister said with a shrug. “She stopped bringing it up, so I figured she got over it.”

Katie sighed in exasperation. “Eonnie, we literally flew to Italy for Jay Park. That’s how she met Jake.”

It was your sister’s turn to gasp. “No, you did not!”

“Well, we did,” Katie deadpanned. “And now she believes the Ouija board led her to Jay so he could lead her to Jake, her real soulmate.”

“Oh my poor sister,” she winced. “Who’s gonna tell her?”

“Don’t tell her,” Katie chided, shaking her head. “She’d freak out and she’ll never forgive you. That almost happened with Jake.”

You, oblivious to their conversation, laughed at something Jay had said, completely unaware of the revelation unfolding behind your back.

But then again—who’s to say your sister’s innocent little prank wasn’t destiny’s design all along?

[fin]

[athenaeum-of-the-herald]

Types of Divination

I recently saw my friend Dagan ( @olympianbutch ) respond to an ask about his forms of divination and thought it'd be fun to go over the ones I know of! A lot of people know of tarot and pendulum but there's so many more that deserve to be be tried and maybe someone will find a new method that works for them ♡

• 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐬 •

Tarot- One of if not THE most well-known forms of divination. Tarot typically consists of a 78 card deck with 22 major arcana cards and 56 minor cards. These cards typically have a set and known meaning universally across all decks.

Lenormand- A (usually) 36 card deck typically used for fortune telling. As opposed to tarot, lenormand is read in a sequence and is considered more straightforward than tarot. One of the most common readings for lenormand would he The Grand Tableau, which uses the entire deck to create a "snapshot".

Oracle Cards- Oracle cards vary vastly across different decks, as each deck has different cards with different meanings. They typically create a more specific answer than tarot.

Cartomancy- Tarot is often confused as cartomancy, but cartomancy is its own separate divination style. Cartomancy typically involves using a deck of playing cards for divining questions. It has its own reading system separate from tarot and usually involves some numerology in its deciphering.

• 𝐍𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐬 •

Capnomancy (smoke reading)- Divining messages and answers from smoke. Incense smoke is one of the most common, but other fire sources producing smoke can be used.

Geomancy- Divination done through identifying patterns created in the earth (or on paper). The diviner will create geomantic figures at random (with 16 possible combinations) and divine messages and answers from them.

Hydromancy- Divining through water by observing reflections and ripples (either naturally occurring or created.

Botanomancy- A method that involves burning herbs, plants, or branches and diving messages/identifying energies through the smoke and flames.

Cledonomancy- A method involving "overheard words". The diviner will cover their ears while asking their question or for advice, leave their location, and then unplug their ears. The words and sounds they hear will be their response. This was typically done while asking the Hermes Agoraios questions and leaving the agora/walking away from the statue.

• 𝐈𝐭𝐞𝐦 𝐒𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜 •

Pendulum (dowsing)- A form of divination that uses a pendant, typically on an evenly distributed chain or cord, to divine messages. The most common way it's done is by asking the pendulum (or spirits/entities etc) how the pendulum will swing for yes, no, and maybe answers. It is also common to use a pendulum board which has set spaces for yes, no, maybe, and occasionally letters for more refined answers.

Ouija- Also known as a spirit board, a suitable board consists of a board with yes, no, and alphabet, and goodbye at the bottom. A planchette is used to spell messages from the spirit/entity and answer auestions. It is known practice to always end an ouija board session by sliding the planchette to the "goodbye" section of the board.

Scrying- A divination method typically involving an obsidian mirror, a crystal ball, a pool of water in darkness, etc. A candle is commonly lit and the diviner falls into a trance-like state in which they'll see images and scenes depicted in the reflections.

Ceromancy (Wax reading)- A method that commonly involves the diviner pouring candle wax into water and deciphering the imagery seen above and below the surface of the water.

Tasseography (Tea reading)- Divination involving a tea cup and the leaves of the tea. The majority of the tea is drank, leaving just a small amount in the cup. The remaining leaves in the cup are interpreted typically for fortune telling.

Bibliomancy- The opening of a book to a random page and line/passage to divine messages and answers.

Astragalomancy (dice casting)- Throwing dice, typically to divine short answers. The reader will usually assign meaning to each number of the dice, the most common being yes, no, maybe.

I'm definitely missing more than a few, and several of these have been described to their bare minimum because they're fairly complex (ie, geomancy), but I had fun making this list regardless. Maybe I'll make in-depth posts about some of the more complex ones.

Regardless! I hope you found this informative in any way. Safe travels ♡

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

can you see the stars in your dreams (and do they have a lot to say about me) - Part 9

Or: a secret Admirer AU

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

Jeff calls her. It’s the first time they’ve spoken on the phone, and something flutters in her chest.

“How did you get this number?” she asks, finger twirling the coiled wire of the phone as she smiles down at her socked feet.

“There’s only one Cunningham in the phone book, Chrissy,” he replies, all dry wit—she can almost see the smirk on his face. “It’s not exactly rocket science.”

She laughs, shuffling around her kitchen, suddenly desperate to move, but she’s leashed to the wall by her phone’s cord, so it’s only about four steps each way until she’s bungee-corded back to the starting point.

“Smartass.”

Jeff laughs this time, quiet the way he always is, but her chest feels like a supernova’s exploding in it. “But that’s not why I called.”

Chrissy’s smile fixes to her face before drooping down into her shoes with her gut. “What’s wrong?” she asks, now standing statuesque in her kitchen, cold tiles leaching all the warmth from her feet even through her thick socks.

“Nothing,” Jeff sighs, and there’s a crackling sound, like he’s rubbing his face in exhaustion. “Just—Steve drove me home.”

“Is he okay?” she asks, clenching the phone hard enough in her hand that the cheap plastic creaks.

“I think so?” Jeff replies, sounding unsure. “He just seems sad, man.”

Steve and Jeff don’t spend a lot of time together, but he’s been around enough that she trusts his judgment.

Steve is sad.

Chrissy wants to sink down to the cold tile beneath her and never get up. Instead, she shuffles back over to the phone and swings herself up onto the countertop—what her mother doesn’t know won’t hurt her. Her heels clack against the cupboards noisily, broadcasting her restlessness even as the worry sinks straight through her.

“What about?” she asks, already knowing the answer.

“He thinks Eddie hates him.”

Chrissy sucks in a breath and lets it shudder out before biting her lip against the next logical question. “Does he?”

“He thinks he does,” Jeff replies promptly. “But he definitely doesn’t.”

Chrissy hums, too lost in her own head to think of a reply. It doesn’t matter what Eddie feels if the effect is the same: a sad Steve Harrington.

“I don’t think you guys should do this anymore,” Jeff says, snapping her out of her spiral.

“I know,” she groans, shoulders slumping. “But Steve’s hellbent on keeping it up.”

He sighs again, muttering, “boys,” with such a defeated air that she can’t help but laugh again.

“You just keep an eye on yours, and I’ll do the same for mine,” she says, smile audible in her voice. “Deal?”

“I feel like yours is a bit easier to wrangle than mine,” Jeff scoffs, a twinge of bitterness leaking into his tone.

And he’s right; Eddie still hasn’t even told Jeff about the letters he’s been getting, much less asked his opinion on them. Steve, at least, keeps her appraised of his next moves, shares his feelings, and asks for her help even if he won’t always take her advice.

So, when Steve’s acting weird when she sees him the next morning—all shifty-eyed and nervous—she doesn’t ask. He’ll tell her when he’s ready. Besides, the hallway’s too crowded, and she’s got a sneaking suspicion that it has something to do with her and Jeff’s conversation last night.

She’s proved right when they hit the library at lunch instead of the cafeteria, and Steve barely waits until they’re settled in their usual table, feet interlaced.

“He hates me,” Steve whispers.

“He doesn’t hate you.”

Steve pouts across at her, bottom lip stuck out like a puppy dog as he accuses, “you’ve been talking to Jeff.”

Chrissy bites her lip. “I always talk to Jeff.”

He rolls his eyes, but it seems to lift his spirits. “Did you ask him out yet?”

“Shut up.” She kicks him beneath the table until he laughs.

Without further preamble, he pulls a piece of paper from his bag and pushes it across to her. She expects the latest note from Eddie, having yet to read the last one, but it’s not—it’s a letter from Steve, clearly responding to something she’s yet to see.

“Did you pick up the letter yourself?” she asks, panic sinking through her. He could get caught, and then all their subterfuge will be for nothing. She might lose her best friend. 

“Yeah,” Steve mutters, so shyly that she can’t bear to chastise him further. “What do you think?”

She reads it again, trying to look past the panic to the words in front of her. “It’s good,” she says, and it is. “Do you want to send it like this?”

His handwriting is barely legible, even to her with her weeks of practice, and there’s a few misspellings, but she’ll do whatever he wants, forever and always. But he shakes his head, and asks, “Will you edit it?”

“Can I see the one you’re responding to?” she asks.

He pulls it out of his bag and pushes it across the table without a complaint. She picks it up and begins to read.

         Secret Admirer,

         There was a little hiccup with my guitar and plugging her in, but otherwise it went great! All four of the drunks at the Hideout clapped politely when we were done, and not even one of them booed us off stage!

         The riff is still getting on my last nerve, darling, you have no idea. I wish I could hear you play, I bet you’d inspire me so much, a stroke of genius would strike me and I’d know exactly what I’m missing.

         (I don’t know how to ride a bike. My dad was never around to teach me, and by the time I moved in with Uncle Wayne, I was too old to learn.)

         Darling, did you dream of me? Was it a naughty dream?

         Yours,

         Eddie

P.S. The Lord of the Rings is the name of the whole trilogy, so I hope you find it in The Fellowship. Can’t believe you don’t even know Tolkein. It’s okay, baby, I like you anyway. 

She smiles when she’s done, kicking him beneath the table as she asks, “Does this sound like someone who hates you?”

If anything, Steve just gets droopier. “It’s for you,” he mumbles, and she doesn’t have anything to say.

Chrissy squeezes his foot tighter between her own in a pantomime of a hug.

Even with his newfound pessimism, he carefully rereads her edited words once she’s done. He smiles down at it, clearly cheered by the act of writing to Eddie.

“It looks great, Chris,” he says genuinely, as if she’d done more than correct his spelling and rewrite his letter word for word.

“Thanks,” she replies, smiling across at him, relieved his spirits have risen. “Now, let’s drop this in his locker so he doesn’t have to wait too long to read your lovely letter.”

Steve’s ears turn red with embarrassment, but he dutifully wraps his arm around her waist and leads her out of the library.

Jason’s loitering outside of it, leaning against the wall like it’s a coincidence he’s here at all, but the way his eyes glare at the point where they’re in contact makes a liar out of him.

Steve seems to agree because he pulls her closer and asks, “problem, Carver?” in his snootiest King Steve voice.

Jason holds his hands up, smiling like this is all a coincidence, but he seems to have forgotten that Chrissy knows him, maybe better than anyone. She sees the way his arms are flexing, the way he’s baring his canines more than smiling, and it makes her feel on edge.

“No problem, man,” he replies, untold violence behind every word.

“Let’s just go,” she whispers to Steve.

She’s relieved when he nods, not sparing Jason another look as they take the most direct route to Eddie’s locker. He doesn’t respond until they’re well out of Jason’s hearing range. “That guy’s starting to really freak me out,” he says, talking quietly still, even after putting all this distance between them.

Chrissy sighs. The thing is, she still misses Jason, but the Jason she misses is at least a year dead and gone. Now, all that’s left of him is someone who wants to own her.

“Me, too.”

*** 

There’s something different about the letter he finds in his locker this time.

  Eddie —

  You were the best damn thing those drunks have ever seen, hands down. No, before you ask, I wasn’t there. But when I had that letter under my pillow, I dreamed a little dream (not naughty, I know you’re disappointed, sorry). I don’t remember the songs, but I remember the way you looked for me in the crowd and smiled. All the dream people gave you a standing ovation, me loudest of all.

  You’re never too old to learn to ride a bike. My dad didn’t teach me either, but a friend did. Maybe someday, I could be that friend for you, and when I tell you I won’t let go, you can rest easy knowing I’m not lying.

  Sincerely,

  Your Secret Admirer

  P.S. I know it’s still winter, but I’ll meet you in A Midsummer Night’s Dream.

The handwriting is just the same, and it’s as sweet as always, but still. There’s—something Eddie can’t quite put his finger on no matter how many times he rereads the letter. Maybe he should have paid more attention in English class instead of always working on his next campaign.

He watches Chrissy when she’s not paying attention, trying to figure out what’s changed, but Harrington always catches him and stares him down like a dog marking his territory.

It leaves him flushed, desperately trying to focus on whatever he’s supposed to be doing. By the time he looks up, Harrington’s always moved onto something else.

Maybe it’s just because they know each other now, spend time with each other, are even becoming friends? Eddie doesn’t mind, as long as the letters keep coming. He might even like this letter best of all. It feels more honest, real somehow, like he’s peeling back the layers of bullshit obfuscation to get to the truth of who she is.

He hopes it lasts.

It’s hard to write his own letter back, to meet that same level of transparency to someone who, despite now having a name and face, still feels like a nebulous being. A nebulous being whose favorite color he knows, who’s insecurities feel like they’re his own, whose words he’s stroked on the page late at night while unable to sleep.

He tries to pour that same energy back into his letter.

  Secret Admirer,

  I wish I could dream about you, too. I want to know your face well enough to hold it in my mind, even unconscious. I want to lay my head on my pillow tonight and know that you’ll be waiting for me in dreamland, ready to be the best groupie a guy could ask for.

  The truth is, no one’s loved me before. No one’s liked me, or kissed me, or held my hand during a scary movie. And, that’s scarier than any movie could ever be. Because, you’re it, baby. The one and only, and all that shit.

  I’ve got friends, and that’s enough for me! It really is! But a part of me just wants to hold someone’s hand—your hand. Maybe we can someday. Maybe we can do all the things we’ve talked about: go to a drive-in, play music together, learn to ride a bike. But even if we never do, I’m grateful for every one of these letters. Being wanted is new to me, and I’m not ready to give it up.

  Yours, always,

  Eddie

He steps into the Shakespeare section once more and slips the note into A Midsummer Night’s Dream and promptly tries his best to forget about it. It doesn’t work.

He wants a response immediately, dreads waiting the typical days it takes for a letter to appear in his locker, so no one can blame him for panicking.

“Do you want to come to a Corroded Coffin practice?” Eddie blurts after the latest Hellfire session.

Chrissy’s brow’s all furrowed up as she asks, “Corroded Coffin?”

Eddie’s surprised she doesn’t already know. He’s mentioned it at least once in one of his letters; does she not spend her nights pouring over the words like he does? Does she not have every dotted i and crossed t seared into her retinas?

His intestines wriggle around in his body, fingers itching to tear his letter into tiny little pieces before she reads his desperate, yearning words.

“My band,” Eddie replies, his response overlapping eerily with Harrington’s, “his band.”

Chrissy smirks between them but Eddie barely notices, too caught up in staring at Harrington. “How do you know that?” he demands.

Harrington’s shoulders curl, like Eddie’s the threat here as he mutters his response barely loud enough to hear over the sounds of the other Hellfire members packing up, “uh, the middle school talent show?”

Eddie’s lip quirks up as Harrington looks up from his own shoes and meets Eddie’s eyes. “You remember that?”

Harrington snorts. “Hard to forget, dude.”

Harrington’s smiling—he’s never noticed before but it’s a little off center, just enough to be endearing. Eddie smiles back helplessly, taking a step forward as he asks, “the king remembers little old me?”

He gets a laugh this time, Harrington’s eyes almost crinkling shut with his amusement. He’s got a nice laugh. Eddie’s never noticed before, hasn’t heard anything from him that wasn’t at least a little snide.

Eddie opens his mouth, desperate to elicit that noise again, when Chrissy pointedly clears her throat and reality comes rushing back in—what was that? He snaps his gaze back to her, shuffling his feet, feeling absurdly guilty. For what? Being nice to her boyfriend?

“When is it?” she asks.

It takes him a minute to remember what they were talking about. “Oh!” he exclaims, taking a step back when he realizes how close he’s gotten. “Uh, tomorrow night in Gareth’s garage.”

Chrissy’s smiling, but there’s something sly about it, Eddie knows, watching the flashing of her eyes, that Chrissy Cunningham knows what evil is and has the capacity to perform it. So much for his pet theory that she’s actually a golden retriever stuffed into a human girl’s body.

“Can Steve come?” When Eddie frowns, shifting his eyes to a red-eared Harrington standing stock-still beside her, she continues, “it’s just, Jason’s been a little intense lately?”

Carver’s name seems to bring Harrington back to life. He damn-near growls as he wraps his arm around Chrissy’s waist. “The word you’re looking for is stalkery.”

She snorts, “not a word, but yeah.”

Now that they mention it, Carver has seemed to be within arm’s reach of Chrissy for a while now, loitering on her fringes with his arms crossed like he’s staking his claim, even all these months after they broke up.

“Sure,” Eddie replies, and he means it. Harrington can come if it keeps Eddie from ending up on the wrong side of Carver’s fists. “Harrington can come.”

Harrington’s ears flush again, and he mutters an awkward, “thank you,” before leading Chrissy out of the drama room.

Once they’ve cleared out, Gareth sighs, long and loud as he says, “band practice is going to be so awkward.”

Eddie glares at him, having forgotten entirely about his audience while talking to Harrington and Chrissy. “Oh, it won’t be so bad.”

“Yeah, right,” Doug snorts, shouldering his bag and heading toward the door.

“Oh, ye of little faith!” he replies as all three of them head out the door, Jeff having inexplicably already left despite Eddie being his usual ride home on Hellfire days. “It’ll be fine!”

Before he drives the guys home, he doubles back to the library to try and steal back his note, but it’s too late: the doors are locked and by the morning, the note’s sure to be gone.

They’re right; band practice is awkward, and it’s not even Eddie’s fault. It’s not even Harrington’s fault. It’s Jeff’s.

“You look nice today,” Jeff says, looking directly at Chrissy, who blushes.

He’s right, she does look nice in a cute pink cardigan and some light-wash jeans that fit her well. It’s not Eddie’s style, but it suits her. But Jeff doesn’t have to say it while her boyfriend is standing right there.

“Thanks,” she says, smiling at Jeff.

Harrington just keeps standing there while Jeff does what can only be described as flirting, with his girlfriend. Everyone else carries on like this is normal, but Gareth’s sending him crazy-eyed looks proving that Eddie’s not the only sane one.

Doug’s too busy practicing his riffs, sure, and Jeff’s clearly gone off the deep end, but Harrington? What’s his excuse?

When he’d been dating Wheeler, he’d been all over her at all times, monopolizing her time whenever possible. And sure, Chrissy and Harrington are always together, but there’s never more than an arm around her waist or sitting close together. He’s never even seen them kiss.

And now here he is, letting Jeff flirt with his girlfriend right in front of him.

Eddie just doesn’t get it.

Corroded Coffin’s a fucking mess, Gareth keeping a beat only he can hear, Eddie missing every other note, and Jeff too busy looking at Chrissy to keep tempo. Only Doug is on his game, clearly getting more and more fed up with each new fuck-up.

Chrissy stays by Jeff’s side, whispering with him between songs while Harrington flops down on the couch and watches them play like it’s his own, personal concert.

Eddie can’t take his eyes off Steve. He wants to peel the guy like an onion, figure out what makes him tick, what makes him smile, why the hell he’s here in Gareth’s smelly garage watching his girlfriend make eyes at Jeff while she writes love letters to Eddie in her free time.

He wants to know.

He just—

Wants.

*** 

Steve’s words have been echoing around her brain for days—have you asked him out yet? It’s ridiculous, but before he’d said those words, she’d never even considered it as an option. Boys ask girls out, that’s how it works. But if Steve can like a boy, she can ask out Jeff.

That doesn’t make it any less scary though. She sits on the revelation for a few days more, watching Jeff out of the corner of her eye, flirting back after he instigates. But that’s the problem, isn’t it? It’s still him instigating.

“I’m going to ask him out,” she tells Steve, not looking at him as they walk into the school together, too afraid of what she’ll see.

“Yeah?” he asks, bumping their shoulders together. “When?”

When she glances his way, he’s grinning ear to ear. She huffs, “I don’t know, soon?” Looking away so she doesn’t have to see that sly look on his face. “It’s just so scary.”

“I know, Chris,” he says, bumping into her again and again just to annoy her. “But you’re the strongest person I know.”

She doesn’t feel strong—she feels like a breeze might swipe her feet out from under her, but Steve believes in her. Steve thinks she’s strong, and she told him she’d ask Jeff out, so she will.

So, when Jeff next slides into her passenger seat, she starts the car and drives away without saying a word.

This has become something of a habit lately—if there’s no Hellfire, she drives Jeff home. Usually they talk, or turn on music they both like and sing along. The quiet has his feet tapping and fingers picking at the seam of his jeans. He grows more restless with each minute that passes.

“Chrissy?” he asks finally, a shyness to his voice that she’s not used to hearing. From the first time they’d spoken, he’s been confident—quiet, yeah, but assured. “Are you okay?”

Unable to take the waver of his voice sitting down, Chrissy veers off the side of the road, holding her arm out to keep Jeff from smacking into the dash at the abrupt change in momentum. She puts the thing in park, takes off her seatbelt, and turns in her seat to face Jeff head-on.

His eyes are wide, clearly freaked out by her erratic behavior, but he still unlatches his own seatbelt and mimics her position, awkwardly pulling his feet beneath him when it becomes clear his legs are too long to fit.

She’s helplessly charmed; it may just be Steve and Eddie’s letters rubbing off on her, but she wants to reach out and take his hand. So she does.

His fingers jerk in hers, pulling back a little like it’s instinct before he drops his hand on the console separating them and lets her link their fingers together. Even with the heater on, the interior of her car’s cold enough that his skin scalds against hers, sending a shudder through her.

“Is this the part where you murder me?” he asks, squeezing her hand. “Because if so, let me know.”

“So you can run away?” she asks, grateful for the moment of levity.

“No, because I’m a gentleman,” he replies, winking at her, “and I can help dig the grave, save you some work.”

Chrissy laughs, once again captivated by him. He’s a nerd, how is he so gosh darn charming? Her cheeks hurt, her heart hurts, her whole body is tingling with the anticipation of what she’s about to do.

“Chrissy—“

“Will you go out with me?” she asks, slapping her hand over her mouth when she realizes she interrupted him. She closes her eyes, entirely mortified. “Shoot, sorry!”

His hand spasms in hers before he tightens his hold. “You’re…” he starts, hand shaking in hers. She opens her eyes, horrible visions of him crying dancing behind her lids, but he’s laughing, whole body moving with the effort of suppressing it. “You’re apologizing for the best moment of my life?”

She laughs, too, helpless not to. “Is that a yes, or are you just laughing at me?”

He hums, tilting his head closer to hers, chuckles finally fading away as he replies, “can it be both?”

“Always.”

Chrissy bounces a little in her seat, vibrating with pent-up excitement. Maybe sometimes the girl can get the guy instead of the other way around.

He hums again, low down in his throat, and their gazes lock. The energy in her car is so electric her skin is buzzing with it. She wants to reach across the distance between them and steal a kiss. But girls don’t do that sort of thing. Girls aren’t supposed to—

She leans across the console separating them and kisses him, and kisses him, and kisses him. Jeff gasps into it, like he’s the one being electrocuted now, and suddenly his hand is out of hers, but that’s okay because it’s on her face now, drawing her closer, closer, closer, as he sucks on her bottom lip until she gasps.

She might have stayed in that position forever, craning her body uncomfortably forward like a sunflower toward the light, if she hadn’t shifted a little too far to the left into her car’s horn with a bony hip.

As it blares, they both jump apart, eyes wide, cheeks flushed, looking around for a threat that will never come.

“Oops,” she whispers, settling back into her seat, back protesting at the change of angle.

Jeff laughs, head thrown back, long throat on full display. She wants to bite it, but the moment’s long since broken, so she puts her seatbelt on and shifts back onto the road, cheeks flaming, heart warm.

“Does this mean you’re going to give me your letterman jacket?” he asks once he’s finally stopped laughing. “I’m not familiar with jocks courting rituals.”

Chrissy’s responding laugh isn’t her usual cultivated giggle—it’s a bark that makes Jeff grin at her. “Oh my goodness, can you even imagine the looks we’d get?”

“Or that Steve would.” Jeff replies. “But you’ve gotta admit, I’d look good in his jacket.”

She almost wants to do it for the drama, Eddie’s presence rubbing off on her surely, but it’s not quite worth doubling the lynch mobs that will already be after all of them.

“You realize this is only making this whole situation even messier, don’t you?” she asks, eyes on the road.

“Yeah,” Jeff sighs, but his fingers reach across the car and settle atop her hand where it’s clasping the stick shift. “But worth it, right?”

She’s been smiling so much that her cheeks hurt, but at that, she damn-near beams ear to ear. “Yeah, baby,” she says, heat pooling low in her stomach when Jeff lets out a soft little gasp. “You’re worth it.”

PART 10

[qiu-yan]

a sphinx guards the road. in typical sphinx fashion, it will only allow the travellers who best it in a competition of wits to pass, and will eat everyone else. however, the sphinx is tired of giving the same few riddles to everyone it encounters - thus, it instead declares that, if a traveller wants to pass, then the traveller must give the sphinx a riddle that the sphinx cannot answer.

---

wen chao asks the sphinx: "what has four legs in the morning, two legs in the afternoon, and three legs in the evening?"

"are you fucking kidding me," says the sphinx. wen chao is eaten.

---

wei wuxian asks the sphinx: "what has to be broken before you can use it? i’m tall when i’m young, and i’m short when I’m old - what am i? what has a heart that doesn’t beat? what comes once in a minute, twice in a moment, but never in a thousand years? the more of me you take, the more you leave behind - what am I? what can travel around the world while staying in the same corner? what has hands but can’t clap? i speak without a mouth and hear without ears; i have no body, but I come alive with wind - what am i? what gets wetter the more it dries? what is full of holes but still holds water?"

replies the sphinx: "an egg. a candle. an artichoke. the letter 'M'. footsteps. a stamp. a clock. an echo. a towel. a sponge."

"well damn," says wei wuxian, before he is eaten.

---

lan xichen asks the sphinx: "what is the air speed of an unladen swallow?"

replies the sphinx: "the airspeed velocity of an unladen European swallow is somewhere around 20.1 miles per hour; however, some may fly as fast as 46 miles per hour."

adds the sphinx: "also, monty python references are overdone these days."

"that last bit was unnecessary," says lan xichen as he is eaten.

---

jiang cheng asks the sphinx: "given the cone:

where a>0 and c>0 are constants, can you calculate the surface area of the cone, excluding the base?"

the sphinx scratches some figures into the dirt.

then, says the sphinx: "the area is as follows:

"how the fuck--" splutters jiang cheng, before he is eaten as well.

---

lan wangji asks the sphinx: "what does it mean to be a good person?"

the sphinx ponders this question for a while. then the sphinx responds at length, expounding upon all of the world's major moral philosophies, their similarities, and their differences. the sphinx discusses in great detail what philosophers such as confucius, laozi, aristotle, jeremy bentham, immanual kant, philipa foot, t. m. scanlon, and so on had to say about the matter.

after a lengthy and spirited discussion, lan wangji has to conclude that the sphinx has thoroughly addressed the question. therefore, lan wangji is eaten.

---

wei wuxian crawls out of the sphinx's stomach and demands another match. not seeing any reason to refuse, the sphinx gives him another turn.

says wei wuxian: "imagine that i give you three qiankun pouches: inside one of them is a lump of gold, while inside the other two are lumps of coal. after you pick one qiankun pounch, i (who know what's inside each pouch) open a different punch to reveal a lump of goal, and then ask if you want to switch your choice. should you switch?"

"i should switch," replies the sphinx. "if i switch, my chances of getting the lump of gold increase from 1/3 to 2/3."

"should've known it wouldn't be this easy," says wei wuxian as he is once more eaten.

---

jin guangyao asks the sphinx: "doha pz aol zxbhyl yvva vm mpmaf?"

the sphinx thinks about this for a moment. then, replies the sphinx: "hwwyvepthalsf zlclu wvpua glyv zlclu vul glyv zpe lpnoa, yvbuklk av zlclu zpnupmpjhua mpnbylz."

"well, it was worth a shot," sighs jin guangyao before he is eaten.

---

nie huaisang asks the sphinx: "can you tell me what my grandmother ate for dinner on this day 70 years ago?"

"she did eat dinner, yes?" asks the sphinx.

"she did.''

"then she ate food," replies the sphinx.

there is a long silence.

"well, i can't argue with that," says nie huaisang as he too is eaten.

---

wei wuxian again crawls out of the sphinx's stomach, and once more demands another match. the sphinx indulges him.

"if a barber only shaves every man in town who does not shave themselves, then does the barber shave himself?" asks wei wuxian.

"the barber transitions to female, so she does not shave herself," replies the sphinx.

"can an all-powerful god create a rock that is too heavy for god to lift?"

"i don't believe in god."

"what is the 130940119832th digit of pi?"

"it's somewhere between 0 and 9, inclusive."

"if you traveled back in time and prevented your grandparents from meeting, then how could you have existed to do it?"

"i cannot time travel."

"what's the largest prime number?"

"it's up there."

"motherfucker--" starts wei wuxian before he is again eaten.

---

jin zixuan approaches the sphinx. though the sphinx prompts him for a riddle immediately, for a moment he is silent. then, appearing rather downcast, he finally speaks.

"i really like jiang-guniang, but i've behaved so boorishly towards her that i fear she will no longer be willing to give me the time of day. how do i convince her to give me just one more chance?"

the sphinx thinks about this for a moment. then the sphinx thinks about this for another moment. then the sphinx begins to walk in circles, looking more and more frustrated.

finally, the sphinx speaks. "i don't know, man," it admits. "i think you might be cooked."

jin zixuan is allowed to pass. however, he does not seem happy about this at all.

[lightyaoigami]

☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ how to resume ⋆｡ﾟ☾｡⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎ ﾟ

after 10 years & 6 jobs in corporate america, i would like to share how to game the system. we all want the biggest payoff for the least amount of work, right?

know thine enemy: beating the robots

i see a lot of misinformation about how AI is used to scrape resumes. i can't speak for every company but most corporations use what is called applicant tracking software (ATS).

no respectable company is using chatgpt to sort applications. i don't know how you'd even write the prompt to get a consumer-facing product to do this. i guarantee that target, walmart, bank of america, whatever, they are all using B2B SaaS enterprise solutions. there is not one hiring manager plinking away at at a large language model.

ATS scans your resume in comparison to the job posting, parses which resumes contain key words, and presents the recruiter and/or hiring manager with resumes with a high "score." the goal of writing your resume is to get your "score" as high as possible.

but tumblr user lightyaoigami, how do i beat the robots?

great question, y/n. you will want to seek out an ATS resume checker. i have personally found success with jobscan, which is not free, but works extremely well. there is a free trial period, and other ATS scanners are in fact free. some of these tools are so sophisticated that they can actually help build your resume from scratch with your input. i wrote my own resume and used jobscan to compare it to the applications i was finishing.

do not use chatgpt to write your resume or cover letter. it is painfully obvious. here is a tutorial on how to use jobscan. for the zillionth time i do not work for jobscan nor am i a #jobscanpartner i am just a person who used this tool to land a job at a challenging time.

the resume checkers will tell you what words and/or phrases you need to shoehorn into your bullet points - i.e., if you are applying for a job that requires you to be a strong collaborator, the resume checker might suggest you include the phrase "cross-functional teams." you can easily re-word your bullets to include this with a little noodling.

don't i need a cover letter?

it depends on the job. after you have about 5 years of experience, i would say that they are largely unnecessary. while i was laid off, i applied to about 100 jobs in a three-month period (#blessed to have been hired quickly). i did not submit a cover letter for any of them, and i had a solid rate of phone screens/interviews after submission despite not having a cover letter. if you are absolutely required to write one, do not have chatgpt do it for you. use a guide from a human being who knows what they are talking about, like ask a manager or betterup.

but i don't even know where to start!

i know it's hard, but you have to have a bit of entrepreneurial spirit here. google duckduckgo is your friend. don't pull any bean soup what-about-me-isms. if you truly don't know where to start, look for an ATS-optimized resume template.

a word about neurodivergence and job applications

i, like many of you, am autistic. i am intimately familiar with how painful it is to expend limited energy on this demoralizing task only to have your "reward" be an equally, if not more so, demoralizing work experience. i don't have a lot of advice for this beyond craft your worksona like you're making a d&d character (or a fursona or a sim or an OC or whatever made up blorbo generator you personally enjoy).

and, remember, while a lot of office work is really uncomfortable and involves stuff like "talking in meetings" and "answering the phone," these things are not an inherent risk. discomfort is not tantamount to danger, and we all have to do uncomfortable things in order to thrive. there are a lot of ways to do this and there is no one-size-fits-all answer. not everyone can mask for extended periods, so be your own judge of what you can or can't do.

i like to think of work as a drag show where i perform this other personality in exchange for money. it is much easier to do this than to fight tooth and nail to be unmasked at work, which can be a risk to your livelihood and peace of mind. i don't think it's a good thing that we have to mask at work, but it's an important survival skill.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ good luck ⋆｡ﾟ☾｡⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎ ﾟ｡⋆

[cybrasigilism]

Hiiii I was just wondering if you could make a Semi player 380 NSFW Alphabet eventually? If so thank you 💗💗💗

absolutely! i apologize for the long wait i just wanted to give myself an alphabet break :)

NSFW Alphabet with Player 380/Se-mi!

warning: smut and all things of the like | not proofread | lowercase intended | WINNERS THAT LOVE WINNING (i cannot picture se-mi with a man im so sorry) | any letters i skip over are topics i couldn’t think of, apologies! | this is my interpretation of this character, please be respectful even if my opinions on the character differ from your own

character: se-mi (player 380)

A/N: OMG THANK YOU GUYS SO MUCH FOR 400 FOLLOWERS AAAAA!!!! IM ETERNALLY GRATEFUL THAT YOU’VE ALL GIVEN ME A PLATFORM TO SHARE MY PASSION FOR WRITING 😭😭😭😭🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏💜💜💜💜💜💜💜 A MILLION APOLOGIES FOR HOW LONG THIS HAS BEEN A WAIT FOR!! i hope its worth the time that’s passed, please enjoy!

MDNI! 18+ under the cut, readers discretion is advised

A= Aftercare what they’re like after sex

↳ she’s very attentive with aftercare. trust a bath will be drawn for you two post-fucking™️, and you will be getting shoulder massages all the while

C= Cum anything to do with cum

↳ will try to make you squirt I MEAN HUHH

D= Dirty secret a dirty secret of theirs, no way

↳ loves when you play with her nipple rings when you suck on her tits

E= Experience how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing etc.

↳ oh this woman is skilled. she knows what she’s doing alright, especially with her tongue; she works sweet magic with that thing

F= Favourite position i fear if i have to explain this one idk what to tell you

↳ any position where she can see your pretty face is her favourite, in her own words. her being on top is another pre-requisite, but she’ll bend the rules if you really want it

G= Goofy are they more serious in the moment, are they humorous etc.

↳ she loves to tease you in the moment, so that answers that question. it’s never intentionally mean-spirited though

I= Intimate how are they in the moment? the romantic aspect

↳ no matter how rough you guys get, she always states how much she loves you and how you mean the world to her etc. she will always use sex as an ample opportunity to express her deep love for you

J= Jack off masturbation headcanons

↳ loves when you finger yourself in front of her

K= Kinks one or more of their kinks

↳ bondage, for sure has a blindfold fetish too

L= Location their favourite place to do the do

↳ her favourite place to get it on is 100% the back of the car, especially on rainy nights

M= Motivation what turns them on? what gets them going?

↳ loves when you compliment/praise her on anything. this + when you hug her from behind and kiss her neck

N= No something they won’t do

↳ non-con or dubcon. point blank

O= Oral their preference on giving or receiving, their skill level etc.

↳ she loves and i mean loves eating you out. the sounds you make, the way you frantically grasp for her hand when you get close, everything about it drives her up the wall. she’s quite skilled at this too (i may or may not headcanon her to have a tongue piercing so do with that as you must)

P= Pace are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.

↳ she definitely isn’t picky on pace. you guys have done it all. from rough, sloppy quickie to gentle, intimate lovemaking— you two truly have done everything

Q= Quickie their opinions on quickies? how often etc.

↳ she’s down for a quickie, sure. she definitely won’t turn her nose up if you beg the way you know she likes

R= Risk are they game to experiment?

↳ definitely the experimental type in bed, for sure. it was daunting at first but you quickly got used to trying new things (with a safeword always)

S= Stamina how many rounds can they go for? how long can they last? etc.

↳ she can definitely hold out for a decent period of time, think 9-10 minutes. for a matter of rounds however, she can only do about 2-3 rounds before becoming overstimulated

T= Toys do they have any toys? do they use them on their partner? etc.

↳ she’s got a strap. again, do with this what you will

U= Unfair how much they like to tease

↳ oh you can bet se-mi is going to tease you, and she’ll be mean about it if she really wants too. the teasing is especially torturous if she’s using her strap on you

V= Volume how loud are they? what sounds do they make etc.

↳ she moans, no fear. i feel like she would definitely match your energy when you guys are going at it, sometimes its in a teasing manner, but sometimes its simply out of habit. the things she says to you in bed, oh man, they really do vary. but you can expect these phrases, just to name a few:

“fuck, doing so good for me.. keep touching that pretty pussy for me honey”

“you’re perfect, i could eat you for hours…”

“just one more… please, all i need is one more from you, pretty girl”

W= Wildcard a random headcanon

↳ owns a dominatrix outfit

X= X-Ray what’s going on under those clothes?

↳ she’s definitely got a sleeper build, you cannot tell me this woman doesn’t work out at least a little bit. she’s got body piercings too (tongue, naval + nipple piercings), as well as many tattoos, namely an under boob tattoo

Y= Yearning how high is their sex drive?

↳ oh buddy, once you get her going, good luck coming to a stop anytime soon

Z= Zzz how fast do they fall asleep after

↳ after a especially rough session, she tends to fall asleep quite easily. but if you guys were more gentle she won’t be tired at all, in fact she’ll let you sleep on her chest as she plays with your hair all while you doze off

★ ────────

the time has come! the se-mi NSFW alphabet is FINALLY AMONG US, i again want to apologize for how long this took to come out, but i’m happy to report it’s UP AND RUNNING!!!

as always, any advice/constructive criticism on how i can improve my writing is appreciated and requested! have a fantastic night/day lovelies 💗

tags: @gongyoosgf @strangelife122 @room-722

[vyoleya]

hihi here's some more stuff of my complicated DR au!! here's a big ramble + a doodle of their designs

annd here's a more detailed + more dramatic version of them :)

okay.. huge ramble/lore dump under the cut. you have been warned

all parts of my au

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

in a desperate attempt to find his parents, arin ended up joining ras and becoming shattered. arin justified everything that he (and ras by extension) was doing all in service to reverse the merge. his last mission was supposed to be killing lloyd that way ras could become the new conduit, only for arin to discover what ras's true intentions were with his master. (which was nothing short of a celestial takeover.) arin never wanted to kill anyone, especially not lloyd, and feeling very ashamed of his actions, he purposefully attempted to rile lloyd up and give him clear openings for lloyd to kill him instead.

lloyd, not really wanting to kill arin & not taking the bait, kept trying to get him to come home. arin's whole plan backfired as arin got more and more desperate and riled up for lloyd to kill him, and ended up doing object shatterspin which killed lloyd .

in his last moments of consciousness, lloyd clung to the fleeting life inside of himself and (somewhat) merged with his element . due to being a conduit and having carried divine energy by not only the source dragons, but also the FSM, lloyd was able to sort of become a divine guardian . (ill talk more about him later but this is just a summary lol)

lloyd then used his power of life to protect arin, essentially making arin (very reluctantly) immortal. (the drawing of arin is what he looks like when he's close to death, as lloyd expends a lot of energy to keep him alive, and his 'guardian angel' wings become visible, and everyone can kinda feel lloyd's presence watching everything. hence the eye)

sora, after finding out that arin was responsible for killing lloyd, who she saw as a father, she began to believe that the arin she knew died once he became shattered. eventually, after many encounters where she'd beg for him to be 'good' again, she began to search for ways to kill him and free lloyd's spirit.

they both started wearing these wooden masks with painted moons on them, very much inspired by the whole 'the fool who let the moon go' post. arin started wearing his first after he first started getting serious injuries that weren't being healed very quickly. arin found that sora preferred him wearing it, bc then she didn't have to see her best friend's face in her enemy.

arin goes by the name 'z' whenever he can, based on the scar on his cheek that actually looks like the letter z in ninjargan! (he also does because he believes that going by arin is an insult to who he used to be.)

sora, with the help of jordana, ended up tracking down the reversal blade. because if she can reverse lloyd ever dying and arin becoming immortal, then with lloyd's conduit powers, they can stop ras's plans and Everything Will Be Okay Again!

she was planning on taking both herself and jordana to the past, but due to the merge being reversed sooner than planned, sora didn't have time to take jordana with her, leaving her behind.

after… a lot of nonsense on z's end (like the world ending, but him being the sole survival due to lloyd's energy… yikes) (oh and also him recreating the merge despite everything thanks to lloyds conduit-ness + the oni and dragon in him) and he also ends up in the past. now both sora and z are wandering around in the past trying to stop the world from ending :)

(to make it more dramatic, neither of them knows that the other survived. it's a very big jumpscare when they run into eachother.)

anyway. i may draw them more + post drabbles about them on ao3! so .... consider this your backstory guide to my overly complicated au . if you read this far then congrats !! (because yes, this is just the backstory)

(also if anyone has any questions feel free to ask .. . it'd be fun to answer them)

doodles and jokes here !

[servantofthefates]

How I Speak to My Ancestors

My elders have taught me this process, because it is the safest and surest. The modern way of simply sitting down and meditating opens itself up to other spirits responding, lying, pretending.

The Time

Whenever I feel the need, I approach. But the most potent occasion for communing with the dead is on the anniversary of their birth or their death, as well as on the last days of October and the first days of November, when the veil between realms is at its thinnest.

The Place

Wherever I am in the world, if I feel the need, I approach. But the most powerful location for meeting the dead is the cemetery where they are buried, or the room where their ashes are kept, and the place where they spent most of their years – their true home.

The Conduit

I hold in both hands a goblet filled with water and three drops of my blood. Water takes the path of least resistance, making it the best vehicle for intent. As for blood, my earliest ancestors do not know my face. I need to show them who I am deep inside.

The Summoning

Alone – in a quiet corner or inside a tent if I am somewhere public – I gaze upon the goblet and say, “In the name of those who made me, I call upon those who came before me.” If it is someone in particular whom I wish to speak to, I say their name.

The Query

The moment I feel the atmosphere change around me – from cold to warm, or the other way around; from light to heavy, or from dark to bright, I recite my query. A question about my past, present or future. Whatever requires my ancestors’ advice or answer.

The Answer

I wait. Sometimes the blood rises up to the surface, forming symbols or letters. Other times the goblet sends vibrations – soothing or frightening, conveying how I will soon be feeling. Other times yet, sound originates from the water and travels up to my ear, delivering names, dates and entire sentences.

The Token

After I have received my answer, I empty the goblet, pouring its contents on the ground or down the drain – whatever my surroundings allow. The moment I reach home, I fill the goblet with wine, and place it among plants or flowers (the garden or an altar) as a token of my gratitude to my ancestors. I dispose of it respectfully a day later.

[mumms-the-word]

A Birthday for Manfred

Characters: Emmrich x Rook Thorne, and also Manfred obviously Summary: Grace Thorne finds out that Manfred has never had a birthday (spirits aren't technically born, after all). While Emmrich is distracted with the ever-increasing pressures of the encounters facing them at Tearstone Island, she decides to take matters into her own hands and plan a surprise birthday party. (ao3 link) A/N: I wrote this as a birthday gift for the super talented @sorceresssundries but it is embarrassingly late for a birthday gift. So now it is simply a gift! I hope you have a wonderful day, friend!! Never forget that you're loved and appreciated and you're a fantastic, galaxy-brained writer to boot!

“Emmrich. When is Manfred’s birthday?”

Emmrich paused mid-sentence in the letter he was reading at his desk. The question had preceded the asker, so for a split second he swore he had merely imagined it. But then Grace entered his study, eyebrows lifted in a way that suggested the question, posed in her voice, was in fact not a figment of his imagination.

Question aside, she entered with a purpose, the set of her shoulders speaking of determination. She had plans in mind—perhaps even plans already in motion—and she was carrying herself forth by the momentum of those plans. It took Emmrich another second to even register her question. “I beg your pardon?”

“Manfred’s birthday. When is it?” 

“Erm…” Emmrich slowly folded the letter, a missive from the Mourn Watch about the wards they’ve cast and the precautions they have taken with Johanna’s skull, and focused on positioning it perfectly center in the cleared spot on his desk. Why did he get the sense that he was about to be in trouble? “What a curious question.”

Grace narrowed her eyes and folded her arms. “Don’t tell me you’ve never celebrated it.”

Emmrich cleared his throat delicately, finally looking up at her again. “Of course I haven’t celebrated any birthday for Manfred. He was never born at all.”

Her eyes widened. “Never? As in, you’ve never celebrated…even once?”

He sighed. “Well it isn’t as if it was an intentional decision on my part. It simply never occurred to me.”

As she continued to stare, he steepled his fingers and rested his hands on his desk, a gentle lecture already forming in his mind. “Spirits aren’t born, my dear, they’re formed,” he reminded her. “Manifested by the power of emotion and thought. If you mean to ask what day correlates with the day his spirit first formed in the Fade, I’m afraid we will never know. The first flutterings of spirit life are so faint, they’re completely obscured by the tumult of the larger Fade itself. In fact,” (he couldn’t resist adding more knowledge to the subject, as it was a source of fascination for him personally) “it’s a popular topic of debate among mage scholars, whether we can predict the first glimmers of spirit life or measure the time between a spirit’s first spark and when it becomes a wisp tangible enough to communicate, however primitively, with others.”

Grace had that expression she sometimes acquired when speaking with him where she was trying, politely, to follow his lecture but felt that they had somehow veered off topic along the way. Not confusion, but simply quiet amusement. “So…you don’t know how old Manfred is.”

“Not a clue,” Emmrich said cheerfully. “Perhaps, as his powers of speech develop, we may one day ask him. Though in my experience spirits seem to have such a ubiquitous view of time that his answer may ultimately prove unsatisfactory by our mortal standards.” 

Grace shook her head. “Okay, then forget his spirit birthday. When is his…I don’t know. The day he got his body. Or completed his body. Or…” She snapped her fingers suddenly. “His name day. When did you start calling him Manfred?”

“Well, let me think…” Emmrich cast his mind back, sifting through his memories. Manfred had been with him so long already that it was strange to recall a time he hadn’t been around. “That must have been the day he picked out his own skull.” He couldn’t help but chuckle “Ah, I remember it as though it were yesterday.”

He smiled to himself, lost in the memory. Manfred’s spirit, still a bright young wisp, had bobbed curiously from skull to skull where they had been placed along a stone table. Though he had briefly inhabited a skull or two, his wisp light peeking out from the eye sockets, it wasn’t until his current skull that he had practically sang, in the way only spirits could, with elation and joy. Emmrich had more than a few proud tears in his eyes when he fastened the skull to the rest of the skeleton he had constructed. He could have sung for joy himself at the sound of Manfred’s first hiss the moment he inhabited the body and claimed it as his own.

“Ah.” He sniffed faintly, blinking past the threat of more tears. It wouldn’t do to be weepy at such a time as this. They had more pressing troubles, like their impending clash with the Evanuris in the uncomfortably near future. “How remarkable that so much time has passed already. And yet so little.”

And to think, had he not given up lichdom, his years with Manfred would have been cut cruelly short.

He looked up again to find Grace leaning her hip against his desk, a gentle, affectionate smile on her lips as she watched him. She tilted her head, her red curls tumbling over her shoulder. “What did you call him before? When he was just a wisp.”

“Why, I called him by his spirit then—simply Curiosity. At that stage, Curiosity only really responds when addressed directly. The name Manfred came to me later, as we were selecting skulls for him to pick from.”

“Why Manfred?”

“He looks like a Manfred, does he not?” Emmrich asked, smiling. “And when I suggested the name to him, he seemed most pleased.”

“And…” She sat on the edge of his desk and walked her fingers along the surface, toward him. “What day was that, do you remember?”

“Grace, my darling,” he said, unable to resist a a smile. He set his elbows on the desk, wove his fingers together, and rested his chin on his knuckles, a subtle gleam in his eye. “Is there something you’re planning to do with this information?”

“Of course not,” she said, leaning in and letting more curls tumble around her shoulders. They were nearly nose to nose now. He could begin counting the hundreds of freckles that kissed her beautiful skin if he wished to. But her lips formed an alluring little smile, drawing his attention there. “I’m just…curious. Much like our Manfred.”

Our Manfred. How utterly charming. He couldn’t deny the bloom of warmth and pride he felt in his chest at her words.

But he was not to be totally distracted. “Why don’t I believe you?” he said, chuckling again. He hummed thoughtfully under his breath, searching his mind for the answer to her question. “The fifth of Harvestmere. Incidentally, only a few short days from now.”

“Perfect,” she whispered. She leaned even closer to brush a kiss against his lips. “Thank you, darling.”

“Anytime,” he murmured, tones warm and rich. “Now, will you tell me what—”

The door to his study slammed open suddenly. Grace was off the desk in an instant, hand reaching for a blade she kept at her hip at all times, only to relax a fraction when Harding rushed in.

“Rook,” she said, breathless, “sorry to interrupt. Some kind of ghost or spirit or something is causing trouble in the Hossberg Wetlands. Antoine and Evka want us out there as soon as possible to put a stop to it. I think it’s a…a scarecrow?” She seemed baffled by this latest bit of information.

Grace and Emmrich exchanged a quick look before Emmrich was on his feet, taking up his staff. 

“Lead the way, my dear,” he said, gesturing for her to go first, and off they were on another adventure.

———

A few days later, Emmrich was back at his desk, massaging his temple to beat back a headache that a long conversation with Johanna’s skull had generated. She was silent now, thanks to a handy ward, but he could still feel her attempting to glower at him, in her unique skull-like way, through the back of his chair. Above, on the landing, Manfred was dusting some of the shelves, quiet but for the occasional thoughtful hiss or the soft clatter of moving objects around.

Time was slipping through their fingers like the sands of an hourglass. Their excursion to Tearstone Island, wherever that was, was looming ahead of them like the daunting final battle of an epic poem, where life and death hung in the balance. But this was no poem. The end was not yet written. There were few guarantees and even fewer chances of success. Emmrich was not a man prone to despair, but…the days were beginning to look dark. 

Within the Lighthouse, they were still scrambling to prepare. Meanwhile, reports of other issues all across Thedas were continuing to make their way to them via messengers and spirits—errant demons, surges of darkspawn, venatori groups, everything seemed to be happening all at once. If he were a lesser man, it would feel as though the whole world were spiraling into madness, and him along with it.

The Lighthouse was their one safe haven away from it all. But even this sanctum could be invaded by reminders of the world outside, with letters appearing on tables at random or allies occasionally visiting through the eluvian. Some days, despite all the good they were doing and all the wonderful people he had met, Emmrich longed for the quiet of the Necropolis, sealed off inside a vault far below the surface of the earth, where war and strife and chaos could not reach. He longed for it now, despite knowing he could do so much more good here, where he was.

A soft knock pulled him from his depressing reverie. He sat up in his chair, straightening his clothing out of habit and checking that he hadn’t run his fingers too much through his carefully combed hair. “Come in!”

“It’s just me,” Grace said, already entering as he gave his response. Emmrich raised his eyebrows as she came into view. She had dressed not in her casual clothing or even her armor, but in a simple gown, similar to what she had worn on their date in the Necropolis gardens what felt like a lifetime ago. She had twisted and pinned half of her curls behind one ear, showing off a thick, gold earring she had acquired recently in Nevarra—her first bit of grave gold, she had remarked lightly, when she showed the matching pair to him. The rest of her hair cascaded freely and voluminously over the other side of her head and down her shoulders, a rich tangle of tight, red curls. Her freckled face was free of powders or creams that tended to obscure one’s complexion, but she had darkened her lashes and lined her eyes with a bit of makeup, adding a fine sheen of gloss to her lips.

“Oh my,” he said softly, and stood as if a noble lady had entered his study. Because, of course, one had. He smiled and took one of her hands, bringing it to his lips for a soft kiss. “To what do I owe this visit from such a beautiful young woman?”

Grace smirked faintly and leaned in for a proper kiss. “I have a surprise for you. Get changed and make sure Manfred is wearing something…smart.”

“Smart?”

“Smart!” came Manfred’s scratchy echo from above. They glanced up to find him leaning over the railing, waving a duster at them.

“Exactly,” Grace said. “A nice coat. Maybe a hat. I think he’d look adorable in a top hat, don’t you?” The glimmer in her eyes suggested she was joking, but only just.

“Assuming the Lighthouse can conjure one,” Emmrich said, smiling, “as I seem to have left most of my hats behind in the Necropolis. But you haven’t yet told me the surprise.”

“That’s because it’s a surprise, darling.” She kissed him again before pulling away, letting her hands linger in his. “Get dressed. Bring Manfred. Meet me in the dining room in half an hour.”

Another date, was it? With Manfred no less. In that case, perhaps it was less a date and more of a quaint family dinner? Emmrich couldn’t help but be charmed by the idea.

“All right, dearest,” he said, giving her hands one last squeeze before letting go. “I shall see you shortly.”

She gave him a little wave and blew a kiss to Manfred before sweeping out of the room, leaving little more than her faintly floral scent behind. Emmrich shook his head fondly before turning his attention toward the task of dressing for a pleasant dinner with his beloved Rook and his skeleton ward.

Half an hour later, he finished dressing in a modest but clean set of tailored robes he’d worn at a recent Mourn Watch initiation ceremony. He was grateful to have packed it, despite not knowing whether there’d be any occasion for wearing anything formal when he first packed for his move into the Lighthouse. He turned to Johanna’s skull out of habit, forgetting that he had placed a silence ward over her earlier. “What do you think?”

The skull was silent, aside from a little flare of green light in the eyes that quickly circled the empty sockets in a clear, if dramatic, imitation of someone rolling their eyes. Johanna had never understood his taste. Emmrich pursed his lips slightly and adjusted the skull pin at his throat. Perhaps it had been too much…

Ah, but he was running out of time. Too late now. He stopped fidgeting with the pin and turned to look for his companion.

“Manfred? Are you ready?”

“Ready!” Manfred emerged from behind the stairs in a simple purple coat, his usual gloves and boots, and, yes, a purple silk top hat. Wherever had he gotten that? Emmrich sighed. The Lighthouse, probably, granting some unspoken wish in Manfred’s little mind.

“Well, there’s no accounting for taste,” Emmrich murmured to himself, affectionate and amused. Then, a little louder, he said, “You look excellent, Manfred. Now come, it wouldn’t do to be late.”

———

The Lighthouse courtyard was strangely empty as they crossed it. No chatter from Bellara’s room, no wisps singing or chirping from Neve’s office, no squawking from Assan, who was not in his usual place where he liked to roll in the grass and clover the Lighthouse so courteously provided for him. The Caretaker wasn’t even hovering in his little workshop, watching as they passed by. Everything was simply…quiet.

Emmrich didn’t like it. He had grown accustomed to the light clamor of living with several other living people and an adolescent griffon. Where had everyone gone?

A sense of unease began to grip him. Grace had said to meet her at in the dining room, but surely the others had their tasks or their interests to attend to. Had something happened? He tried to push it out of his mind, chalking it up to simple paranoia. There would be a logical explanation. There always was.

He reached for the doors of the dining room, only for the doors to swing open of their own accord. He paused at the threshold, a strange sense of anticipation arresting his steps. The dining room was unusually dark, almost pitch black, with no fire and no candlelight. In the seconds it took for the doors to slowly swing open, he swore he saw something moving in the shadows. 

Manfred tottered bravely on, stepping into the gloom without a single pause. Emmrich cleared his throat, somewhat nervous. “Manfred—”

Then—there was a sound like a snap of fingers and suddenly the room was ablaze with light. A fire leapt up in the fireplace, a dozen candles and magelights of various colors floated about the room, and something—some spell or perhaps some cheap-made fireworks, or both—set off a series of glittering sparks that rained down over the room in a shower of purple, green, and gold.

“Surprise!” a familiar voice shouted. A burst of applause filled the room from all corners, adding to the sudden clamor of fireworks and voices.

“Happy nameday, Manfred!”

“Emmrich! Come in, come in!”

As Emmrich blinked away the spots from the sudden lights, he found himself suddenly swept into the dining room by a couple pairs of hands ushering him in and closing the door behind him. The sight before him was one of festive joy and barely contained merriment. Neve and Lucanis stood together off to one side, Neve with magic in her hands and Lucanis lighting the fuse to another simple firework, the two of them grinning and laughing as they added more glitter and light to the dining room space. Harding and Taash guided Manfred around the table to where Bellara was placing a simple cake with unlit candles at the top. Around them, Assan pounced and bounded around their legs, his tail swiping the air, eager to play games with Manfred. It was Davrin and Grace who had ushered Emmrich in, Davrin patting his shoulder fondly as he struggled to catch up with everything around him.

“Don’t look so surprised,” Davrin said, grinning. “Didn’t you know this was coming?”

Emmrich couldn’t find the words. “I…well I…”

“I told you he’d never guess,” Grace said, leaning in to press a kiss to Emmrich’s cheek. “This team can keep a secret, if pressed.”

They weren’t alone, either. Myrna and Vorgoth were present, too, watching the festivities next to the Caretaker, who floated with hands politely folded at Vorgoth’s side. Evka and Antoine had also managed to make it, despite having only met Manfred very recently, and there were plenty of wisps dancing about as well. These wisps were not mere lights but were spirits, curious and playful, mischievous and delighted, resting on Manfred’s hat or bobbing over the table, which was laden with several dishes of various types, including plenty of vegetarian options for Emmrich.  

“Happy nameday, Fred,” Neve called as she sent another flurry of magelights over his head. 

Manfred clapped his hands together and hopped with excitement. “Surprise! Manfred! Me! Happy!”

“I knew he’d love a surprise,” Harding giggled. “Happy nameday, Manfred.”

Emmrich was speechless. To say he was overwhelmed was an understatement. He gripped Grace’s hand tightly, staggered by this open display of affection and joy—and for a spirit, no less. A spirit housed in a skeleton body, barely clothed, barely capable of speech.

Tears welled up in his eyes. He turned to Grace, holding onto her hand like a lifeline. She merely smiled at his mute, emotional gratitude and swiped away a couple of his tears with the pad of her thumb.

“What do you think, love?” she asked quietly, while Davrin tactfully retreated to try and rescue some of the dishes from being overturned by Assan’s tail. “Good enough for a first nameday party?

“Oh, my love.” He dabbed at his eyes and then framed her face in his hands, bringing her in for a grateful kiss, the love in his heart overflowing. “You beautiful, brilliant, clever creature. I couldn’t have asked for better. Thank you.”

“Don't mention it,” she murmured as he kissed her again. “It was a group effort.”

“Okay, Manfred,” Bellara said, drawing Emmrich’s attention over to them again. “We know you don’t have any lungs to blow out the candles, but you can do fire magic now, right? So we figured you could, you know, make a wish that way. So light ‘em up!”

Panic gripped Emmrich instantly. They hadn’t yet practiced controlled flame on such a small scale! “Ah, Manfred—”

But it was too late. With a ecstatic hiss, Manfred flung out his gloved hands and blasted a short burst of flame over the top of the cake. It was only for a second or two, and the candles certainly did adopt some of the flame, burning cheerfully in the aftermath—but they were also melted down to halfway and most of the icing on the topmost layer of the cake was quickly burned into dark, crystallized sugar. 

“Oh dear,” Emmrich said, while Grace smothered her laughter behind her hand.

Manfred threw his hands up in triumph. “Wish! Happy!”

“Great!” Bellara said, clapping her hands. “Well, okay, the spell needs a little bit of work, and I should probably have picked taller candles, but otherwise—”

“Next time let me do it,” Taash said, wrinkling their nose at the burnt sugar on the top of the cake.

“Oh, it’s okay, Manfred can’t eat cake anyway,” Harding assured them. “We can just eat around the black part. A little burnt sugar never hurt anybody.”

“Oh, it’ll be fine,” Bellara said. She turned and waved to the rest of them, beckoning them over. “Come on, sit! Let’s eat! It’s Manfred’s nameday, we should celebrate!”

Flashing Emmrich a smile, Grace took his hand and led him over to the table, where they could sit near Manfred as he examined his burning candles with abject delight.

The festivities continued well into the evening, though time in the Lighthouse was always tricky to track. Though Manfred couldn’t eat any of the food, he was content to chatter away at everyone, including the guests, and to sometimes sneak treats to Assan when Davrin wasn’t looking. The others wasted no time in filling in Evka and Antoine on Manfred’s various adventures, while Myrna and Vorgoth occasionally offered anecdotes from before Emmrich and Manfred had joined the team. After a while, Grace surprised Emmrich and Manfred with a handful of letters. It seemed that, in lieu of official visits to the party, other allies like Teia, Viago, Isabela, and Strife had sent celebratory messages to Manfred with their best wishes, which Manfred insisted on carrying in his pocket as soon as Grace read them aloud to him.

“We shall have to teach him to read soon,” Emmrich mused, watching him take out the letters for the fifth time and flip through them. 

“They grow up so fast,” Grace said, resting her chin on Emmrich’s shoulder. They had relocated to the sofa in the corner of the dining room, their bellies sated with good food, their energy waning after so much conversation and laughter. No one was willing to leave just yet, content to chat and drink or simply sit together at the table, listening to stories. The ceiling overhead was still full of floating candles and magelights, colorful and bright, but as the time wore on, the fireplace reminded Emmrich more and more of his own cozy fire in his study nearby, beckoning him to return to his room to rest. 

But he couldn’t leave yet, not while Manfred was having such a good time.

He settled more comfortably on the sofa instead. “However did you come up with this idea, dearest?” he asked Grace, one hand massaging her knee idly as they watched the others converse. “I never would have anticipated we could pull off a nameday party in the midst of all…this.” He gestured vaguely to their surroundings. “It must have been so much extra work for you, my dear.”

She lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug. “Only a little. Bellara and Lucanis handled the cooking, Neve handled all the magic. Harding, Taash, and Davrin helped move the furniture and send out the invitations. The hardest part was keeping it a secret from both you and Manfred.”

“But why?” he asked. “Why now? I hate to think this has only added to your stress.” 

“It’s the fifth of Harvestmere. The day you said you named Manfred.”

“Well yes, but—” He struggled for moment, not wanting to sound ungrateful, yet concerned that all of this had been needlessly done when there were so many other things they ought to have been doing. “We could have waited until after defeating Elgar’nan and Ghilan’nain.”

Grace was quiet for a moment, turning her head to lean her cheek against his shoulder. She hummed thoughtfully under her breath before quietly saying, “No. It had to be now. Even though it’s a bit chaotic right now, this is just what we do in the chaos.”

Emmrich stroked his thumb over her knee again, pondering her words. “I’m afraid I don’t follow.”

“Simple. Even when the world seems like it’s spiraling out of control, we still have birthdays, and we celebrate them. We gather together. We drink, we eat, we laugh. We live another day and celebrate another year around the sun.” She lifted her head to meet his gaze. “That’s how we win against the people who want to tear us down. That’s how we keep winning, day to day. Not every battle has to be us facing down the monsters. Sometimes a little party is the thing that keeps the darkness at bay.” She smiled, a little dry, her gaze sweeping back toward Evka and Antoine as her voice grew even softer. “I learned that with the Wardens.”

Of course she had. When you have to live each day as if it were your last…

Emmrich said nothing. This is just what we do in the chaos, she’d said. This was how people showcased their love and care for other people. It was such a simple statement, and yet…thinking of all they had done for Manfred, who was a spirit…Emmrich could feel the tears stinging his eyes again, closing up his throat. Manfred was so loved. Not just by him, not just by Grace, but by the others who had gathered together to make the food, light up the room, and tell the stories that put a smile on everyone’s faces. 

Emmrich had always wanted a family. He had always longed to marry and have children, and when those dreams fell through, he had turned his thoughts to lichdom instead. Now here he sat, with Grace nestled into his side, watching these friends he had come to grow so fond of as they celebrated Manfred, and he realized…

This was his family now. Chaotic and ridiculous, sometimes bickering, sometimes falling in love with one another, and ready to do anything for one another, whether that be laying down their lives or throwing a party for a spirit. And Manfred? He’d never felt such pride for him before as he did now, listening to him chatter away in simple words to the others. 

“To think I had almost lost him,” he said quietly. “I would never have experienced this if I hadn’t…if you hadn’t convinced me to retrieve his spirit.”

He took one of Grace’s hands, enveloping it in both of his own. “Thank you, Grace. Without you, I would never have been able to share in such wonderful blessings such as this. Surrounded by friends, celebrating Manfred…even being able to simply sit here, with you in my arms, is more precious than anything. These are memories I will cherish forever. Thank you.”

“Anytime, Emmrich,” Grace murmured, drawing closer again. Emmrich met her halfway, capturing her lips in a sweet, lingering kiss that he hoped conveyed all the love and overwhelming affection he bore for her.

He adored her. And with the precious little time they had left, before they journeyed to Tearstone Island to confront Elgar’nan and Ghilan’nain at last, he would cherish every second of it, making sure she knew the depth of his love for her.

She drew away with a smile. “You won’t forget to celebrate Manfred’s nameday again in the future will you? Fifth of Harvestmere, every year from now on. Promise.”

He chuckled, bringing her hand up to his lips for a kiss. “I promise, dearest. Manfred shall have a nameday celebration every year from now on, thanks to you.”

“Party!” Manfred hissed, throwing his hands up again. “Party for me!”

Emmrich chuckled. “Precisely, Manfred. Well said.”

[these-written-reveries]

Midnight Musings

‣ Pairing: Castiel x Reader (intended as romantic, but can potentially be viewed as platonic ?)

‣ Genre: Fluff, comfort

‣ Summary: A letter to you, from Castiel.

‣ Warnings: Vague reference to difficult times and poor mental/emotional wellbeing.

‣ Word Count: 671

‣ A/N: This was originally written on a whim for my bestie @jslittlebirdie, but I've decided to share it with the rest of the world as well. Perhaps other fellow Castiel lovers will appreciate what he has to say.

Y/N,

I can sense you are in need of some thoughtful reminders and perspective, as I know you’ve been going through a particularly difficult time recently that has caused you to slip into a state of jaded oblivion. It is my greatest hope that with the repetition of these words, woven into the letters I write for you while you sleep, that you will someday come to understand them to be true in the same way that I do.

Thoughts of you occupied my mind after you had drifted off to sleep tonight. I suppose that's not surprising news, as I'm always thinking of you, in some shape or form. 

This time, though, as I watched your delicate lashes flutter ever so softly in your slumber, and the way your lips remained slightly pouted while I smoothed a thumb over your furrowed brow—a reflection of the stress that haunts even your dreams of late, I was suddenly hit with a near-overwhelming wave of gratitude. I, Heaven's most abhorred angel—second only to Lucifer himself, am so immensely blessed by the opportunity of not just bearing witness to the beautiful soul and being that is you, but to truly see you, to know you, to love you, and be with you. How and why I've been so generously bestowed this blessing is beyond my realm of knowledge. I certainly don't deserve you—not after all that I've done, but I'm nonetheless grateful I'm here, experiencing every fleeting fluctuation of life by your side. 

You make me feel like all of this, all the bitterness of this world and life on Earth, is worth it. You've made me see that the harsh cruelty of existence is only outweighed by the beauty and love that lies all around and within us; some of it temporary, some everlasting. I see so much beauty and love in you, and it is one of many reasons I cherish you so dearly. 

You are a beacon of hope and solace in this world. I spend my days orbiting you like the planets do the Sun; observing you, admiring you, looking to you for the unspoken answers I've misguidedly sought in every other being, mission, and location before I finally met you. By merely existing as yourself, you answer my questions, soothe my existential woes. You help me see what really matters in this world, and that life truly is worth living, even when it seems so incredibly dismal and burdensome.

All I have to do is look to you, and I am at once reminded of how lucky I am to have a companion to trudge through the darkness with. You are my guiding light, and you are also my best friend. I strive every day to embody these roles for you, as well. I know in the deepest part of my being that as long as we have each other, we can get through anything. So keep holding on, keep fighting. If not for yourself, then for me.

Open your eyes to the beauty and love, big and small, all around and inside of you. It is always there, if you so choose to see it. Observe it, admire it, cherish it, hold onto it. That will be, what I can say with certitude, the crutch and guiding force that will get you through any dark times you may face. 

Remember, you'll always have me, whether it be physically by your side, or watching over you in spirit. I won't leave you alone, and my love for you will carry on far beyond your expiration.

In this vast, ever-changing universe, there remains a constant source of light, beauty, and love to anyone who is lucky enough to experience the magnificent soul that is you. What a blessing you are to this world. How much bleaker it would be without you. How truly lost and deficient I'd be without you. Even when you fail to see it, just know that I never will. 

I never will.

-Castiel

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[anonymousewrites]

Lavender for Royalty; Sage for Wisdom (Book 1) Chapter Seventeen

Kyoya Ootori x Reader

Chapter Seventeen: Hyacinth for Game

Summary: The Football Club and the Host Club take on one another in the game for the main salon for the club expo.

            “A record-number of participants and a cross-campus race,” said (Y/N), looking at the flyer about the competition. “Very different from last year.”

            “Indeed,” said Kyoya.

            “How can I help you win?” said (Y/N). “You must have a plan.”

            Kyoya smirked. “I do indeed.” He looked at the rest of the Host Club as they did pointless exercises. “But it requires them to cease this wasteful effort.” He glanced at them. “You just need to keep your wits about you, and I trust you can.” They had a good head on their shoulders.

            “I thought they’d all be fine athletes,” said Haruhi.

            “We are,” said the twins. “Just not on the level of the Football Club. What about you?”

            “Haruhi’s junior high records show that she takes over eleven seconds for a fifty-meter sprint,” said Kyoya.

            “…I’m not good at sports,” said Haruhi.

            “That’s okay!” cheered the hosts. “Being a slow-poke is cute!”

            “Alright! Now for the uniform,” said Tamaki. “We have yet to select the club’s outfit for the school competition!”

            “Yeah, that’s important,” said Kaoru and Hikaru, nodding.

            “Haruhi, how is the search for the perpetrator coming along?” said Kyoya calmly.

            “At first Kuze seemed fishy, but he seems to want to openly confront the Host Club,” said Haruhi. “That means there may be someone else who wants to see Kuze falsely accused. Maybe there’s a simple solution. If we investigate the people around Kuze…What I don’t understand is the meaning of the blank letters.”

            “Haruhi, sometimes things that appear complicated turn out to be unexpectedly simple, and vice versa,” said Kyoya. “And even if you have a lot of threads in hand, that does not necessarily mean you have to tie them all together, right?”

            “…Huh?” Kyoya was being obtuse as ever, and Haruhi sighed.

            “No matter. Just focus on our job,” said Kyoya. “You know the consequences…”

            “Yeah, yeah,” said Haruhi, shivering. Her debt would double.

            (Y/N) leaned on the back of Kyoya’s chair as Haruhi walked away. “You know more than you’re saying.”

            “Do I?” said Kyoya.

            “Yes,” said (Y/N) confidently. They looked down at him. “The citrus smell…It could be perfume, couldn’t it?”

            “Perhaps,” said Kyoya.

            “Aha,” said (Y/N). They had the connection, then. “So, how can I help you?”

            Kyoya pulled a thick stack of papers from his bag. “Memorize these blueprints for the school.”

            “Alright,” said (Y/N), taking them. They smiled at Kyoya. “Let’s win.”

            “You’ve got quite a bit of spirit this year,” said Kyoya.

            “Kuze annoys me,” said (Y/N). “So, let’s have a third son and a commoner beat him, shall we?”

            Kyoya smirked. “We shall.” Kuze had stepped over a line. He had insulted Kyoya and (Y/N). He would pay for it in his loss.

l

            The day of the race arrived. Due to the sudden competition between the Football Club and the Host Club, more clubs had joined in excitement. 132 people were vying for the win now. However, the onlookers knew that the only real battle was between the Host Club and the Football Club. Indeed, even as they stood apart and staring at one another—one in a more traditional outfit and the other in jerseys—the energy was palpable.

            Mitsuyama cleared her throat and stepped up the microphone. “Let me explain how the race works. You’re to follow the prescribed route and answer the questions at designated sites in each building—East, West, South, and North. If any team member passes, so does their group. If not, the team is eliminated. The group that successfully clears all sites will be given five clues. In the finals, participants must use those clues to seek out a particular location. The group that claims the hidden crown shall win use of the Central Salon. Any questions? No? Very well then…”

            The starting gun went off with a bang.

            “Let the race begin!” said the broadcast club, the announcers.

            The Host Club ran forward to the tables with buzzers, and an announcer grinned, ready with the first trivia question.

            “First is the Reflex Quiz! What is the name of the fairy king who appears in Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream?”

            The Football Club hit the buzzer first and shouted, “Oberon!”

            “Correct answer!” said the announcer. “Please ascend the slippery slope behind me and proceed to the next site!”

            “Interesting,” said Kyoya. “They mean to eliminate a large number of participants early on.”

            Indeed, a lot of people were slipping, and the Football Club was making slow progress. Fortunately, that gave the Host Club a chance to answer a trivia question to move on.

            “Who is the author of the British novel The Murder of Roger Ackroyd?”

            Buzz! “Agatha Christie,” said (Y/N), and Tamaki immediately ran for the slippery slope.

            “Ah! They even know more modern British authors! They’re so talented! So cultured!” screamed the host club fans. “And look at Tamaki go!”

            “The Host Club is advancing,” announced the broadcast club.

            No sooner had they spoken, though, that Tamaki slipped and face-planted on the incline.

            “But he slipped!”

            Kaoru and Hikaru jumped on his back to get farther up.

            “The Hitachiin brothers are stepping on him! What an incredible strategy for the Chairman’s son to sacrifice his body!”

            “Who says it’s a strategy?!” cried Tamaki indignantly.

            “Tarumi of the Football Club passes by easily,” said the announcer as Kaoru and Hikaru slipped. “The Football Club starts off in the lead! Close behind are the Gymnastics Club and the Wandervogel Club. Could it be? Will the Host Club be eliminated so soon?!”

            “No,” said Kyoya, smirking.

            Honey ran forward and jumped. He landed on Mori’s hands, and Mori boosted him into the air. He landed easily at the top of the incline without having to step foot on it once.

            “It’s a miraculous show of teamwork between Morinozuka and Haninozuka!”

            The fans screamed with joy.

            “The Host Club passed the first site!”

            Mori smiled slightly.

            The next sites went just as smoothly, if not more so. The second site was a math quiz couple with a hundred chin-ups. Kyoya and (Y/N) had the quiz down while Mori handled the chin-ups. The third site was a memorization quiz that (Y/N) and Haruhi worked through while Tamaki did a tightrope-walking activity. The fourth game was “concentration and free throws,” which apparently meant matching art and painters and then making basketball shots. Hikaru and Kaoru seamlessly completed both activities in quick succession.

            However, as easily as they finished all the sites, so did the Football Club. They were neck and neck.

            “All clear!” said the announcer. “The Host Club finished at the same time as the Football Club. Will the other groups follow? As expected, it looks like the two clubs who sparked the race will move on to challenge each other in the final round! Which club will seize the crown?!”

            The Host Club looked at the five listed clues.

BoH Go up and sink Tenjiku KCN Between the Holy Mother and Angel

            “Does ‘BoH’ mean there’s supposed to be a word inside the square?” said Hikaru.

            “I bet it’s ‘west,’ as in ‘bust, waist, and hip,’ ” said Kaoru. His mother’s influence was clear (she was a designer, after all).

            “ ‘Go up and sink?’ ” said Haruhi. “The sun? It comes up and sinks every day.”

            “ ‘Tenjiku,’ ” said Kyoya. “That’s India. It’s also the destination of the party in Journey to the West.”

            “KCN could be Potassium Cyanide. It smells like almonds, which come from West India,” said (Y/N). “That could be a connection…” They weren’t convinced yet, though.

            “Three of the five clues are related to ‘West,’ ” said Tamaki. “Assuming one of them points to the ‘sun…’ that means the destination is the West Gym—where the Third Years are holding their event for the festival! Sunset Venice!”

l

            (Y/N) looked around themself. They hadn’t expected to change costumes into that of a venetian carnival outfit, but such were the antics of the Host Club. So, as they floated on a gondola across the giant gym (recreating Venice was quite something), (Y/N) just leaned back.

            “A sweet, fragrant sea breeze,” said Tamaki. “A scarlet sunset that burns the heart. How mysterious. Until a moment ago, I thought we were under the sunny autumn sky of Japan. Look, Haruhi. The gentle water flowing in this canal. This grand atmosphere is just like hwo I feel about you—”

            Tock.

            “Dead end,” announced the twins.

            “It’s a one-way street, we have to go back,” said Honey.

            “So then Tamaki’s feelings for Haruhi are a ‘one way street with a dead end?’ ” said Kyoya.

            “Oh, dear, poor Tamaki,” said (Y/N), shaking their head.

            “That’s not it! I said ‘gentle and grand!’ ” cried Tamaki. “The scene was only a metaphor for the in a princely character scene!”

            “Ah, so your feelings are just an act,” said (Y/N).

            “No!” whined Tamaki.

            (Y/N) chuckled, and Kyoya smirked.

            “Guys, can we focus on the race? The Football Club is way ahead,” said Haruhi, sighing.

            “Oh, no, this is bad!” cried Tamaki. “Row! Row fast!”

            Mori was way ahead of him and propelled them forward.

            “Suoh! Catch!” Kuze taunted Tamaki and threw an orange towards him.

            Tamaki leaned out to catch it, but (Y/N) pulled a punting pole from the water and knocked the orange aside. Tamaki pouted, and (Y/N) shook their head.

            “He’s trying distracting us,” said (Y/N). “Do you want to lose?”

            “No!” declared Tamaki.

            “But where exactly are we heading?” said Haruhi. “We can’t look for the crown blindly in a large area like this. We need to figure out that last clue. What does ‘Between the Holy Mother and Angel’ mean?”

            “She’s never been to Italy…” said the twins, Honey, and Tamaki sadly.

            “Will you stop that ‘feeling sorry for the deprived commoner’ attitude?” said Haruhi, rolling her eyes.

            “Listen, Haruhi, even if it’s done on a much smaller scale, several famous locations in Venice have been erected in the gym,” said Tamaki. “For example, Palazzo Dario. San Marco. Ducale. And, most importantly, Sant’Angelo and Santa Maria della Salute.”

            “Oh!” said Haruhi.

            “It looks like the Football Club is heading for the same place,” said Kaoru.

            “Yeah, let’s hurry. The crown is probably sitting between the two spots in the gym. That’ll be Academia Bridge,” said Hikaru.

            “Mori, onwards!” declared Tamaki.

            “By the way, Haruhi, I hear you mentioned to Tamaki you think there are two perpetrators behind the letters?” said Kyoya. “Do you have any suspects?”

            “Yes, I think the one who sent the newspaper cutouts is Kanan Mitsuyama, the Student Council Secretary,” said Haruhi.

            Kyoya and (Y/N) glanced at each other as Haruhi continued.

            “Kuze has said he has a connection to the Student Council. I believe he asked Mitsuyama for help,” explained Haruhi. “He convinced the Student Council to withdraw from the race to make it more advantageous for the Football Club. From what I saw of them interacting yesterday, she doesn’t seem to be cooperating willingly.”

            (Y/N) saw a tiny smirk on Kyoya’s face, and they tilted their head. Hm.

            “I think Mitsuyama might be in a position where she can’t act against Kuze,” said Haruhi. “Though she may be obeying his orders, she may have a grudge against him. And that would explain why she might have conspired to prevent Kuze from realizing his absolute goal—a face-off with the Host Club.”

            “A very bold theory,” said Kyoya with an expression that (Y/N) knew from experience was a bit of amusement. “But is there any basis for her grudge?”

            “I did some research on the library computer yesterday,” said Haruhi. “Mitsuyama’s family holds the second biggest market share in Japan for imported produce. In other words, they’re direct competitors. But their business dropped last year, and rumor has it that the Kuze family is talking to them about some merger deals.”

            “You mean he’s manipulating Miss Mitsuyama using a deal that would rescue her family’s business?” said Hikaru.

            “For a gentleman, a deed like that is unforgivable!” said Tamaki. “We cannot let this stand. Everyone, take an oar! Whatever it takes, we must reach Accademia Bridge before the Football Club! For the sake of Miss Mitsuyama’s misery, the Host Club must win!”

l

            “…” The entirety of the Football Club and Host Club stared at the “Restricted Area” sign of the (under construction) Accademia Bridge. They had all been wrong about the clues.

            “Oh, no! It’s still being built,” said Honey. “Well…After all, it’s not to open for two days.”

            “This is your class, Honey!” cried Tamaki. “You should know the status of the project!”

            Mori shrugged.

            “But we’re not in charge of this section,” said Honey. “I’m doing a pastry shop.”

            “President! It’s not your fault, President! Here! Oranges have an rousing effect on the mind!”

            Kuze—also in Class 3-A—had forgotten about this area being under construction as well and felt extremely stupid.

            (Y/N) put a hand to their chin and looked around. If this isn’t the place…then where is it? It’s definitely here in the West. There’s no doubt there. So what— (Y/N) straightened. KCN and “Go up and sink.” The blueprints Kyoya had me memorize. Alkaline is in pool’s, and there’s a pool we can sink into on the roof of a building in the West. (Y/N) looked at Kyoya. Had he known…?

            Kyoya saw their knowing look and nodded. He smirked and waved them off. (Y/N) grinned, tore off their Carnivale costume, and raced for the next building.

            A few moments later, they heard the announcer saying people were giving chase, and (Y/N) forced themself onwards and upwards until they reached the roof. There, sitting on a throne between statues of an angel and Mother Mary, was a crown.

            “Get to the crown!” shouted Kyoya.

            From below on the stairs, he and the hosts were pushing the Football Club as they all jostled to get to the top. Kuze broke through, and (Y/N) ran for the crown. A broadcast team and Mitsuyama were already there and watched with wide eyes as (Y/N) and Kuze lunged for the crown.

            “Takeshi!” cried Mitsuyama.

            “(Y/N)!” shouted Tamaki.

            “It’s—” the announcer’s eyes widened.

            (Y/N) threw their hand up with the crown clutched in it and a giant grin on their face.

            “It’s over!” shouted the announcer. “(Y/N) (L/N) has claimed the crown! The Host Club wins!”

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[opinions-about-tiaras]

Thoughts on Dropouts two big game shows and their host:

I get that both Game Changer and Make Some Noise aren't anywhere near as free-form improvisational as they appear. Sam Reich is playing a character in almost the same way Stephen Colbert used to. They edit the episodes, they cut things and move things around, and so on. It isn't straight-up reality show fake, most of the materiel actually is improvised on the spot. The bits aren't rehearsed.

But like... I would bet a lot of money that Sam did not actually trap three people in an escape room; the cameras almost certainly stopped after the intro was shot and they were all asked to give consent to the scenario, for example. You know? For insurance reasons if nothing else.

Having said all that, I've been rolling something around in my head for a couple-three years now... either as part of his genuine managerial and aesthetic preferences, or as part of the bit they're doing, Sam Reich REALLY seems to absolutely hate it, like REALLY hate it, when people get creative with his tasks and prompts, when they deviate from what he is expecting of them.

Which is really weird for what's supposed to be balls-to-the-wall improv comedy.

If he gives people a deliberately free-form task or prompt, he's fine with weird, out-there responses to that. "Sam Says: Go!" and Ally Beardsley is "You tell me to go? Cool, I'm flying to New York City like right now, tonight." But if any of the contestants try and get creative outside the bounds he sets, he shuts that right down.

A number of Make Some Noise contestants have, for example, tried to get clever by violating the spirit of the prompts they're given in order to either adhere to the letter of the prompts in a clever way, or re-interpret them to flip the bit on its head.

Brennan Lee Mulligan is asked to re-create sound effects for a movie clip using old-fashioned foley gear, and instead improvises a disaster sequence that actually does match what's going on on the screen. Vic Michaelis is asked to re-create the sound a musical instrument makes as closely as possible, and instead of trying to do it with their voice, they badger the musician brought in to demonstrate to play it again. That sort of thing.

Those people never, ever win the point when doing this.

Same deal on Game Changer. "Bring me a duck!" Instead of building a pile of boxes to retrieve the pile of rubber ducks that are way up high, the contestants draw a bunch of ducks for Sam and present them to him. They've fulfilled the task as requested! ... and he rips up the ducks and goes "no points for anyone."

Ally Beardsley responds to the prompt "Who can make the loudest noise on a gong?" by answering the question correctly: Brennan Lee Mulligan can. Nope! Shut down hard.

It was the Season 7 premiere of Game Changer that really crystallized this for me, honestly. Vic Michaelis completes the task "Take this standee of Sam Reich to the most remote location you can" by assembling over four hundred TV remote controls and surrounding the standee with them. This is clever, funny, fulfilled the task as presented, and they put in genuine effort to do it, all things you want from a Game Changer task... and Vic loses a point for doing it.

They colored outside the lines and must be penalized for it.

In fact, Reich referred to Vic's responses in a Polygon interview as "irrelevant to what I asked for," which is absolutely not the case for many of them. Sure, burglarizing his home is absolutely not finding the coolest free item on Craigslist. Everything else, though? Nah. Maybe Vic doesn't win the point, but they shouldn't be losing them either.

It's not a big deal, but it's so weird. Like, is he doing this out of a sense of fairness, "I can't give you a point for going way off the reservation when everyone else obeyed not just the letter but the spirit of what was asked." Is it "if I let these guys go any more crazy than they already go this is gonna cross the line from 'hilarious farce' to 'just plain farcical.'"

Or maybe I'm overthinking it, seeing something that isn't there. That's a possibility to.

[cultkinkcoven]

okay so I guess I’m back to losing my fucking mind.

Did that ritual with Lucifer yesterday, offered him some blood and a chocolate apple. He expressed that he wanted me to put all my sigils in one place so I got this case for him, he really liked it. I wrote him a little letter and all that.

At some point I expressed to him that I was somewhat disappointed that he seemed less willing to engage with me seriously when I was trying to practice automatic writing on the type writer. and he said something like "well, you didn't really have anything to ask me."

So I tried approaching him with a real question, the answer to which I do not know. The one thing that has been agitating me lately is whatever occurred during our last meeting, with that lady spirit. He provided a very brief explanation at the time, but I still had questions. What happened there? It seemed really random and strange.

And he was like alright, I will give it a serious attempt. This was after we'd already spent some time together, cleared our space, meditated. But I still took quite a while to lock into some sort of trance state that would allow me to simultaneously take control out of my body whilst also not paralyzing myself. Idk if that makes sense but if you know you know. And after what might have been a whole hour or two, maybe an hour and a half, I felt his energy creeping up on me. In my mind's eye I saw a snake entering my room through my window (funny because I'm on the 4th floor). It was very dark in the room, the only light was his candle. I could not see what was being written entirely, although I could still somewhat see the keys, and I knew their position through muscle memory, so there is that.

But when that snake slithered around my abdomen and coiled around my body, my left hand, my non dominant hand, which happened to be wearing his ring at the time, rose. The snake coiled around it, and I watched in that silent trace state, where you can see yourself moving, but you are observing it in second person. It actually kind of tickles in a weird way. At first my hand did not type at all. I felt his whisper dance over me and my hand stroked my thighs and stomach. After about maybe 20 minutes of that, a good while, my hand crept over to the typewriter and began to type quickly. Slower than before, but quickly. I don't really know how to explain this but I really liked doing that. It's a very silent unspoken form of communication, I feel him move me and I obey, I have to respond quickly and be completely submissive to his will. It's... nice.

I was trying to track what I thought he was saying based on the keys being clicked, but I lost him at parts. I fully and completely expected this to come out really crude, perhaps gibberish. When I tried to predict the next key I would hit, I was wrong. The sentence would trail on in a way or use a word I didn't expect. A sentence would end when I was sure there was going to be another word.

When I hit the end of the paper I wanted to take a second to read it, but he didn't want to let me. I took a bit more control back, gained a bit more lucidity, and fed the back half of the paper back in without reading it. I was quite sure that I had wasted a sheet of paper at this point. The writing got a lot faster near the end. I was having a hard time keeping up and I was quite sure whatever this was would be very difficult to decipher, if it had any meaning at all.

When the note was finished, he did not pull away from me entirely. I was so eager to read it, but he made me lay with him for a bit before I got up. Sexy stuff, skip.

When I eventually did get up and read it in its entirety, I was like on the verge of freaking out. It's less so what he said (although that is also making me weep because wtf) and more so how legible and clear it is that bewildered me. There are a few mistakes, but I know they are mine. They occurred when I either couldn't properly respond to his command or fumbled in surprise at an unexpected move. Its legibility immediately made me doubt myself. I'm bullshiting myself right now. I could still somewhat see the keys, I still had a vague idea of what might have been said. Does this count? Surely this doesn't count.

I read this thing like 500 times. and I just

idek

It sounds like him at least. But there's also a lot of me in there, surely.

So I was like, I need to do this completely blank. And I gave him full permission to take me deeper into trance. I turned off all the lights including his altar lights. I closed my eyes, I sat for about another hour maybe until I was completely immersed in him, submitted to him. Until I was almost not even aware if I was typing or not.

and I'm not even entirely sure what I really asked him. It was something about myself, something about feeling crazy, or him driving me crazy. He only moved my left hand, again, and he only used one finger, my middle finger (which my ring was on) this time. And he typed quickly. And I genuinely had no clue which keys my finger was hitting. And I was like oh yeah, okay. Gibberish. I let it happen completely. I don't really care what it says at this point.

and he started to speed up again near the end, and the pain in my hand was bringing me back into lucidity. and I could feel his energy above me, almost mounting me. And he was telling me to stop. It wasn't forceful, it was playful. Enough work now, lets play now. Lay down, lay back. And I started kind of laughing because my hand was moving so erratically. He pulled me back, I felt it with a force, and I laid back on my pillow. Something something, sexy stuff. skip.

I ended up actually passing out after. and I didn't read this one until later. I didn't really care because I thought it would just be nonsense again, I thought he was trying to prove a point or tease me.

So when I did eventually read it, ngl babes I cried.

It is definitely less legible but I'm pretty sure I understand what he meant to say. The parts that are really garbled are the parts where he started to speed up, and looking back on it, this letter perfectly aligns with what I was doing and thinking at the time. idk. I'm kind of spiraling.

EDIT: COMPLETELY FORGOT TO MENTIONIT WAS STORMING LIKE A MF WHEN INWAS DOING THIS. Which added to the atmosphere but also made everything so much more intense. Wind howling, thunder, everything. Wild.

IM just a boy with a type writer fr.