#i still really like this tradition it's way better than resolutions

[owlbelly]

2024 bingo review

no bingos. half-hearts are for things i started or did occasionally but didn't feel like i really completed to my satisfaction, which is maybe a little unfair because some of them (especially the garage clean/organize & woodchipping) i did make serious progress on but it's a huge job. so idk maybe i should have counted those! i counted "stretch/walk" because i did WAY better with stretching (almost every day for my legs/feet!) & i think i walked more than i did last year but i was hampered by tendonitis for a lot of the year again. i did a fuck ton of yard work though so that should count! i'm very bad at "going for a walk" as an activity in itself - i don't like walking the same route over & over again, i don't like walking up the big hill RIGHT at the start of the walk we always take, but i DO like doing hours of yard work to actually accomplish shit i can see.

my creative goals got put on the back burner again (as usual) due to putting most of my art energy into freelance...i need to not let that happen next year. i mean i need to continue to make money but jfc i also need to feel like i experimented & accomplished something new with my own art!!! feeling very hopeful about woodcarving, i'm really enjoying it now that i started. i just have so many things always that i want to make/do, & so little energy/time (executive function?). music also just didn't happen but i did acquire MORE instruments (stole my dad's mountain dulcimer because he doesn't play it, picked up a few hand drums at thrift stores, got a vintage keyboard for free) so like. bitch. either play them or get rid of them!!! i need to play them!!! i got a tuner as a holiday present so guitar/banjo are back on the menu too. i need to find local people to play with, i do much better with music when i'm not alone.

some of these are definitely gonna roll over to 2025 because i feel strongly about them, i also need to like...think about how to word things so that they're more doable or i can't look at them at the end of the year & go "welllll did i REALLY accomplish that?? probably not" because that's not a good feeling & i tend to be somewhat unfair to myself. i appreciate seeing other people's bingo sheets without bingos though, because it reminds me i don't HAVE to get a bingo! also there were a ton of accomplishments i made this year that weren't on that list at all, like organizing the fuck out of the house.

gotta work on the 2025 sheet now!

[hyukascampfire]

𝒯𝑂: 𝑆𝑂𝑀𝐸𝑂𝑁𝐸 𝐹𝑅𝑂𝑀 𝐴 𝑊𝐴𝑅𝑀 𝐶𝐿𝐼𝑀𝐴𝑇𝐸 ༉

𝓘N THIS STORY 〃 a life lived as a human among the fae is one hard-earned. the folk are built of indescribable beauty, and of debauchery and mischief. for some, a life lived subservient to the folk is just fine; but to those who dream of something more, they would spend their lives clawing and biting to make it happen.

you, looking for a way to escape a life as a faerie’s human servant, put a new foot forward thinking that any life could be better than that. but, when your first assignment as a king’s spy is alongside a brooding, icy faerie man, you begin to wonder what your place in this foreign world really could be.

wc ➳ 20.2k

pairings faerie!taehyun x human!reader, faerie!yeonjun x human!reader

warnings angst, heated kissing, violence, blood, jealousy jealousy jealousy, controlling and obsessive behavior, a bit of a gross nightmare, magic spell placed over a human, a bit of traditional values, i think that’s all…

playlists ⑊ yeonjun ˒ taehyun ˒ series

…🪶 ashlynn's note guys. really. that’s all i have to say. i love u and once again if u see a typo or like whack sentence…… no you didn’t. also my back hurts help

← ⑊ →

You’ve come to a thought, in all your aimless idling about the estate. Running your fingers over the surface of all the things you’ve done and the decisions you’d made leading you into this reality, you’ve been caught on one particularly worrisome divot: the geas. 

They hadn’t exactly given you a time frame, but you surmise that you’re quickly approaching the limit. You've entertained the fantasy that they’ll just consider the both of you dead, but it’s just that: fantasy. You know it’s a ridiculous thought. There’s a plethora of things that they might first assume before coming to the conclusion that you’ve met your ends. Though the geas’ workings are a bit elusive to you, you can imagine that all it would take is a tug to check whether or not you’re alive. So, if you ever really wanted to call this place home, you’ve got to do away with it. You’ve got to. Otherwise, all your wagering to stay here would be in terrible vain. You imagine how much of a fool you already look to Taehyun, considering your entanglement with the prince, and how he’d warned you repeatedly. It’s not your fault that he decided to stay here along with you, but you feel nauseous imagining your own mistakes getting the both of you killed.  

Embroidering whorling designs on the hems of your coverlets or sweating away your energy with practicing blocks and parries, you’d also let your mind wander off to fill the silence. It was then that you’d remembered what Beomgyu had offered you in his attempts at luring you. I could dissolve that geas for you.  

You sit, legs spread out ahead of you, in the little spot that you’ve found yourself frequenting these days: pressed against the side of your wardrobe, just enough room for your feet to brush against the wood framing of your bed without having to bend your knees. Taehyun has recently been bringing an influx of faeries to work the estate—all indebted to him or his father. Or, well, that’s what he tells you, anyway. You choose to believe him, but still, you wonder about the circumstances of those debts. The brownie assigned to your care, named Conifer, is long-limbed with bark for skin that crawls up from her spindly fingers and toes, just to end at her shins and fore-arm, and insists on bathing you and preparing your clothes each day. When you refuse her, she loiters around the doorway anxiously watching you prepare yourself with her watery black eyes until you decide to make her life just a bit easier and allow her to do her work. You don’t exactly adore the scrape of her sharp fingers on your scalp while she does your tresses up, though. Their presence reminds you of the servants you’d see running around Yeonjun’s place.  

In this corner, you avoid them. It’s a nice spot to betray your own resolution; his letters are only a grab of the handles away. You try not to, but you read them. Often. When your memories really get kicking, when you’re sickened by twinkling, desperate eyes looking up to you from the ground, you read them.  

“You look sorry.” Beomgyu settles opposite from you, his back against your bed. 

Scoffing at him, you pull yourself out of a slouch. “Oh, wow. Thank you. You have a way with words,” you quip, hiding the letters you’d fished out indulgently away behind you. 

He furrows his brows. “I meant it.” 

You drag in some air and release it slow. “I know. I’m sure I do.” 

He points at you with the hand he has rested on his knee. “Does it have something to do with the letters?” 

You hadn’t hidden them fast enough. Shame crawls a warm red path over your cheeks and ears. Nobody has made any comments at you for your longing, but it feels pitiful to be doing so. You shake your head. “No. I was just... thinking. About something you said when we first met.” 

Strong brows shoot up over lazed eyes. “I think I said many things,” he says, “you’ll have to tell me.” 

“That you could dissolve my geas,” you say, fiddling with your fingers. 

His eyes consider you. “It bothers you.” 

“It does,” you say. “It was a mistake. I should’ve refused it.” Hope flutters in your chest like a dead weight. You shun it away before reality can rip it out for you. 

Deadpanned, and not particularly delicately, he tells you, “I cannot break it.”  

Nodding, you wilt. It’s what you were expecting, anyway. That would be too easy. "Why not? You said it yourself that you could.” 

“A geas is a type of magic cut from the fabric of a promise. It’ll exist until the faerie that placed it over you chooses to revoke it. I couldn’t reach in and cut the line like I would another sort of enchantment.” He presses his mouth into a line. “I was under the impression that you were brought up here. Hadn’t you known that a promise is binding?” 

 Wincing, you answer, “Yeah. I did.” And yet, you made it. It was perhaps the biggest mistake you’ve made in your entire life. You now understand Taehyun’s aversion when he first made his appearance at the den. You were too tunnel-visioned to really listened to him, then. You run your hands furiously through your hair. “Still... you said you could. How did you say that, if it was a lie?” 

A wicked smile cracks over his lips—one that looks as though he’s sharing a joke that only the both of you might understand, but you’re far from being in on it with him. “A bit late to be learning how our kind play, I believe. I was able to say that because I made myself think it true. It is not plain, and it is not fair, but it’s what it is.” 

“That makes no sense,” you say, shaking your head. “You can’t believe something is true over what you already know is the truth. You’d have to acknowledge the other thing’s truth to do that.” 

He grimaces. “That you believe that is why you’ve found yourself here. It’s paradoxical, maybe, but we’re good at that. Loopholes exist where you look hard enough for them. If you don’t intend to get caught up, you just never accept a Faerie deal, there’s no other way to it.” 

Running fingers over the grooves in the wood of the floor, you say, “I suppose I shouldn’t ask you to work up an enchantment that might counteract it, then.” 

“Perhaps I could,” he says. 

Perked up and mouth dropped open, you’re ready to ask him a waterfall of questions. He cuts in before you can even start. “It wouldn’t rid you of the original magic, and I can make no promises to you that it’d be watertight.” 

“I’ll take anything,” you say. With narrowed eyes, you add, “After that whole speech about finding loopholes to lie, and to never trust faerie magic, though...” 

He frowns at you. “I see how it is.” 

“What? I mean, you said it a few seconds ago. I think getting tripped up into another Faerie trick, like, literally seconds after you warned me about them would be a bit ironic.” 

“We’re no longer friendly,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest. 

You laugh. Him considering you friends is news to you. The word is delicious. You want to say it more. “Oh, please. We’re only friends when it benefits you. How can I be so sure you aren’t tricking me?” 

“Now, we’re really not friendly.” 

A laugh bubbles past your lips once again, and you crawl over to him to try and make amends. “You’re the one who said it.” 

He turns his face from you. “Spare me.” 

“Seriously though, do you mean it? That you’d help me?” you ask. The proposition is too shiny to not consider. 

“It’s not as if I could harm you in any way,” he tells you, dropping the theatrics. “I think I’d like something in return for it, though.” 

You frown. Of course, in Faerie, there are no favors. “What would you want?” 

The kelpie’s eyes roam over your room for a moment, but it’s mostly for show, because his eyes come back on you with intent. He lifts his head at you in a pointing gesture. “Those letters,” he says.  

Frown deepening, you sit back. “The letters?” you say, trying to rein in your face. You don’t want him to see how awfully you want to cling to them. Having them is inconsequential when stood beside dealing with the geas, but still... “The ones from Yeonjun?” 

Eyes dancing with interest, he nods. “Those.” 

You pull them from behind you. They look a lot less pretty now, envelopes dented with your touches. You can’t see why he’d have any interest in them; they weren’t even for him. “Why?” you ask him. “They’re just letters.” 

Beomgyu nod his head in acknowledgment. “They are,” he says. “So why do they bother you as they do?” 

Pausing, you consider his words. Why do they? Yeonjun is a liar. You weren’t special—just a mission to him. You should hate him; seeing those letters full of flowery words and proclamations of love should anger you. And they do, they do anger you, but that doesn’t stop you from reading them. You’re not sure what you’re searching for in them. Closure? Proof of his lies? Or, excuses? 

Beomgyu has no interest in the letters. It’s his way of telling you that you need to grow a spine. You suppose it’s about time that you do just that. 

“Here.” You push them off into his hands. “You’ll do it, then?” 

The corners of his lips turn up. “Maybe...” 

You hiss and reach for your letters, but he tugs them toward himself and holds them safe out of your reach. 

“Give those back, you prick,” you say. “You don’t get them for free. It’s called a deal. You said you’d help me.” 

With his eyes dancing with wild mischievous intent, he pretends to think. “Did I?” 

You land a smack on his upper arm, groaning when it only sends his face more viciously taunting. That playing glint in his eyes is welcomed, though. At least you know he’s only playing. Otherwise, you might be more worried that he is genuinely screwing you over. “Stop playing tricks,” you say, furled out from gritted teeth. “You know you did. This is what got you here in the first place, idiot. I’m being serious.” 

His lip curls, and he relents. “Do not remind me.” 

“Didn’t you learn your lesson the first time?” you say, sending eyes with dagger points his way. “C’mon. Magic.” 

Looking kicked, he grabs your hand. It sends you back to the day you’d gotten that awful geas and the way Cricket had done the same thing. You’re going to fix that mistake. 

“I was just having my fun. I suffer a terrible drought of it here.” 

Your skin tickles, and you know he’s working on it. Heart doing nervous laps, you say, “Well, look whose roof we live under. It’s no wonder.” 

He likes that, wicked delight crackling over his features in just the same way his magic crackles through your veins. It’s a far cry from the last time you’d felt a sensation like this. It feels as though a beast of the wild is crashing through your bones like they’re hollow. It’s untamed, but you know just by the thrumming of it that his magic is much more refined and ancient than the geas’. Its claws brush up against your very core.  

You try and blink away the daze, deciding to distract yourself away from it with speech. “You know, I was thinking.” 

He raises his eyebrows, listening. His magic doesn’t falter as he offers you his attention; no need for his concentration. Not when he’s had centuries to become intimately familiar with it.  

“That maybe Yeonjun is a gancanagh,” you continue.  

A gancanagh—sugar-mouthed faeries with the power to send those around them enamored with them with only as much as their words. They’re better known for their other, and in your opinion more fitting, name: love-talker. You’d been so taken by Yeonjun, so weakened by him. The idea that perhaps it was all to the effect of some magic... You’re not sure whether it consoles you or makes it hurt more. Then again, it could also just be you trying to justify the mistakes you’d made. Your mind bends and twists around the thought, maybe the magic. Or, maybe, frustration. 

“A gancanagh,” he says. Beomgyu considers the notion for a moment, but still works his magic through you. “I’m not sure.” 

Not sure? You press the issue. “How are you not sure whether or not the prince is a gancanagh? I know you stay in your forest, but I imagine that you’d know that.” 

“Hmm.” He turns your arm as if trying for a new angle. “I believe that the prince’s mother is one of the sorrier kinds that the High King takes. He has his Ladies, and he has his courtesans. It seems that he was not so proud of her, since her name never reached my lands.” 

A bout of nausea rolls over your skull. His magic is so potent. The tidbit of information is enough to have you perking up despite it. “You think that his mother is a courtesan?” 

“Well, I know she is not a favored Lady. I know nothing of her. She could be gancanagh, or she could be any other thing.” He shoots you a pointed look. “I’m curious as to why you ask.” 

Skin clammy, you wipe at your cheek. “How long does this take?” you ask. 

“As long as I make it take,” he says, tilting his head off to one side. “Why are you worried of the prince’s heritage?” 

You know he’s fishing answers out of you. Shrugging, you tell him, “It was a genuine thought.” 

Nausea and buzzing subside as he releases your arm. “The King has many children. Only some were really considered for their father’s throne, though. I know that the young prince was never one of them. I suggest thinking on that.” 

You blow out a shuddering breath, controlled and small, to compose yourself under the weight of this new magic. “That’s it?” you ask, brushing some hair away from your face. “What did you do?” 

“Mostly, blocked.” 

“Elaborate,” you say, running fingers over your skin as if you might feel the magic there. 

Taken with amusement, he answers, “If the one who placed the geas there tries and play that card, they’ll find the pathways blocked.” He slumps back onto your bed. “It does not mean that the original magic is gone. It is still very much there. Just... hindered.” 

Your head swims. It’s not gone, but this... You know that your sleep will come to you easier now. Maybe it’s not foolproof, but this is much better. Much. 

“No more deals,” he tells you. “You’ve only got so much of yourself. Each time you fill yourself up with our magic, you lose that space. You will never be whole again, but you ought to savor what you’ve got left. You can only make the best of it.” His mud brown eyes are not joking, now. 

Blinking, you fumble out a nod. 

You’ll never be whole again. You hope that’s more a clever wording than the truth, but with the chill that grips your belly and brushes over the overfilled parts of you, you fear you can’t help but believe it. 

❆

You hate it. 

Drowning in it—you hate it. You hate the scarlet red of it, you hate the sticky spray of it on your skin, hate the cries of agony that follow its ceremony, and the feel of its blazing warmth fresh from the body. You’re choking. Swimming up with thrashing arms, it’s so thick that you make no way.  

The liquidity turns to sturdy arms. They cage you, grab your heart and twist, point daggers at your chest and they whisper words in your ears that you don’t want to remember. Your place is in the dirt, they say. You are nothing. A boot in your neck chokes you. You want to scream and cry that you are good, that you didn’t want to hurt them, that you’ll just mind your place if they take their boot off from your neck, but you can’t. You have no voice. 

The metallic tang of the blood follows you, even as you find yourself standing in Court. It stains the muddy floor a wretched color. A thousand eyes blaze on your skin.

You feel them looking at you. You want them to stop, but they laugh and laugh. Yeonjun joins them, looking up at you with vile mock.

“You think I’d beg for you?” he sneers. His sweet voice is warped and twisted into something ugly and mean that grates at your ears and heart. His laugh echoes, and then you’re looking up at him as he hovers over you. “You don’t deserve my begging. I hate you.”

Metal burns your nose, and when you look between the two of you, he’s bleeding from the stomach—from the dagger you’d plunged there. He looks up at you, livid eyes piercing you. “Look. Look what you did. You killed me.”

You shake your head frantically, going to hold his face. You try to tell him no, no you didn’t—you didn’t kill him, but still—

Shooting up, you grasp for breaths and clutch at the bedding. Heart thudding in your chest, you find Taehyun stood in your doorway, looking dragged from sleep. 

You adjust your sleep gown, disheveled with sleep and ridden up your thighs. Still piecing together consciousness, you croak out a, “Huh?” 

There, tickling at the back of your mind, you still smell blood. 

“I thought something was wrong,” he says, taking in the room with a thorough sweep. “You sounded...” Taehyun starts, but does not finish. “Since you’re doing fine, I’ll leave you to sleep.” 

“Stay?” you blurt, before he can turn and leave you here. Your voice comes out thinner and more fragile than you’d meant it to.  

Brows shooting up, Taehyun is hesitant to step into the room. “It’s probably hours before sunrise,” he says. “You don’t want to fall back asleep?” 

You shake your head. No, you don’t. If you do, then you’ll be back to drowning. You might not even be able to fall asleep at this point. The taste lingers. You’re still panting a little when you say, “I don’t want to bother you, but... Please.” 

Taehyun relents apprehensively, stopping just before the end of your bed. Moonlight blooms over his face from the window. It makes a show of his sharp cheek and jaw lines and emphasizes the feathering of his jaw around a hard swallow. “You were having a bad dream,” he says, an observation rather than a question. “About what?” 

Him standing over you like that; it doesn’t feel so easy to tell him that you’re haunted by what you’ve done. You wince at him and send a gesture up. “You don’t have to stand there. You can sit here.” You pat at the opposite end of your bed. 

He flexes one hand, a rare anxious gesture from him. “I wouldn’t just invite myself into a lady’s bed.” 

Well, he didn’t have to put it like that. 

You say, “I’m inviting you to sit down next to me, Taehyun...” 

It’s a few moments before he does, bed dipping beneath him. Like this, it feels much less like an interrogation. Insects buzz outside, singing their song to the stars and mercifully filling up the moment that you take to pluck up composure. He watches you, but doesn’t say anything. He waits. 

Catching a few strands of your scattered thoughts, you say, “Do you get nightmares sometimes? About the people you’ve killed?” It’s blunt and not much, but it’s all you have in you. It’s a thought that has served as a thorn in your side for quite a while now, too. Is it only you who’s had a prison made of their own mind? 

 Will it ever go away? 

Resolutely, he shakes his head. “No. I don’t.” 

“Oh.” You hold yourself a little harder, as if the chill that passes over you is a draft from the window and not bitter dread. “How? How can you not be bothered by it? They’re dead, and they’ll never be coming back. They had as many thoughts and wants as we did. They had mothers that might weep to know they’re gone. I can’t... I don’t stop thinking of them.” 

“It’s a bit too late for me to start feeling sorry for it,” Taehyun says. “You can’t let it rule you. Not everybody is good, and they were not. If they try to hurt you, you hurt them first. If they lay their hands on you, you cut them off.” 

You grow tense as he explains, eyes so heavy that you can practically feel the dark hollows beneath them. “Not even when you hurt someone for the first time? It didn’t bother you then?” 

He eyes you. The pine smell of him so close to you is both familiar and a distant memory. “I saw blood too early for it to ever haunt me.” 

Turning finally, you find his eyes. “I feel so guilty.” Your body buzzes with the need to curl into him, to have him comfort you for it, but you know that he won’t receive it the way you want him to. The way Yeonjun had.  

But you need it. You need it so bad right now. 

“That won’t absolve it. Guilt will not raise them from the dead,” he says. It’s forthright, but he doesn’t mean it to disconcert you. “You’re tearing yourself up inside, but there’s justice in protecting yourself.” 

Swallowing around tension, you nod. He’s right; you had every right to kill those times. You’ve known that the whole time. So, why does it still visit you in the deep hours of the night? You chant his words in your head, as if to beat them into your skull. If you try hard enough, you will. 

“What happens?” he asks, when the both of you have been quiet for too long. It’s strange to see him making attempts to fill silence. “In the dreams, what happens?” 

Shifting into a cozier position, you lean into the headboard by your shoulder. Some of the adrenaline has worked itself away, but remembering it is still bitter.  

You don’t miss the flickering of his eyes over the expanse of your thigh. You might’ve explained it away as a quick glance if that... look had not passed over his face. Restraint—darting eyes and his throat bobbing. It seems that his concern about being in your bed was about more than just propriety. 

“Mostly, blood.” You make a distraction out of the hemming of your blanket, pinching and picking at it. “So much of it. Sometimes the dreams are different, but... it’s always the common theme.” 

Acknowledging that, he dips his head in a slow, shallow nod. “We’ll start training you on the bow, then.” 

“The bow?” you ask.

“I think that the long range will be better for you,” Taehyun elaborates.

You drink his face in once more. In it, you see him reaching out a hand—it’s shaky and awkward and untrained. But under all that, you see that he’s trying. In the silver moonlight, the bow does not look so bad.

Taehyun doesn’t leave you until dawn cracks through the windows.

❆

You wish that you had your gloves. It’s freezing today—wind whipping your hair and teeth chattering even through your extensive layering. You have, like, two pairs of woolen stockings on. But Taehyun said that you’ll need to be able to grip the bowstring good, and so you abandoned them when you’d dragged all this on. 

He’d made good on his word. Now, you’re out in some shallow neck of the woods, and he’s pointing out the trees that you’re supposed to be using for targets. They’re obscured in the onslaught of snowy haze. You want to gripe that he’d picked the worst day to drag you out here, but really, you know it was a fully intentional choice. 

“No bullseye for now, just try and hit them wherever you can manage.” Taehyun makes a gesture up at the array of trees. “Don’t forget that the wind is blowing west. You’ll have to adjust for that.” 

He watches you take up an arrow, quiet as you clumsily wiggle it around until it sits in a spot that feels relatively correct. 

“Higher,” he finally says. “Find the rest for the arrow, and then you’ll find the nocking point on the string.” 

You fumble with the placement some more, freezing fingers not as agile as they could be. Just as he said, the arrow falls into a place where it sits comfortably. “This?” 

He hums, voice closer. “That’s good. Now, you lift it just like that. Don’t lose that hold, and pinch the back of the arrow, behind the feathers, with your knuckles.” 

Raising the bow, you’re so concentrated on keeping the arrow in place that it shocks you how hard it is to pull the bowstring. The further back you pull it, the more force it demands from you. You only manage to bring it halfway before you stop. “Woah.” 

Wind stops brushing your cheeks and hair so hard, and Taehyun’s voice comes from right beside you this time. “Harder than you thought it’d be, huh?” he says, smirk in his voice matching the one you find on his mouth when you turn to look at him. “It’s going to be hard for a while. You’ve got to build up the muscle for it. For now, you just have to power through it.” 

You try again, finding the spot where your muscles protest and then going beyond it. Your arms tremble, some spot in the middle of your chest aching with it. You sift through the trees, rushing to find one to release the arrow on before you can no longer maintain the hold. 

“Stand straighter.” He reaches over to adjust your arm, pulling the string-wielding one even further back and forcing your chest further open. Your arms burn. You’re not sure how much longer you can hold like this. 

“Hurry,” you say. 

“Go ahead.” 

Deciding on the nearest tree, you let the string go from between aching fingertips. It misses and passes the tree to land somewhere in the foliage behind it, but not as awfully as you’d expected. Hissing, you shake out your arms and stretch your shoulders to try and kill the burn, but it lingers. “You made that look a lot easier than it really is,” you tell him. 

“My first shot looked a lot like that,” he says, leaned back into a tree. “That was a great first try. I should’ve had you on the bow earlier.” He motions to the bow. “Show me another one.” 

Arms still ringing, you sloppily repeat. None of the arrows meet their mark, and you get worse with each. You’d done so well with the first one, though. Frustration sparks in your chest, catching into a flame when this one misses as well. The cramping in your shoulders and the gnawing of frost at your fingers do not help your temper. “Guess that was beginner’s luck,” you say, jaw tense. “I can’t shoot for shit, now.” 

Pushing himself off the tree, Taehyun approaches you once more and says, “It helps if you breathe out before letting the arrow go, but it’s mostly that your arms are tired. Today isn’t about aim, it’s about repetition.” Now in front of you, his eyes dart down to your mouth, but it’s a split-second look. You’d have missed it with a blink. You want to ask him why he keeps looking at you like that—like how he had in your bed that one night. You don’t want to make the air awkward, though.  

To be more honest with yourself, you’re afraid to ask. You’re afraid what the answer might be; you have don’t even have the foggiest clue. “Maybe we should go back. I’ll just stick with what I know.” 

“So, you’ll just give it up when it gets hard?” he says, a little ticked off. A muscle in his jaw feathers.  

You wonder what he’s thinking, beyond just what he’s saying. What he feels beyond what he’ll let you see. The reason that Taehyun dropped the spy life the moment you’d told him you’d stay here with Yeonjun is still just as elusive to you. You’re no fool—you’d seen the look that passed over his face when you had. It had brought a chill down your spine, something hollow but also desperate. Taehyun does not seem like the type taken to puppy love. He does not seem like the type to follow whims, either. So, what is this? You’re unsure what to make of it, and what to make of him.

You two had been snapping teeth and blazing arguments, but what lays beneath that? Why does the impenetrable man let you get under his skin the way he does? 

“Yes,” you say, just to ruffle some feathers. “I’ll just keep working on swordplay.” 

He catches the bait. “Then, what are we out here for? I thought close combat was bothering you.” Flakes of fluffy snow sit on his hair, white petals against black. “And, it doesn’t hurt to diversify your skillset. Not with a war looming.” 

Frustration gives way to softness. Taehyun doesn’t have to be out here. He has no obligations to help you with your ridiculous, pitiful dreams. You’re thankful for it, no matter how rugged he comes across while doing it. “I’m just messing with you. You make it too easy,” you say, offering him a smile. Beneath it, you’re left reeling with the reminder about the war. In your choosing to omit it from your thoughts, you’d just about forgotten about it. Anxiety comes crashing back through the crumbling dam. By now, the King has absolutely realized that Yeonjun is not coming back. Does he think that the north has hurt him or holds him hostage? He might start the war himself, then. A thought dawns upon you. That might’ve been the intention all along—to have him start things, to remain faultless. Taehyun had said that the Queen is a scheming sovereign. 

“War,” you say, licking over chapped lips. “Do you think it’ll really happen? That it’ll come to battles?” You can’t help worrying. You’ve chosen your side in staying here. What if that was the wrong choice? What if your betrayal comes around to bite you? Or, what if the north’s reputation for brutality ends up doing the job before it ever can? You feel surrounded by death—surrounded by walls of violence, where too far in one direction would be your end. “It’s not as if I’ll be fighting, though.” 

Face solemn, he says, “Let’s start heading back.” 

That draws no complaints from you, tucking fingers under your arms to try and save them. He hadn’t answered your question, though. “Taehyun?” 

Brittle leaves and brush crunch underfoot. “It’s coming.” 

Narrowing your eyes at him, tensed in the shoulders, you ask, “Why are you acting like that? Are you hiding something from me?” 

The both of you pause to let a dryad scurry off, snow falling off its bark skin in chunks as it crashes through the forest and away from you. These woods are a lot fuller than the ones you’d found Beomgyu in. 

“Taehyun,” you repeat. Your stomach is sick. Skin burning, you get flashes of memories—of Yeonjun’s guilty eyes that night. It rushes through your bloodstream like icy water. This feels like an overreaction, but your body does not align with your stuttering heart. You can’t tamp it down. “What is it? I don’t like secrets.” Your voice comes out fragile, like it’ll break in the frigid air like ice and fall down to the ground in a crash. 

His face is hard. You don’t like that, either. 

“You’re not going to be fighting, but I know what is planned. It’s messy; messy and dirty. And dirty wars are not afraid of collateral damage.” 

Frowning, you ask, “How do you know what’s planned?” 

“It’s a general’s job to know the war he leads his army into.” 

You stop dead. “Are you serious?” you snap, voice on a tight leash. “Seriously, Taehyun?” He keeps walking, forcing you to tear your feet from their spot to follow him. Jogging to match his stride, you say, “So, you’re just going to take up his will? You’re going to lead a war, like him? What about me, Taehyun? What happens to me?”  

It seems that he’s fully taken over his role as heir to his father and his estate, but why? Why, if he sheared off his own ears to escape that legacy? Taehyun’s moral code has exceptions for violence, but he said it himself—he doesn’t like senseless killing. Not like what would come with taking on this role.  

“Being general secures me a seat while they discuss their plans. It means I have sway in what happens. This is not for my enjoyment, or for power, like how my father saw it,” he says, measured and steady. “You’ve not seen a Faerie war. They’re given to dramatics, and they span... they span long. If something is going to happen, it’s better off that I’m in the room that they discuss it. Otherwise, we’re just sitting here and crossing out fingers that we don’t get caught in the crossfire.” Head held high, he adds, “This is my duty.” 

Anxiety warms your frozen bones. “Duty?” you say through a caustic laugh. “You’ll be going to war, Taehyun.” 

“Not petty battles. If something more drastic happens, I suppose I would, but being a foot soldier is not my role in this. Maybe my father would’ve, just to see the blood and carnage, but not me,” he says, as if that makes it any better. 

“I don’t like this.” 

“They know we were here as spies. They could decide at any moment to kill us. As general, my position would protect us.” He levels you a stare, hard. “You decided to stay here for him, so this is what I have to do.” 

A terrible sickness settles in your stomach with his words. These are the consequences to your actions, for your overenthusiasm, but you feel more like a burden than sorry for yourself.  

You want to tell him to stop paying the prices; that it’s not his job, but a chilly breeze sings in your ears that it’s much too late for that.  

  ❆

Biting back complaints and the prickling of tears, you let Conifer work on your hair. She’s merciless with the tugs and pins, fingers threading through strands to tug them up into the frilly and loose updo.  

“Why do I need to be dressed?” you ask her, watching her work dutifully behind you through the mirror. 

“My Lady,” she says around a pin she holds in between her lips. “One moment.” 

“You don’t have to call me Lady, or anything,” you tell her, wincing at the sound of it. “I’m no more a Lady than you.” She’d come into your room, nervously plucking at the pine needles on her forearms as she informed you that she needed to get you prettied up. It’s random, but you’d perked up immediately. It’s been so long since you’ve done anything—so long since you had a reason to look pretty and drag on glittering dresses. Not doing the work yourself is strange, though. You wonder if this is what your life would’ve been with Yeonjun, with servants waiting at every corner to pamper you and make sure that your hands never again see any type of hard work.  

You shake those thoughts away. That’s not your life here in Taehyun’s estate. It does you no use comparing. You’re not so used to this, anyway. It gets under your skin a bit, though you know they’re working off debts in his service.  

“Oh, the Lord would prefer that I do,” she says. A sharp pin scrapes up against your scalp as she pushes it in, securing up a willowy tress. All Yeonjun’s gifts—the dress she’d laid out for you, and the jewels she garnishes you in. How strange is it to have Taehyun’s servants dressing you in Yeonjun’s things? You still don’t know why he even bothered with bringing them in. You all were managing before. It's not as if any of you are the type to demand being waited on, anyway. You all have lived in more humble means. Beomgyu literally comes from the forest. And, why would it even matter how she addresses you to Taehyun? 

It wouldn’t be fair of you to demand her to call you otherwise, then. You nod. “I’m sorry you have to work for me.” 

“Oh, it’s no bother, dear. I’m grateful that the Lord has chosen such a way for me to pay him for my debt.” She tugs a few tendrils loose. It looks now more like the style is worn in by a good night spent dancing and laughing than freshly combed up. “There are worse ways to do so.” 

That’s right. For her, servitude is only a result of some extrenuating circumstance. Your servitude was nowhere near your fault. That’s where the difference lies; why she can be so blithe about it. 

“What happened?” you ask. It’s an invasive question, sure, but you prefer to ask it straight. No buttering it up or smoothing over words. 

“The late General spared my life on a whim. I’d worked this estate for years, even watched the boy grow into his manhood, until the General passed and the young Lord went disappearing. No reason to work an empty estate. And now, by bloodline, my debt is owed to him.” 

You frown. Serving under Taehyun’s father, only because he decided out of the kindness of his heart to not murder you, sounds harrowing.  

“But, that’s of no importance, dear. The Lord is expecting you; the Queen holds council soon.” Hastily, Conifer slides one last pin in, just for safe measure. “It’s terribly important that you maintain good manners, dear. Stay by the Lord, and do not speak unless they speak to you.” 

Council? He’s expecting you to come with him to a war council? You pause, but she ushers you up and away. 

Bounding down the stairs in a flurry of feet, you hold your skirts in a death grip, heart clenching with nerves. Once, you’d been a mirror to this—panicking over attending Court for the first time. That was nothing. If you had been oblivious to Court propriety, sitting in on a Faerie council in the presence of the Queen and her entourage... You’re screwed. So, so screwed. 

Taehyun waits beside the blackthorn tree. Noticing you, he greets, “Ready?” 

“You’re serious about this?” you say. It’s hard to speak around the lump in your throat. “Why do I have to come? It seems more like a risk than anything.” 

Brows furrowed, he adjusts his tunic. “You’re smart, aren’t you?” he says, cadence flat and matter-of-fact. “It’s not a risk. I’m bringing you so that they know you’re with me. You won’t have to come to any more after this, unless it’s what you want.” 

Frowning, you say, “I feel as though they’ll react not so kindly to a human just... waltzing into a war council. You really think they’ll just let me come and sit in?” The Queen will be there, and all the terrifyingly massive players in the Unseelie Court, and then... You. You’ll just have to make yourself seem important enough to be there. Taehyun is one of those invaluable players now, you suppose. The General. Your mind still struggles to wrap itself around the enormity of that.  

Will Yeonjun be there? He’s no doubt got the status. You pick at your fingers viciously. You’re not ready to see him again; not sure if you’ve fortified your walls enough for that yet. You might crumple with just a glance, but to sit in the same room as him? 

“They’ll trust my judgement,” he says. The lines of his face do not carry the same confidence that his voice does. “You’re not just stumbling in. You’re walking in with me.” 

“But, I’m sure they’re all very aware by now that we were spies. Doesn’t that leave a stain on your word?” 

He reaches up to a low-hanging branch, dark and bristling with thorns, and snaps off the very ends of them into thin poles of twig armed with spikes. The thistles remind you of his eyes—in fact, the whole tree does. Barbed and dark and sturdy; the House of Blackthorn could not have better chosen their symbol.  

“They made me their general,” he says, circling until he’s come behind you. “They’ve already made up their minds.” 

Tugging at your hair tells you that he’s wiggling those sticks, black and sharp, into the updo, as if they’re accessories. It’s like what he’d done with those berries just before you’d gone to Court for the first time, but these twigs do not act like a ward like they had.  

You turn to interrogate him and his sudden interest in your hairstyle, but confusion splinters off into nothing when his cold hand brushes at the back of your neck. In a heart-pounding moment, his sword-roughened fingers drag down the length of your jaw from behind. He grabs your chin his hand and turns your face further toward your shoulder. Snowflakes and the breeze and the stars all stand frozen around you. Or, maybe, you haven’t got the will to pretend they exist while he’s leaning down so that he’s right in your ear and whispering with puffed breaths that raise chills on your skin. 

Under his breath, low and just for your ears, he says just one word. It’s one that you don’t recognize, curling in a way that you doubt your tongue would be able to even pronounce. As quickly as the moment had come, he releases your face. Snow crunches under his feet as he retreats. 

Blinking for a moment, you spin on your heel to follow him. You make a point to not catch his stride fully, though. He absolutely should not see how ruffled you are. “What does that mean?” 

He doesn’t answer, only leaving you in a flustered, charged silence. You beg the wintry breeze to carry away your racing thoughts, or at least to lick at your cheeks and cool them. Whatever it was that he’d said, you can only assume it to be in an ancient Faerie tongue. 

With a stuttering heart, you follow him. You’ll just have to whistle in the dark. If you don’t do it scared, you won’t do it at all, and you’re always scared. 

❆

Inside the council room, a handful of who you assume to be the Queen’s most important advisors sit around a circle table. On that table stand war maps and a collection of letters and objects no doubt important to plans and intel. 

In one of those seats sits Yeonjun. Of course, he’s here. You’d anticipated as much, but that doesn’t change the way you jump right out of your skin the split second your eyes meet. It’s a fiery exchange, sending sparks up your spin and rendering your mind a blistering mess. His eyes are hard. He doesn’t shy away from it the way you do, tearing yourself away to sit in the seat next to Taehyun’s.  

It’s not just Yeonjun’s eyes that burn on your skin. They’re wondering why you’re here. You itch to dip out and away from their scrutiny. 

“Do I have to say anything?” you say, voice barely anything but a whisper as you lean over to Taehyun. “Like, announce myself or anything?” 

“Not now,” he says. “Not unless you’re asked to.” 

Fidgeting with your dress under the table, you dip your head in a shallow, quick nod. You’ll just mind your own, unless you’re forced to do otherwise. You can’t risk saying something that’ll end up screwing you both over. 

Chairs scrape the floor, faeries standing and dipping at the waist. You follow them. Your back is to the door, but you don’t need to see to know who’s arrived. The Queen. 

She sits in her seat, at the head of the table, and everybody else follows. You swallow hard. Her eyes, hardened and storm-colored, pin each of the attendees as she sweeps the room. A diadem of twigs and rotted leaf lays on her tangle of hair. The Unseelie Queen; she looks the part. Breath catches in your throat when her eyes come to you. 

When she opens her mouth to speak, jagged teeth reveal themselves from behind grey lips. “The human girl. Does the Blackthorn house claim her?” she asks. Her voice commands the air—both slackened and imposing. 

Yeonjun’s eyes bare down on you.  

Taehyun answers her. “Yes. She is my retinue.” 

One of the council members, with a haughty, long face and a sneer to match it, says, “Is this the girl that you sang so profusely to us for, prince? The spy girl?” His ruffled sleeves flourish as he gestures. He’s dressed especially plummy among them, but they all are dressed in glittering robes and tunics. This faerie no doubt thinks highly of himself, though, to be poking at Yeonjun.  

Yeonjun had spoken of you here?  

You feel a little frozen. Becoming the center of their attention is the very last thing you’d wanted. Rather than sinking back into your seat, you claw at your insides to keep your head held high. You do exchange a quick glance with Taehyun, who’s mouth is pulled taut.  

He takes it in stride. “Yes, it is.” 

“You beseeched us for her safety, but...” the black-haired faerie continues, “She’s sat beside our General.” A cruel smile plays on his lips. He knows exactly what he’s doing. “And I believe it to be unprecedented that a human joins us here, your highness.” He turns to the Queen, a smile that tells exactly of the game he’s playing. 

“Not here,” the Queen snaps. “We haven’t the time for this. Who cares. Let’s not waste what slight time we have, with all of us in attendance.” 

The black-haired faerie snaps his mouth shut, but a nasty attitude lingers. 

Another speaks up. “Your majesty, is there not something to be said of the exclusivity pertaining to who we meet here with?” 

She drums her fingers on the arm of her seat. Bored. “Be gone with it. I did not know you’d become so wary of humans.” 

That stings. You’re not even worthy of being a threat. Jaw tightened, you grit your teeth. 

“She has ears,” he says. “And a well-working mouth, I’m sure, and we have delicate issues to discuss.” 

None of them press any further as she sends them a pointed stare. They begin offering up and discussing their positions and knowledge, much of it lost on you. All you’re thankful for is that most of it is bickering over how to approach the war, and not plans for full-fledged schemes.  

Taehyun offers up his approach a few times, his voice carrying strong and his shoulders squared. Yeonjun does not speak much at all.  

And when it’s over and everybody disassembles, you know you’ve got to leave. Fast; fast enough that Yeonjun will not be able to corner you into a conversation that you are too flimsy to be having. As you do, though, you war against every instinct in your body—heart and feet and arms ringing pleas in your bones. You can’t. Really, you can’t. 

“Pretty.”  

That voice, smooth but also so very sullen now, shatters your frenzied bubble. You go solid and frozen to the ground. 

“Pretty, look at me,” he grits out, voice cracked down and raw.  

When you don’t, he steps around you. His eyes dart up, taking in something on your head, and then his jaw ticks when he finds something he doesn’t like. The blackthorn twigs in your hair. 

He’d looked sullen and detached when sitting at the table, but here, up close, he looks awful—far and beyond worse than you’ve ever seen him. It’s as if you’d ripped the heart right out of his chest and asked him to go on living without it. In the hollowness there’s a sadness, but there’s also a blazing anger. 

A frozen hand takes your upper arm and tugs hard. “Come on. We’re leaving.” Taehyun’s voice is hard. 

You stumble forward with him, summoning the will within you to not look back while you do. You do not want to watch his face as you leave. You absolutely cannot. Your gut twists viciously.  

You’re pathetic, missing him the way you do. 

❆

When you get the first letter, you accept it from the servant uneasily. You don’t even ask whose letter it is. The wax seal tells you enough, but you’d know even without it. Yeonjun has broken his silence. 

It confuses you. Taehyun had intercepted his letters when he sent them before. Why does he not bother, now? It doesn’t feel like a kindness. It feels intentional—like a gambit. Beomgyu had made a point to take those original letters from you. You know he meant well in the cheeky way that he shows his companionship, but you’re spineless after all, and they come at a very weak moment. Just as you’ve built up wavering pillars, he reaches in and crumbles them down as if they were nothing.  

ℐ 𝑘𝓃𝑜𝑤 𝑦𝑜𝓊 𝑡𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑘 𝑡𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒾𝑡’𝓈 𝑙𝒾𝑒𝓈, 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝑡 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝓅𝒶𝑟𝓉 𝑜𝑓 𝑡𝒽𝑒 𝒹𝑒𝒶𝓁. 𝐿𝑜𝑣𝒾𝑛𝑔 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝑡 𝓅𝒶𝑟𝓉 𝑜𝑓 𝑡𝒽𝑒 𝒹𝑒𝒶𝑙. 𝐸𝑣𝑒𝓇𝑦 𝒷𝒾𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓁𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝑙. 𝐹𝓇𝑜𝓂 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑣𝑒𝓇𝑦 𝓂𝑜𝓂𝑒𝑛𝓉 ℐ 𝑙𝒶𝒾𝒹 𝑒𝑦𝑒𝓈 𝑜𝓃 𝓎𝑜𝓊, 𝑡𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 𝒸𝒽𝒶𝓃𝑔𝑒𝒹. 𝒩𝑜 𝑙𝒶𝓉𝑒𝑟 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓃 𝑡𝒽𝒶𝓉. 𝒲𝑒 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒𝒹; 𝒲𝑒 𝓁𝑜𝑣𝑒𝒹 𝑡𝑟𝓊𝑒.  

𝐼’𝓂 𝓈𝑜 𝓈𝑜𝓇𝓇𝑦 𝑡𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓂𝑒𝑒𝓉𝒾𝑛𝑔 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝑜𝓃 𝓈𝑜𝓇𝓇𝑦 𝒸𝒾𝓇𝒸𝓊𝓂𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓃𝒸𝑒𝓈, 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝒹𝑜𝓃’𝓉 𝑡𝓇𝓎 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒶𝒸𝓉 𝑙𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒷𝑒𝓁𝒾𝑒𝓋𝑒 ℐ’𝒹 𝒽𝓊𝑟𝓉 𝑦𝑜𝓊. 𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝓌 𝑡𝒽𝒶𝓉’𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝓉𝑟𝓊𝑒. 𝒟𝑜 𝑛𝑜𝓉 𝓂𝒶𝑘𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝑟𝓉 𝒷𝑒𝑙𝒾𝑒𝑣𝑒 𝒾𝓉 𝓈𝑜.  

𝒴𝑜𝓊𝑟 𝑒𝑦𝑒𝓈 𝒽𝒶𝓊𝑛𝓉 𝓂𝑒. 𝐼 𝒽𝑜𝓅𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑛𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝓈𝑒𝑒 𝑡𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝒶𝑦 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝑙𝑜𝑜𝓀𝑒𝒹 𝒶𝓉 𝓂𝑒 𝑙𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝑡𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒶𝑔𝒶𝒾𝑛, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝑦𝑒𝓉 ℐ 𝓈𝑒𝑒 𝒾𝓉 𝑒𝓋𝑒𝑟𝑦 𝓃𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉.  

𝒞𝑜𝓂𝑒 𝒶𝑛𝒹 𝑔𝒾𝓋𝑒 𝓂𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝓊𝑟 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝓈𝑡 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝒾𝓉. 𝐼 𝒹𝑒𝓈𝑒𝓇𝑣𝑒 𝒾𝓉. 𝐼 𝒹𝑜𝓃’𝑡 𝒹𝑒𝓃𝓎 𝑡𝒽𝒶𝓉; 𝐼 𝒹𝑒𝓈𝑒𝑟𝑣𝑒 𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓎 𝑙𝒶𝓈𝓉 𝒹𝑟𝑜𝓅 𝑜𝑓 𝒾𝓉. 𝒯𝑒𝓁𝑙 𝓂𝑒 𝓌𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒾𝓉 𝒾𝓈 𝑡𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓌𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝑓𝒾𝓍 𝑡𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒶𝑛𝒹 ℐ’𝒹 𝒽𝒶𝑣𝑒 𝒾𝓉 𝒹𝑜𝓃𝑒, 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒸𝒶𝓃𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝒶𝓈𝑘 𝓂𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝒷𝑒 𝒶𝓌𝒶𝑦 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝓂 𝓎𝑜𝓊. 𝐼 𝒸𝒶𝓃𝑛𝑜𝓉 𝒹𝑜 𝑡𝒽𝒶𝓉.  

𝒴𝑒𝑜𝓃𝒿𝓊𝑛 

You’re able to let this one roll off your shoulders, but the next few are not so easy. 

𝐼 𝑤𝒾𝑠𝒽 𝓎𝑜𝓊 ℎ𝑎𝒹 𝑠𝓉𝒶𝓎𝑒𝒹 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝑙𝒾𝓈𝑡𝑒𝓃𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝓂𝑒. 𝐼 𝓊𝓃𝒹𝑒𝑟𝓈𝑡𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝑤𝒽�� 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒹𝒾𝒹𝓃’𝑡, 𝑎𝓃𝒹 𝓎𝑒𝑡, 𝐼 𝑠𝓉𝒾𝓁𝑙 𝑤𝒾𝓈𝒽 𝓎𝑜𝓊 ℎ𝒶𝒹. ℐ’𝒹 𝒽𝒶𝑣𝑒 𝑙𝒾𝑠𝑡𝑒𝓃𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝓎𝑜𝓊.  

𝐼 ℎ𝑜𝑝𝑒 ℐ 𝑝𝓁𝒶𝑔𝓊𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝓊𝑟 𝑚𝒾𝓃𝒹. 𝐼 ℎ𝑜𝑝𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝑠𝑒𝑒 𝓂𝓎 𝑓𝒶𝒸𝑒 𝑤𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒸𝑙𝑜𝑠𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝑟 𝑒𝑦𝑒𝓈 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝓇𝑒𝓈𝑡, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 ℐ 𝒽𝑜𝓅𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒾𝑡 𝑏𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔𝑠 𝑦𝑜𝓊 𝑏𝒶𝒸𝑘 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒, 𝑡𝑜 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝑟 ℎ𝑜𝓂𝑒: 𝑚𝓎 𝒶𝓇𝓂𝑠. 𝒲𝒾𝑡ℎ 𝑚𝑒, 𝓃𝑜𝓉 ℎ𝒾𝑚. 𝒩𝑜𝓉 ℎ𝒾𝑚.  

𝒫𝑒𝓇𝒽𝒶𝓅𝑠 𝑦𝑜𝓊 𝒹𝑜𝓃’𝓉 𝒶𝓃𝓈𝓌𝑒𝑟 𝑏𝑒𝒸𝒶𝓊𝓈𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝓊 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝓀 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝐼 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝑙 𝒶𝒸𝒸𝑒𝓅𝑡 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝑒𝓃𝒹𝒾𝓃𝑔, 𝑏𝓊𝑡 𝐼 𝑤𝒾𝓁𝑙 𝓃𝑜𝓉. 𝒯ℎ𝒾𝓈 𝒹𝑜𝑒𝓈𝓃’𝓉 𝑒𝓃𝒹 𝓌𝒾𝑡𝒽 𝓊𝓃𝑓𝒾𝓃𝒾𝑠𝒽𝑒𝒹 𝑤𝑜𝓇𝒹𝓈 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝑔𝑟𝒾𝑒𝑣𝒶𝓃𝒸𝑒𝑠.    

𝑁𝑜. 𝒯ℎ𝒾𝓈 𝒹𝑜𝑒𝑠𝓃’𝑡 𝑒𝓃𝒹.   

𝒴𝑒𝑜𝓃𝒿𝓊𝓃 

The letters change with your prolonged silence, too. 

𝒮𝑒𝑒𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒶𝓇𝑟𝒾𝓋𝑒 𝑏𝓎 ℎ𝒾𝓈 𝓈𝒾𝒹𝑒, 𝒶𝓈 𝒾𝑓 𝓎𝑜𝑢’𝑟𝑒 𝒽𝒾𝓈… 𝒟𝑜 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝑤𝒶𝑛𝓉 𝓂𝑒 𝒸𝑟𝒶𝓏𝓎? 𝐼 𝒹𝑜 𝑛𝑜𝓉 𝒷𝑒𝓁𝒾𝑒𝓋𝑒 ℐ’𝓋𝑒 𝑒𝓋𝑒𝑟 𝑓𝑒𝑙𝓉 𝓈𝑜 𝑜𝑢𝓉 𝑜𝑓 𝓂𝓎 𝑜𝓌𝑛 𝒸𝑜𝓃𝑡𝑟𝑜𝑙 𝒶𝓈 𝐼 𝒹𝑜 𝑛𝑜𝑤. 𝐼𝑓 𝓉ℎ𝒶𝓉 𝑤𝒶𝓈 𝓎𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝒾𝑛𝑡𝑒𝓃𝑡𝒾𝑜𝑛, 𝓎𝑜𝓊 ℎ𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝒽𝒾𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝑢𝓇 𝓂𝒶𝑟𝑘 𝑤𝑒𝑙𝑙. 

𝒞𝑜𝓃𝓉𝒾𝑛𝑢𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝒾𝓈 𝑏𝒶𝑛𝒾𝓈ℎ𝓂𝑒𝑛𝓉 𝒾𝑓 𝓎𝑜𝑢 𝓂𝓊𝓈𝓉, 𝑏𝓊𝓉 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝓌 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓌𝑒 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝑙 𝑏𝑒 𝓉𝑜𝑔𝑒𝓉ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝒶𝑔𝒶𝒾𝑛. 𝐼𝑡'𝓈 𝑜𝓃𝑙𝓎 𝑓𝒶𝓉𝑒, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓌ℎ𝑜 𝒶𝓂 𝐼 𝓉𝑜 𝓂𝑒𝒹𝒹𝓁𝑒 𝑤𝒾𝑡ℎ 𝑓𝒶𝑡𝑒?  

𝒴𝑒𝑜𝓃𝒿𝑢𝓃 

It’s jarring, it’s more of that desperate pleading that you’ve been trying so hard to escape, and it’s burrowing deep down into the tender parts of your heart like a stake. 

There are some letters that are even more frenzied than that. They’re testaments to his promises: this doesn’t end. 

You had been sorely mistaken in thinking that Yeonjun would just step away. Terribly mistaken. Deep in your belly brews the feeling that this is not going to go over as smoothly as you hoped it would. In retrospect, how had you ever thought you could cleanly tear him off you? This is not like ripping off a bandage—quick and painful—no, this will be much, much more unpleasant than that. Yeonjun had done a delicate job of veiling just how wretchedly he loves you, but you’d seen peeks of it. Flickers and moments of potent neediness and jealousy, quickly smoothed over with something more groomed and palatable. Now, you see it in full force. As soon as given the need to unveil himself, he was not afraid to. As long as it brings him you. 

But he will not get you. You’re not yet so foolish to go falling back into his arms. Not after you’d done just that, and then learned what trusting him just based off his inability to lie meant. It’s not as if you’re not already slowly wanting to forgive him for the fact that his initial job was to kill you. In weak moments, you construct excuses. But if you brush off lie after lie, where is the limit to the lies you’ll accept, if only just for him? There would be none. That is a dangerous beast to toe.  

You think you know now, why Taehyun lets you read those letters freely.  

  ❆

Lifting your fist to knock on the door, you bounce on your heels. Taehyun tells you to come in, voice muffled behind the door. 

Stepping in, you drink in the sight of his quarters. Not once in the months that you’ve spent here have you been in his room. In the center is the bed, bedding coal black. His desk is cluttered with maps and stray daggers. Taehyun works on the strap to his leather baldric, looking up to you.  

“Where are you going?” you ask him.  

“They called me for council,” Taehyun answers. He straightens up. “What’s up?” 

You purse your lips. “Oh,” you say. “Nothing. I was just seeing what you were up to.” 

Honestly, you’re not entirely sure why you’d stumbled in here. It had just felt right in that moment. It couldn’t hurt to try and mend the tensions that lay between you two, anyway. If this is going to be your home, it’s better off that way. 

Taehyun nods slowly, as if he’s not entirely sure what to say. His tongue darts out to wet his lips. 

A smile tugs at your mouth. Beneath the confident, hardened exterior, Taehyun is stiff in the face of emotional connection. “Didn’t want me to join you for this one?” 

He shakes his head, the lines in his shoulders stiffening as if the thought were offensive. 

Scoffing around a laugh, you say, “I didn’t do that bad, did I?” It’s more to pester him than offense—you’d had your fill. And you want to know what’s changed; why he’s suddenly averse to you joining.  

Jaw shifting, he says, “No, you didn’t.” Taehyun brings his hand up and adjusts his collar. “I’d just prefer it.” 

You change tack. His face has fallen a bit, and you’d intended to lighten things up. “It’s fine. That was boring anyway,” you say, “Besides, I’d prefer it here, with the army of servants waiting to see to my needs.” Tilting your head to one side, you give him a grin chock-full of mock pretension. 

His brow furrows. “The servants? Do you not like it?” 

Shrugging, you answer, “I don’t hate it. It’s nice to have help getting ready, though, I guess. Makes me feel special.” To quell your own gnawing curiosity that’s been festering beginning the moment the first one had arrived, you add, “Why’d you do it, though?” 

His face flickers. “The estate needs to be run. They have duty to do so. If it were going to be anybody, it’s them.” 

You know that look. Living with Taehyun, you’ve got to become fluent in the face and even the most subtle changes. What he doesn’t speak in words, you’re forced to find there. Try as he might to fortify his mask, water will always find and slip through the cracks as slivers of true emotion crack through his face. He’s not telling you the truth. You narrow your eyes. 

“Yeah. I understand that. I just thought we were doing fine before, I guess.” 

“I thought...” he says. “Did the prince not keep servants?” 

Your frown deepens. Why would it matter whether or not Yeonjun has servants? Of course he’d have attendants; he’s a prince of Faerie. Mind churning for a moment, you stumble upon a thought. Or rather, it stumbles upon you. 

Taehyun had brought servants here because he figured that, because of your time with Yeonjun, you’d want that. It bothered him to think that Yeonjun could provide something for you that he couldn’t. He’d gone out and tracked down faeries indebted to him and his father because that got under his skin. You think to that morning he’d woken you up, spitting venom, because Yeonjun had sent you those dresses. And in his arm, he’d held a single crystalline gown. 

“Taehyun, why did you tell Yeonjun about our kiss?” 

For a split second, he’s taken aback, shifting as though you’d lit a fire under his feet. The air hangs heavy—so, so thick. It’s so stiff that you have to breathe with conscious effort. This silence, tense and on the brink of snapping, stretches for an eternity. Your mind reels; you’re just as caught off guard as him. You haven’t the faintest clue where you’d trudged up the nerve, but you had, and now you’re terribly curious to know his answer. The memory had hovered around, blazing and impossible to brush off, from the very moment the words had tumbled out from Yeonjun’s lips. How had you even lasted this long, pretending it hadn’t happened? All off that electric curiosity comes to a head here—now—and you do not know if you’ve prepared well enough for the truth of it. 

As silent as it is, the moment buzzes. It’s deafeningly loud, just as it is deafeningly quiet. His silence answers just as well as words.  

His answer slices the air, cutting through the tension like a scalding knife. “The prince told you that?” 

You step toward him, looking up at him through your lashes. “He did," you say, quick and dismissive. “Why did you tell him? When?” 

A flash—a flash of something untamed and deep like the woods—renders his eyes dark. You remember that look; he’d scarcely let you see it. It had scrawled under your skin the first time he had. Something in it strips you down to your very bones, where you are nothing more than buzzing soul and heat. Taehyun approaches you in dark, languid steps. You’re lightheaded, breaths lodged deep in your chest. Any semblance of clarity you might have had becomes a lost cause as he takes your face in his hands and leaves you no other option than to meet those smoldering eyes. Bitterly cold hands bite into the soft skin of your cheeks. Cold-blooded. 

Your head spins. “Taehyun?” you say, short and breathless. Even just a naked whisper of his name, you struggled to manage it. Him, here, in front of you, is both so real that it rattles you down to you core and so intangible that you wouldn’t dare believe it. And yet, blistering eyes pierce through the mist, and you know that it is sickeningly real.  

“Fuck,” he says, mouth turned down and at war with the rest of his face. He’s so close that you feel the word on your face. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” His throat bobs. “I don’t know who this is.” 

In a stumble of clumsy feet, you clash with the desk in a rattle. There’s hardly any perch for you, but in a scramble, you curl your fingers white-knuckled around the edge. He has you pinned between him and the wood with nowhere to breathe and nowhere to think. A controlled, shaky breath comes tumbling from behind your lips. Electricity crackles in the air between you, and you’re weak to it. You turn your head away, clawing for some semblance of control or respite from the bare intensity. 

Despite your shock, somewhere deep, deep down in your belly, you know that this is only the fruit of some howling storm that has been swirling—swirling and churning and gaining power. You’d felt the trembling of it, the promise of something explosive and imminent, as oblivious as you were to its source. Now, the ground cracks open beneath you, and it will accept nothing other than to swallow you whole. 

“Do you not think of me as a man?” he grits out. Since you’ve decided to blatantly avoid his gaze, he gets down right into your neck. “Well, I am. And you brought him here. Brought him into my home, and you let him touch you. ” 

Taehyun had been there that day.  

It’s as if time itself slows down around you. This moment inflates into something infinite. Everything that he’d done, every little thing that you’d struggled to digest, is laid out before you. He’s holding your hips as if you’ll fade around the edges and leave him here. There’s something raw beneath the growled words; something desperate. 

Belly flipping ruthlessly, you speak, but they’re not coherent thoughts. “I... didn’t think that...” 

He’s quick to cut you off, rearing back to look you in the eyes once more, forcing you to do the same. And he holds you there. “Do you think that he can provide for you better than me? That I can’t provide you your needs?” 

Your heart is a ravenous, wild thing in your chest. All that he’d done: the dress, the servants, finding Beomgyu, staying here in the north, demanding that you don’t depend or even associate with Yeonjun, urging you to not attend Court because he knew Yeonjun would be there—was because it was supposed to be him. And it was killing him because finally something had managed to drive right through that suit of ice armor he struggles so hard to keep up, right down to where his real emotions slumber, and he is forced to feel something. In all that banishing emotion away, he’s now faced with this blazing consumption, and he is utterly lost. 

Taehyun curses, a relenting of his will, before he’s taking your lips to his. It’s a ravaging, fervent meeting, clashing teeth and roaming hands with no destination. He lifts you up onto the desk, and then his hand finds the hair at the very back of your head. You remember this wild dance of tongue and mouth—the first time he’d put his mouth on you, it’d been just the same. You’re gasping and clawing at his shoulders.  

What on earth are you doing? 

His hands are all over you. It’s as if he can’t get enough, as if he’s catching up to all that had been bursting at the seams in his mind. His lips taste like finally. When he’s forced to release your lips for air, it’s not as if he gives you any real room to breathe—his lips fall like glowing ashes down the column of your neck. You’re helpless to the whines he takes from your lips. He melds your bodies into one clumsy thing, pushing you down into the desk in a clumsy clatter. He wholly overwhelms you, and you think that it is a conscious effort. He intends to wiggle his way into every little corner, every little space, until you have no room for thought but him. If the drunken haze that’s rendered your thoughts sluggish is anything to speak of his efforts, he’s succeeded. 

You catch yourself halfway down, before your back makes it down onto the desk. His mouth is back on yours, spinning with the sting of your scalp as he guides you through his kiss. His hands reach your upper thigh, making slow work of bunching the fabric. 

“If you knew,” he says, appreciating the bare skin as if it were as precious as jewel and gold the same way he had that night in your bed: as if every inch were just as intimate as a glimpse of your cunt. “If you knew what I think about doing to you.”  

Blood roars beneath your skin. The confession that Taehyun has thought about touching you like this, or the fact that he’s been battling against his own mind in the onslaught of those thoughts, sheds a new light over so much. Beneath that stony face, he’d been needing you.  

Through the licking of your bottom lip and the buzzing behind your skull, you see Yeonjun’s face. Your stomach does a flip. You’re not supposed to feel guilty. You shouldn’t, but guilt slices like a molten dagger through the haze. How can you be here, doing this, when he’s out there aching for you? As far as you distance yourself from his sphere, you’re still reminded of who taught you your body now that another man touches you. You imagine how hurt he’d be if he saw you now. 

You rage against those thoughts. You owe no guilt to the man that had only ever approached you because you were his target. 

Taehyun’s gaze meets yours. You must’ve gone quiet, or maybe still. Perhaps it’s your eyes that gives it away, though, because he does not like what he finds in them. In a blink, he’s retracting back into his shell.  

“You’re thinking of him,” he spits. His voice is so caustic and venomous as it falls out that your skin burns. “Even while I’m touching you.” 

You want nothing more than to reach in and pull that fire and raw emotion back out. He pulls away. Your skin is painfully empty of his touch. Chest aching, you say, “Taehyun, wait. Please. I wasn’t.” The lie rolls off your tongue too easily, but you can’t stand the chill fallen over your form. 

His face is far off and distant, his jaw set tight. He runs a hand through his hair, made a mess with your touch, the action punctuated by a barbed laugh. 

He doesn’t even say anything more to you when he leaves the room. He just leaves. You sit for a few minutes, legs dangling and blood roaring.  

Taehyun has kept a lot beneath a jaded and aloof front, but it seems that even he has a tipping point.  

❆

“That reeks,” Beomgyu says. He’s sat on the basin, legs dangling down. 

The water embraces you in a delightful lukewarm that disarms your nerves and has you drowsy. “Soap?” you say with a subsequent rich snort. You scoot, bathwater lapping at the walls of the tub when you bring your knees to your chest. The round tub is big enough for you to sprawl out, but you prefer sitting right up against the wall. Only the suds and perfumed oils sitting in a thin, hazy film on top of the water protect your decency from Beomgyu’s eyes. With the servants insisting on helping you wash, though, you’ve become indifferent to bathing in front of others. It’s not as if you’ve got to worry about him leering, anyway. He doesn’t blink at your nakedness. You appreciate the company. “It smells clean. You know, so you don’t smell like straight mud.” 

“Mud is not such an offensive smell as that,” he says, nose crinkling. “You lather yourself in smells that are wholly unbelievable.” 

Laughing, you feign sending a spray of water droplets his way. “Well,” you muse, “We are not hewn from the same stone. We have to clean ourselves.” While your worldly body demands that you maintain hygiene with soap and water, the folk wash for leisure. You don’t bemoan it, though. It’s your reality—always will be—and you delight in coming out feeling fresh. “And your earthy... musk... is just as terrible to me as this is to you. So...” 

“Agree to disagree.” He sits still. Beomgyu is always eerily still—you’ve come to the realization that it’s because he doesn’t breathe. No rising or falling of his chest meant he could sit in absolute repose. You’re not entirely used to it, even now. How could anything be a living, talking being, without breath? There he sits, though.  

Echoes of your washing fill the room. You sigh. With each scrub, you imagine carving away both any dirtiness and any heavy thoughts. It doesn’t work, of course. You feel no less heavy. If only it were that easy. 

“Taehyun is general now,” you say, frown tugging at your face. “For the Queen.” Remembering it makes you feel impossibly heavier. It had been a secretive move, but still... He had become the one thing that has haunted him for you. His words yesterday said as much. You buzz at that memory, heart racing at just the memory. It had been a battle pretending your first kiss hadn’t happened, but this was different. Terribly different. 

You blink, trying to bring yourself together when Beomgyu says, huffing out a humorless laugh, “He is only his father’s son.” 

Sighing, you sink lower into the water. The kelpie wouldn’t be himself without some snide remark in Taehyun or his father’s expense. You know why he’d done it, now, but you’re awful and can’t help but consider what him being general might mean. Taehyun has a strict moral code; you don’t think he’ll go around killing in cold blood. Still, in order to retain his standing, he’ll have to carry out the council’s will. It’s a slippery slope; you fear the he’ll become the thing he’d once hated at your expense. With a sickened stomach, you hold your knees closer. You don’t want that. “He said it was to make sure we’re no longer targets. You know, since we came here as spies and all that,” you say, voice softening as thoughts grow louder. 

Agitated, Beomgyu slips off the basin. “Why would he have bothered with finding me, then, if he had already made other plans?” 

Spinning water with a finger and watching it swirl, you say, “I know for a fact it’s why he did it. It’s just that I don’t like it. I mean, getting involved in the war is one thing. We were already involved to some degree, anyway. Becoming the general is a whole other thing.” 

A wicked delight crackles across Beomgyu’s face, and you brace yourself for whatever has excited him so. “If you would deign it with your word... We could be gone from this estate. Anywhere that pleases us, free from the fool.” 

“Of course,” you say, rolling your eyes and watching him pace the floor. “It’s always dramatics with you. We’re not running away. Good try, though.” 

He pauses, grimacing down at you. You suppress a laugh. Maybe you could’ve entertained his grand plan. At least, for a moment. Your fingers have pruned up, but you have no will to drag yourself from the warmth. Let you just stay like this, cocooned in its welcoming arms, for a bit longer. Then, you’ll find it within you to face the memory of Taehyun’s hands and the gravity of what he’d let slip. 

❆

Dust motes flutter when caught in the light. You, with bare feet padding on the chilly morning floors, plow right through them. A clattering, so lively in the still sleep-ridden estate, floats out from the kitchens. You follow it. 

Beomgyu stands, lanky and strange as always, watching a servant work dutifully on a meal. You frown. It’s a bit early for any of your usual meals. 

“Hanging around in the kitchen? Thought you didn’t eat,” you say.  

He gives you a distracted grumble. “I can eat. I just don’t need to.” 

An eye roll slips. “That’s even worse. You asked for a meal to be made for you, just so that you can taste it,” you say, hand on your hip. “Very inconsiderate.” 

Disconcertment lines his face at that, looking back over at the servant. “I did not ask for a meal.” 

“Yeah... Okay. Anyway, do you know where Taehyun has gone? Out?” 

Beomgyu shakes his head. “No, I don’t believe he’s gone anywhere,” he says, eyeing you. “You’re searching for the Lord?” 

“I mean, I was just wondering where he is. I didn’t see him around, or anything.” 

“Oh, pull your stake from my heart,” he grumbles and scratches at his neck. “I fear you’ve abandoned me in my loathing, with who else am I to escape this place? ” he says.  

“There you go again,” you say, relenting to conversation. Conversation with Beomgyu makes you feel lighter. “If we ran away, we’d make it like... a week.” 

He cocks his head to the side. “You’d last a week. I’d be just fine.” 

“Oh, you think so?” you scoff. “And where would we go?” 

Now, he’s really riled up, throwing his arms up, exasperated. “To the forest,” he deadpans. “I... come from the forest. Of course I’d go to the forest.” 

Mouth pulled into a grin that you know will irk him, you say, “Sounds like a nice place. For you. You just want to get out of here, you don’t care about what happens to me. I’m hurt. This is supposed to be our escape plan, not Beomgyu’s.” 

He likes that, lips curling at the corners. “Well, I pride myself in my cleverness, and it’s not as though I’ll be leaving this rotten place by my own means,” Beomgyu says.  

“Oh, you’re just so clever.” You’ve become too familiar with that impish grin—he’s joking. But you don’t doubt for a second that if you were to propose running away, Beomgyu would be elated. He makes the jokes for a reason, anyway. It’s become a sort of game; him suggesting it, and you shutting it down. “And is that why you deign to bless me with your presence? Plotting and scheming?” 

“Don’t give me your sarcasm,” he huffs. “I deign you with my presence because I ought to. What else should I do?” 

“You love me,” you say, tableware and platters clattering and mingling with the sound of your voice. “I know it.” You drag out the last syllables in a taunting melody. 

 The servant who had been busy with making the breakfast, a hob you don’t really recognize, pokes in to tell you that it’s finished, so you move your conversation over to the table. Pulling out the chair, you eye the plates. It’s more extravagant than you usually eat here. It reminds you more of Court food or what few meals you’d had with Yeonjun: a honeyed meat and some fire-roasted burdock root. Beside it is a bowlful of salt, but it’s only by yours. You dip your head at the faerie, careful of course not to say thank you. That would mean that the faerie has done you a favor, and then you’d be expected to repay it. A simple gesture works just fine. 

Beomgyu doesn’t sit, nor does he take any interest in eating. Instead, he hovers at the far end of the long table, telling you, “I do not love anything.” 

Raising your brows at him, you say, “Whatever.” You salt the bitter root before forking it. “What are you so antsy for, anyway? Isn’t your whole thing that you sit around in a swamp for the entirety of your existence? What’s that, to staying in an estate for a bit? I think that you just like to complain to me.” 

He laughs, rocking on his heels. “It’s about free will,” he says, “And, maybe I do. Though, isn’t it a wonder that you complain to me just as much?” 

You’ve finished your plate. “Fair.” 

Taehyun emerges from a room. Your belly does a little surprised flip. You knew he was still here, but you’d hoped to avoid him. When you’d first arrived here, the estate had felt massive. Now, it’s not so much the same.  

 He doesn’t mention it, though. Instead, he surveys the table, and then his brows knit. “You’ve cooked?” 

“Not us. It was being made when I got up. There’s some for you, too, though. If you’re hungry.” 

His frown deepens, but he nods and wanders off into the kitchen. You understand. You’d been confused when you’d went into the kitchen to find a meal being made so early. It’s as if the servant is new and unfamiliar with schedules. Turning to Beomgyu, you say, “Anyway. Would sneaking out for one night appease you?” You push around the last bits of your breakfast, too full to eat anymore. “Maybe you just need to get the thrill out of your system. I have a tree by my window, that might up the ante rather than sneaking out the front door.” You give him a tongue-in-cheek raise of a brow. 

“Well, I don’t think it’s sneaking if you discuss it a room away from who you’re sneaking around,” he answers, picking at the wood of the table. “And, no.” 

At a crash, you both are whipping your heads toward the doorway. The hob servant is sprawled out on its knees. Taehyun’s face has gone cold, and he holds his sword out at the faerie in a point. Your eyes go wide, and you hop up out of your seat. “What are you doing?” you say, taking in the scene. Adrenaline sparkles in your pulse. One second, you’d been enjoying your morning, the next Taehyun has one of his servants at sword point. It’s whiplash.  

Despite your initial shock, though, you pull together the pieces—about the strangeness of the routine, and the unusual meal, and the unfamiliar faerie. You go to share a look with Beomgyu. In the narrow twitch of his eyes, you deduct that he’s come to the same conclusion. And, you’d eaten that whole meal.  

“Face me.” Taehyun barks out the command, looking down on the hob with a chilling severity. 

The faerie does slowly, bowing its head to avoid Taehyun’s face in an attempt to placate him. Taehyun says, “Who have you weaseled yourself into my estate for?” His voice carries, strong and unforgiving. It penetrates down to your marrow. You’re sure the hob feels it worse, though. There’s a long few moments with no answer. Either they won’t say it, or they can’t. They dip their head further. “If you think that your silence will earn you a quick death, it will not. Speak now, or give me your hand. I’ll have your fingers.” 

“Taehyun,” you say, shooting him a hard stare. “Are you serious?” Your stomach goes nauseous. You’ve seen Taehyun kill before, but a punishment like that, meant to inflict agony... It shocks you. 

Taehyun looks at you strangely, eyes at war with the rest of him. He says to you, keeping his sword on the hob, “Am I serious? You just ate all of that, who knows if it was poisoned.” Now stood behind the hob, he takes it by the scruff and lines the deadly edge of his sword up to its neck. 

Your heart does a little trick. You absolutely had eaten that food without question. Why would you question it? It hadn’t come to your mind at all that somebody might infiltrate this estate. With Taehyun’s new role, it only makes sense. You don’t feel bad, though. Not like when you had been poisoned at The Hovel. You’d felt that pretty fast and hard. Right now, you feel fine. As much relief as that brings you, it does beg the question: if they’d come here to do harm, why wouldn’t they utilize such a blaring opportunity? The hob had just... made you food. 

“I have every right to protect my home, and those who live in it.” Taehyun grabs harder, picking the hob up and pressing his sword in closer. The hob squeezes its narrow eyes shut. “It’s my duty.” 

It’s always duty, with Taehyun. The sight of the faerie bracing, knowing that Taehyun will hurt or kill it, worms under your skin. Your fingers strain in trembling fist. You can’t handle the awful sight, no matter if the faerie had intended to harm you. 

You think you know who’d sent the hob to come and be eyes on the inside of Taehyun’s estate, anyway. 

Beomgyu scoffs hoarsely from beside you. “I watched the fool make it. She’s not fallen sick, had she?” His bored eyes shine with distaste. "You, general, just miss the taste of blood on your tongue. You miss it dearly, I know. It’s a terrible hunger to have.” He exchanges the word Lord with one that you can acknowledge hits as a much lower blow, considering his past. Beomgyu would never miss the opportunity to remind Taehyun that from which he comes from. To that regard, you are thankful for not knowing who your parents are. No matter where you end up, at least you’ve had the power to mold your own legacy. Taehyun’s follows him, grim and stained red.  

“Taehyun, can’t you just make an exception this once? Beomgyu’s right. If they’d have wanted us hurt, they had a pretty good opportunity to. But, they didn’t.” You flex your fingers hoping to expel some nerves and step closer to where he’s stood. Making a point to catch his eyes and hold them hostage, you add, “We’d be hypocrites to kill for spying. You know that. Who are we, to call it justice and kill over this? That’s not fair.” 

He holds your eyes, pausing. “Exceptions are dangerous,” he says, but his voice is changed. There’s something other than ice-cold resolution there. You release a breath of tension.  

“I get that, but...” You search his face. “Please.” 

The estate is quiet aside from the huffing of the hob for a second. The look in Taehyun’s face changes, and then he’s throwing the faerie to the ground. He sheathes his sword with a crisp click that you’ve never been more elated to hear, and he snaps, “Get out. Go. Tell whoever the hell sent you here that I won’t take so kindly to this again.” 

The hob does not waste even a second in making good on their second chance. It scrambles up and away in a scramble of furious legs and arms. 

Beomgyu shakes his head and goes to retreat off to wherever he spends a majority of his time, now that the show is over.  

Taehyun, looking disconcerted with his arms folded and brows lifted, says, “Somebody is sending their people here, and now I’ve set a precedent. I look weak. Those wolves will pounce on any stretch of weakness they can find.” 

You sigh. “I know,” you say. “I know, Taehyun. Thank you.” You don’t tell him that the wolf he speaks of is Yeonjun, and that the spy was not here to kill or collect intellect from him.  

It seems that the prince has made his move. 

❆

“You think that was the end of it?” Beomgyu says. “No. That was nothing beyond a glimpse. A life spent beside his blood-drinking father is undeniable. How the gentry kids learn Court snark, the Lord learned to take butchery as a trophy.” 

Shooting him a glare, you slot the arrow in its home and pull the bowstring taut. It comes much easier, now. Your chest doesn’t tremble, and you can properly hold it there comfortably enough to actually aim. Finding the bullseye of woven straw, you narrow your eyes down. You find the center of the spiral, further down the field now that you’ve gotten a better handle on your archery. Like Taehyun had said, you aim a little left to make room for wind direction. You release a slow breath in a smooth, silver stream of breath. Wind whistles around the arrow as it dances down the flat of powdery snow. It pierces the center left with a far-off thud. Not a bullseye, but you’re glad to meet your mark.  

You reach for another arrow. “Or,” you say, “Growing up with his father taught him to be a better man for it.” 

The kelpie, having watched you practice out here for at least thirty minutes, looks up to you from where he sits squatted on the ground. “You don’t believe that,” he scoffs. He drags a finger in the snow. The ground around him is a work of muddy shapes, where he’s worked the snow so much that the wet ground beneath it has begun turning it to brown slush. “The brute is no different. Ardently as he may detest the former general, he has followed his tracks in the snow. Reluctance makes him no better.” 

Cupping your hands over your mouth, you puff out warm breaths that soothe your stinging nose and stiff fingers. It lasts only a small, gratifying moment. You puff out a sigh and take the bow back into your hands. You thought you’d gotten over this conversation, decided to determine for yourself what kind of man Taehyun is, but... When he took up his role as general, you were set back an infuriating mile. Things are even muddier, now. You know he has a reputation to keep up as general, and that he made an exception for you in letting that spy go. If he doesn’t present a strong front, it’ll put you all in danger. That doesn’t stop abrasive thoughts from sticking under your skin, though.  

“Don’t even try and act like you care about violence,” you tell him, giving him a high brow. “It’s not as if you don’t trick people and drag them down into your swamp for your own enjoyment. You just dislike Taehyun.” You bring back the string and let another arrow go. It lands somewhere near the first.  

He doesn’t deny that, a rotten smile splitting across his face.  

Your next shot lands beside the bullseye. Letting out a triumphant sound, you say, “Did you see that?” 

Beomgyu hums. “That one was good.” He stands up to full height with creaking bones and adds, “But, aren’t you getting bored of this? I say we find something more interesting to waste precious time with.” 

You frown. “More interesting...” 

He nods, enthused.  

“That sounds like a terrible idea, coming from you. Interesting is subjective, and I don’t think I’d like to learn your interpretation of it,” you say, voice sewn with suspicion. You lean your bow against the tree, though. Hitting so close to the center was enough gratification to appease you for the day. “And how can I be sure that this isn’t part of an escape plan?” 

He groans. “Let me play some, won’t you? I have a place that will please the both of us.” 

You feign long consideration, but you’ve already decided. As cold as you are, and despite your weary arms, you’re jumping at the opportunity to escape the strong walls of the estate. You’ve got a funny tingling in your veins that pleads with you to go and do something. Wherever Beomgyu may take you, you’ll just appreciate the distraction from muddled thoughts and recycling anxieties. You nod finally. “Fine. Don’t bring me anywhere weird, kelpie.” 

Though, you never know what you’re getting into, with Beomgyu. 

❆

Well, the dusted walls of a once-great residence around you are not the worst you imagined when thinking where Beomgyu might take you. 

“You told I’d me be pleased,” you say, voice bouncing off the walls and coming back to you hollow. It was the residence of some gone gentry folk, you know. Why that would be of any interest to you, you’re not sure. It’s pretty, sure. You’d fought snow and numb fingers to get here, though. You frown at him expectantly. 

“You have a sorry amount of trust in me. You would be, if you’d just open your eyes to it,” he cuts back.  

You hum. “Sure.” Raking your eyes over the baseboards, brown wood carved into leaves and acorns, and then down the still halls, you make an effort to see anything differently. Of course, it does nothing. Beomgyu speaks strangely, and he hadn’t actually meant to look differently. Despite your conclusion, you still see a stale and forgotten place. You cross your arms over your chest and say, “I get it. This was just an escape plan. And I’m gonna get your ass. Do you know how far of a walk that was?” 

“This would be a nice place to stay, if we were to forget a certain Lord’s estate...” he muses, tilting his head off to one side. “But no.” 

Looking around, your eyes catch on the film of dust on the floor down the hallway that shoots off from the tall dining hall that you stand in. More specifically, you’re concerned with the set of footsteps leading down it. Your feet tell you to dart. “Beomgyu?” you say, eyes wide as you look over to him. “Who’s here?” 

“Should we go find out?” he says, thick set of brows jumping in a playful twitch. 

He sets off down the hallway. You follow, internalizing the new surroundings with large drinks. You’re not sure why you ever thought this would end with him taking you out to the forest to watch will-o'-the-wisps dance in twinkling balls of light, or going to watch a babbling brook work its way over the earth. 

A tall man steps out from a room. You jump, pulling Beomgyu back, as if he weren’t some ancient faerie beast capable of managing himself. He cracks a laugh. The man looks between you two. Your tongue darts out to wet dry lips. He’s no doubt wondering who you are, just the same as you’re wondering who he is. You whisper to your cavorting heart that Beomgyu is magically compelled to not shove you into harm’s way, and it seems that he knows who this is. 

You notice the man’s round ears, and his soft and humble features, and the earthliness, and the imperfection-flecked skin. Familiarity bursts in your chest—you’re looking into the face of another human. “Who is this?” you whisper over to Beomgyu. 

“This is Soobin,” he announces, answering your whisperings with his full chest. “A friend, and a human, as I think you’ve noticed.” A proud gleam flashes over his eyes. “I believe that you owe me your thanks now.” 

The man, Soobin, dips his head at you. Dull, brown eyes study you. “I am,” he says. 

Searching for words, you open and close your mouth a few times. A nervous thrill wraps you up. You’ve wanted to get to know and be friends with your kind for your entire life. “Why are you here?” you ask, making a gesture at the residence. “It looks abandoned. Very abandoned.” When you’d first arrived at Taehyun’s estate, it’d been left alone for quite a while in Taehyun’s leaving it behind. This, though, looks much different than that. You wonder who this place belonged to, and why it’s no longer in use. 

Sullen eyes answer yours. They remind you of Beomgyu’s, the old tiredness. It’s strange, seeing that look reflected on such a young face. How does Beomgyu known him, anyway? Soobin answers, “I was a glamoured servant here. Until the faerie died.” He continues talking as he returns to the room from which he’d come from. This room, off and away from the massive inner hall that makes up the majority of the residence, is fresher. Where dust balls and had taken over what was once most definitely a place busy with servants and the host of many feasts, this room is alive and no doubt where Soobin lives. “Then, the glamour died, and I came back to myself.” He sits down onto a foot bench in front of a green-sheeted bed. This must’ve been bedroom for the faerie he’d served. Now, it’s his. He brings his hands up. Where the soft skin of an easy life should sit, there’s worn and ruined skin in its place. “I wasn’t conscious when I’d been working it, but when I came back... my body ached. It ached so bad, and at first, I had no idea why or... where I was. All I knew was that I’d been worked into the ground.” 

Your heart hangs like stone in your chest, looking at his broken hands. When you’d been taken from the human world, you’d been so young that it made no difference to you. Growing up here, it’s all you’ve ever known. Not every human is brought here how you had been, though. Some are snatched up from their adult lives; fallen to some faerie trick hidden in plain sight. Slip up, and you’re stolen away to come do work in this wretched realm. You don’t know what’s worse: what happened to you, being raised here and molded into a meaningless servant, or that. The faerie had stolen time from his life that he will never get back—and he remembers none of it. Glamoured servants had always stricken a gut-wrenching sick feeling in you, whenever you’d seen them. With gone eyes and hollowed out cheeks, they’d look right through you like mist and continue on with their prescribed duties. Like a husk of a living being. 

Even now, Soobin’s body tells the story of the taxation. This faerie must’ve seen humans as cattle. “Why stay here?” you ask, making a seat out of a sofa along the wall. The cushions accept your shape graciously; made affable by time and use. Beomgyu trades the cushioned seat for the floor in front of your crisscrossed legs. He lolls his head back, coarse hair tickling at your skin. 

Beomgyu answers. “Because he has no place else to go, and his awful stubbornness keeps him here. There are no rides back to the human world, if you’re not willing to give something away for it.” 

Soobin, looking more annoyed than genuinely angry with Beomgyu’s words, says, “I’m not going to give your kind any more of me than I was already forced to. I’ll find a way. Eventually.” 

Eventually. The word is heavy coming out from his mouth, falling out like a dud; not even he believes it. “How long have you been here?” 

“I... don’t know.” He shifts, watching the flooring rather than looking at the two of you as he speaks. “Since I was taken here? I have no idea. I don’t remember a lick of it. But from what I do remember, long. Centuries, maybe.” 

Your fingers, raking paths through the tangles in Beomgyu’s hair, freeze. Looking up at him, you tilt your head. It sounds like it should be a hyperbole, an overdramatization to describe what feels like an eternity spent here in this old place. But he doesn’t deliver it as such. No, his voice doesn’t joke at all—his eyes stare hard and lack the light of life. “What?” you say. Your voice crackles with a confused flare. “What do you mean, centuries?” 

“He means that he’s been making this his home for centuries,” Beomgyu says. 

“No,” you say, willing your glare to burn holes through the back of his head below you. Of course, he doesn’t stir or notice at all. “I mean, that’s not possible. We don’t live that long.” Nonetheless, he looks no older than you. Anything above twenty years is no less unbelievable than centuries.  

“You don’t?” Beomgyu says. You hear the patronizing smile through his words. “I have known him long. And yet, he lives... How strange is that?” 

You deliver a punishing shove at the back of his head. “You know what I meant, idiot.” 

Simpering, he says back to you from over his shoulder, “You’re not so much the sweet girl I remember meeting. Spend enough of your time here, and even the human’s body slows. The makeup of his human flesh has not aged for quite some time. Neither will yours.” 

A lifetime spent dreading how fast your life will dwindle away comes crashing down over you. You blink hard at the impact. You’d been haunted; followed around by the dark and heavy promise of a soon death, of deteriorating joints and a forgettable name. That had all been in vain? The enormity of that realization... it comes overhead like dark and swirling water, sucking you down where no amount of kicking or thrashing will clear a way. It swallows you. A bitter anger kindles down in the depths from which that fear had nestled itself. So, Nut-hatch had made the very conscious decision to lead you to believe otherwise. 

“You’ve reached maturity, and you will stay this way for until you leave Faerie. The years will begin coming to you, as long as you remain there; where time flows differently through the veins,” Beomgyu continues. “He only wishes to spend his blessing of time decaying away here.” 

The two of them begin talking back and forth about whatever it is that Beomgyu says, but a loud silence like fog in your head has their words more like background noise. You’d lived for so, so long thinking that you were running out of time. The tick of a terrible clock sounded off in the distance in a haunting echo in everything you ever did. It’s why you ever rallied the nerve to up and leave the life you’d been dragged into. You’d been so scared of wasting what little life you had—fear welled up high and told you that time was running out to do it. Would you have ever even left, if you’d not thought yourself so rushed? Your face feels hot. 

Soobin saying your name, loud and questioning, draws you out just enough to hear him say, “How did you get tricked?” 

You swallow and clear your throat, sitting up straighter. “What do you mean?” you ask, mental inertia coloring your words lost. “Tricked?” Doing a re-survey of the room, you stop on the windows. Day has begun weaning off into the gray of eventide.  

“How did you end up as a servant, I mean,” he elaborates. 

“Oh,” you say, nodding your understanding. “Sorry, I got distracted. I was taken when I was little, so I didn’t get tricked, or anything.” Nut-hatch didn’t have to trick you to bring you here like most faeries do when taking humans from their world, because you had no will. It’s the loophole in their governing nature; though they might not be able to just take humans without a promise or debt or something of that sort, they can take away the newly born. As long as they leave behind what they believe to be a replacement as payment. 

“You’re a changeling,” he says, as if realizing out loud. His eyes meet yours, dead and gone and bitter. “You should’ve killed that faerie. They all deserve it.” 

The acidic rancor there has you balking. Kill Nut-hatch? You may still harbor resentment—deep, deep gnarly gashes and crevices that you’d had to fill, and it just so happens that enmity did the job well. You understand his anger, but the thought of killing your stealer for self-gratifying revenge doesn’t make you feel good. Not in the way he suggests it should. In a sick way that only a child with a cavity in their chest where the love for a parent should be could manage, you consumed her role as your owner and digested it down into something you could cling on to. And, with chubby little desperate hands, you had. Perhaps she would spit in your face if you were to return to her now—because you’d failed to fulfill your purpose for her—you could not fathom hurting her. You pull back the sour face twitching at your muscles and say, “How do you feel about that, Beomgyu? I thought you were friends.” 

He shakes his head. “If you make senseless bets, you’re already the fool. You can’t act so surprised when you’re then asked to put on the fool’s hat and to dance,” he says, pointed derision like an arrow at Soobin.  

Whatever that means. The folk speak with adages and idioms, but Beomgyu’s verbiage is infested with it.  You scuffle down your laugh when Soobin does not share your humor. 

“How was I supposed to have thought I’d be making a bet with a faerie? Nobody even knows this shit is real, there. It’s all just folklore and scary stories. It’s not fair ground if I didn’t even know that I was doing it. And now, here I am: everybody I ever knew and loved is long, long dead.” 

His words are seething with hatred, and yet they’re barren. It’s carved him up inside, dug him out into a shell with only this awfulness left. It shakes you a bit. You’d been so eager to find another human to know or to bond with. This, though... Your brain feels rattled around in your skull. You hope to never become this.  

“So, no. We are not friends,” Soobin says. “He only comes here to enjoy my misfortune, and our kind live with the need for interaction. I tolerate it, I guess.” 

You husk out a laugh that doesn’t find your eyes. “Well, that’s not very nice, Beomgyu,” you say, stressing his name with false reprimand. “He enjoys my suffering too,” you tell Soobin. You nudge Beomgyu with your dangling leg, trying to drag the nonplussed kelpie back into the conversation to save you. 

“Of course, he does. It’s why they take us from our world: our pain is no more than like playing with a beetle to watch it struggle, and then killing it when it’s no longer fun. We’re bugs. Or, dirt. I’m sure you’ve heard that before. They love to tell us that.” 

You have. That memory is one that you prefer shoved down and compact where you can’t let it remind you what your designated role really is. You’ve been so good about ignoring it, too. With a quick glance to the windows and the dark that’s fallen outside, you say, “I think we need to go, Beomgyu. We didn’t bring any lights...” 

The kelpie drags himself up from the ground and away from the room without any sharing of pleasantries. You offer Soobin a quick goodbye and are next out of the room, feet moving like the wood flooring has gone to hot coals. 

Even in the round edges of a human face, you had not found the resonance that you’ve longed so hard for. Humans have the capacity for unshaking violence and vacant souls too, it seems. Perhaps it was never that you were looking for a human to see yourself reflected in—you’d just bloomed cloudy hopes of finding eyes that will see you clearly and deeply. Those hopes had been misplaced. 

 But, if not in another human, then who? 

❆

It’s utterly black outside—a moonless night. Kicking your restless legs out from your blankets, you stumble down the stairs. 

You can’t find sleep, even behind closed eyes. Behind your eyelids, you see Yeonjun’s storm-clouded face and you taste Taehyun on your mouth. You’re harassed by guilt cruelly, and feel the weight of your conversation with Soobin deep in your chest.  

How you end up at Taehyun’s door once again, you’re not sure. It’s a wholly inappropriate hour of the night, and you ought to have learned your lesson the last time you’d found yourself here. You don’t know why your sleepy legs lead you here. You’re better off plaguing Beomgyu with your restlessness instead. Why you’re stood here before this door... It’s beyond you. 

Though, you’ve been desperately unable to shove down the urge to stick your toes in the water and see just how icy they are. He’s pointedly avoided you, and you have no grasp on where you two are going after this. An innate feeling, settled heavy like stone in your chest, tells you that everything has changed. 

Once you’ve knocked and cracked the door open, though, a nervous tide creeps up on you. You should pivot and be back to your room. You would, if you were smart, but as Taehyun sits up with a mess of dark hair and sleep-dusted cheeks, you’re compelled by something other than your mind. It’s something strangely human, waking up in a groggy haze. The sight of sleepiness on the ever-composed Taehyun is jarring. It’s gone in only a blink, though, as he shakes it away. 

“Is something wrong?” he says. He may have brushed away the fog in his brain, but he’s powerless to the husk still weighing his voice down. It sends a strange thrill through you.  

You shake your head, throat dry. 

He frowns. “You’re having dreams again?” 

The gentle question has you pausing. It’s so out and away—so far beyond what you expect from him. Taehyun has never been one to ask around about how you’re feeling. He’d much rather skirt around such things, and pretend them away. Emotional nuance is a lost cause on him. Or, that’s what you’d thought, anyway. What’s changed? “No,” you tell him, pursing your lips. “I just... wanted to talk to you.” 

Taehyun sits more fully upright. “About what?” he says. You don’t miss how his shoulders straighten and stiffen. 

On bare feet, you shuffle over to his bed. “Nothing,” you tell him. You hadn’t exactly planned on coming here. Of course, he thinks you’ve come here to address what had happened. But... that’s not why you came here. At least, you think it isn’t. You don’t know. “Can I sit?” You gesture at the foot of his bed. He nods, eyes trained right on you. Pressing one knee into the coverlets, you climb in. 

The buzzing and hum of wind dance in the air between you. You’re not sure what to say; it’s so heavy with every single thing. It’s hard to keep things light with him, when even the silence is painted with intensity.  

You settle with just saying, “I couldn’t sleep.” 

He licks his lips, nodding. “I’d only just fallen asleep,” he says. “Always something to think about.” 

You can relate to that. The melody of a serene, content mind seems like a distant memory. “Sorry,” you say. You hadn’t meant to ruin his rest. Rigidity intrudes on the flow of conversation. You don’t remember ever being this awkward. 

He dismisses that with a shake of his head. “I’ll manage,” he says. “When I came back yesterday, you and the kelpie weren’t here. Where did you go?” 

This is exactly what had been keeping your mind awake. You had wanted to think of anything but that, but maybe talking to somebody about it will be nice. “Beomgyu took me somewhere,” you say. You laugh softly as he makes a face. “Yeah, I know. It was some old, run-down place. And there was this human there.” 

You pause, filtering through the memory. Taehyun doesn’t speak, his eyes watching you with an attentive slowness. He’s just listening. Continuing, you say, “It was weird, because... Well, we were talking, and... He was nice. It was nice, talking to another human and seeing my features on him.” 

You give a passing glance over at his ears. 

“And Beomgyu is a jerk, but I don’t think I learned that yesterday,” you say. You ramble, perhaps filling the space where the uncomfortable memory sits before you can let it bother you. It doesn’t help that the air is so quiet. Your mouth moves quick to make it less so. “But... this guy. He’s centuries old, and just lives inside that place. I’d been so excited to have someone who could understand me like that, but then he started saying stuff that made me feel... just, bad for him, I guess. He was so angry and bitter.” 

Taehyun watches you speak, and then nods. Tinged with his sleepy husk, he says, “Not everybody stays good when they live for so long. He let it rot him.” 

“Yeah. It was really like he was rotted. Not bad, I guess,” you say. “It made me worry that I’ll end up that way, someday. Even though we came here differently, I still feel that sort of anger sometimes. I don’t like it, though.” 

“I don’t think you will,” he says. 

His voice feels so strangely soft. You don’t know how to respond to this, coming from him. Long, quiet beats only decorated by the crackling of bushes scraping up and down the windows, fall over you two again. Your gazes intertwine, dancing together in a way that is also different. “Thank you,” you tell him, your voice meek. “I hope that’s true.” 

The longer you’re sat there in Taehyun’s bed, the plush warmth of it and his presence serving as some sort of scarecrow for your pestering thoughts, your eyes grow heavier and your words more useless. Here, in his room and in his presence, it’s as if those thoughts and their terrible claws cannot reach you. You prattle on to him about sleepy nothings, but he doesn’t seem to mind that you’re stealing his sleep from him. He only listens, eyes watching you melt down into something softer on the surface of his bed. 

❆

When you’d woken up this morning, you’d popped up in a frantic flurry. Instead of on your own bed, your dreary eyes were met with the walls of Taehyun’s room. You had fallen asleep in Taehyun’s bed; talked yourself into a solid sleep. You had been so thankful that he was not there when you’d been drug from your slumber by the feel of foreign bedsheets on your skin. 

Even thinking about it now, your ears glow red. Had he been annoyed? You frantically shove those thoughts away. 

There’s a thump from outside. You lean over from your spot on the bed and try to get the best look out you can manage, but it’s at an angle. You see nothing but winter’s flurries there.  

Your head drops back down to the threadbare fabric in hand. Beomgyu, after a long-winded back and forth, had relented to letting you patch up his clothes. Well, just his shirt. When he’d handed it over to you, it had been a valiant internal battle to not run off and drown the thing in soaped water. For now, you settle for just patching up the mangiest bits. It gives you something to be busy with. 

Taehyun has been especially busy lately. You’re not sure why; he doesn’t exactly go around singing about his stresses.  

This time, there’s three resounding and deliberate knocks at the pane of your window. Your working fingers come to a stop, head popping up. A nervous rattle thrums up and down your spine. It could have been a straying tree branch knocking a song with the wind’s encouragement, but they’d been so sure and pronounced. You let the shirt down and slip off the bed. Keeping your approach down to whisper, you creep toward the window. 

Yeonjun, nose gone pink, sits on a sturdy branch. 

For a moment, you stand there taking in the sight of him there; a prince of Faerie, crouched up and in a tangle of branches as he waits for you. It’s absurd. Not only that, it’s dreadful. You’ve done well, tearing yourself away from him. So, so well. Recently, all that hurt has painted its face and made itself anger. At the sight of his face, it sparks in your chest. But it’s a dull, slow flame, oh so reluctant. This anger feels different than other angers. It bothers you so deeply that you can’t place a finger on why. 

And you want to let that anger sit there and fester, hoping that it will work at eroding away your still-connected heartstrings like rot. Even through the glass of the window, you feel them—red and reinforced and tugging you toward him. 

It’s ridiculous. This is ridiculous and pathetic, letting him send you fragmented just with this. You’ve become the sort of girl that you’d snort over in sappy lover’s ballads and odes, the kind that you’d looked down on for their lack of spine. How different it is, when it comes to your turn. Despite it all, you reach out and push the windows open. Even with the sputtering flame you foster, he’s frozen and does not look like he’s going to give up just at this. If you were to pretend he wasn’t there and flop back down into the bed, you think that he might sit there brazen and let the ice freeze him from the inside out. Or, he’ll find some other way to speak with you. The glint in his eyes, the only light reflected in flatness, tells you as much. 

“This isn’t cute, or... romantic, like you think it is, Yeonjun. Not like last time. It’s just hurtful,” you tell him. 

Breath like smoke, Yeonjun says, “I don’t mean to hurt you. It kills me that I do.” His voice is sweet and smooth like malt liquor. It grips your mind in dazzling claws. 

You shake your head, staying a reasonable distance from him and the window. “You’re not supposed to be here. You have to go,” you tell him, pulling the leash to the collar you’ve put on yourself taut. “It’s icy. Climb down safe, please.” 

Of course, that doesn’t budge him. “Not supposed to be here? Why, because you don’t want it, or because he’ll be angry at you?” he says. His pretty face has gone sour. “Look at you. You’ve lost so much weight. He’s not taking care of you, pretty. Come home to me. I know you know where it is; I see the look on your face. I know that you lie to me with your words, but you were never good at hiding your face.” 

You stay rooted to your spot; you won’t be so weak to words again. No matter how sweet and soft they feel against your shining, weeping wounds. He put that hurt there. Leaning into it would just be self-destructive. 

“Please. It hurts both of us to be away, so why do it? I know that I’ve hurt you, and I’ll spend every last of my waking breath letting you know that it was a mistake. I’ll leave it all behind—none of it matters,” he continues. “Make me your servant. Ask me to swear my life away to you, and I’ll drop to my knees and put it on my beating heart right now.”  

Your throat feels dry. He’d swear himself in your service, give you the ability to control him as you will. It’s an unfathomably massive show of trust and dedication. You don’t want that, though. Not one bit. His frantic professions punch you in the gut nonetheless. Had you been losing weight? You haven’t even noticed. Yeonjun did, though—at a glance, he’d known you’ve been hurting.  

“Yeonjun, please. You’re not making this easy for me. Just give it time; we’ll get over it. Eventually, we’ll forget each other,” you say, jaw aching with protest at each heavy word. Now faced with the reality of a much, much longer life, your own words bite you. It means, though, that you have so much time to build yourself up into something solid and beautiful. And, somewhere down the road, you’ll think of this and be unaffected. Won’t that day come any sooner, though? 

“Forget each other?” he says, laugh like poison. “No, we won’t forget each other. Time doesn’t fix it. I promise you that I know that all too well. Our love is not the kind you can forget. It will just hurt forever.” 

“Go on,” you say. “Lie to me again. I want to hear it.” 

Eyes shining and unable to lie, he says, “I love you.” 

Swallowing thickly, you back away and get ready to close the window.  

He climbs in through the window in a quick move. You don’t even have time to protest it before he’s saying, “Ask anything of me. Any last thing that you want of me, but do not ask me to watch you in his arms. I will not.” 

There it is again—that dread. You want it to go easy, but of course it never was going to. “Stop it,” you say, mustering up a shaking finger to point at him. “Stop. Just go.” 

His face goes hard. “That bastard is off to a war camp. Soon. He becomes more like his father every day, doesn’t he?” His soft hands, warm and cradling, find your face. “You don’t have to punish me by being with him. Come be safe. All he’s done is throw you out in the path of danger. If he cared for you, it would have never happened.” 

Darting between his eyes, breaths come quick to you. “What?” you say. It’s the one word you can pull out from the chaos that he’s wrought onto your thoughts. A blizzard erupts, and through the whipping breeze and shards you don’t think to pull away from him or take his hands off of you. 

So, that’s why Taehyun had been busy. What does that even entail for you? Are you going to be here? Does he expect you to pack up and go there with him, to travel for a war that you don’t even care for? 

“All I ever did was protect you, pretty. I know that, in hindsight, it all seems shady. But I promise you that I did. They were never going to hurt you, and neither was I,” he says, his voice thick and strong with conviction. 

Metal rings, the sound of a quick blade being unsheathed.  

“Leave,” Taehyun snarls. He holds his sword at point, right on Yeonjun. It’s an emphatic promise of what he’s capable of and what he’ll do. 

Flame, wild and melting you around the edges, eats up every last bit of oxygen in the room. It leaves none for you to breathe. It crackles and pops between them, where their gazes meet and feed it. Everything else has gone still. Even the wind, it seems.  

Sword held fast and unmoving, Taehyun says, “You send your people into my home, and now you sneak in yourself. I won’t be walked over. Leave now, or you waste my courtesy.” 

So, he’d come to that conclusion as well. He’s so still—his face carved of ice into sharp edges.  

When Yeonjun sends a look your way, you shake your head at him. You have no clue what he’s thinking, but you want none of it. Your stomach does a violent flip. “Yeonjun, go. I want you to go. Please.” 

His features lined with flame; he looks from you to Taehyun. “Your violence will be the fall of you,” he says, jaw tight as he pushes out toward your door. Not without a final glance sent to you, though. The promise you see there is a dreadful one. 

You refuse to meet Taehyun’s daggered look. Beomgyu’s shirt lays forgotten on your bed. You’re half tempted to grab it and resume work; to continue on and escape this. 

“That didn’t take very fucking long, did it?” he says. “Right back into his arms.” 

Your drag your hands down your face. “I didn’t tell him to come here,” you snap. “It’s none of your business who I talk to. How about we talk about you leaving? When did you plan on telling me, huh? I don’t like secrets, Taehyun.” 

Taehyun slips his sword back into the sheath. It clicks back in place. “None of my business?” he says. He repeats the words back at you with an asp’s curl. “When he’s in my home, in your room, it’s my business.” 

“Would you stop?” you say, exhaustion sputtering out your fight. “With Yeonjun, I always know what’s going on. With you? I don’t know what to expect,” you say. “Tell me. When were you going to tell me that you’re going?” 

His face morphs into something different: one of those bone-chilling ones that you don’t know how to explain. He doesn’t answer for a few beats; you can see his mind turning itself over. “This was going to happen. I told you that,” he says. “And I was going to tell you.” 

You let out a long sigh, your shoulders loosening with it, when this time his voice isn’t so venomous. He’d been so busy lately. Being general assured that, especially now that things are moving. “When? How long will you be gone?” you say. “What if something happens to you, Taehyun? What are Beomgyu and I supposed to do?” You include Beomgyu in your proposition, but you’re not sure whether he’d stay with you or run off into the tree line the moment he finds he’s free. Then, really, who would you have? 

“You’ll be there,” he says. “You can come. I prefer it. If you stay here, you’re vulnerable to attacks. This estate is known to be mine, and now that I’ve become the general... I can’t say that it’s safe.” He’s come so close that now his eyes look down on you. They don’t feel acidic on your skin. “And nothing will happen to me. I promise it, nothing will happen to me or you. Or that kelpie. I’ll win this war.” 

Around a thick swallow, you nod.  

You don’t doubt that Taehyun has the skill or the wits to do so. You only can hope that he doesn’t destroy himself trying to prove it; to both you and himself. 

…🪶 ashlynn's note i know, i know. we made big moves this chapter. AHHHH! taehyun…… taehyun…..

﹙🏷️ ﹚ @lvrs-street2mmorrow , @soohashits , @f4iryfever , @arcturus444 , @linqed , @serenityism00 , @immelissaaa , @luv4cheol , @lickingan0rchid , @20-cms , @hhoneylix , @beestvng , @hyucktapes , @bewitchless , @prince-jjae , @blankliving , @yaoizee , @stormy1408 , @missychief1404 , if your tag isn't working, check the mentions part of your settings!

[momo-t-daye]

“Hey, Sirius,” said James Potter, “Why has Snape got your scarf?" “The little asshole was whinging about being cold,” Sirius shrugged, unconcerned by the chilly evening air. “I thought he might gag himself but no luck yet.” “Huh,” said James.

“I still think it’s just a marketing ploy,” the little asshole swathed in woolen scarves said thoughtfully.  “Everyone knows he doesn’t sell firewhiskey to students and his butterbeer is near rancid, but once you’ve hiked all the way up here to check out the goat it’s almost a waste of time to not buy something.” “A giant goat is quite the statement given his, ah, past legal entanglements,” Narcissa said with the sort of obvious delicacy that teetered dangerously close to turning suggestive. “It really must be seen to be believed and the last few have hardly lasted any time at all.” “It looks so flammable,” Lily Evans gushed, bubbling with malicious anticipation. The best thing about the magical world, Lily maintained, was the sheer number of holiday traditions that eventually included lighting something on fire.  Her mother’s nerves had never been up for a proper Bonfire Night and Cokeworth’s Catholics weren’t the type to celebrate it either.

“Hey, Sirius,” said James Potter, “Why has Snape got MY scarf?" “Because Evans said it was cold and you gave her your scarf to be gallant and she then handed your scarf over to him” Sirius replied, without any worries over his best friend’s apparent memory issues. “Right,” said James.

“He’s bound to have put up some anti-arson charms on this one after the fiasco with Dumbledore’s pet phoenix last year and inexplicable triple lightning strikes the year before,” Severus scoffed.  “If it’s properly phoenix-proofed— and I doubt the rest of Hogsmeade would allow him to put another goat up that wasn’t properly phoenix-proofed— we’d need a miracle to burn it down without being caught.” “We’ve got the blessings of tradition with us, Sev,” Lily replied. “Can’t you see? The goat must burn again!”

“Hey, Sirius,” said James Potter, “Why has Snape got Remus’ scarf?" “Because I was foolish enough to take my scarf off inside and Snape picked it up and put it and just looked at me when I asked for my scarf back,” Remus interjected, slightly bitter at his ignoble defeat. “Gosh,” said James.

“Twice is hardly sufficient grounds to claim a tradition,” Narcissa opined. “Three is a far more magically significant number.” “So you’re saying it’s up to us to ensure the sacred fires once more hold back the darkness!” Lily said, full of pyromaniacal resolution. “I say it’ll take planning and proper intelligence gathering, neither of which I’m inclined to do while my mouth still tastes like something died in the Hog’s Head butterbeer barrels,” Severus sighed. “Let’s stop at the Three Broomsticks, Potter will buy us all a round of the special seasonal cinnamon spiced butterbeer, and we’ll work on preparations back at school.”

“Hey,” said James Potter.  “Why hasn’t Snape got—” “Unlike you all, I know better than to leave my clothes and stuff unattended in Snape’s vicinity,” Peter interrupted, smugly snug and cozy. “Oh,” said James. It really was quite cold.

_______

For an assortment @snapecelebration's Snoliday 2023 prompts

[hysteriaww]

Hi ! It's going to sound weird but....

How do you think Kai would have influenced Luke's personality if Luke actually won during the merge ?

I know Kai was stronger, but let's say Luke wins.

He was already pretty strong since he was able to break Liv out of the spell she was trying to do. He was stronger than his sister. He would have won if they were to do the merge. I don't exactly remember how powerful he was but I suppose he was fairly quite good with magic.

And magical powers aside, he has quite a strong personality. He's fed up with the Mystic Falls gang bullshit. He was not even that scared of Kai. I mean, he knew his brother was a freaking threat, but he did not hesitate to go on his own and do the merge with Kai. Even when Kai didn't want to do it Luke was like "Hey bitch, you scared I could win ?"

I don't think Luke really thought he could win or maybe he did, anyway he just wanted it to end. He wanted to project his sisters.

So, with Kai's personality inside of him, what would he be like ? I think that guy would at least find a way to end that Gemini tradition crap about the merge, and the lives of the whole coven linked to the leader.

Apart from that I don't know.

That would not be as fun as seeing Kai struggle with new emotions 🤣 but I want to see Luke being even more badass you know.

Yup, really long question sorry not sorry. X)

This is a very interesting question! Tho I have wondered what Jo would be like if she merged w Kai & won, I've never wondered about Luke until now... I think it could be a very compelling arc for him & the gemini coven. Here's what I think would happen! (I wrote a whole ass mini-fanfic in my answer lmfao):

Fresh after the merge: Luke would initially act & feel almost exactly like same old Luke, except maybe he'd rightfully be a bit more grim, traumatized and world-weary after defeating Kai. Liv & Jo would be concerned but he'd tell them not to worry bc he just needs some time to recover & leading the coven rn is more important than his mental health anyway (aka the FIRST Red Flag). Liv & Jo would disagree but let it go for now to avoid stressing him out.

First few months as leader: I think Luke's first order of business would be to undo the damage Joshua did as a terrible coven leader. That might mean overturning fucked up coven laws, etc. but Joshua doesn't like this, so he gets his supporters in the coven to back him & veto Luke's changes. Meanwhile, Luke's own coven support is growing bc I do believe he'd be a MUCH better leader than Joshua, so old man's resentment grows more. Eventually, it reaches a point where Luke feels boxed in like he can't make any real GOOD change bc of Joshua's puppets & THAT is when... the whispers of Kai's voice begin to awaken in Luke's mind. Uh-oh...

Conflict resolution 101: The part of Luke that's in control tries to be diplomatic about getting rid of Joshua's supporters but it just. doesn't. work. The assholes are FLUENT in gemini bureaucracy bc they've been around longer so they outmaneuver Luke constantly. That's when Kai begins suggesting some... less diplomatic solutions, including the idea that Joshua's supporters wouldn't be such a problem if JOSHUA was gone. Luke spends a long time rejecting this & literally warring with himself, so Liv & Jo are like "dude are u ok" and in a moment of weakness he admits his idea about taking joshua out. They're shocked, but after a sec, they're like "wait this is the same man who tried to off his own kids more than once. Uk what? yes lets do it." And suddenly all 3 (ahem, 4) Parker kids are plotting to put dad in a magical coma (hmm does that sound familiar? I wonder which sibling's idea this was...) so he can't influence his supporters anymore. And the siblings succeed! Joshua's out! but it becomes their lil secret, hidden from the coven...

A Good Ol' Frame Job: Lo and behold, Joshua's supporters still stay loyal to the man in a coma instead of Luke! Liv & Jo are like "it's fine luke, dad isn't gonna wake up so eventually they'll have no choice but to listen to you" but KAI isn't convinced... and neither is Luke. Diplomacy didn't work, sleeping beauty-ing joshua didn't work, so now he needs to play dirty. He doesn't jump to violence or anything - he simply frames a few of them for crimes they didn't commit. Snakey, but simple. Only problem is... Luke can't recall if this idea was his own, or Kai's...... bc they're both equally likely to have thought of it. Kai's influence is growing... So when Jo & Liv come to him like "wow crazy how those supporters got revealed as criminals right? That worked out conveniently," Luke goes w the safest option & says "haaa yea what a coincidence! no idea how that happened" ......and now he's lying to his sisters (Big Red Flag #2)

Calm before the storm: Now that joshua's remaining supporters (who haven't been framed) are very few, Luke doesn't face much resistance anymore & he actually succeeds at reforming a lot of fucked up gemini practices & making positive change. Maybe he even succeeds at eliminating the merge altogether! Luke's flying high, believing he's a true protector of the geminis & the best leader and savior (which, to be fair, he rly is better than the shitty leaders before him)! Kai's influence here is very sneaky bc some of Luke's old sense of humor comes back to him, with some new hints of cockiness that weren't there before. Luke's golden boy charm & Kai's cockiness creates the perfect politician cocktail & liv and jo appreciate the good he's done for geminis but also lowkey resent the big-headed self-important persona he's growing.

But THEN there's trouble in paradise: joshua's leftover supporters find a piece of evidence that proves Luke framed the others & they threaten Luke w it, deducing that he also had smthg to do w Joshua's coma. They order him to step down but he can't do that. Not now, when he's finally *this* close to changing the coven for good! These pricks will wake joshua & bring the old laws back! No, he can't let that happen, he can't let it- ....Luke snaps. He blacks out, then wakes up in horror to realize he violently killed. them. all. He panics, calling Jo & Liv for help BUT to cover his ass, he lies & says he had to kill them bc they found out about "all 3 of them" cursing Joshua... while choosing not to mention how they also discovered his frame jobs. Liv & Jo are horrified yet they help him cover this up bc he's falsely led them to believe their asses are also on the line for cursing joshua... but then Jo notices some of them were killed in very "Kai" ways (bled to death from their spleens getting cut out, etc.) & Liv finds the piece of evidence they had that links Luke to the frame jobs...... the 2 of them realize Luke is not in control anymore.

The Climax: Liv & Jo confront Luke, asking him to step down but warning him that they'll MAKE him if he doesn't agree. He doesn't agree. A fight ensues & Luke is pretty OP despite the 2 v. 1. Luke gets *this* close to killing them (while Kai cheers him on), but then says SIKE and kills JOSHUA's comatose body instead, shocking everyone. Jo, Liv AND Kai are like "wha- why?!" & Luke the politician diabolically reveals that he can't bring himself to kill them - but he can frame them for Joshua's death & turn the coven against them.... OR he can frame the dead supporters for Joshua's death & save his sisters, IF Liv & Jo stay loyal to his cause. At this ultimatum, Jo & Liv finally give up, saying they'd rather get framed or killed than let him rule the coven like this. The Kai in Luke gets triggered by their abandonment bc he's a gOoD LEADER can't u SEE?! Kai's increased presence & Luke's increased lack of control make his SIPHONING manifest for the first time & he unintentionally starts siphoning the sisters. And Luke gets triggered by them trying to overthrow him bc he's the OnLy one who can PROTECT the coven!! Just like he protected Jo & Liv from Kai!! At this point the sisters' resentment RLY comes out like "WE DIDNT ASK YOU TO!! YOU chose to merge to protect us WITHOUT ASKING what WE wanted!! U literally knocked out Jo when she was ABOUT to merge! You protected us bc that's what U wanted, not US. And now the coven doesn't need to be protected BY you anymore, it needs to be protected FROM you!!" Like a bucket of ice water, Luke realizes he's siphoning his sisters rn. He has become Kai. They're right. He is not in control anymore. He steps away & realizes the whole coven itself is broken. The best way to save it is to take the ruling family nonsense out of it & free everyone. He agrees to step down & Jo & Liv help him break the coven link altogether and they free the coven! For a moment, it seems like Kai is going to stop them, but then even the Kai in his mind realizes the coven fucked him over his whole life & he'd much rather see it gone. So all 4 kids unite in Sibling Solidarity and liberate the coven!

Epilogue: Luke gets therapy & that means Kai begrudgingly gets it too bc he's stuck in luke's head. They both start healing & finding a medium ground of how to share space in luke's head. Kai even uses Luke to apologize to Liv & Jo for his own crimes. I'd like to think he'd even get Luke to go to Bonnie and apologize on his behalf & maybe help her out whenever he can, tho i don't think it would be sexual, bc in canon the merge didn't change kai's sexuality so i doubt it would change luke's. But yea I think bonnie would still at least have a new ally in luke thanks to the Kai in him xD

THE END lol I hope my impromptu mini-fanfic here answered your question ahaahaha thank you for asking!!!

[seaofreverie]

Sparkstember Day 12: In Outer Space (Cool Places)

Oh boy, it's finally here!! Having been a Sparks fan for nearly a year by that point, I finally got to an album I just straight up don't like! I honestly forgot by then that this was even a possibility. But a world where I can enjoy everything in such a vast catalogue of a favourite band of mine would be too perfect. It would be pretty strange and unsettling even. Not to always make it about my other favourite band whenever I'm talking about the first, but with TMBG also I eventually got to that one studio album release that I just couldn't bring myself to like, no matter what. So I think I discovered a bit of a personal repeating pattern here.

Alright then. My verdict on this album, which already got a pretty mixed response from fans as far as I know, is that it's not very good, or at the very least, it's not for me. Even the songs I like here I mostly like in the sense of, well, this one I could listen to again outside of the album every once in a while, but they're nowhere near being an actual favourite (besides one song, or two, mayyyybe four if I'm feeling particularly generous).

So I think that my main problem here comes down to how the arrangements / instrumentals seem rather empty to me but not in a cool minimalistic way. And, dare I say, they're pretty damn uninteresting - very few elements of suprise or anticipation to be found here. This is the only Sparks album that just... doesn't feel Sparks to me. (And that's coming right after Angst, which might really just be one of the most Sparks-like of Sparks albums in a way). Something is TERRIBLY missing here and a couple catchy melodies and fun synth lines aren't enough to make up for that. It drags on quite a bit and is underwhelming to listen to as a whole. With only a couple moments of change and something more interesting and engaging. It's this sort of situation where I feel like the whole time I'm waiting for some kind of resolution that never happens ultimately. First instance of me putting on a new Sparks album and forcing myself to sit through the whole thing. And last one I hope! (and expect...? well, better not jinx it)

Ok, having said all that... This will be a historical event because I can't finish this post before I have my obligatory listen to the album of the day on its day. So, time for some real time documentation of my changing opinion, or lack thereof. Time to hear IOS in it's entirety for the first time since april!

...Ok, I'm glad that I didn't say all this in vain at least, LOL! Because I'm still underwhelmed! No major change here. Definitely still not something I'm going to return to more often than very occasionally and the "waiting for nothing" effect was very present and real once again. And it just dawned on be, but do most of these songs not have a bridge?? Maybe that could be part of why it all feels pretty predictable! But alright, as per tradition, let's look at some highlights anyway.

Favourite songs (and other highlights):

Cool Places: never felt in any strong way about it but repeated listens made it an enjoyable little ditty over time, lol. One of my first impressions here was how LOW Russell's voice is, this must be the lowest he's ever sung, right?? And oh, quick shoutout to the 21×21 version of it too

All You Ever Think About Is Sex: ok, this one's really cool and exactly what convinced me that the rest of the album would be enjoyable in the same way. Not for me unfortunately!!

Please, Baby, Please: my definitive fav here that I like a whole lot and that for whatever reason doesn't seem to have any of this album's problems that I described earlier. And I'll always be partial towards songs that I can interpret as being aspec-coded, thanks to my predisposition to do that as often as possible

I Wish I Looked A Little Better: very similar case to All You Ever Think About Is Sex

Dance Godammit: it's funny. It's fun to listen to sometimes

[elminx]

Numerology, Part 4: 1, the Magic of Starting Over

Note: This is part of an ongoing series about numerology, how it is used in astrology and magic, and its uses in spellwork. If I've made a master post, you will see it linked here. If not, bug me to make a master post.

Why Numerology

At its most basic, numerology is a study of the occult meanings behind numbers. Numbers have intrinsic significance in modern society and carry specific meanings that come from folklore, magical traditions, and mathematics. Using the art of sympathy, we can apply these meanings to our magic by using numbers in our magic to bring their energy into our work.

For the purposes of this work, we are looking at Western numerology that focuses on the numbers 1-9 (sometimes 1-10). By this system, all numbers are reduced by adding each digit together until you have a single-digit number. It is best in the beginning to view numerology as an ascending story with 1 being the beginning and 9 being the ending. Note here that the number 10 (1+0) is, in this way, a number 1; this is an important part of the "story" of numerology. When something ends, something else begins.

The Magic of the Number 1

I wanted to start to write this yesterday on 2/1 because it seemed like a fitting beginning to a post about the number 1. And that is, inherently, the point of the number 1. Number 1 is the number of beginnings. Any time we want to start a project or forge a new future, we begin with the number one.

You know this already: this is the magic behind making a New Year's resolution on 1/1.

You see this in Tarot where the Aces cards all represent new beginnings. It is also reflected in the natal birth chart in astrology where we start the chart with house #1 or the point of the Ascendant (your "Rising Sign") calculated from the moment of your first breath. If you want to dig deeper into the meaning of the Number 1 in numerology, a study of Aries and the 1st house in astrology or the way Aces are used in Tarot is a great place to start. 1 is the seed of creation - it is the reminder that the egg MUST have come before the chicken because all ideas hatch from somewhere.

In American culture, there's a lot of bullshit wrapped up in the mythos of the Number 1. On the one hand, it is heavily celebrated through our rampant pursuit of individualism and exceptionalism. Still, on the other, it is demonized through our toxic family values and obsession with coupledom. Everybody criticizes and fears the eternal bachelor or the "Crazy Cat Lady", those oddball individuals who choose (or are forced into) bucking our societal conventions to pair up and settle down. As the song goes "One is the loneliest number" but, with a caveat: if you do not want to be a Number 1.

That said, if you need to put aside all of the noise and focus, or if you're at a point in your life when you want or need to go at it alone, the magic of the Number 1 can be highly supportive of this.

Some magical associations of the number 1: birth, Aries, the 1st house, The Magician, Aces (tarot or playing cards), Spring and more specifically the Spring equinox, New Year's Day (any tradition - Wicca, the modern calendar, the Lunar New Year), new moons, January, Mondays, Dawn/Morning, the Dagaz and Jera Elder Futhark runes

The Magic of Starting Over

One of the most important lessons that the cyclical nature of numerology can teach us is that there is always another chance to start over. If you've had a bad day, tomorrow can be better. If you've had a bad month, next month can be better. If you've had a bad year, next year can be better. This is a great way to think obviously, but we can do more than just think because we're sorcerers.

We can MAKE tomorrow/next month/next year better.

It really is that easy. Number 1 magic is incredibly simplistic, all it takes is a general proficiency with magic of some kind. It's not stuck up in a single magical paradigm or belief system - you use numbers in your everyday life and you can use numbers in your magic, too!

At most all you need to harness 1 energy is to craft one intention, use one correspondence, or perform one action. And, since 1 is a correspondence in and of itself, if you are willing to wait a hot minute to do your magic (1 energy comes about at least twice a month with the 1st and the new moon), you really only need an intention or one action. See also: writing out an intention for the month ahead and putting it on your mirror so you'll read it every morning. See also: carving your intention into a candle and burning it.

Yes, I know that there is more to magic than this (most times) but as I said above - I am expecting you to bring your own magic to this circus. This isn't a how-to on magical technique here, this is about using the Number 1 as a correspondence in your magic.

You can use this correspondence in many different ways: you can take one action, you can craft one intention or one mantra, you can enchant one object or light one candle.

The idea here is that you are taking 1 step to start over. That keeps it simple and doable. This isn't about making a complicated resolution that you can't keep. We're not overhauling our entire lives here: we are pretending today is the first day of the rest of our lives.

Because it IS. That is the magic of the Number 1.

Note here that as a correspondence, 1 can be used as a demarcation of time OR as a number (of objects).

If you are looking to incorporate 1 as a demarcation of time, you want to cast your magic of a day associated with the Number 1. The easy all-of-the-time choices here are the 1st of every month, the new moon, or Mondays as the defacto "start of the week". January is also considered a "1" month and Aries is the "1" astrological season which puts 1/1 and the Spring Equinox (the first day of Aries Season and the astrological New Year) as the two of the most auspicious days of the year for 1 magic.

Additionally, each year, month, and new and full moon carries specific numerological energy that you can use in your magic. (I wrote more about that here) You could also use your solar return as a "1" day of profound significance for you.

You can use the Number 1 as both a demarcation of time and as a number in your spellwork: for instance, casting a spell with one candle on the 1st of the month. You can incorporate as many aspects of 1 Energy into your spells as you like: this is why it's highly auspicious to have a new moon on the 1st of the month and even more so to have a new moon on the first of the year!

Putting it all Together

As stated, using 1 Numerologically in Magic as a correspondence of "Starting Over" is quite easy. As it's most simple, you are choosing a day with which to Start. This day will be most auspicious if you incorporate 1 "Date" energy but this isn't necessary because the magic of 1 inherently is that every day that you wake up to is a new chance.

If you can't wait until a new moon or the 1st of the month, a Monday will do just fine. If you can't wait until Monday, tomorrow is just fine. If you are inclined towards working with the runes, the Dagaz/Day/Dawn rune is a good place to start when you are working with the energy of A Brand New Day and Jera/Year/Harvest is a great rune to work with for new moons (each new moon in a sign happens once a year), new year's work, and work around your solar return/birthday. The Magic of Starting Over can be as simple as drawing either of these runes on a candle and lighting it in a way appropriate to your magic. (You, as always, bring your own intentions to this work) Or, instead, pick the Ace Card that represents where you wish to start over and burn a candle near the card. Alternatively, find a free-to-use copy of the card (Rider-Waite cards are in the public domain) and print it out as a petition paper underneath your candle.

You can add oils, herbs, or other accouterments, but you definitely don't have to. If you need a bit more oomph, perform a banishing or cleansing on one day (say that dark of the moon) and then perform the candle lighting ceremony the next (on the new moon).

The timing of the spell can matter a lot here. If you want to work with the lunar cycle, remember to check the time (in your time zone) of the new moon - you would want to cast your spell AFTER the Sun and Moon meet up in conjunction and perform your banishing/cleansing (if using) BEFORE the conjunction. In this way, it is sometimes better to cast a spell of this nature on the day after the new moon if it is later in the evening and inconvenient for you.

That said, this spell can be cast at dawn or in the morning on every single day of the year. It is that simple.

You could cast it every single day of the year. (though that does sound exhausting to me)

A Note on New Moon Magic* and Rune Spells

Of all of the dates mentioned, New Moons are unique in that they can be used for both short-term "brand new day" spells and longer-term "brand new month"/"brand new year" spells. To determine whether you want to use Jera or Dagaz for a new moon spell, I would consider how quickly you wish for the turnover to manifest itself.

This is built into new moon magic.

We often talk about the cycle from new moon to full moon as complete. A lot of magic needs more than 14 days to fully actualize though. For that, we look at a full lunar cycle of six months, from the new moon in a particular sign to the full moon in that sign. The short moon cycle is Dagaz and the long moon cycle is Jera.

*I think that, to a degree, this also applies to New Year's Day magic, but most people don't set short-term goals for the New Year. *********

I've decided that will finish off this piece and set it to publish on 1/10 which is the start of the Lunar New Year. Of all of the modern New Year's days that exist on our planet, this is one that strikes me the most true as it coincides every year with the Aquarius new moon.

To quote Robert Jordan: it isn't THE beginning, but it is A beginning. *********

Read more about Numerology here:

Part One: Years, Months,and Lunar Events Part Two: Numerology Uses in Spellwork Part Three: 3x3 Spell Format

Do you like my work? You can support me over on Kofi.

[c-e-d-dreamer]

I had to come here and say how much I loved the Elucien sequel to your regency series so much! All these ACOTAR men are such simps for their wives and made for regency 😍 is there any chance we'll get Feysand next? I would love to see Rhys and his non traditional courting methods 🤭

If I tell you what happens in Regency Feysand, will that count? 👀

Unfortunately, the chances of Regency Feysand escaping what is just my daydreams for now and becoming actual written words are low. And the chances of me taking those written words and actually publishing them with my name attached to them? Even lower.

But here's what happens in my head and daydreams...

Now that Nesta and Elain are married, it leaves just Feyre in the house with their parents, and unsurprisingly, she's like get me the fuck out of here. I cannot be around Mama anymore. So, she decides she's going to go visit Nesta in Glasgow!

Now, Rhys is of course like Feyre, darling, you can't travel all the way to Glasgow alone. I will accompany you. Like the gentleman I am.

And then shenanigans ensue.

For example, at the second coaching inn they stay in, there's only one room and one bed. And Feyre is like aren't you going to offer to sleep on the floor like a gentleman? And Rhys is like didn't you spend the last 2 days calling me a prick and not a gentleman? Didn't you say you want a man who views you as a partner? Why don't you offer to sleep on the floor? Or better yet, why don't we share the bed? And we all know Feyre is stubborn, that she'll never back down. So of course she shares the bed with him. And she swears she hates it!

Also, they're attacked by highway robbers. Because of course Rhys brought his flashiest carriage to impress Feyre but that's now back fired! Meanwhile, Feyre is fighting off these robbers like a badass and Rhys is like seriously. Marry me. I'm in love.

But they eventually make it to Glasgow in record time! Feyre is like after spending days with this man, get me as far away as possible. So she's stalking through the house looking for Nesta desperately. And Rhys is like I wouldn't do that if I were you, we arrived earlier than expected. But Feyre scoffs and swings open the study doors only to find Nesta and Cassian in a compromised position because it's Nessian. What did you expect? It's awkward for everyone except Rhys who's like I told you so.

But it's really seeing Nessian that starts to soften Feyre. In case you didn't pick up what I was hinting in the epilogue of But I'm Only Looking At You, Nesta is pregnant. But even more than that, Feyre is just shocked to see her sister like this. Her cold, stubborn sister, who would only marry for power and never for love is happy. She's wearing her hair down. She's glowing and not just from the pregnancy. She's smiling and laughing. Cassian dotes on his wife hand and foot. Very clearly adores her. Also, he's made her a partner at the MacLeod factories. Feyre is confused by this but Cassian is like Nes is the smartest person I know, of course, she does all the factory books. Feyre is just very much surprised Pikachu at the whole thing and is like is this what a marriage could actually be??? And meanwhile Rhys is in the corner there like yes. Now marry me lol

I haven't reached the point in my daydreams to know what the resolution would be exactly but hopefully reading all that was still fun and gives you the fix you were looking for 🥰

[vorfreudevortex]

arguments part 2 was SO SO SO SO GOOOD!! like you wrote the nuance of complicated relationship stuff and that’s hard to do in traditional writing styles. but in smau???? where you’ve gotta work in a really limited viewpoint??? AMAZING STUNNING SHOWSTOPPING

you’re so good at capturing different dynamics like!!!! and i personally LOVED that the apologies where clearly only the start of longer conversations and not an easy wrap up of part 1. has me daydreaming about what they say and how they treat reader after 🥰

standing ovation for a reader that refuses to not be valued by the beautiful anime man 👏 always room for different types of reader and stories about diff types of relationship ofc! but these are prob my personal faves 💕

choso’s punched me right in the chest oml 😭😭 he’s a sweetheart he totally would let yuji do and say anything to him and not have any boundaries 🥲 but he’s learning how he wants to be loved!!! aaahhh!!!! 💕💕💕

oh my god thank you so much i will cry rn (threat) ??!! okay so:

thank you SOOO much for this. making smaus make sense in a limit of a screenshot or two is so hard sometimes for me and other times super easy, and i try so so hard to make them make sense !!

i try my best at making sure the relationship dynamics and viewpoints are all in character as well as making the reader's "personality" a little different for each one while trying not to be too vague!! i had so much trouble coming up with a good way to wrap them up until i realized that these are literally just fake text messages, of course the real conversations are going to happen in person and they can be left unresolved over text if i need them to be.

YES THANK YOU!!! SO MUCH!!! i had mentioned it before in that post but i wanted these arguments to be actual, believable ones over real-life problems. i also didn't want the resolution to just be "it's okay ily!" and act like nothing ever happened. it's really tempting to do sometimes but i want my smaus to be somewhat realistic even though they're literally made up lmao. couples have arguments all the time and i wanted to create a situation where the jjk boys were less than perfect (they're still perfect, thank you gege).

choso's ALSO punched me in the chest ;((( like he just doesn't know any better!! he's still learning!! boundaries and things!!! but it's okay, yuji didn't realize he was hurting choso's feelings, apologized, and won't do it again. i would die for both of them.

thank you thank you thank you for reading my works and leaving me your feedback and thoughts :')))) i literally LOVE hearing these things and they help me feel validated that i'm producing good content for you all!!! ILYSM ANON!!!! <333

[semper-legens]

165. Goodbye, Eri, by Tatsuki Fujimoto

Owned: No, library Page count: 201 My summary: Yuta's mother is dead. It was a long death from cancer, and she asked him to film her throughout the end of her life. But when Yuta premiers the film (with his own fantastical additions), it's panned by his schoolmates. Despairing, he seeks to end his life - until he meets a mysterious girl on a rooftop who wants to help him become a better filmmaker. But what secrets is Eri hiding? My rating: 4/5 My commentary:

This was yet another random pull. I saw it on the shelves at work, flicked through a few pages, and decided I liked what I saw enough to give it a shot. It's an odd little story. And I mean that entirely in a good way. Goodbye, Eri is ultimately about loss, about grief and how grief manifests itself, about narratives and who gets to control them. We never get to know how much of what occurs is real, and how much of it is part of the story that Yuta wants to tell about the people in his life, the people he loved who left him. It's a poignant, bittersweet little story and I'm gonna be thinking about it for a long time.

The framing of the narrative is that we are watching one of Yuta's movies - though at first, it doesn't seem that way. Everything is viewed through the lens of being filmed, and the angles the art is drawn at and the way shots are framed really sells this premise, at once being shaky handheld camerawork, static shots from a camera left on a shelf, more staged scenes with traditional framing, et cetera. All of the panels bar a couple of larger splash panels are the same height and length, mimicking the resolution of a screen. It's exceptionally well done, working even on a subconscious level, as the reader will automatically understand what the framing means even if they don't consciously put it together. Everything we see is through this camera lens. We barely ever see Yuta's face, because he is the one filming most of the shots. When he turns the camera on himself, it tends to be in moments of great vulnerability, describing ways his life fell apart.

Or is he? That ambiguity I mentioned is at play here. It takes a while to sink in that what we are actually seeing here is Yuta's second movie, the one about his new friend Eri. Like Yuta's mother, Eri is living with a terminal illness that eventually claims her life; like Yuta's mother, Eri is being filmed through the process to make this movie, and it's stated that Yuta has framed her personality in a much more positive way than she might have been in reality. Yuta's mother was not the saint we see in the opening film. We get a montage later of her being outright horrible to Yuta, including cursing him when this teenage boy finds himself unable to film his mother dying, at her request. By contrast, we don't really see much of Eri's bad side, but another of her friends comments that she wasn't always as nice as Yuta makes her out to be. The ending, though, is where the ambiguous nature of the narrative really comes into play. An adult Yuta, after his life fell apart once more, finds a still-young Eri in the abandoned room where they used to watch movies. She's a vampire, she explains, who goes through cycles of death and rebirth periodically and has been reborn. Now, Eri was always pushing Yuta to have more fantastical elements to his movie. The implication here is that these scenes were filmed with Eri when she was still alive, and were spliced into the footage of adult Yuta - notably, I don't think they share the screen ever. But the reader is invited to make their own interpretation here. We aren't told what is literally happening, we're just shown what was filmed and invited to draw our own conclusions.

This is a story about grief, and people manifest grief in different ways. Yuta's first movie about his mother ends with him leaving the hospital as it explodes - something that was ridiculed as bizarre by his contemporaries. But I get it. It's about closure, about putting the sad things behind you; the scene is repeated with adult Yuta as he leaves Eri for the last time. It's a bittersweet triumph, the victory of moving on over being consumed by despair over all you have lost. I really liked it, and I'd totally encourage anyone who's interested to go out and read it too.

Next up, motherhood and childrearing, as we see just what happens to Bad Mothers.

[8bitsupervillain]

End of the Year 2023: Pre-2023 Good Games

Now we're talking, it's time for good games. As with previous years I decided on separate lists to talk about games that came out before 2023 and those that came out during the year itself. I agonized over this list. Hope you enjoy it

10: Diablo III

In the meh games list I mentioned that I'm not a fan of Diablo III. In fact for the longest time I was fairly cold on this game and really disliked it. There's something to Diablo III however, every few months since finishing the Reaper of Souls expansion way back in 2014 that kept the game popping up in my mind. You should play it again, it would say. Roll a new character, it's probably better than you remember. Then I would inevitably try it again, play a few hours and then just sort of peter off it. Perhaps it's simply because of the sheer ineptitude of Immortal, and my complete and utter lack of caring for Diablo 4 that made my most recent playing Diablo III feel so much more fun. I think enough time has passed that I can freely admit to enjoying this game for the most part. I just never go out of my way to play it, but it'll probably happen again that I'll be doing whatever and the urge to play it will occur

09: Doom 3

It's something of the black sheep of the Doom franchise, but I recall quite enjoying the games when I played them spur of the moment this year. A lot of people bemoan the fact that they just made Doom 3 a horror game, but I'm not so sure I agree with that assessment. Sure it has spooky lighting, and impenetrable darkness, but you're never really put into a less empowered state compared to the original Dooms. You're never starved for ammo, and except for the odd jumpscare there's never anything really scary that happens in the game. More so in the Resurrection of Evil expansion, where they give you the super shotgun. It's slower, and more methodical than the other Doom games, but I really don't feel it's any lesser as a result. It's truly unfortunate there's no way to really get the original versions of Doom 3 an Resurrection of Evil outside of looking in nefarious places, because I played the BFG Edition as well as the original Doom 3 and it made me feel physically ill. The originals are surprisingly forward thinking made games because it's wild to me a game from 2004 has support for a 1080p resolution.

08: Higanbana no Saku Yoru Ni (The Unforgiving Flowers Blossom in the Dead of Night)

A delightful horror themed visual novel that I freely admit I never would have ever heard of if not for Umineko. It's more of a straightforward horror tale than a Umineko because this is about the local ghosts and monsters that haunt a school. I haven't finished the second of the two games, but I did quite like the stories in The First Night. Well worth checking out if you want to see some of Ryukishi07's lesser known works.

07: The Witcher II

A lot more competently put together than the original Witcher. It's also much more action focused compared to the original. I kind of miss the different fighting stances that were in the first Witcher game, but I can understand that the series needs to undergo some streamlining as they become a more cross-platform series. It's a fine story as well, where it seems to be pulling from more contemporary fantasy stories of the time like your Game of Thrones with all of its fantasy political intrigue. But it also includes troll fart jokes, so it still remembers some of its origins as well. One of the only things I didn't really like in this game was the inclusion of the odd Quick Time Event. There's not a particular lot of them, but they just felt weirdly out of place.

06: Dragon Age II

I think it handled the transition from traditional CRPG to a more action focused one rather well honestly. It's not the deepest combat in the world, but I never really had any particular complaint with how it was implemented. I liked the time skips in the story as well, jumping to more important parts of Hawkes' life rather than meander and get bogged down in the weeds of showing their entire time in Kirkwall. A fine enough story, even though its attempts to make the final endgame events bigger than previous plot points just fall flat on its face. It was fun seeing the fantasy RPG equivalent to a Like a Dragon game.

05: Might and Magic X: Legacy

I don't know a thing about the Might and Magic series. I know one of the strategy spinoffs is regarded as the absolute pinnacle of the genre, but as far as the mainline ones go I know nothing. That being said however I did quite like the first person dungeon crawling and combat here in MMX. It's nothing groundbreaking, and I doubt it was anything particuarly special when it came out nearly a decade ago in 2014. I appreciate that the game is more than willing to let you screw up making your party and going in with a "suboptimal" team. Rather than hold your hand and tell you which classes to bring or how to level them. I wish Ubisoft would let some developers make another one of these because I enjoy these lower budget RPGs that aren't these massive open world fiascos. Also you could make bank by upsetting the crowd who cries about ruining beloved franchises by making new entries in older series. But really I just greatly enjoy this type of RPG, and I would love to see more of them. I don't know if it will save Ubisoft from their impending implosion, but I would love to see them take chances on this type of game again rather than see them put out another big open world game that takes a hundred hours to finish.

04: Bravely Default II

With series like the Bravely Default series I usually try to play the games in release order. I know developers go to great pains to make it so you can follow a narrative for a game without having played every single entry prior to it. Regardless I try to play the first entries first. Sometimes this is a double edged sword because who's got time to play the eight or so entries before you play Ys VIII? Other times you got two entries, Bravely Default and Bravely Second. But here's the thing, while I played Bravely D 1 way back on the 3DS I know I never actually finished it, and I never touched Bravely Second. But towards the end of December 2022 I decided what the hey, I'll play Bravely Default 2 and just try to figure it out from there. This game was an utter delight to play, something about the turn based combat, good story, and charming visuals just combined to make this game a real treat for me. Even when I was going out of my way to suck the fun out of the game by grinding up the job levels I was having a heck of a good time. While I enjoy the story that's not what kept bringing me back to the game. I kept coming back to it just for the sheer enjoyment of playing the actual game. A novel concept! Bravely Default II was just an immensely enjoyable game and I highly recommend it to those who enjoy turn-based RPGs.

03: Potato Flowers in Full Bloom

This is as late an entry as one could possibly get. I went into this completely blind and I came away absolutely stunned. This is a great turn-based dungeon crawler RPG that I cannot recommend highly enough. It's clearly done by people who have a great love for the DRPGs but it isn't so bogged down with the ideas of what a "hardcore" DRPG should be that it loses itself in the fine details. Rather than get super in depth with the challenge one would find in a Wizardry Potato Flowers just focuses on a superlative gameplay loop that is just extremely enjoyable to play.

02: Pillars of Eternity II: Deadfire

It seemed like a lock way back at the start of the year. Sure Bravely Default 2 was a sheer delight, but it couldn't match Deadfire. The combat, the look, the storyline, everthing was just such a marked improvement over the basic perfection I felt playing Pillars of Eternity 1.

01: Umineko: When the Seagulls Cry

But something came along in May that just swept the legs out from under it. There has not been an experience that has just taken up permanent residence in my head since finishing it. I went into Umineko knowing basically nothing, and by the time I finished it my mind just kept going over it again and again thinking about the characters, and the story, just replaying and rethinking events over and over again. Just a masterfully crafted narrative, and a killer soundtrack to boot.

01: Pillars of Eternity II: Deadfire

But the thing about games is that there's more to them than just the story, the gameplay also matters. The short of it is that Pillars of Eternity II quite handily beats Umineko on the gameplay front. Plus, I really don't want to downplay the story of PIllars II because it stands strongly in my memory as one of the most superbly written stories I have ever experienced in any RPG, much less games in general.

01: Umineko: When They Cry

But the story contained within the one hundred and twenty hours worth of Umineko is without hyperbole some of the best written I have had the pleasure to experience. Just some of the most astonishingly well-written character I have ever seen in any medium. Such dedication to the crafting of some of the most vile duplicitous bastards you have ever seen, it's staggering.

01: Pillars of Eternity II: Deadfire

The storyline in Deadfire takes the already major stakes from Pillars of Eternity I and manages to raise them even higher without making it seem like it's going to ridiculous lengths. The many characters you meet in this game are some of the strongest and best written I have seen in an extraordinarily long time. It's such a wonderful balancing act that you have such a range of characters who have their own plots and schemes that can affect the world but they all gel really well together. Even the overtly optimistic characters are played in a very realistic way where it doesn't come across as the game trying to pander with naive cheerful characters.

Umineko no Naku Koro Ni

I find it incredible that a series of such gargantuan length was able to maintain and hold my interest for the majority of its length. There were a couple of times early on where I felt my interest waning a bit, but everytime it was able to draw me back in and just revitalize my enjoyment. I am also immensely surprised at just how strongly it has remained lodged in my memory since finishing it. I feel reasonably confident if pressed I could give a summation of the entire VN just going off of memory and lose very little in the retelling.

Pillars of Eternity II: Deadfire

As with the original Pillars the sequel does an amazing job integrating the DLC expansions quite seamlessly into the main narrative. There were times that I would embark on what I thought was a simple sidequest but was actualy a large add-on that was just as well crafted as the stuff in the main game. It was a very nice and greatly appreciated attention to detail.

02: Umineko no Naku Koro Ni

I adore this game, I will sing its praises even while carrying the small issues I have with the production. It is such a genuinely great piece of work that I worry that I might be overselling how good it is. But I genuinely feel that it is certainly worth all the praise the visual novel has accrued since its release.

01: Pillars of Eternity II: Deadfire

However, games are more than just their story. It comes down to gameplay as well as the story that determines what I think the best of the year (pre-2023) truly is. And that's Pillars of Eternity II. I went in to this game with very high expectations, and I was truly surprised at how masterfully the game had met every single one of them. Despite some minor character and story wobbles I adore everything Pillars II set out to do. I highly, highly recommend this game to anyone who has even a passing interest in CRPGs.

What do you think everyone?

But in my heart I know the award goes to Umineko.

[icarusthelunarguard]

This Week’s Horrible-Scopes

It’s time for this week’s Horrible-Scopes! So for those of you that know your Astrological Signs, cool! If not, just pick one, roll a D12, or just make it up as you go along. It really doesn’t matter. Better yet! Check out “Heart of the Game, Fredonia” and see if they can sell you those D12’s with the symbols on them. Tell them “Shujin Tribble” sentcha. And “Hail, Hail, Fredonia!” Home of the Blue Devil!

Sooooo…. Theme, right? (*Sigh*) Ok, ok. So once again a theme has been suggested, and I seriously considered how to twist this one around on the requester. So you know what? Santa’s already done his thing and I’m SAFE! That’s exactly what I’m about to do. So with no further ado, here are New Year’s Resolutions no one wants to do.

Aries 

You get to set the stage presence here with something known as “Film Academy 2×”. It’s a format specifying an aspect ratio of 1.37:1 that was laid out in the 1930’s because no one could agree on a motion picture technical spec. These days it’s a digital resolution of 1828 × 1332, which is better than any monitor you’ve got right now. So This Week… watch some old Buster Keeton films… and remember, he was the ORIGINAL Jackie Chan for performing stunts!

Taurus 

Swinging over the pond and into true weirdness for Television Broadcasting we get to your resolution system: “Undecoded PALplus”. It was a re-do of the PAL broadcast system that brought 16:9 Widescreen broadcasts, but still supported traditional PAL receivers. So This Week… Learn how to add onto your existing knowledge base without breaking what you had already… meaning just read a damned book for a change, would you? 

Gemini  

A true digital system for once, you’re getting “SVCD” aka the “Super Video CD”. It was a digital movie file, encoded in MPEG-2, and came in one of two varieties: 480i (or 480 pixels square), or 576i (or 480 x 576 pixels). The system came out in 1998 and honestly it’s best use was in early shoot-em-up CD games with video cutscenes to them. So This Week… find your collection of old games and play some again. We’re pretty sure Cookie from You Don’t Know Jack misses you.

Cancer Moon-Child 

Another Disk, another digital format. This time it’s the most prolific media adoption in history: the DVD. Bet most of you didn’t know “DVD” stands for “Digital Versatile Disk”. With a MINIMUM storage capacity of over 4 and-a-half Gigs of data, you could backup most computers completely to one of those puppies. But as a movie disk you’re relegated to the venerable standards of NTSC at 480 lines tall, or PAL’s at 576. The system came out in 1996, and these days it’s impossible to find a movie or TV show NOT on this format. So This Week… Just admit that “DVD 3D” is a Dead Format. You bought all that super expensive stuff and now it’s just not worth it. Get over yourself.

Leo 

Look at you, Leo! Scammin’ off the pack! More laser disk goodness, but this time you get the “CVD”. That’s not a typo; CVD stands for “China Video Disk” and that’s exactly what it sounds like. It was a way of making video disks without needing to go through the whole SVCD standard. It was close, but lacking in resolution. So This Week… Your ability to run under the Patent Lawyers' radars is impressive. Keep up the good work, but don’t get caught.

Virgo 

We know you think you’re superior to everyone else, but that doesn’t mean you’ll succeed in all areas. Your format is “Betacam”, which we’re guessing some of you already kinda know what’s coming. Yes it was as-good or better than VHS for the home market, but for the professionals, it was GREAT! Get a short-play cassette at home, but the Long Play version in the studio, and it was basically The Same Cassette! Sad it got shanked in the end, but sometimes that happens. So This Week… Take some pride in knowing your format may have come out in 1982, but it’s STILL got Technical Support through this past year! 40 Years of Active Duty for a supposedly Failed Format’s pretty damned good in our book! 

Libra

Just when we thought the Analogue Film Industry was an anachronism and lost its relevance… just like Michael Corleone they’re pulling us back in again. This time it’s the “Film 8K” format. We’re not dealing with 1.85:1 any more, but with a resolution of 7992 × 4320… and really, WHY?!?! The only reason this is important is if you’re watching this on a freekin’ MASSIVE projection screen! So, good luck with all that on a computer: VLC will CHOKE to death if you’re running a 1440 monitor and a GTX-1660 Super! So This Week… LOSE SOME WEIGHT!

Scorpio 

We’re just gunna call it right now. You! ARE! BASIC! White-Bread Toast, generic as hell NTSC. The format that swept North America because 60Hz power signals are just a wonderful way to make sure everyone’s receiver works right. Your format supports both Black and White and Colour receivers without breaking anyone’s machine. So you've got that going for you. So This Week… Try replacing your mayonnaise with Caesar Salad Dressing for a new kick.

Sagittarius 

Your format cannot be overstated in how great it was! And, sadly, yes.. “Was”. You need to look up what “Laserdisk” looks like, because, holy HELL, that’s a gorgeous disk. And the output was better than standard NTSC and PAL or SECAM and testing proves this. So This Week… check out Linus Tech Tips on YouTube and see the side-by-side comparison between VHS and Laserdisk, and weep at what we were denied.

Capricorn 

You’ve just GOT to be the Odd One Out, huh? Your format is literally called “405-line”. And the fun part about this is it ISN’T 405 scan-lines in format! Nope! It’s KINDA 503 × 377, give or take a little smearing. It’s a monochrome television broadcasting system introduced with the BBC Television Service in 1936, so it’s done well for itself for a while. BUT! In the United States, the FCC had briefly approved a 405-line color television standard in October 1950, which was developed by CBS… only to find out that it was incompatible with existing black-and-white receivers. So This Week… Don’t think of it as “Conforming to the Norm” so much as “Making sure you don’t destroy everyone with your awesomeness.”

Aquarius 

Going fully to the WebCam, or PervCam, systems, you’re getting the Video Conference System “CIF”, aka the “Common Interchange Format”. Developed for company teleconferencing it was a low-rez 352 × 288 pixel image, and if you want to know what that looked like, you’ll have to watch a fair adaptation of a great book. So This Week… watch the movie “Contact”. The teleconference windows are JUST what it used to look like.

Pisces  

You just HAD to be the personification of annoying A-Hole Cat, huh? Take your pick: VHS, Betamax, or Video8. They all had just CRAP picture quality. About 320 × 486 scans in NTSC, or kinda 310 × 576 in PAL or SECAM, they were all just a cluster of sub-optimal tech sold as just this GREAT stuff, and it really wasn’t. So This Week… Learn what the Sunk Cost Fallacy is and stop falling for all the Wiz-Bang-Shiny-New sales pitches. 

And THOSE are your Horrible-Scopes for this week! Remember if you liked what you got, we’re obviously not working hard enough at these. BUT! If you want a better or nastier one for your own sign or someone else’s, all you need to do to bribe me is just Let Me Know - or check out the Ko-Fi page ( https://ko-fi.com/icarusthelunarguard )! These will be posted online at the end of each week via Tumblr, Twitter, Facebook, Discord and BLUESKY.

[bam-monsterhospital]

Wrothgar's Main Quest

When you look for people's overall opinions on the main quest in Wrothgar, you'll inevitably get the response that it was one of eso's stronger questlines; better written, not about a world-ending threat and so more down-to-earth and relatable, better characters, on and on. Then you go to play the main quest...

Wrothgar has the same problems as the rest of elder scrolls online. While it doesn't suffer the skeletal, bare-minimum, idiotic, did-you-just-use-chatgpt-to-produce-this? lack of writing skill more recent dlcs suffer from, Wrothgar still carries the root attitudes present all throughout eso that drag everything else down:

Spoilers for orsinium down below

The new king who is promoting change -in this case, progress- in a civilization is evil. His progressivism, enabling women of an entire species to step out of the unchallenged traditional role of marriage-slave and actually be people, is actually evil and needs to be stopped. It's toooooootally not about allowing women to be people because he too has an entire harem of wives in his palace. No really guys, he's bad news and you shouldn't go along with him or like him because he killed a guy!

His mom is eeeeevilll. Never trust an old lady. Never trust a mom, OR a momma's boy. The new religion she's pushing is pushing out the old religion, and no we're never ever going to talk about how (even in orc cultural knowledge) the otherworldly foci of these two religious movements are the SAME BEING. NEVER ADDRESSED. NEVER TALKED ABOUT. What, you want a solution to this problem? you want integration or mixing or acceptance? fuck you, this is eso. Religions that the writers don't see as xtianity stand-ins are evil cults; that's how things work right?

Lesbians? hahaha, no lesbians don't exist. Why would orc women be into other women, they're state-mandated to not be. Those two ladies running the bathhouse in orsinium? no shhh don't pay attention to them.

you have to kill the change. obviously the best resolution for this entire questline isn't to allow space for more than one way of orcish life, no. we gotta go back to the butchering mormon-izing of malacath, and every woman needs to be a wife. that's the only way.

orcs are barbarians. look at this landscape littered with ruins; those ruins are from previous attempts at building up orsimer civilization. all destroyed by humans: bretons, nords, redguard. But shhh, don't think about that. Just traipse right on in, don't feel bad for the orsimer, that's not what this is about, pshhhhh ignore it. orcs are barbarians.

Of course there are good bits to it. Eveli's character is refreshing in that she actually goes through an arc: what starts as a naive eager-to-adventure person realizes adventuring involves a lot of politics, it's all very complicated, and people will always get hurt no matter what you do. Does she swear off adventuring? No, but she needs a breather to re-think things. It's good. They butchered her in blackwood, but in orsinium she's got the foundation for an interesting character.

And honestly I think that's what people remember most about the main questline in orsinium. That it had characters who acted like characters: consistently, in ways that make sense to what was established before, y'know, the basics of writing competently.

It's been a while since I've done orsinium and I enjoyed that aspect of it back then (also i love the architecture of the city of orsinium, its tall towers and how it actually looks like a city... not to mention wrothgar is beautiful)... but woof... yeah wrothgar is not devoid of its faults. I only really touched on one aspect, and didn't even go into detail on it; just tip-of-the-iceberg stuff i could remember off the top of my head.

[goblins-riddles-or-frocks]

You already mentioned how making him worse would have worked. How do you think making him not suck at a conceptual level (re Darlington?) would have worked if his situation was the exact same?

Oh I forgot to answer this. This was re: the Familiar discussion where I was saying Santangel being worse (or alternatively less shitty) would have been a better choice rather than the lukewarm place he occupied. And hm the thing is, I'm def biased towards favoring terrible characters, and that's the most interesting to me. But I think a traditional route would have been having him trying really really hard to discourage Luzia because he does Not want her to get stuck in a similar position being forced to serve either Victor or the King. I'd remove her servitude earning his freedom as a sense of stakes for him, he's only teaching her out of loyalty to Victor/because he's forced to serve him. So freedom seems like it's never going to be on the table for him *anyway* and he's just organically starting to empathize with her. Seeing himself in her (both in ambition and yearning for knowledge/magic specifically, and how she's going to entrap herself) is itself like how he could connect to her vs it being such an obvious conclusion with the replacement thing that him coming to that conclusion holds no weight. I'd then remove the betrayal entirely. Something that struck me when I was reading it is that the redone bargain's terms didn't make sense to me. Because in the OG Teo (who would become master) would lose what he valued most, and then Santangel (who would become the familiar) would lose what he valued least. So why in the redo would Victor lose nothing but then Santangel who is simply exiting this bargain has to lose what he values most? Idk it didn't make sense to me that it would work like that. So I would have the Act II reveal be that Victor planned to bind Luzia to him in the same way. It's never established... how this spell is performed at all, or how Teo even found someone who could credibly do it if Santangel had spent that fucking long searching for immortality with no results. But whatever. Lets say it's something he newly unearthed in his ancestor's stuff. And they're both horrified, and Santangel tries to tell her to cut and run as per canon. Sidenote: I would probs have her learn about his backstory much earlier. Some sort of scene well before they're obviously romantically interested in each other and she just asks him to tell her about himself because she's curious. And maybe he tells her some unsavory stuff he's done on Victor's family's behalf to scare her a little bit, but then things turn to him telling her about the bargain and his relationship with Teo. Where she stuns him by offering to take his place-- somewhat naively, but also with the understanding that she's someone's servant anyway/is going to be forced to listen to Victor and maybe she does want immortality/maybe if she has a massive crush on him already then she surmises that he and just their magic lessons might be what she values most already because she has so little joy in her life so losing that won't actually be much harm. And he would laugh this off but also feel like someone fucking gutted him lmao. And that could be where the Feelings stem from for him, but also an ironic callback when they realize that Victor meant to enslave her as well all along. Anyway I'd probably have the resolution be that Luzia somehow gets her hands on that spell— actually she shouldn’t find it like Victor did, show of trust Santangel tells her bc he still remembers it— and she performs it, tying him to her instead? It's not freedom but neither is burning to ash every morning and depending on her to heal him lol. I think in terms of likeability and there being more of a relationship arc I'd generally have him be more reticent towards her and all around just more of an annoying curmudgeon. Which can be fun for silly banter earlier and have a more distinct feeling of him being someone who's emotionally super super guarded and has had those muscles completely atrophied. So when feelings do come into play he just falls to pieces. Fwiw I get the sense that he is somewhat meant to be these things already, but I'd just heighten it.

[badedramay]

zindagi gulzar hai has soured soooo much for me over the years lmao. kashaf as a character was so interesting from the outset but to see her have to be the one to make concessions constantly in order for her relationships to survive or for her mistrust of people and subsequent loneliness to resolve itself got to be so depressing at some point when coupled with how little umera actually bothered to question the society that surrounded kashaf. the fact that zaroon never truly made an effort to understand her or internally question why she acted a certain way and simply idealized his marriage with her bc she was conservative and not flashy was so.. and i have even worse problems with durr e shahwar! one of my parents’ favorite dramas i think bc the letters between durr e shahwar and her father made them really emotional but to see her have to bite her tongue and just wait for things to resolve themselves if she was compliant enough truly broke my heart. i know she had her quite rebellions with her husband too but it’s still a really painful series to watch in retrospect and i hate that recycled idea of women conceding to make a relationship survive that populates so much of umera’s work (which is ironic considering the existence of those other dramas you listed, daam and kankar in particular)

in general that is i think something i really dislike both zindagi gulzar hai and humsafar for repopularizing. there’s this tendency to romanticize women who are “strong” bc they withstand all of the suffering in their marriage and come out alright at the other end, but where does it lead us really? we’re popularizing a whole litany of dramas where women are chained to those traditional expectations regardless of how horribly they’re treated or misunderstood in their marriage. and interestingly, i’m not sure if you kept up with kuch ankahi, but i was so surprised to see how many people complained about saif and samiya’s marriage bc i feel like it addressed that exact phenomenon really well. that saif was actually explored in depth and given background to explain his own cowardice without removing accountability from him; that we saw samiya try to be compliant only to realize that compliance doesn’t actually make a marriage and she deserved better; that she stood her ground on separating and made saif have to do the work to start to win her back if he really wanted to, and as a friend first on top of that. i loved it! i don’t think anyone is opposed to marriages having problems, but it’d be nice to see more balanced exploration where not just women are held accountable from start to finish, and i really appreciate kuch ankahi for tackling that. in general i feel like it was a drama that acted a lot more mercifully towards its female characters than umera ahmed dramas typically do so the occasional comparisons people made to umera ahmed characters struck me as a little odd lol

I remember back when the show was on air the PRIMARY reason Kashaf resonated with me was because of how vocal she was in her dislike for her father. it wasn't something we get a lot. the relationship between a father and daughter in most desi households is always so much more complicated and Pakdramas only show a tiny facet of it. Kashaf and Murtaza's dynamic in the earlier episodes of the drama is something that I still haven't seen other dramas do. sure, ZGH as a drama hasn't aged really well considering how blatantly forgiving the show is of Zaroon's misogyny and how there's just no growth or resolution of that and the show just ends on this weird note where all of the serious problems in their relationship are just brushed under the rug as "oh she's just being silly~" instead of being actual barriers to their long term happiness. Zindagi aise hi nahin gulzar bhayee. all the compromises came in Kashaf's account while Zaroon continued to roam scotfree because in UA's world, characters like Zaroon are never the wrong ones because the way they uphold patriarchy is for the women's benefit and not just theirs.

the criticism against ZGH are valid and they were there back when the show was onair as well. but i feel a decade later..the issues become more glaringly obvious because the rose tinted filter of the Fawad-Sanam chemistry has lost its effect so we can see the show for what it was actually trying to say more clearly now.

DeS toh I didn't like when it was on air because of how it much it focused on the women being the sole person in the relationship to compromise as a wife and as a daughter in law. the ultimate lesson of the show really was just "hey..quietly suffer in silence for some time and then you'll definitely get the reward!" not something I particularly support but I could see how this hope for reward resonated with the women around me. so many of women either had to suffer what Shehwar suffered in the early years of their marriages or they were still suffering to this day so this idea of light at the end of the tunnel is became something they clung to for their own sanity and peace. the idea of the end to the troubles is what keep us going anyway. so yeah..i don't support it but I get its appeal.

I didn't watch any of KA to add anything to your point but I do agree that in PakDramas the narrative always 10/10 puts the onus of makign a relationship work on the women. the success and failure of a marriage is always due to women even if we see the husbands being disloyal or unappreciative of the marriage. by all teachings of religion that our society is supposedly built on, marriage is supposed to be an equal partnership between two people where both husband and wife are meant to ensure the happiness and peace of each other. but since our culture only seeks to benefit men, their part is almost always downplayed. by any chance we get a good husband toh we still see that marriage suffer because happy marriages just cannot exist in our dramas. problems exist in aLL marriages, we know. but dramas mein jo problems hain woh toh matlab bass tabahi level hi ki hoti hain jo lifetime ka trauma de den.

not defending KRQ here at all but i think what he did with the ladies of Mera Naam Yousuf Hai is something that I haven't seen happen in a lot of dramas. specially in the character and ending for Afia Khatoon (Hina Bayat). she was in an unhappy marriage with Noor Mohammad and it was evident that despite like 25+ years of their marriage, she never loved the man. and when things came to an end, it was Afia who walked away with her freedom and dignity while Noor Mohammad was left with nothing. THAT was the kind of justice given to the right characters that other dramas cower away from. at least in MNYH KRQ's writing completely sided with the women as one of the central themes of the drama was a woman's right to choose for themselves and how it's wrong to strip away that right from them. Zulekha's fight was never for Yousuf but just for her right to choose, to either accept or reject, and to do it without being pressured into it. Afia got divorce from Noor Mohammad when it became abundantly clear that the man basically cheated on her all his life. the drama showed a woman who was a mother of three reclaim her maiden name as her the only identity she wanted for herself. marriages without loyalty and respect between spouses should end regardless of them being 25 years old or 2 years.

[phaeton-flier]

OK Gonna be honest the Grey Council thing is starting to drag a bit. It feels a lot more like a Shadowy Council of Mysterious Prophecy than an actual ruling body, it's still not clear how they interface with the Minbari government or why they need to be secret other than to be mysterious and traditional.

I don't really give a shit about the Delenn being or not being on the council because its not clear what the stakes are here. If I don't know what they do, i don't know what she will or won't lose from not being on it, and given that by the nature of the show she's going to keep being on Babylon 5 anyways I know it won't really affect what she's going to do. Any plot hinging on "Because Delenn is not on the Grey Council, they've decided to do a Bad Plan" could equally as easily hinge on "Delenn gets overrulled by the Grey Council on the vote to do a Bad Plan"

Also the reliance on "Prophecy" is starting to grind my gears; What the prophecy is, other than being about the Great War, is being talked around by the characters in a way writers do when they want to build up mystery but don't have the skill, which is a shame since it works much better with the Vorlons and the Shadows. Even the prophecy stuff: "Destiny is on our side" was a great line! But the Grey Council has too much screen time for this little resolution; After this many licks the mystery tootsie pop should've revealed it's chewy center.

[ideahat-universe]

Youtube's insane war with Adblock

Anti Adblock has been the bane of any casual website viewing experience and any website I visits that had those banners is typically written off entirely, and now Youtube is one of them but they take it to a whole nother level. Apparently on the Ublock reddit. They have to routinely change up how they block the banner every couple of days and by extension, you will have to update your ublock every couple of days for it to work and may have to only use Ublock because it can conflict with other blockers.

How did we get here? Oh right, every multi million dollar corporation keeping the lights on with advertisements. Advertisements so bad the our governments actually consider it a good idea to have ad block on because advertisements are a hotbed for malware to speak nothing of deepfakes or outright scam ads that the FTC considers too small a problem to get rid of.

I mean ever since Ross from the game dungeon released his video where he said that Games as a Service are Scams I've been workshopping basically the same sentiment for advertisements.

Companies sell ad space with no expectation that customers will click on the ads, only that for all intents and purposes, they presented the ads to you and are thus owed money for providing that service.

Advertisers dump tens of thousands of dollars just so the advertisement can be clicked on with the possible chance of making a sale as that's the only way to actually get a return on the investment of the advertisement in the first place.

After all a really great product doesn't even need an advertising budget per se. Word of mouth is so powerful, hell, a 7-10 review of a product from a random youtuber generates more attention and sales than a million dollar super bowl advertisement. As long as you get the right Youtuber it's way more cost effective to not have traditional ad spaces.

Not that sponsors are free from guilt. Sponsors are often scams as well. There's been more than a couple sponsored products that were scams but unlike Youtube/Google which can sell ad space to con artists and never suffer an issue, one video from Scott Schafer can convince the youtube community to effectively deplatform a bad product or service.

I mean Raid Shadow Legends still falls through the cracks but it's better than nothing.

But I've been preparing for this, actually a few people have. Louis Rossman has been working on some Manhattan project called Grayjay that will bring multi platform streaming all under one app.

There are of course other streaming platforms with different, more affordable hosting methods as well as ways to monetize content that hopes to not make the same mistakes Youtube makes with budgeting.

There's my method which is downloading every video you think you'll ever want to watch more than once, putting it on a single hard drive and then using some server hosting service like Plex and you just stream your own content to yourself (which by the way is really affordable to do as long as you are okay with 1080p to 360p as higher resolutions on very long videos like streams will soak up a lot of space for what is just one video).

A third method is installing Linux on a machine and gain access to some linux exclusive apps like Freetube which removes the bad aspects of Youtube and only has the videos as well as sponsorblock with no ads to boot (you won't be able to block content though and there's no algorithm so you better know what you want to find because you are on your own for real).

The last method is Vanced. It was supposed to be dead but like a building that's closed 11 months in a year, it sprung to life one day and now lives although you will have to have a android device and learn the side loading method to get it really working.

I've been saying this about Youtube and Twitter X for awhile now but you really should consider a future where Youtube doesn't exist, companies are tightening their budgets across the board, once the advertising firm gets slashed basically everything dependent on it will evaporate. Not enough people will ever use Youtube Red to keep the lights on for Youtube as Youtube's budget is constantly scaling and impossible to price in.

The lost media Youtube will create when it shudders is beyond your comprehension.