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nipuni · 1 month ago

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Hello time to yap about life and media again! 🥰

It's been a month and a half since we fully moved into this new old house and it's been a steep learning curve!! so far we had to learn how to care for a garden and grow fruit, how to deal with extremely humid weather, the mold!! also learning about various repairs, electricity and plumbing, we had a leak that turned one lamp into a waterfall, the rcd keeps tripping every time it rains, had to fix a door in the dark after Nicolas got himself trapped in a room when the handle broke during a power outage, the heating system is an air to water heat pump and it took us ages to figure out how to set it up correctly so we spent weeks wearing 3 layers inside the house, I even fell down the stairs!! I'm not used to having stairs inside the house lmao It's a big adjustment when you've always lived in small apartments in big cities all your adult life, but to be honest we love it!! everything feels like a new quest for us to tackle and it is so much fun figuring it all out as we go, reading technical manuals by candle light, the teamwork of installing and assembling furniture and networks, pruning the trees, celebrating every small mundane accomplishment and new skill learned every night over dinner, I may be corny as hell but it all feels like a privilege and an adventure 😭

Media wise we watched the second season of Arcane! This series never fails to make me fall in love with art again, not that I've ever fallen out but I can't say that the whole AI debacle hasn't been ass for the morale. Aesthetically it is a masterpiece. The character design, the cinematography, the mixed media montages aaaa Seeing the work, the skill and care that was put into every frame reminded me of how important and human the storytelling aspect of art really is. I wonder if we will see a shift to the more story driven or conceptual arts when we look back on this period, but I ramble, back to Arcane. I have mostly praise for it, wonderful characters and very touching relationships. I think our only issues were with the pacing being too slow at the start, every character climbing out of a very low point, and then too fast which made the second half feel a bit rushed. This season also felt a bit more tropey than the first one but still really solid. It remains one of the best animated series ever made and I am so happy to see it succeed in this current environment 😭 It feels like teenagehood condensed into a show, we really enjoyed it. I hope we get a season 3!!

Also there was an update in our David Tennant filmography quest! we watched The Politician's Husband and unsurprisingly we loved it!! It was gripping and the acting was brilliant. It is actually what I was expecting Rivals to be like, I realize 🤔 I think it could have used a 4th episode, felt like it ended too quickly and there was room for more, as if they ran out of time to tie things up so they picked the quickest route. But it was really good!! These miniseries are always so engaging and so short, I need mooreee.

We missed our DT nights!! Nicolas spent the last week hunting for more of David's work for us to watch. We've been hosting family for a few days again last week and on top of work and everything else we had to pause them for a bit. But now we are back to our nightly routine and he's over the moon!! Instant mood boost it's embarrassing lmao both of us falling this hard for this guy is too enabling, he even made his name our guest wifi password, we are besotted 😂

Oh! I also I saw a Veilguard Q&A was happening and read a few replies I saw posted here, and it proved to be a huge mistake! It was a disappointing and truly infuriating read. What even happened during the production of this game lmao How come the average fan seems to have a much better grasp on the lore, characters and plot than the people who made it 😭 There is this gaping disconnect between intent and execution. The way that fans are trying to make sense and give meaning to the complete mess that is the writing in an attempt to salvage and preserve the aspects they loved about it is saddening. I am mentally throwing tomatoes at John Epler as we speak. His answers felt so unserious and baffling at best and offensive and petty at worst. It's been eye opening, I could go on a two hour rant but the more I learn and dwell on it the more bitter I become about it all and I'm already seeing ten year old discourse resurface and people getting weird about it so I'll just ..🚶‍♀️ In my eyes this world and it's characters now belong only to those who love it and lives in my memory 🫡

Anyway, this ended up being at least twice as long as I was planning to make it again 😭 and I still have to catch up with asks aaaa it's been a busy month sorry I'll get to them soon!! Thank you for reading and for the support and for just being here!! I hope you all have a great week 🥺❤️

#nips blogs #personal #that being said! it's just a game lmao please hold on to perspective

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woso-dreamzzz · 9 months ago

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Injured: Before

Alexia Putellas x Baby!Reader

Summary: Alexia struggles

Sometimes Alexia will look at you, asleep in your crib without a care in the world.

Sometimes, she will watch you and try to fathom how you came from her. Sometimes, she looks at you like you've come out with two heads and a tail. Sometimes, she will not see you as a baby.

But other times, she looks at your little fingers and little toes and tiny little feet and just be in awe of you. She laboured for hours to have you, cursing your existence in those painful moments before scolding herself for those words when she finally had you in her arms.

You were so beautiful then, passed out asleep on her chest after your stressful birth. You napped and napped and napped before finally awakening again.

Alexia expected to look at you and find everything slotting into place.

She expected to look at you and have the whole world stop in awe of you.

Her Mama had told her countless stories of what her own and Alba's births were like. She spoke at length about how magical it was to have her girls in her arms, for everything to finally make sense in the world, to be filled with such love for their tiny bodies that she couldn't help but stare at them.

Alexia had been ready for those feelings, for those months of indecision between giving you up for adoption and keeping you for herself to finally settle, to finally know that there was no way she could ever think about giving up the perfect little baby girl in her arms.

She had been excited for those feelings.

But they never came.

Not truly.

You looked into Alexia's eyes and...you looked like any other newborn in the world.

There was no instant connection.

There were no fireworks or bells ringing.

It was just you and her and the complete lack of recognition between you both.

You could have been any other baby in the world in that moment.

There were moments though, like now, that Alexia can see the light at the end of the tunnel.

You fit almost perfectly in her arms, wrapped in the almost perfect swaddle Alexia has made for you. Alexia looks at you now and sees her daughter. She can imagine you growing up with her. She knows in these moments that she did the right thing in not giving you up.

But Alexia knows that these feelings will disappear by the end of the week. She doesn't know what's wrong with her. Some days, she can do nothing but stare in awe at you but other days she can barely get out of bed. She can barely do anything but cry even as she feeds you and puts you down for naps.

It's like drowning, Alexia thinks. It's like drowning in a river.

She's fighting against the current carrying her downstream, to the waterfall at the end that will surely be her downfall. She fights it sometimes, desperate to surface for air before being forced under again.

There are longer moments of calm where she can grab onto a branch of a nearby tree and try to climb to the safety of the banks where you wait for her but the current is too strong and Alexia can only hold on for so long until the water claims her again.

She savours these moments with you, where she looks at you and can be so happy with your little eyes and your little nose.

You don't look like her yet but you are still practically a newborn, coming up on one month soon. Newborns don't really look like anyone in particular.

Alexia hopes that you will look like her soon. Maybe that's what she needs to pull herself out of the river. Maybe seeing you look like her will snap her out of whatever stupid daze she is. Maybe you looking like her will be what finally calms the current.

Alexia clings to a branch now as she settles down on the sofa with you, letting you latch on for one of your feeds.

The house has been on lockdown since your birth. Just you and Alexia.

Her Mama has tried to come around and weasel her way into helping but Alexia's adamant she can do this on her own. She doesn't need help. She doesn't want it.

But she also doesn't want anyone to see her like this, so broken and confused and unable to form a real, proper attachment to her newborn.

It's just a little hiccup, a bump in the road that will be over soon so Alexia can fully focus on you and love you like how you deserve to be loved.

As soon as this is over, as soon as the river calms or Alexia finally hauls herself out of it, she will let people visit.

She doesn't want anyone to see her like this.

You whine a little bit and Alexia winces.

Your latch isn't good.

"It's okay, it's okay," She says to you, forcing you to unlatch so she can adjust," Just give me a moment."

Her grip on the branch loosens.

You whine a bit more, growing fussy.

"I know," Alexia insists," Just...Just wait."

The current picks up and Alexia tries to hold on.

You try to latch again but it's even worse than before.

The current forces her off the branch.

You start crying.

"No," She says, panicked," No, wait. Wait. Please...Please!"

She's forced downstream again, dunked under the water.

You keep crying. You sob and you can't latch again no matter what Alexia tries.

"Come on," She begs," It's okay. See? You're nearly there! Just...Stop crying...You just need to stop crying..."

The stream takes her closer and closer to the waterfall and Alexia's sobs mingle with yours.

#woso x reader #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso

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ccraccz · 8 months ago

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Hello! I saw that wind breaker requests are open!

May I request some fluff for umemiya, suo, sakura and togame please?

I you could please write about how they would react if they saw their crush crying because they were worried about boys injuries please?

Thank you!

YESYESYES SO CUTTEEE!!! Thank you so so much for the request sweets!!! <333

Characters: Hajime Umemiya, Suo Hayato, Sakura Haruka, Jo Togame x reader (GN! since not specified)

Patch me up

HAJIME UMEMIYA

He usually never got this injured

but the gang that had used you and a few other vendors as hostages had knives and bats that had bruised and sliced at his, and his gangs skin.

After the fight, and after he looked over Bofurin to check for injuries, he quickly went up to check on you and some other vendors

Tears stained your cheeks as he fast walked to you, urgency in each step as he grew closer to you

You both locked eyes, and in an instant, you ran towards him, throwing yourself into his chest and wrapping your arms around him, tightly squeezing before tears restarted flowing down your cheeks.

your tears seeped into his white shirt, that was stained with red due to the scratches and slices on his skin

He wraps his arms around you as you sob, mumbling about how your safe and that he's fine

he brings you home, were you patch him up with sniffles and cuddle him for comfort, where he blushes lightly.

Your hold was nice, and warm, and it was so comforting

He felt sorry that you had to experience such a traumatizing situation, and that you had to see him fight and be serious

he closed his eyes, sitting on the couch as the thoughts of today rush through his mind, staying awake in as images of your terror filled face stayed imprinted under his eyelids.

that day, he did not sleep, even in the comfort of your embrace.

SUO HAYATO

he barely even gets hurt in general, so that person he was fighting would have to be very fast and diligent in their movements to even be able to touch him

He had been fighting a group with the other windbreaker first years, and the gang leader had been intently watching them, learning their steps and movements.

Suo was the first one who finished fighting the underlings, not even breaking a sweat, and he was the one who decided to fight the leader

since the leader had watched them, he had learned how to counter his fighting style and more

it took him of guard and made him hesitate in a movement which the gang leader used to his advantage and struck him, cutting his cheek in the process due to him falling on the ground before he jumped back up and fought back

it didn't come to mind until he finished the fight with the help of Sakura that the scene was right in front of you place

so after the fight, you running down the stairs of your place and basically shoving your face into his chest and you basically fall on your knees, loud sobs resonating in his ears

tears fell from your eyes like waterfalls, arms tightening at his waist and fists wrinkling his gakuran

he laughs as he pats your head, telling you to not worry, and that he was fine, a blush on his cheeks

he enjoyed that you worried so much for him, enough to sob at the sight of him 'endangering' himself to help the town.

SAKURA HARUKA

Get used to it

he loves fighting and getting injured is a part of it

its mostly for the thrill of hurt for him

but seeing you freak out about his bloody nose, bruised knuckles, and scratched face makes him tense

his bright red face basically blended with the redness of his blood LMAO

he's so awkward about it as you bandage his fists, patch up his scraped up elbows and cheeks, and clean him up of dirt

big crocodile tears flow down your cheeks as you clean him up, loud sniffles making him look at you

the tears just kept falling as you rubbed your face to dry them up, but they just kept dribbling down your flushed face and soaking up on his black pants as you sat, kneeling before him on the floor of your place after you patch up his scuffed up knee

he makes a face before standing up, making you look up at him as he grabbed you and made you stand up

he then held you close, holding the back of you head to his collar bone with one hand as the other wrapped around your back and awkwardly patted it

he was at least trying to comfort you, and it was working.

JO TOGAME

it was during a festival

a gang had shown up randomly and decided they were going to start some chaos

so they started to robbing food and drinks, destroying the stalls, and even pushing around some vendors

you had been helping out your friends parents in their stall since your friend got injured and their parents were busy selling their sweets as you kept an eye on the hot sugar when you heard the chaos happening a two stalls down

the stall besides yours was being helped by Jo Togame, who had been watching you from the corner of his eye the whole time, a small blush on his face

Togame had hear the chaos happening and asked the vendor to be able to check out what was happening, which the vendor quickly agreed

The male quickly slips on his Shishitoren jacket, the clacking of his geta sandals being loud as he walks towards the ruckus of the opposing gangs show of power

what he got hurt with wasn't an injury from a punch or a kick, but a few scrapes came from how harshly he landed when he tackled the gangs leader, knees sliding on the floor and ripping his loose, monk pants

you had turned off the heat on the sugar and made the last few sweets to be sold before focusing on the fight happening, your friends parents having started to freak out, trying to take care of the elderly around you

you weren't too worried about the people around, more worried for Togame, with how he slid in the rough, rocky ground

the sound of screams and punches were loud, but you could only watch as Togame slowly stands up and tells the gang to scram

you quickly grab the first aid kit that was under you friend's parents stall and rush forward, tears brimming your waterline as you jogs up to him

you grab his sleeve, pulling him to a seat and cleaning his knees and knuckles

you blink, and suddenly your crying, sniffling

Togame blushes, not knowing what to do other than to hold you close

and so that's what he does

he stands and walks away with you, holding onto your sleeve this time and dragging you to a secluded space

the festival was then canceled for the rest of the night

but both you and Togame stick close to each other, looking up at the dark sky that is luminated by the stars and the moon

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ms-snape · 2 months ago

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Ok I have the sweetest idea! Can you please write severus with a female reader who is just fascinated with his long hair and asks to style it for him, nothing crazy but you know bows like lucius or braids

Title: For me?

Warning: None, just pure fluff

Words Count: 1000+

Masterlist

---

In the dimly lit corridors of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, where shadows danced in the flickering candlelight, Y/N flitted through the halls like a vibrant breath of fresh air. As the Herbology professor, she was well-versed in nurturing both plants and the students who so often found themselves enchanted by her passion. However, it was not just her lessons that captured the attention of those around her; it was the way she lit up at the mere mention of Severus Snape, the brooding Potions Master with a heart as deep as the dungeons he called home.

Severus, with his raven-black hair that cascaded like a dark waterfall, was a source of quiet intrigue. Though he preferred solitude, he found solace in Y/N’s company. Her laughter echoed like music, warming the cold stone walls of the castle. But there was one aspect of Severus that Y/N simply could not resist—his hair. To her, it was not merely an accessory but a canvas, a tapestry waiting for her gentle hands to weave magic into it.

“Severus, please,” Y/N implored one evening, her eyes sparkling with mischief as they lounged in the cozy confines of their shared place. A fire crackled softly, casting a warm glow that illuminated her face, highlighting the way her cheeks flushed with excitement. “Just let me style it once! I promise you’ll love it.”

Severus raised an eyebrow, his usual expression of stoic annoyance morphing into mild amusement. “I do not believe that would be appropriate, Y/N,” he replied, his voice low and measured, though there was an undeniable softness to his tone. “My hair is not a toy for your amusement.”

With a dramatic pout that could rival even the most skilled of performers, Y/N crossed her arms, her lower lip jutting out in a way that made her look irresistibly adorable. “But it would be so much fun! And you have such beautiful hair! It deserves to be styled, not left to hang limply like a neglected broom.”

Severus fought to suppress a smile, the corners of his mouth betraying him. She had a way of disarming him, of stripping away his defenses with her infectious enthusiasm. “It is merely hair,” he muttered, attempting to maintain his facade of indifference.

“But it’s your hair,” she insisted, her voice rising slightly in excitement. “It has character! Just think of the potential!”

He sighed, knowing full well that her stubbornness would not easily be swayed. “Y/N,” he began, a hint of exasperation creeping into his tone, “I hardly see how this is—”

“Just once!” she interrupted, leaning closer, her eyes wide and pleading. “For me?”

For a moment, the world outside their bubble faded away. Severus felt the weight of her gaze on him, filled with an earnestness that tugged at something deep within his chest. He took a breath, allowing himself to be swept up in the moment. “Fine,” he relented, the word escaping his lips almost against his will. “But only for a moment.”

Y/N’s face lit up with unrestrained joy, and in that instant, all of Severus’s reservations melted away like snow beneath the sun. He could not deny her anything when she looked at him like that.

“Yay!” she squealed, her voice a melody of delight. She quickly ushered him to a nearby chair, her hands moving with purpose as she began to untangle the strands of his hair. As her fingers slipped through the silky locks, Severus felt a strange mixture of vulnerability and warmth. He was accustomed to being the one in control, yet here he was, yielding to her playful whims.

“Your hair is so soft,” she remarked, a hint of awe in her voice. “Have you been using that conditioning potion I recommended?”

“Perhaps,” he replied, feigning nonchalance even as he felt his heart rate quicken at her touch. The way she concentrated, her brows slightly furrowed, made her even more endearing. He watched as she sectioned his hair, her movements precise and graceful.

“Now, let’s see,” she murmured to herself, her focus unwavering. “A braid? A twist? No… I know!” With a burst of inspiration, she began to weave his hair into intricate patterns, her fingers dancing like a skilled artist. Severus felt a surge of warmth at her dedication, each tug and pull both comforting and invigorating.

As she worked, they exchanged soft, teasing banter, laughter spilling from their lips like the most precious potion. Y/N’s enthusiasm was contagious, and soon even Severus found himself enjoying the process. She recounted tales of her students’ antics in the greenhouse, her expressive gestures painting vivid images that made him chuckle despite himself.

“I’ve decided this is the look you should adopt,” Y/N announced triumphantly, securing the final braid with a delicate ribbon. She stepped back to admire her handiwork, her eyes sparkling with delight.

Severus caught his reflection in the nearest mirror, and for the first time, he saw something different—something that spoke of connection, of warmth, and of a world beyond the cold, dark potions and brewing shadows that had long defined him. “It appears I have been transformed into a woodland sprite,” he remarked dryly, but the corners of his mouth betrayed the fondness he felt.

Y/N clapped her hands, bouncing on her heels. “You look incredible! I can’t believe you ever doubted this.” She stepped forward, her fingers brushing against his cheek as she leaned in, eyes softening. “I love seeing this side of you.”

In that moment, the air crackled with an unspoken truth. Severus felt an overwhelming swell of affection for her—how she brought light into his otherwise somber existence. Her laughter filled the silence he had grown so accustomed to, and he couldn’t help but admire the way her passion made even the darkest corners of the castle feel alive.

“Perhaps,” he began, the words feeling foreign yet exhilarating on his tongue, “I could tolerate such transformations more often, provided it remains… just between us.”

Y/N beamed, her joy radiant and uncontained. “Deal! But next time, I’m trying out a crown braid!”

As she leaned against him, resting her head on his shoulder, Severus felt the weight of his walls crumbling further. In her presence, he was not merely the Potions Master; he was something more—something hopeful, something cherished. Together, they sat in the soft glow of the firelight, a tangle of hair and heart, weaving a bond that transcended the very magic of the world around them.

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mydearestbeloved · 2 months ago

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Chapter 3 [Draft]

Sung Jinwoo/Trial Player!Reader

CW: All hail severely traumatized Reader.

Inspired by @circeyoru ��s “Future Power Couple”

[Masterlist🦋✨️]

The moment you stepped out of the Hanging Gardens, the city of Seoul came crashing into your senses. The bustling noise, the chatter of strangers, the blaring car horns—it was overwhelming. After so many years surrounded only by the whispering leaves and the sound of distant waterfalls in your domain, this city felt like a whole other world. Yet, you had no time to marvel at it.

Your first thought was him. The young hunter who, in the original story, would one day transform from the weakest E-rank hunter to the world’s most formidable force. You had seen his journey play out on the pages of a manhwa, and even though this was your reality now, you still thought of it as a story. Perhaps that was the only way you could cope.

Jinwoo. The name was a whisper in your mind, a mantra you repeated as you sent out your butterflies to search for him. They flitted into the sky, through alleyways, dodged bustling crowds, and skimmed across rooftops, invisible to everyone but you, its compound eyes transmitting a dizzying aerial view of the city straight to your mind. You kept your focus tight, pushing down the nerves that gnawed at your stomach.

But your search was interrupted by a sudden shift in the air around you. The city's mood had changed in an instant. People on the street stopped, their heads turning upwards, eyes glued to the enormous screens on the skyscrapers. As the images on the screen flickered into view, a chill you down your spine.

It was chaos. The screens showed devastation—images of buildings crumbling, fire and smoke engulfing the skyline, and a massive gate that loomed ominously above it all.

The first S-rank gate—the one from which Kamish, soon to be the most feared dragon in history, first emerged. You stood frozen, your eyes widening as the scenes played out in real-time.

“No…” You breathed out, barely a whisper, your hands shaking.

Even watching it on the screen was entirely different from reading about it on the pages of the manhwa. It was real now. Too real. The ground beneath you seemed to tilt as civilians screamed and hunters rushed into action. The casualties. Oh God, the casualties. The sight of corpses being pulled from rubble, the screams and cries of civilians and hunters alike echoed through your mind long after the broadcast ended. The dread spread through you like ice.

If I’d just managed to get out sooner, you thought, the guilt and horror churning in your stomach. If I’d escaped the Gardens just a year earlier, or even a few months…

Surely you couldn’t have stopped the gate from opening, but could you have evacuated more people? Shielded them with your powers? Reduced the casualties? Your mind raced with possibilities, spiraling in your inability to actively turn back time in a scale that large.

Could I have made a difference? Could I have saved even a single life?

Your breaths came in ragged gasps, heart pounding. The "what ifs" started to spiral, pulling you deeper into a pit of guilt and self-recrimination. Your fingers dug into your palms as you tried to regain control. Just as the world around you blurred from the tears stinging your eyes, there was a gentle nudge at the edge of your consciousness, yet the swirling visions just made you want to empty out your stomach.

Through your shared vision with the butterfly, there he was, younger than you expected— around sixteen or seventeen, a teenager, though he looked like he’d grown up too fast. His frame was slimmer, not yet the broad-shouldered man you knew he’d become. He was dressed in a faded school uniform, his eyes carrying the weariness of someone who had already seen too much. The lines of his face were taut with worry, a haunted look lurking in his gaze. An expression you’d often seen through the pages, etched into his older self.

You swallowed hard, your fingers trembling. If…If I had been here sooner, would things have been different for you?

Your mind wandered to another possibility—his father. Would you have been able to prevent the disappearance of Sung Il-Hwan if you’d arrived two years earlier? Could you have kept Jinwoo from bearing the weight of that loss, the look of pain he now wore like a permanent scar?

Though his mother was still with him now, you could see the faint shadow of the pain he carried even now. Could you have helped him avoid the countless sleepless nights, the burden he’d shouldered in silence for years?

But reality was harsh, and you couldn’t change the past. A hollow ache settled deep inside you, thoughts haunted you, sticking like thorns in your mind.

---

The following years were a blur of watching from the shadows, helping where you could without being noticed. You couldn’t save everyone, but you could lessen the burdens on the boy you had grown to care for. The butterflies you sent to heal his mother and alleviate her pain seemed to help, if only a little. But that look—that haunted, broken look in Jinwoo’s eyes whenever he thought no one was watching—it gnawed at your heart.

It was during one of those quiet nights, as Jinwoo and the rest of the world slept soundly, that you decided to take a more desperate measure. Jinwoo’s mother was showing signs of the dreaded Eternal Sleep disease, the same way she had in the manhwa. You had placed a protective spell around her to shield her from excessive mana exposure, but it hadn’t been enough.

No, not again... please, not again. You couldn't bear it. You refused to let Jinwoo suffer the same pain twice.

There has to be a way to save her, you thought, teeth clenched. The pages of the manhwa didn’t reveal much about Eternal Sleep, but you took a gamble. If exposure to mana was the cause, then maybe you could draw the mana out of her system.

The hospital was quiet that night, the corridors bathed in a cold, sterile glow. You slipped in under the cover of darkness, cloaking yourself and the room in an illusion. Her face was pale and serene, and she seemed to hover somewhere between sleep and consciousness, untouched by the turmoil around her.

You took a steadying breath, summoning the butterflies close and feeling their power surge within you. Your children hovered around her bed; their wings softly glowing as they began to absorb the excess mana from her frail body.

“Please… let this work,” you whispered.

Focusing on your intent, you reached out with your healing magic, channeling the butterflies to draw mana out of her body. It was delicate work, like trying to remove poison from a deep wound without disturbing the tissue around it. Sweat trickled down your temple as you focused, your hands trembling with the effort. You could feel it working; her breathing grew steadier, the tension in her muscles slowly unwinding.

“Yes, yes… this is working…” you whispered to yourself. Little by little, traces of mana were being drawn away from her, and with every second, your heart beat faster with hope for the first time in years.

But then, as if someone had flipped a switch, everything came crashing down.

[Warning! Trial Player is not permitted to alter this part of the storyline.]

The system’s notification blarred before your eyes in blinding red text. You shook your head, gritting your teeth.

“No, no! I can’t stop now! Just a little more and she’ll—” You breathed, ignoring it, pushing yourself harder. You could feel the system’s cold disapproval as it listed penalties— deductions in your stats, loss of your domain privileges, even the risk of a forced expulsion back to the Gardens, warnings, threats, each one harsher than the last. But you didn’t care. If there was a chance, even the slightest one, that Jinwoo could have his mother healthy and safe, you’d risk any penalty.

[Initiating first protocol: Trial Player is restricted from interfering with main events.]

“No! Please!” You screamed in your mind, pushing harder, trying to siphon the last remnants of mana from her body. An invisible force tightened around you, harsh and unyielding. It was like trying to wade through thick mud, each step harder than the last, until finally, the force slammed into you, and you were thrown back, the butterflies flung away from you as the spell shattered.

Your body hit the wall with a sickening thud. You let out a gasp, clutching your ribs as you tried to regain your balance. An invisible barrier had been erected between you and Jinwoo’s mother, solid and unyielding. Your butterflies fluttered helplessly against it, unable to pass through.

“No… No, no, no!” you screamed, cried, banging and clawing against the barrier until your hands were raw and bleeding. But it wouldn’t budge. The tears blurring your vision and cascaded down your cheeks in rivulets.

The system’s cold, unfeeling voice echoed in your mind. You couldn’t register the subtle unfamiliar desperation other than your own. [Trial Player, cease all attempts to alter key story events, or face permanent penalties.]

A sob tore from your throat as you slid to the ground, your shoulders shaking. “Please,” you sobbed, your forehead pressed against the barrier. “Please, let me help her...”

The silence a sledgehammer that you had failed. All your efforts, your desperate attempts to change the course of events, had been for nothing. The realization hit you like a knife to the gut.

No matter how much you tried, no matter how desperately you wished to change things for the better, the system wouldn’t allow it. It had let you toy with minor events, heal minor wounds, but when it came to the story’s crucial turning points, you were powerless.

The what-ifs that had haunted you since you’d first stepped into this world were answered in the cruelest way. Even if you had left the Hanging Gardens sooner, even if you had arrived in time to save Jinwoo’s father or cure his mother, you would have been stopped.

For the second time since you had been isekai’d, you felt utterly, hopelessly trapped. You were no longer a player with some semblance of control. For all your power, for all your knowledge of the future, you were nothing more than a helpless spectator to a story that would unfold exactly as it had always meant to. You were a mere observer, bound to the whims of a story you could never truly change.

All you could do was watch, from the shadows, as the boy you loved continued to suffer. As something inside you continued to crack.

You drew your knees to your chest, burying your face in your arms, letting the sobs wrack your body. For once, you let yourself feel the weight of your powerlessness, the despair that had been building in your heart for years.

In the darkness of that hospital room, the weight settled over you like a suffocating blanket. And all you could do was cry. This was no longer the story you had loved. This was your reality. And you were utterly powerless to change it.

---

You stumbled out of the hospital, numb and hollow, the world blurring around you. The voices of passing strangers, the hum of distant traffic—it all faded, leaving only an aching silence in your heart. You wandered without aim, letting the sorrow settle, the bitter knowledge clawing at you. How many years had you spent dreaming of a way to help him, of a way to change his fate? And for what?

Back in the Hanging Gardens, you’d felt trapped and powerless, but there had always been hope. Now, that last ember was snuffed out, leaving only darkness in its place.

As you returned to your hidden space in the city, you couldn’t shake the feeling of helplessness. It was like a familiar, cruel reminder of your first days in the Gardens, alone, struggling to survive in a world that hadn’t wanted you. And now, here you were again, unable to do anything but watch as the story unfolded as if you were still on the outside.

-----

The city had begun to grow familiar over the years, but the feeling of unease and disquiet never truly left. In this world of hunters, dungeons, and chaos, you weren’t exactly a normal citizen, though you’d tried your best to blend in. You made a life here, a life woven carefully to avoid standing out, hiding a fraction of your power and even more of your knowledge.

The first step to living a new life in this world was a matter of practicality: identity. You needed to establish yourself as a citizen of Seoul. But just as you were puzzling over how to manage something as complex as legal documents, the system—your ever-watchful, omnipotent shadow—seemed to have anticipated your needs.

You stared down at your supposedly birth certificate and identification card, your name printed clearly beneath a picture of a face that felt both like yours and... not. Relief was short-lived, turning to a sickening churn in your stomach. What happened to her? The question gnawed at you in quiet moments. This girl, this "you" of this world, had her life been erased to make room for your presence? Had she died before you arrived? Or, worse yet, had she been destined to die, and the system had simply taken advantage?

You tried to ask the system directly. “What happened to... the original?” you whispered, feeling a tremor in your voice. But, predictably, the system remained silent, its screen blinking away without an answer.

It left you with grim speculations. The more you thought about it, the more it felt like a noose tightening around your conscience. On sleepless nights, the thought haunted you: somewhere, in some unmarked corner of this world, the original (Name) might be lying forgotten.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered to the wind one night, your voice barely audible. You were sitting in the Hanging Gardens, surrounded by the flowers you’d nurtured into bloom with your magic. The air was filled with the scent of roses and jasmine, a comforting balm against your troubled mind. “I promise... I’ll make a place for you here.” A way to remember her in the only way you could.

When you had a rare moment of free time, you returned to the depths of the Gardens. Deep within its heart, you found a secluded spot, a quiet clearing where the sunlight filtered through leaves, casting gentle dappled shadows. It was here that you began to build a small tomb, using stones and flowers enchanted with your magic.

It took days to finish. You poured your heart into it, weaving protective wards and spells into every petal, every blade of grass. You carved her name—your name, really—and when it was done, you placed a simple plaque: For the one who came before me. May you find peace.

Your hands clasped together; you couldn’t stop the tears from spilling over. This was your way of making amends, a fragile attempt to honor a life you had never known.

You stood there for a long while, the only sound the gentle rustling of your butterfly summons as they hovered, curious yet respectful.

“Thank you,” you whispered, not sure who you were even speaking to. Was it gratitude for the life you now had, or a farewell to the life you’d unknowingly taken?

---

After sorting out your papers and putting that grim thought to rest, you turned to the next task: becoming a hunter. You needed a way to sell the monster drops from your domain without drawing too much attention. Those materials were too valuable to ignore, and your stash from the Hanging Gardens had been growing, with enchanted trinkets and rare plants you’d carefully cultivated over the years.

With your identity settled, the next task was securing your place in this new world. You needed to establish yourself as a hunter, and quickly. The aftermath of the catastrophic gate and Kamish’s rampage had left the world desperate for capable hunters. S-rank hunters had fallen, and fear gripped the public. What if another gate like that one appeared? What then?

The Hunter Association was overrun with applications, both from hopefuls and seasoned hunters alike, eager to prove their worth. You knew your capabilities exceeded those of even high-rank hunters, but revealing your full power would draw unwanted attention. The last thing you needed was to be a target for the Hunter Bureau or one of the powerful guilds that dominated South Korea’s hunter landscape.

Suppressing your powers took everything you had. It was like trying to hold back a tidal wave with nothing but your bare hands. But you managed. After a few practice sessions cloaked in the safety of the Hanging Gardens, you learned how to cloak your true strength, masking it just enough to appear as a C-rank healer.

The evaluation day was chaotic, with hunters and administrators bustling around, trying to keep things moving. You stood in line, trying to ignore the stares from the other applicants. You kept your head down, focusing on the role you had to play.

“Next, please!” the examiner called, gesturing you forward.

You stepped up to the designated area. The sensation of being probed by the assessment device was unpleasant, like icy fingers brushing against your soul. But you kept your facade intact, holding your breath as the machine beeped.

“C-rank healer,” the examiner announced with a bored tone, scribbling notes on his clipboard.

You let out a silent sigh of relief, bowing politely before making a swift exit. You could feel the weight of curious eyes on your back, but no one suspected a thing.

Joining the South Korea Hunter Association was easy after that. You chose not to align yourself with any guild, instead opting to work freelance. It allowed you the freedom to pick your own missions and, more importantly, to avoid too much scrutiny. The Association didn’t question it, relieved to have another willing hunter, especially one with healing skills.

After a few raids, you gradually established a rhythm, selling a select number of drops at the hunters' markets. You kept the powerful materials for yourself, knowing the enchanted items might raise suspicions. The influx of funds was just what you needed.

----

The money you earned was enough to set up a modest business, a modest storefront on the quieter side of town, far from the bustling commercial districts. It was a charming space with large windows that let in ample sunlight. Perfect for what you had in mind.

A flower shop.

It was a simple concept—a quaint little greenhouse-inspired shop, cozy and serene, with butterflies fluttering gently around the blooms. Your years of cultivating exotic flowers to look like their normal counterparts in the Hanging Gardens paid off. Your magical influence made the flowers not only bloom faster but also granted them subtle enhancements, flowers that brought calm or clarity, leaves that eased headaches, petals that had slight rejuvenating properties, and much more.

The enchantments were soft, just enough to go unnoticed by hunters who occasionally stopped by, curious about the whispers of a shop with “enchanted” flowers. To manage the flow of clients, you eventually made the shop private, requiring customers to book appointments. Word of mouth spread quickly, though, and you found yourself busier than you’d anticipated.

One afternoon, as you were tending to a particularly finicky flower that required a touch of magic to bloom, a young girl entered the shop, holding her mother’s hand. Their wide eyes taking in the quiet, verdant space with wonder. The mother glanced at the butterflies resting on flower petals and the leaves that shimmered in soft hues.

“Mom, look! The flowers are glowing!” she exclaimed, eyes wide with childish excitement.

Her mother smiled and turned to you. “Hello,” she said with a nervous smile. “This place is… magical.”

You returned her smile, pleased with her reaction. “I’m glad you think so. What can I help you with today?”

She hesitated, fidgeting with the strap of her bag. “I… I heard about your flowers and, well… I’ve been feeling exhausted lately. I thought maybe something here might help?”

You nodded and led her over to a section of delicate white blooms. “These are calming flowers,” you explained. “You can put them by your bed, and they’ll help ease your mind while you sleep. Their scent is soothing and works wonders for stress.”

Her face lit up as she reached out, fingertips brushing the soft petals. “They’re perfect. I never thought flowers could… do that.”

“They’re a little special,” you said with a soft chuckle. “But sometimes, a touch of nature is all we need.”

“And this is for you little one.” You make a grand gesture, like a magician, and a pink carnation bloom in your hands. The girl eyes sparkled, and you took the chance to slip the flower behind her ear.

She and her mother left with a small bundle, the flowers carefully wrapped, and you watched them go, a sense of satisfaction warming you. You were making a life here, slowly but surely, even if there was still a shadow of loneliness lingering at the edges.

Over time, your shop became something of an oasis. People came not just for the flowers, but for the atmosphere, the butterflies drifting lazily through the air, the subtle scent of earth and blossoms mingling together. You overheard customers remark on how they felt better after just a few minutes in the space, how even just watching the butterflies was calming.

“Ah, it’s so peaceful in here,” A couple walked in one day, the man sighed as his partner looked around. His eyes widened as a butterfly landed on her hand, its tiny wings shimmering like fragments of stained glass. “I’ve never seen anything like this.”

“This place... it’s like stepping into another world.”

If only they knew.

You smiled warmly, handing him a bouquet wrapped in elegant paper. “They’re drawn to the scent of the flowers,” you explained. “It’s said that they bring good luck.”

One regular visitor was an elderly woman who came once a week to buy flowers for her husband’s grave. She’d chat with you while you wrapped her order, sharing stories of her late husband and their time together. She once remarked, “There’s something… kind about you, dear. It’s like you have a healing presence.”

You only nodded, humbled and slightly unnerved by her words. You didn’t feel like you deserved the praise—after all, you were only borrowing this life, this identity. But every time she left with her bouquet, she’d smile back, and you’d return it with a quiet, grateful nod.

And so, you continued on, living a borrowed life.

End Note:

Unedited Draft of [010/10/2024] - Welcome

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