#its very nice anon i highly recommend it

[devotion-disorder]

u got WHAT in the WHAT

yeah so basically i got my Panic in the Disco. My Chemical in the Romance. my Para in the more, even.

(jkjk this is what anon is talking about)

[lilacs-stars]

shattered reflections

pairing: morgie le fay x fem!reader (requested) (note: reader is merlin's daughter) SUMMARY: you, the perfect child and student, have always been the epitome of righteousness. but what happens when you encounter a particularly annoying VK one night, when you're out doing something you're not supposed to? GENRE: pure, unbridled, heart-wrenching angst (I recommend a box of tissues), action scenes, some light humor, a bit of comfort, flirty banter CW: absent mother, neglectful father, family troubles, cursing, magical fighting, a bit of blood, threats, mentions of violence and stealing, heavy emotions WC: 15.2k (to those of you hungry for morgie fics…you have been fed) BACKGROUND: the mirror of ytirev is pronounced yih-tur-ev, the spells are all in latin (for anyone wondering)

A/N: this got a loooot longer and deeper than I thought it would...seriously how did we get here. I had fun adding some touches of light humor to offset the angst, and experimenting with different pov's was nice too. sooo go get comfy and settle down, and have fun reading this! (the ending is worth it I swear). thank you to the anon who requested this for all the details, I hope you enjoy! all feedback is highly appreciated, I'd love to know your thoughts and reactions!

A piercing clatter sounds from somewhere behind you. You whip around, eyes locking with snake-like slits glowing in the dark.

Shit, you think. 

They finally discovered my secret.

“…can anyone explain to me the properties of goblin mucus?” the teacher of your Magical Artifacts and Antiquities class asks.

A hand shoots up, causing a smile to spread on her face as she calls on the student—only to be met with the reply, “Miss, it says in our textbook that there’s a highly powerful and dangerous artifact stored here, in Merlin Academy. What’s that all about?”

The teacher’s smile falters for a brief second, but she answers the question regardless. “Yes, every class today has asked me about that. It seems like it’s only the dangerous objects that attract students’ attention. Class, turn to page two hundred seventy-five, where there is a more detailed explanation.”

Everyone flips through the pages of their books, more eager to learn than they’ve been for the entire lesson. Your teacher waits a moment before continuing.

“As it says in your textbooks, the Mirror of Ytirev is indeed kept in this school, although it is locked away in a very safe and secure place. For everyone’s safety, and the Mirror’s security. Now, can anyone tell me how it was created?”

You raise your hand swiftly, already knowing the answer from having read this chapter before it was even covered in class, along with the next three chapters. “After the creator of the Evil Queen’s magic mirror originally made it, he accidentally dropped it on the floor, causing it to shatter. He reconstructed the mirror using the larger shards, which became the famed mirror that eventually ended up in the hands of the Evil Queen. But there were still many miniscule fragments left from the first mirror, so he melted them again and made a smaller, weaker version of the Evil Queen's mirror. The small mirror is known today as the Mirror of Ytirev.” 

Your teacher beams again at your perfect recitation. “That is precisely correct, Y/N. Although I don’t expect anything less from the headmaster’s daughter, of course.

“This mirror has the ability to show its user exactly one truth, an answer to any question. But since its original form was shattered, its magic is no longer stable. That’s why it is covered in this chapter,” she continues to the class. “As you can see in the image in your textbook, it is a portable artifact, putting it in Category D, Type Three.”

You look down at your textbook, studying the picture of the mirror, despite having looked at it before. It depicts a vintage handheld mirror, encased in a detailed and ornate silver frame that surrounds the glass itself. The intricate carvings of the metal create symmetrical twin arches at the top of the mirror, ending in fancy loops. In these arches two bright red gemstones are set, their edges cleanly cut and shining brilliantly. The glass of the mirror looks almost cracked, although you know it isn't really.

Just as the thought passes through your mind, someone calls out, “Why is the mirror cracked? I thought the creator fixed it.”

The answer pops up in your brain before the teacher even opens her mouth, but you still patiently listen to her as she explains to the rest of the class. “It’s not really cracked, it just appears that way to anyone who looks at it. The only time someone can see the mirror’s smooth surface is if they’re staring directly in the eyes of their own reflection. When someone does this, it is rumored they will see the truest form of themselves, the truth they desire the most.”

Someone else raises their hand, and the teacher calls on them this time. “So,” they ask, “you can get the answer to anything from that? Like how to become rich or live forever?”

The teacher masks what you can tell is a rather displeased look with yet another—fake—smile. She turns to face the entire class, a telltale sign that the student said something wrong. “Now, as we all know, there’s always a price to magic. When it comes to this mirror, due to its unstable powers, there are many prices.”

She continues her lecture, one that provides you with absolutely no new information, but being the ever-diligent student you are, you continue to listen intently. “If you look at the next page, it explains that anyone who wishes to use the Mirror must first present an offering that is very dear to them. If the Mirror accepts the offering, it allows the person to ask their question.” “And if it doesn’t?” your classmate asked.

“Does anyone know the answer to that?” The teacher looks around the class, before her eyes land on you. “Y/N?”

You brighten up at being called on, before rattling off the information as if it was common knowledge. “If the Mirror doesn’t accept the offering, or if it becomes displeased for any other reason, it will drag the person’s soul not to enlightenment, but to eternal torment. They will end up losing their mind and going crazy, with any form of intelligent life getting absorbed by the Mirror.”

“Correct again,” your teacher praises, and you beam. “And if that's not enough to ward any of you off, keep in mind that everyone who has ever used the Mirror has gone completely mad. No one has ever obtained the answer they sought; instead, they were all lost to its evil spirit. And let me assure you, many people throughout history have attempted to use the Mirror, only to fail. Therefore, it was voted as too dangerous for any beneficial uses by the Department of Magical Security. That is why it is contained here, under the watchful eye of our very own Headmaster Merlin.” 

At the mention of your father, everyone turns to stare at you, as if you’re somehow the reason the Mirror is locked up. Despite the stifling moment of silence, you shrug off the unwanted attention. After all, you’re used to this. Used to the looks that other kids give you when you receive special attention from teachers for being the smartest one, for always raising your hand, for answering questions perfectly, for acing every test and having every homework assignment completed—yet refusing to share your answers (“But if I tell you the answers, how will you ever learn?”). 

Used to the whispers that follow you everywhere you go, rumors of your family life; how your mother must have left because of your father’s bad habits, or neglect, or because she was having an affair with another man. Constant reminders of the past.

Used to how everyone walks on eggshells around you, how they all put you on a ledge far away from them. How people’s conversations quiet as you pass by, afraid you’ll go and report them to your father at the slightest whiff of mischief. How they always eye you when they pass notes in class or plan a prank—as if you weren't already aware of what they were doing—sometimes even begging you not to tell on them.

Used to how teachers and adults in your life expect the absolute best of you. Even when there’s no more left of yourself to give. 

How they expect you to be the absolute best, a paragon of righteousness. You always have to determine the right decision, make the right call, be the epitome of morality and virtue. This is your burden to bear, all by yourself; instead of worries over bad grades or boys, you suffer under the crushing weight of the expectations of everyone around you. The expectations of society.

Briiiiiiingg! The sound of the bell marking the end of class snaps you out of your musings. “Um, Miss?” you ask, raising your voice to be heard over the sounds of everyone packing their bags.

“You didn’t tell us what our homework assignment is for tonight.”

“Oh, that’s right! Thank you for reminding me, Y/N,” the teacher exclaims amidst a chorus of groans, along with a few colorful words directed your way. “Everyone, please finish up chapter three and be prepared to turn in your report on seventh century runes by the start of tomorrow’s class.”

After all, you’re used to how right they are about you.

…Or so they think.

“Oh good, Y/N! I was looking for you all over, you know,” a panting, all-too familiar voice calls out from behind you. You freeze in your tracks, grimacing. After a deep breath, you paint a smile on your face, before turning around.

A tall man, although much shorter due to his slouched posture, hurries towards you animatedly. His short, dark brown hair is matted against the top of his head, and a thick, bushy beard trails down from his chin, rounding above his mouth in a matching mustache. He dons a pair of thin spectacles that hang low on his large nose, dressed in a dark blue robe with faint golden embroidery and a waistcoat to match. A little brown stick juts out from a hidden pocket inside his robe, an object you can only assume to be his wand—which you are quite shocked he hadn’t lost today yet.

“Dad!” you say as enthusiastically as you can muster, but if anyone had been looking closely, they would have seen the way you ever so slightly cringe as he stumbles towards you. You silently thank the heavens that this man doesn’t pay much attention to anything. Not even to his own family.

Merlin clambers towards you, gripping one of your shoulders once you’re within arm’s length. He pants, leaning his weight on you as he catches his breath.

“Dad, what is it?” you ask him, trying your best not to fall over from supporting him.

“I-I…k-keys,” he wheezes.

“You lost your keys?” This certainly isn't the first time he’s come to you with this problem, and you definitely won't bet it'll be his last.

He nods, clutching his chest as his breathing finally evens out. “Phew,” he says, letting go of your shoulder. “My spare keys to my office…I can’t seem to find where I’ve put them.”

“You mean that big ring that has a copy of about every single key needed to unlock absolutely anything in this school?” you ask, incredulous at the way he nods feverishly. Honestly, how he doesn’t see the issue with what you just plainly pointed out is beyond you.

“Nope, haven’t seen them,” you reply. “Have you checked under the counter? Inside your desk drawers? In the little pockets sewn in the other pockets in all of your robes? On top of a clothing rack? Under the vase of orchids? In the fish bowl? In the left sock from your pair that has those reindeers on them?”

He nods at each one, sometimes hesitating as if recalling something deep in his memory , but then continuing to fervently nod nonetheless. You sigh again. “Well, I don’t know then. I suppose you’ve found someplace new to hide them this time.”

“Hmm…” he mutters, scratching his beard.

“Well, Dad, I don’t know if you heard, but I, uh, I made top student of my year last quarter. For the fifth consecutive time,” you mention, trying to ease into the conversation, albeit very tentatively and with great unease. Most people’s parents would applaud them and give them a prize for merely getting an A. Yours, on the other hand, barely remembers which grade you’re in.

Your father snaps his head up, staring at you with an eccentric haze in his eyes. You feel a small glimmer of hope; maybe he’s going to give you a pat on the back this time, or perhaps offer to take you out for a celebratory dinner. You wait for his response, completely still as if frozen in time, anticipation buzzing throughout every nerve.

“Wait…I believe I put it in the mouth of that owl statue…” He freezes erratically, brow furrowed in deep concentration, before releasing the tension in his body and going back to slumping. “No, I think I already checked there.”

You take a nice, long, deep breath, using up every last ounce of your carefully practiced self-control, which you had perfected through years of deploying in stifling social situations that made you want to crawl out of your own skin, to remain calm in this moment. “Well, I hope you find it.” Giving him one last attempt at even a semblance of a smile, you sharply turn back around on your heel, continuing down the hall to your first class of the day.

Watching the early morning rays of sunshine through the tall windows of the corridor, you think back to the discussion you had yesterday in your Artifacts class. You had answered every question correctly, every fact written in ink not only committed to memory but etched into the very foundation of your brain. 

You wonder if he knows of all the hard work you put into school. All the grueling hours you spend studying, all the sleepless nights you spend fighting against your body’s very nature to stay awake and keep your eyes open just enough to read the page. Heck, you wonder if he even remembers that your birthday is coming up next month—or that you gave him your wish list ages ago to ensure that he gets at least one present you asked for, unlike other years.

No, of course he doesn’t remember, you remind yourself. He doesn’t care about me. He never did.

Just like he didn’t care about Mom when she disappeared.

“Ugh, my nail chipped again. I should find the girl who did these and squeeze her to death.”

A tentacle floating in midair tightens and coils around nothingness, miming the strangulation of an innocent soul with a disturbing nonchalance. A girl with dark skin and long locks in colors such as blue, teal, and yellow, done up in a small bunch on top of her head, checks the painted nails on her left hand with a scowl on her face. 

“Come on, Uli, you’re getting your nails done like, every week,” the god of the Underworld replies, indifference practically seeping through his spiked leather jacket as he chews gum and gives the sea witch a look. “At least find yourself someone better.”

“Don’t tell me what to do!” Uliana snaps, dropping her hand exasperatedly as she huffs.

A sorceress with purple eyeshadow and two sleek, black horns protruding from the sides of her head rolls her eyes as she complains, “This is so boring.” 

“Well, what do you suggest we do then, love?” a crisply accented voice asks, sounding from a boy with neatly parted brown hair and a golden hook that ends in a sharp, gleaming point.

“Did you hear that there’s a, like, super dangerous magical object being kept here?” Maleficent asks, somehow keeping her voice incredibly monotonous and deathly uninterested, even as her words themselves convey enthusiasm. 

“Yeah, apparently it can tell anyone anything they want to know,” Hades replies. “I don’t know why they’re keeping it here, though.”

Uliana turns back to the group, a malicious glint in her eye. Even before she opens her mouth, the boy with powers rather similar to those of a snake can already guess what she’s going to say.

“How about we go steal it?” she asks, a wicked grin already twisting onto her features.

“You do realize that everyone who’s ever used it has gone mad, right?” Hook asks, raising his eyebrows incredulously as he gives Uliana a look of disbelief.

“We won’t use it ourselves, idiot,” she snaps. “But it’ll be fun to steal it and cause a panic. Right, Morgie?”

Morgie swallows, looking up at Uliana with wide eyes. “Of course! C’mon, you guys. Think of the mischief we can cause with it! We can make people think some kids used it and went crazy”—he leans in, excitement growing as he speaks, making wide gestures with his hands—“and everyone would be so scared! They’d probably cancel school, too!”

Uliana grins diabolically again. “Morgie, honey,” she starts, slipping one of her tentacles under his chin, lifting his face up towards her. “How about you do this one?”

“I-I, uh…” he stammers, uncertainty laced in his voice. He definitely wasn't expecting this turn of events.

“Come on, please,” Uliana pouts. “Do it for me? After all, you’re only stealing a little mirror. How hard can that be?”

Morgie glances up at her again, before tugging uncomfortably on the black scarf wrapped around his neck. “But…it’s super dangerous…”

“Don’t you want to be evil? Don't you want to wreak havoc and cause pain?” Uliana taunts. “Or, are you”—she lets out a faux gasp—“afraid?”

“N-no, not at all!" Morgie exclaims, trying to sound more courageous than he feels. “I’ll do it!”

“Perfect,” the sea witch coos, removing her tentacle arm. “You’ll do it tonight.” She turns back to the group, adding, “I hear that old troll keeps the most dangerous and evil artifacts locked up in a room off the east wing, on the third level.”

Morgie gulps, already trying to wrap his head around the fact that he’d be doing the heist tonight. Hook, jumping off a ledge, asks, “You mean the one guarded by different spells and magical alarms?”

Uliana grins wickedly. “Nothing a little bit of Kraken Powder can’t fix.” She holds up a small vial hanging from a string around her neck like a necklace. It's common knowledge how incredibly rare Kraken Powder is, which makes sense, given how potent its anti-magic properties are.

Everyone catches on to what Uliana's implying, causing the group to all laugh together at their evil plan. Morgie tries his best to join along, but he can’t quite seem to get rid of the uneasy knot already forming in the pit of his stomach.

“You remember the plan?”

Uliana’s slippery tentacles glisten under the moonlight, flailing around behind her in midair. Morgie nods, attempting to still his quivering hands before Uliana notices them. He tries, with a miserable sense of impending doom, to swallow the lump in his throat, but to no avail.

“Here, I stole these from Merlin’s office,” Uliana explains as one of her tentacles drops a large ring filled with probably around two dozen keys, each in various shapes and colors, straight into Morgie's open palm. “One of these has to fit the door. You didn’t forget what you need to do, right?”

Morgie clears his throat, choking out a meager, “Yep.” He pockets the keys, seriously hoping they don’t clink together and make too much noise while he moves. As Uliana already repeated a hundred times, “It’s crucial you don’t get caught.”

Morgie reaches up to touch the vial hanging from his neck yet again, making sure it’s still there—after all, better safe than sorry. Once more, he glances at the large grandfather clock in the common area where he and Uliana lurk in the shadows, waiting. Finally, its bells chime midnight, and Uliana turns back to him as the ringing reverberates around them.

“Go, hurry!” the sea witch urges, pushing him toward the door with a tentacle. 

Morgie nods, hurriedly rushing to the exit. The first part of the plan—a plan he so diligently committed to memory—is for him to sneak out while the bells are still ringing, to mask the sound of the door opening and closing. Thankfully, he makes it out by the tenth chime, carefully closing the door to make sure the latch doesn’t sound by the eleventh.

Okay, I’m really doing this, Morgie thinks as he stares into the deserted corridor. He tiptoes around silently, but still as quickly as possible. Time is, obviously, of utmost importance in missions like this.

At last, he reaches his destination. The unassuming—and misleadingly so—wooden door looms over him, ominous through the lens of his knowledge of what lies beyond it. 

An amateur villain would simply pick the lock and open the door, but Morgie is too experienced in such endeavors to make a rookie mistake like that (Uliana told him what to do, step-by-step).

He hovers his hand above the lock, taking a steadying breath as he summons the powers that reside within him. His pupils shrink into the tiniest slivers of blackness as a dark, magical smoke emits from his palm. He makes a faint hissing noise, reciting an old incantation in a tongue far different from what normal humans use, and the lock softly clicks as the door creaks open. Practically inviting him inside.

Morgie pushes it open the rest of the way, making sure to shut it behind him so as to not raise the suspicion of any night guards roaming the halls.

He turns back around, now faced with a dark, menacing hallway. Walking slowly down it, he looks around with a chilling captivation. Old suits of armor leer down at him, rustic and each coated with a thick layer of dust. Large spiderwebs cover every visible nook and cranny, which makes Morgie exceedingly grateful that the actual spiders aren't in his line of sight.

At the end of the corridor stands yet another large door, matching the first. This one, according to Uliana, has even more security than the other. Time to use my secret weapon, Morgie thinks, reaching to pull the vial of Kraken Powder out from under his shirt. He opens the cap and sprinkles a little of the finely grained dust into his palm, then blows it over the lock of the door.

At first glance, it appears the powder didn’t work, as nothing seem to change. But anyone with an affinity for magical energy can feel the spells placed on the lock of the door melt away without a trace. After the door is unarmed, Morgie fishes in his pocket for the keys. They clang horribly as he pulls them out, echoing up into the tall ceiling of the hallway. He freezes, listening intently for footsteps somewhere outside. When he hears none, Morgie begins the task of figuring out which key fits the lock.

He goes through nearly half the ring (Seriously, who keeps all their keys in one place?) before finding the one that fits perfectly. Twisting it with a swift movement, the door unlocks, and he creeps inside. 

To his immense shock, there isn't a room behind the door filled with evil objects or piled with gold coins. Instead, there’s a…

…library?

Morgie walks inside, utterly confused. Had Uliana gotten the location wrong? No, there's no way. The doors were too guarded for a normal library.

He continues down one of the aisles, wondering why he's never seen this place before. It is extremely large, with arched ceilings meters and meters above his head. Tall bookshelves tower over him, so tall that he can barely see the highest shelves.

Lined against the walls and placed on the shelves are also glass jars and containers filled with seemingly normal items: a seashell necklace, a deck of playing cards, a cane with the head of a snake. But there's something sinister about them; some strange aura that hovers above each object. In fact, it fills the entire expanse of the library. 

Morgie stops by one of the shelves, reading the titles. He brushes his fingers along one of the spines—and that’s when he feels it. An ominous energy rushes through his fingertips, electrifying his every nerve at it travels through him, causing him to realize that this is no normal book. It’s a book of dark magic.

He spins around in a circle, eyeing the entirety of the library. Now that he thinks about it, the whole place has the heavy atmosphere of dark magic. And that’s when it hits him: this is no normal library, and neither are the books. This is the room of forbidden artifacts. It just so happens that most of those artifacts are books, probably containing content deemed too dangerous for normal people to learn.

Morgie briefly considers taking a few of the books off the shelves and perusing through them, or maybe even slipping a couple in his jacket and taking them back with him. After all, all these forbidden books must have countless evil spells and potions. If he and the rest of his group got their hands on these…

However, after a moment of serious consideration, he decides the better of it. He's here for another purpose, and Uliana would be outraged if he only came back with a few meager books, no matter the contents.

Continuing through the labyrinth of shelves, Morgie looks around meticulously, trying to figure out a rhyme or reason to the order of things. No student has ever been in here, and he doubts many of the teachers have, either. Therefore, there were no references or guides to help him and his friends figure out where in the room the Mirror is located. Plus, he doesn’t think any of them had expected the place to be so colossal—he surely hadn't.

After a few minutes of stumbling around in the near darkness, he finally comes across a ladder leaning against one of the shelves. It’s so tall he can’t see the top of it, but deciding it’s his best chance at finding his bearings, Morgie begins the long climb up.

He isn’t really afraid of heights. Not in the way that some people refuse to go on anything more than a few feet off the ground. But he honestly doesn’t see how anyone couldn’t feel at least a little queasy at the high altitude. I must be a dozen meters off the ground, Morgie realizes as he glances down. I wonder what would happen if I fell—

He cuts the thought off before he can imagine the gruesome details. Instead, he looks back up and around the library. From all the way up here, he can see the top of the shelves, and he really was right: this place was designed to be a maze.

On the far side of the area, his eyes spot lots of glass cases reflecting the soft moonlight and flames of enchanted candles. That must be where most of the objects are kept. Chances are, the Mirror’s there too.

He mentally charts out a course through the labyrinth, trying to remember the directions for more than two seconds. Right, left, left again, forward, right, right again, left, forward—or wait, was it right? After a few minutes, he climbs back down the ladder, praying to the demons of the Underworld that he remembers the path correctly and doesn’t get lost.

Morgie makes his way through the maze, growing more and more fascinated by the creepy and wonderful objects around him. He can’t stop thinking about how nice—and useful—it would be to pocket some of them, or maybe come back here and spend more time studying them. Every time he passes by something that intrigues him, his mind immediately wonders if it would fit inside his clothes.

Despite this, he resists the urge to steal things, as he can’t have anything weighing him down in case there are more challenges or enchantments he has to disarm before getting the Mirror. But perhaps on the way back…

His train of thought drifts away as he finally reaches a large area that is surrounded by glass cases, on tables and lining the shelves set into the walls. He never imagined there would be so many forbidden artifacts in total, much less in one place, although maybe that's because he's never really paid attention in class.

From the top of a shelf a few meters away, something catches his eye. A mysterious, eerie white fog pours from one of the highest shelves, dissipating as it cascades down the front of the bookcase. He remembers hearing something about mist related to the Mirror, and deciding it’s worth a shot, he moves closer to check it out.

And that’s when he sees it.

A dark flurry of movement from another one of the top shelves catches his attention. Morgie snaps his head up, brows furrowing as he squints, eyes trailing the structures above him. But he can’t quite make out anything, at least not in the faint light, so he hesitantly shrugs it off and continues towards the mysterious fog—albeit not being able to shake off the strange feeling he has that makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

He takes a few more steps, and just as he's nearly convinced himself he’s only being paranoid, it happens again. Now that he’s closer, he can see there’s another tall ladder reaching up to around where the movement is happening, close to the Mirror. This time, his eyes register the shape. 

A dark, human figure moves up the ladder, blending in and out of the shadows. 

Morgie’s eyes grow wide, pupils shrinking back into snake-like slits as a reptilian hiss escapes his mouth. There shouldn't be anyone else here.

The figure freezes in place before turning around to face him, hanging halfway up the ladder. Although Morgie can’t see their face, concealed by a thick black hood, he can tell they saw him. 

He stretches out his arms, summoning black magic that swirls around his hands and up to his elbows again. After but a second of him and the hooded figure staring at each other—which somehow felt like an hour—Morgie throws his arm forward, aimed for the figure.

A ball of twisting dark energy shoots from his hand and towards the hooded face. The figure ducks down, dodging the attack. Undeterred, Morgie hurls more swirls of dark magic. The figure dodges the first few of them, but they must have realized that merely ducking down won't be enough to win this fight, because they summon a shield of buzzing yellow electricity to block the next few attacks.

Morgie quickly becomes aware that he isn’t winning the fight like this; he needs a new strategy. And that’s when he spots it.

He puts his hands close together in front of his chest, gathering a potent sphere of black magic between his palms. The figure stands there, motionless, still hanging onto the ladder.

If you can’t knock them down, pull the carpet out from under their feet.

He thrusts both of his hands forward, sending the ball of magic not at the figure, but at the base of the ladder instead. By the time they realize what he's doing, it’s too late.

Morgie’s magic collides with the bottom rungs, exploding the material and sending wooden splinters flying everywhere. He watches as the figure falls, swiftly summoning a flash of lightning below them as they plummet, easing the crash as they hit the ground. 

The aftermath of the explosion has Morgie ducking down and covering his face with his arm, barely being able to make out what happened to the hooded person. As the dust finally settles, Morgie spots the figure get up, gripping their head as if in pain. They stumble a little, then bush off their black robe as they check for other injuries.

As if abruptly remembering why they had fallen, they spin around to face Morgie. He stares, wide-eyed in pure disbelief, as the figure comes face-to-face with him. Even though they don’t seem to be too hurt, and definitely still alive, the force of the impact caused their hood to be knocked off their head.

Morgie’s mouth drops open as he registers the figure’s face.

There, in front of him, in the forbidden archive harboring some of the world's most dangerously powerful magical objects during the dead of night, stands the headmaster’s daughter.

Your grimace grows as you lock eyes with a boy with light brown hair, hazel eyes shrunk into slits resembling a snake’s, causing your head to throb even worse.

You watch as the realization dawns upon the boy’s face, cursing the skies for this little issue that you now have to deal with.

He knows your secret.

“Y-you, you, you’re the headmaster’s daughter,” he sputters out, disbelief still painted on his face, as clear as day. Seriously, if he keeps his jaw open like that, it’ll fall off.

“Yeah, no shit,” you spit back, not paying much attention to his stunned little face. Your mind is overwhelmed with a swirling whirlwind of thoughts and ideas on how to get rid of this new liability, each plan vying for your attention, each one crueler than the last.

After all, now that he knows who you really are, how you're not a rule-abiding goody-goody, there’s no point in keeping up your sweet, innocent facade. You finally let your mask slip off, the mask that you wear constantly in the presence of others. The mask that you only relieve yourself of when you’re all alone, with no one to see your callous, vindictive, cynical side. Your true side.

Ever since that day, at least. The day that forever changed your life.

“What are you doing here?” the boy stammers, as if it isn't already dreadfully obvious.

“The same thing you’re doing here.” “How do you know what I’m doing here?”

You sigh, rubbing your temples. Honestly, this kid could not be more of a dunderhead. “Look, I don’t have time for this. Either get out of my way, or I’ll make you get out of my way.”

At your threat, the boy, whose name you happen to remember from a class you took with him last year, changes his stance. Morgie widens his legs, arms fanned out besides him whilst summoning dark energy that clings to his skin, alive and breathing, yet submissive to its master’s will.

“Aren’t you like, a goody-goody?” he asks, face still scrunched in confusion. “I’ve heard teachers go on and on about how good your grades are, how polite you are, how you’re the perfect student.”

You roll your eyes, annoyed at his relentless questions. It 's already bad enough that he knows this much. You don't need him finding out more.

“Well, looks can be deceiving,” you respond as vaguely as possible, hoping that it’ll shut him up. Instead, he cocks his head to the side, shooting back, “I don’t really think so.”

You try your best to not encourage him and his irritating questions, but you can’t help but begrudgingly ask, “How so?”

Morgie looks at you for a beat with an intent gaze, before replying, “I always thought you were too pretty for a hero.”

Uh, excuse me, what? you think. Now it’s your turn to be shocked. “You don’t find me scary?” You had always assumed that people would be terrified if they saw your real, unfiltered side.

“No, not really. I mean, I’m evil too. If anything, I find you even hotter now that I know you’re not a goody-goody.”

Blinking hard, your eyebrows shoot into the air. There is no way he just said that. Your mind is uncontrollably reeling at his words, but only for a brief moment. Before you can read too deeply into it, your attention is quickly snapped back to the black magic still swirling around him, growing by the second. Ah, a ploy to distract me. Maybe he is more clever than he lets on.

“Listen, Morgie,” you snarl threateningly. “That mirror is mine.”

“Wait, you’re here for the Mirror too?” he asks, with far too light a tone for a situation such as this.

“Th-that was obvious the whole time!” you exclaim, unbelievably irritated. “What did you think I was here for?” “I dunno, a book or something.” He shrugs casually, before narrowing his eyes. “Wait, what do you want the Mirror for?”

“That’s none of your business,” you snap back, fingers thrumming with the rush of energy as you summon your own magic. Letting your curiosity get the better of you yet again, you add, “Why do you want it?”

“I’m a villain. I steal things for fun,” he replies, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “What does a goody-two-shoes hero want to do with a forbidden artifact?”

Barely listening to his words, you study him carefully, needing to know the extent of his powers if you’re going to win the inevitable fight that you can sense coming. You see how his ever-growing dark magic stalls temporarily as he talks, probably from getting distracted while speaking. That’s it. Deciding to buy yourself some time, you use this little weakness to your advantage.

“I want the Mirror because I want to use it.” Even though you’re planning on entertaining his pointless questions, you definitely aren’t going to give him information for free.

“Use it? To get an answer?” His magic hesitates again.

“No, to look at myself.” You see the way his eyebrows furrow in confusion, and you’re pretty sure you’re about to implode. “Of course to get an answer, you dumbass! Unlike you, I don’t go risking my life ‘for fun.’”

“What are you even going to use as an offering? You have to give it something, you know.”

You sigh, reaching underneath your shirt to pull out a small silver locket, its chain blackened from the trials of time. Dangling it from your fingers, you show it to Morgie.

“A locket?” he asks incredulously. “The offering's supposed to be something really special or precious.”

“It is really precious,” you hiss, tucking it back into your shirt. “It’s the most precious thing I own. If anything’s going to make the Mirror work, it’s this.”

“Well, you’re not going to get the Mirror anyways. It’s mine.” He widens his stance again, his magic continuing to grow around him. No, I need a little more time, you think, masking your growing panic with an insouciant eye roll.

“Why?” you question. “You’re not even going to use it.”

“I still need it.” “But why?”

“I won’t tell you if you won’t tell me!” he exclaims. Despite his little outburst, you can tell there’s something he’s hiding. After all, you are a master of concealing the truth yourself. “Plus, you know that everyone who's ever used the mirror has gone crazy, right? You’re literally sentencing yourself to a life of madness.” You give him an unamused look. “I’m the top of our year. Obviously I know everything there is to know about the Mirror of Ytirev.”

He gazes at you in a way you can’t decipher, but it’s softer, more sympathetic than his former glare. You notice that his snake eyes have disappeared as well, despite the magical energy still surrounding him. “Then why are you still doing this, despite the risks?”

You falter, for just a second, letting a sliver of emotion slip through. But as quickly as it happened, you patch it back up, returning to your cold, glowering face. “It’s a price I’m willing to pay.” You expect him to drop it after that, but he continues to press you. “You’re prepared to give up your morals? Your status as a hero? You’re willing to lose all your integrity for one answer?”

God, he talks too much. With a sniff, you throw your hands out in front of you, releasing a bright flash of crackling electricity that had been building up as you cry out, “I don’t care how evil I have to become, I will find the truth, one way or another!”

The lightning shoots forward without warning, hot as an inferno, piercing straight through his chest and flinging him backwards into a shelf like a ragdoll. He falls down to his knees, and for a split second, you wonder if he’s going to get up again. Clutching his chest, he wheezes yet still manages to stand up, summoning wispy black tendrils that shoot at you like arrows.

You tuck and roll, dodging them, whilst building up more crackling lightning between your fingers. The last tendril hits far too close to you for comfort, burning a hole in your robe. That would have been my flesh, had it hit me, you realize in sudden horror.

Seeing as how your opponent is summoning even more dark magic to hit you with, now engulfing his entire body, you break into a sprint. Black spears collide with the shelves behind you one after another, barely missing you, as you run past glass cases, each containing a different artifact that glistens in the silver moonlight. Something across the arena seizes your attention, and a plan begins to piece itself together in your head. You continue your dash towards the shelves behind Morgie. Once you reach a section with books instead of random magical objects, you slow your pace. Amidst Morgie's unrelenting attacks, you create a golden shield of electricity that sparks and crackles, almost alive, and which reaches as tall as you. You jog past the shelves, head craned as you scan the book titles as quickly as possible.

Morgie persists in launching balls of dark magic directly at you, smashing into your shield. Your panic rises as cracks begin to form, at first only small fissures, but growing larger and larger with each sphere that pummels your way.

You run parallel to the shelf, which boxes in the rest of the area in a rectangular shape, eyes frantically darting over words with barely enough time for your brain to comprehend them.

Glancing up as a whorl of blackness blasts the books resting directly in front of you, you duck down, yet continue to run. That’s when you see a thick tome, larger than the others and bearing a dark red cover, jutting out from a shelf a few meters in front of you. With your magical shield barely staying intact, you lunge towards it, snatching the book as you fall towards the ground and somersault behind a desk-sized wooden stand to hide. On top of it stands a glass display case, with faint candlelight illuminating the rustic, yet enchanted, metal shield contained inside it.

You crouch down, flipping through the pages of the book desperately, trying to find the incantation you know has to be in there. One time, on one of your random visits to the library—the normal one, not this hell of the most cursed items in the land—you had picked up a text that talked about the history of spellcasting. Detailed inside was a description of one of the first books of curses ever written, which had been banned from production shortly after its release due to the nature of its contents. There had been a small sketch next to the explanation, which just so happens to match the tome now weighing in your hands.

Morgie’s blasts of magic don’t stop, pounding the wooden stand and the glass case alike. You think he yells something, but you can’t tell; you’re too focused on squinting at the fine print on the page, eyes wildly scanning the names of the spells. The desk quakes with every attack, causing your hands to tremble as you rifle through the pages hastily, pointer finger trailing down the lists of incantations. 

Finally, your eyes lock onto the one you want. “Obiectum impedit semitam,” you recite, gaze darting between the page and the glass case above you. It quivers vigorously, yet remains unscathed due to its magic-bulletproof nature.

“Evanescet a lumine irae meae!” As soon as the last syllable leaves your tongue, the glass case dissipates into thin air. Your hand darts up, clutching the shield and shoving it in front of you. Just in time, as the wooden stand protecting you explodes from the force of Morgie’s dark magic, blasting into a shower of mere splinters that rain down around you. The shockwave causes you to recoil, even as the shield absorbs the brunt of the impact.

Quickly regaining your bearings, you crouch even lower behind the metal. Thumbing through the book pages briskly, your eyes skim the ink, trying to find the first spell that can help you now. 

“Inimicus meus, caveto tibi,” you mutter the incantation rapidly, trying your best not to stumble over the archaic words—who knows what sort of havoc that would make. “Transi me et in carcere gelido capieris.”

You peek your head over the shield as you say the last line, locking in on your target. He stands there, panting, worn from his latest, potent attack. Morgie barely has enough time to widen his eyes as the final word escapes your mouth, instantly creating ice stalagmites that burst forth from the ground, crisscrossing as they trap him in a prison of ice. They tower high all around while entrapping him in a circle, frost coating their sleek outsides, which narrow into dangerously sharp tips.

The air turns frigid, and you can see flurries of movement as Morgie thrashes within his glacial cell. Already, he’s trying to break out. Through the cracks between the icicles, you can see a swirling vortex of black magic fighting the freezingly cold charm. Even though it is a strong spell, you know it won’t last for long. Especially not with the dark energy that is slowly, yet surely, thawing out the ice.

Springing up again, you bolt to the shelves on the other side, jumping over small puddles forming on the floor. The book is still open in your hands as you wildly tear through one page after another, the minuscule words shaking and blurring together as you run. Honestly, what kind of asshole decides to print in such a tiny font? you internally rage. Flipping through the large sheets of paper filled with small text reminds you of reading a dictionary. In a way, the spellbook is a dictionary of sorts, with the way every curse is listed alphabetically, in a neat and orderly manner—much unlike your current frenzied state, with how your heart pounds against your chest as if trying to break free, and the adrenaline coursing through your veins cuts off any semblance of a coherent thought forming in your brain.

Twisting sharply to your right, you dart towards the shelf that the Mirror stands on. You stare up at it as you continue to run, eyes practically sending a silent plea while it sits on its throne undisturbed, watching the scenes before it unfold as if viewing a play from the highest seat in the opera house; somehow mildly amused, yet still condescendingly blasé at the same time.

Flipping to the L section of the spellbook, you scan the page for a spell that can help you reach it at last. Finally finish the last stretch of your journey. 

The icicle prison behind you makes a dreadfully loud crack. Your heart only races even faster with a jolt, your breathing coming out only in sharp, erratic gulps that make you feel light-headed, as if you’re not getting enough oxygen no matter how much you gasp for air. 

As you scan the page, this time with a renewed fervor that has your eyes darting across the words, too panicked to even finish a sentence before leaping to the next, you make a very interesting revelation indeed. For whatever reason, the genius who wrote this book decided not to add levitation to the list of spells, but instead included lignum pullelare, which roughly translates to “sprouting a tree”.

Another thunderous boom sounds again from the constantly fracturing icicles, a violent reminder of the ticking clock. You decide that this spell, no matter how absurd, is the best shot you have. Inhaling another sharp breath that burns your lungs, you cry, “Surge, virens gigas, de terra immunda,” your eyes glued to the page. “Ascendunt ad lunam et super caelos!”

A branch smashes into your chest, knocking the wind out of you—you really need to get used to how quickly these spells take effect—lifting you up as a colossal tree ascends from the ground, growing much more rapidly than even a beanstalk, much less a normal tree. The metal shield slips out of your grasp from the impact, your fingers desperately flailing in its direction futile as it falls and hits the floor with a dull thud.  

Your get snapped back to the present from the momentary distraction as your body starts slipping off the branch, with how it's quickly growing into a thick, strong limb with no end in sight. You slide off the ever-stretching wood, scratches cutting into your arms as you frantically try to wrap them around the branch, until only your hands are still hanging on. Using the book, which remains gripped firmly in one hand, you fling it open and cling to each cover. The book's pages spread wide around the wood as you hold on for dear life.

You continue shooting upwards along with the tree, the bookcase racing past you, when a realization hits you like a strike of lightning. This tree won’t stop growing anytime soon, and when it does, you’ll be too high up—if you're still alive, that is.

Glancing above you, you spot the Mirror and the shelf it sits on getting closer, and getting closer fast. Making up your mind, or rather, making a brash decision fueled by your skyrocketing panic, you wait until the shelf you need to reach comes into view. Then, you jump off. 

Flinging yourself towards the bookcase, you manage to latch on to a shelf, fingers wrapping around the ledge while your feet find purchase on another ridge a few feet below. The book remains clutched in one hand, your iron grip refusing to let it go. Realizing you can't do anything while holding it, you risk letting go with one hand. Gripping onto the shelf with your other hand, you tuck the book under your chin, angling your head down as you struggle to hold it between your neck and body. 

You peer up at your grasp on the shelf, the unforgiving ridges digging into your skin, carving painful lines into your fingers. Your feet barely remain balanced, the ledge not jutting out as far as you’d like it to. Turning your heels in to stay on the little shelf space there is in front of the books, you wince as the ridges between your arms and legs bite into your body. The sweat coating your palms causes your grip to start slipping off, your eyes wide in sheer terror as you let go for a brief second, thrusting your hands further back and hooking onto the edge again.

Glimpsing back down, you see the Mirror resting in its glass cage a few shelves below you, the strange white mist slithering underneath the glass and pouring out over the bookcase like a waterfall. With your chin still uncomfortably positioned as to not lose the book, you release on hand and leg from the shelf, leaving you hanging in between life and death itself.

You move your free hand down one ledge below, then the corresponding foot, haltingly scaling your way down the bookcase. Each time precariously letting go of your grip or footing to blindly feel below yourself for another ledge to stay on. After a few iterations, your feet finally stand on the same shelf as the Mirror, right next to the glass case.

Another piercing boom echoes behind you, making you squeeze your eyes shut as you flinch against the bookcase, quivering breaths sending your heartbeat shooting through the roof. Your eyes dart down to the book you squeeze with your neck, then to where your hands are barely clinging on to the shelf. There’s no chance of using the book to make the glass disappear again. Cursing yourself for not memorizing the incantation earlier, your mind swarms with thoughts, each one so loud they drown out each other.

An idea forms in your head—or rather, slams itself into the sides of your brain like a wave crashing in a bottle while it screams for attention—as you warily lift one foot on top of the heel of the other shoe, maneuvering it off your foot.

Now with only a sock left, you press your toes against the glass container. Inhaling a sharp breath, causing your lungs to ache as they scream for more, you muster enough energy to summon a bolt of lightning, focusing all your attention on passing electrical current through your body and to your foot.

The hotness of the electricity heats up the glass, melting it until there’s a decent-sized hole the size of your foot there. Shuffling to the side and raising your shoeless foot to the ledge above, you draw back your other leg and smash it into the glass, causing the compromised structure to shatter everywhere.

Climbing down the bookcase farther, you come face-to-face with the Mirror of Yteriv at last. It looks exactly like it was depicted in that textbook, sporting an elegant silver frame and seemingly shattered surface, with the two rubies staring at you like glowing eyes. 

A loud explosion rings behind you, resounding throughout the entire library. You snatch the Mirror with one hand, turning your head to the side as far as you can without letting the book slip, just in time to see Morgie demolish the ice prison as he breaks free.

It's clear that since now he's no longer bound by frozen spikes of ice, you’re his next target. Taking in an abrupt gasp of air—the only preparation you have—you let go of the shelf.

You plummet towards the ground for only a second before creating small thunderbolts beneath each of your feet, suspending you in midair. Already, you can see Morgie charging up another attack, aiming it straight at you. Book in one hand, Mirror in the other, you take off into a run through the air. Small platforms of electricity form beneath your feet with every step, dissipating again as soon as your foot lifts.

Balls of dark magic hurl towards you, and you already know you have no chance of winning this fight—not like this. But you don’t need to win. Glancing down at the Mirror clutched in your palm as you jump off a thunderbolt, right as it gets blasted by a black orb, you realize that you’ve already completed your mission. Now, all that’s left is to get out of here.

Your mind scrambles for a way out that doesn’t involve getting blasted into smithereens, eyes still fixed on the Mirror as you continue to dash around in midair. Watching the wispy tendrils of white smoke pour out of the artifact, a previous memory from something you read in a book hits you like a flash.

As the Mirror of Ytirev connects to its wielder’s soul, so do its properties, the book had said. The mist emitted by the Mirror fluctuates with the wielder’s emotions; the more powerfully one feels their emotions, negative ones in particular, the more smoke it produces.

A room filled with smoke? You can’t think of a more perfect cover to help you escape.

Grip tightening even further around the Mirror as you leap to another lightning platform, dodging a new attack, you rack your brain for every negative emotion you have—which turns out to be a lot. The adrenaline pumping through your veins as your life flashes before your very eyes from every near-death experience. The way your heart shatters a little more every time your father overlooks your accomplishments, not paying any mind to how hard you strive to please him. Just to get a single smile, a pat on the back, a meager look of pride in your direction. One simple “That’s my daughter!” sent your way.

The anger deep inside you starts to bubble, pure rage sizzling and growing hotter every second you spend lost in your emotions. A fury that is always there, making every breath a little shorter, every happy moment a little duller. A dormant feeling that is usually left undisturbed, except for when it's triggered. Then it becomes a fire that burns hotter than any flame in the depths of hell.

The emotions and thoughts and memories that you keep suppressed in a corner of your heart all coming flooding out, like a dam finally bursting free. How could everyone strand you like that? Leave you all alone to suffer through your grief, while always expecting you to be kind and cheerful. They know what happened, and they have to know how badly it hurts. Yet not a single one cares. Not your dad, not your teachers, not your friends. No one in the entire world ever so much as offered a shoulder for you to cry on or gave you a comforting smile. Not one “I’m here for you” or “It’s all right, take your time.” No, all they did was raise their expectations, setting the bar so high until you’re barely clinging to it, trying to pull yourself up despite your weary arms. Lifting it to such heights that losing your grip and falling would mean certain death.

You think of the snarling, twisted animal that resides deep inside you, embedded into your very being, clawing at the aching hole in your heart left by the absence of your mother. Finally letting it break free after being caged for so long, you feel, oh-so agonizingly, how it scratches its way up your throat and escapes you in a wretched sob.

Why did she leave me? How could she leave me? I’m her daughter, for fuck’s sake. Who can abandon their child like that? Does she not care about me? 

Did she ever even love me?

Painful thoughts consume your head as a few stray tears run down your cheek. You grit your teeth, sucking in shaky gasps of breaths. Smothered by your anguish, submerged in emotion.

Yet, despite all this, it works. Remembering the entire point of your self-inflicted despair, your head snaps down to the Mirror. Although your legs burn and throb from all the incessant running, you can’t stop. At least not yet.

Thick fog exudes from the Mirror, rapidly engulfing the whole of the arena. Within a few moments, everything is covered in the dense whiteness, so heavy you can barely see your hand, even if you hold it directly in front of your face.

Morgie disappears in the fog as well, to the point where you can no longer see nor hear him. Assuming that he’s no longer a threat for now—if you can’t see him, he can’t see you, and if he can’t see you, he can’t attack you—you summon a staircase of thunderbolts and walk down it until you safely step onto solid ground.

Your legs practically give way at the first touch of hard floor, the urge to collapse and lie on the ground excruciatingly strong. Mustering up the last of your strength and willpower, you force your feet to step one after another, desperately trying to distract yourself from the fire burning in your muscles at even the strain of supporting your own weight. 

Almost done. Almost.

Practically rendered blind by the all-encompassing mist, you keep one hand outstretched, making sure you won’t collide with anything—especially Morgie. Pocketing the Mirror, you continue through the fog. You had made sure to note your direction in relation to the exit before everything became completely invisible as to help you easily find your way out without getting lost. But after a few minutes in the overwhelming whiteness, you start to doubt yourself. 

What’s even worse is that there’s no sign of Morgie. You’re not foolish enough to expect him to pop up right in front of you, but you don’t hear him making any sounds either. No footsteps, no breathing, nothing. Your strides are far more muffled as you take your other shoe off too, annoyed at the limping effect the difference in heights causes. But nothing from him.

Your mind starts wandering to what happened to him, refusing to admit that the smallest part of you feels the tiniest bit concerned. Does he need help? Is he still alive? Your intentions were to steal the Mirror and disarm him, not kill him. You’re not evil enough for that.

Not yet, anyway.

After stumbling through the murky fog for a bit longer, you start to notice that now, you can see your hand extended in front of you. The fog is thinning, you think, which means I must be nearing the edge of this area and heading towards the bookcases.

A little bit further, and the fog disperses to all but a thin mist. The bookshelves in front of you come into view, the rows and rows of them finally visible as they expand into the distance. Follow those, and you’ll find the door you came in through. 

So, so close…

You take a few more steps, the heavy spellbook still in hand as you reach into your pocket with an unusual, yet profound, sense of paranoia, ensuring the Mirror is still there. Out of nowhere, you feel a strange sort of chill cover your feet. You chalk it up to your lack of shoes, but, not being able to resist the urge, you glance down.

That’s when you see strange feathery tendrils of black smoke on the floor, in stark contrast to the thin mist that hangs in the air. They slither and wrap around your feet as they move, condensing together in front of you and rising up a meter off the ground in the shape of a hissing black cobra.

The cobra flares out its hood whilst flicking its tongue at you, swaying side to side as it stretches to its full height. You stumble backwards, hesitating for only a second too long before it dawns on you where the snake came from.

Behind you, a brooding voice sounds. “Going somewhere?” Morgie asks.

You spin around sharply, dismay and a special breed of horror painted on your face as you turn to face him. “I don’t care what you do, the Mirror is mine,” you growl, shooting him a lethal glare that truly could kill.

“I don’t think so.” He gathers more black magic around his palm, creating an orb that whirls around like a dark, spherical tornado. You both stare into each other’s eyes for a moment, a fracture in time, trying to decide your next move—when he suddenly throws his hand forward.

You flinch away, yanking the book in front of your face as a shield. After a second, when you don’t feel anything, you open your eyes, turning back in his direction in confusion.

And that’s when you see that you weren't the target of his attack.

The book in front of you was.

The dark magic gnaws at it from the back cover, where it hit on impact, eating away at the pages. “No!” you scream, desperately flipping through the paper as the magic destroys it. Your own magic may be quite strong, but since you're barely allowed to practice it, it’s nowhere near the son of Morgana’s abilities or prowess. This book was your only chance at defeating him.

Frantically rifling through the pages, a look of pure horror on your face, you try to scan the spells for something to save you. Teleportation is soon gone, as well as fireball. As soon as you catch a glimpse of a spell name that could be helpful, the incantation is instantly obliterated.

Panic building faster than even the speed of the dark magic, you flip to the front of the book, trying to find a spell at the beginning of the alphabet so you have enough time to actually read the incantation.

But apple is of no use, and neither is bridge. Morgie stands there, gaze transfixed on your struggling form, wickedly smiling with an amused raise of his eyebrows. Guess he really is a villain after all.

The black energy eroding the book spreads across both covers, demolishing the tome as you hold it in your feverishly trembling hands. Your eyes race across the letters, desperate to find one that could even have a chance at saving you.

Dragon, no.

Claws, not that.

Chasm, not that either.

None of these will help me! your internal voice screeches, the book dissipating as you hold it. Then, your eyes snag along a word.

Chains. The perfect spell. 

“Ut qui inritat, catenas sentiat iras,” you wildly spit out, heart racing, tongue unable to move fast enough. Your eyes dart frenziedly ahead of your mouth, running on sheer panic as you try to memorize the words in case the book does disappear. “Pati in compedibus, ut solvas pretium peccatorum tuorum,” you continue to cry out.

As the last fibers of the pages evaporate in black fumes, you thrust a hand in Morgie’s direction, yelling the last few words. “Eris enim sine fuga ligatus!”

Nothing.

Then, boom.

The residual magic from the demolished book, no longer contained in a physical form, explodes, the force sending you flying backwards. You soar for a couple feet before colliding with a shelf behind you, your head slamming against a sharp edge.

You crumple to the floor, body bruised, beaten, and bloody. The world spins, your head throbs, and you feel so generally shitty that you want to crawl out of your body and leave this physical hindrance behind.

Your head feels too heavy to lift up, and so it falls forward, swaying back and forth. A warm sensation on the back of your skull draws your senses back to the present, and you lift one weary hand to the spot. Bringing it back down in front of your face, you see a whole lot of red smothered on it, just as more trickles down onto the base of your head and neck.

Groaning, you lift your face to scan your surroundings as the dust settles yet again. The fog is now almost completely gone, allowing you to see rather clearly. Sight still blurry, you barely make out the figure a few meters in front of you as heavy chains whip up from the floor, wrapping around his arms.

More spring up around his legs, dragging him down and causing his knees to buckle. He fights against the metal, but they only tighten as even more encircle his torso, tethering him to the ground. He leans forwards, now kneeling before you, arms spread out and chained to the floor on either side.

In front of him, halfway between you two, lies the Mirror of Yteriv, face-up on the floor.

Scrambling to get up, you slowly manage to stand, leaning your weight on the bookcase behind you. The ground sways underneath your feet, but you don’t collapse. One shaky step after another, you make your way over to the mirror.

You practically crumple to the floor as you lean down to snatch it up, the sounds of chains rattling against each other echoing through your head as their prisoner resists his bonds.

You straighten again, running your fingers over every millimeter of the Mirror’s surface to ensure that the cracks reflected on it are only part of its usual appearance and not actual damage caused during the explosion. Once you're sure of its safety, you look down at the figure shackled in front of you.

Morgie looks up at you, hair disheveled and face bruised, a few drops of blood spattered on his cheek. His eyes are a storm of anguish and a wounded kind of sorrow, his jaw clenched tight. You’d like to think that he isn’t peering up at you, body tied and bound, with resentment etched into his features, but you know you’d be lying to yourself.

He gives another violent tug against the chains, but to no avail. Neither of you speak a word, remaining in complete silence, yet somehow saying a thousand things through your eyes. You stare down at him, at the way he can barely lift his head due to his restraints, the agony swirling in his eyes tugging at your heartstrings in ways that make you ache through your core. 

But you’ve already come this far. You can’t turn back now.

The deafening silence remains as you raise the Mirror up in front of yourself, the white mist wrapping around you as if beckoning you closer. The red eyes glow even brighter, their judgment intensifying as your reflection begins to appear in the glass. The cracks on the surface slowly fade away as you come into view, until finally revealing a completely smooth and unmarred image as you gaze into your own eyes.

Except they aren’t yours.

Your reflection in the mirror is not of yourself, but of a younger version of you. She smiles effulgently, a pure, innocent sparkle of wonder in her eyes. A look of untainted bliss painted on her face as she beams. 

A look you haven’t seen in your own reflection for a long time.

“Mommy?” her young, high-pitched voice calls out. “Mommy? Moooommy? Where are you?”

A sob gets caught in your throat as you gasp, tears framing your vision. As if the memory finally gets uncovered in your mind, after being hidden away all these years from your brain deeming it too painful, you realize when this is—or rather, what this is.

“Mommy?” she calls again, her smile faltering as her little brow furrows in confusion, her face scrunching ever so slightly. “Mommy?” She turns her head to the side, looking at something out of view before asking, “Daddy, where’s Mommy?”

Your chest heaves as a sharp cry escapes you, the pain taking a physical form in the tears streaking your cheeks, your face contorting as you weep. In the background, a man’s faint, shaky sobs sound.

The mirror slips from your fingers, landing on the ground with an echoing thud. You whimper, uncontrollably trembling breaths causing your chest to jolt back and forth. You don’t move, can’t move, empty hand still suspended in midair.

You feel numb, yet like you're experiencing every emotion all at once. Your brain can’t wrap around this, around any of this, can’t comprehend your own thoughts. Can’t process what you feel. You’ve shoved your emotion down for so long, that now that they’re no longer bottled up, you don’t know how to deal with them.

“I’m sorry.” The voice cuts through the thick silence, snapping you out of the raging war inside your head.

You glance over at Morgie, still wrapped in chains. His eyes no longer hold the same animosity and misery, but instead a soft sort of sympathy, an underlying look of understanding as he peers up at you, head slightly raised.

“I don’t want your pity,” you sniff indignantly.

“I’m not pitying you.”

You look down at him, your chest heaving, eyes bloodshot. Taking shaky gasps of breath through your mouth, your body quivers as you wait for him to continue.

“I didn’t know about your mom, and you’re totally justified for wanting to know what happened to her,” Morgie continues. “You can take that Mirror and walk out of here if you want.” You keep on staring at him, not saying anything, frozen with anticipation as he carries on. “But are you really going to risk your future for knowledge of the past?”

You gulp before responding, voice hoarse and eyes half-lidded, voice cold and numb. “Would you still hesitate to take that risk, even when it means it could make your future finally be one worth living?”

“Your future is already one worth living,” Morgie replies. “You may not see it, but you’re talented, and smart, and pretty, and you’re a good person. You have a bright future ahead of you.” He shakes his head, eyes still boring into you. “Don’t ruin it like this. Blinded by your pain.”

Sniffling, you inhale a shuddering breath. “And how do you know my pain is blinding me, and not making me see clearer? Clearer than I have in my entire life. Clearer than she did.” You jut your chin towards the mirror lying on the floor.

“I don’t. But what I do know, from seeing my own mother, is that pain like this gets you nowhere. Letting the people who were supposed to love you instead turn you bitter and cynical never fixes things. You may think that becoming evil is the solution, but it’s not. It’s not worth it. You’re not worth it.”

You stare at him intensely, a raw kind of pain displayed on your face, one that no one has ever seen before. A thousand emotions flicker through your eyes, your lips twisting into a whimpering attempt at a smile as you cry again, the sob wracking through your body. “You really think so?”

“I know so.”

Hope flashes in your eyes, reflected in his. Your gaze softens, looking at him as if he’s the beacon of light at the end of the tunnel. A small grin breaks his steady demeanor, looking at you with optimism shining through the glimmer in his eyes.

You reach down, picking up the Mirror again. You stare at it, although not directly at your reflection this time. He peers up at you, still shackled to the floor, eyes wide with anticipation.

You slip the Mirror into the pocket of your cloak once again before turning around, your back to him. Twisting your head to the side so he hears you, you say, “The chains will disappear in an hour.”

Turning your head back, you walk away and leave him behind, black cape flickering in the dark night.

Unclasping the back, you slip off the locket, placing it in front of you. The rusty metal is reflected in the mirror in front of it, along with the tears that splatter on its surface.

It had belonged to your mother, the only thing you had left of her. She had given it to you when you were a little kid, not too long before she left. It was old and weathered, the silver having tarnished over time. Still, you religiously wore it every single day, never taking it off as if it's a part of your body. And sometimes, if you stare at it hard enough, you can almost trick yourself into believing she's still there.

Safely back in your dorm, all alone, you had set the Mirror down, flipping to the notebook page where you had transcribed the incantations for the ritual, without a second thought.

Now, sitting on the ground, the Mirror leaning against a leg of your desk with your locket as an offering in front of it, you start to hesitate. Your face twists in pure agony, features scrunched up, lips quivering uncontrollably as a waterfall of tears splatter onto your hands and lap.

It’s too late to turn back now.

Taking another shaky breath, you extend your hands forward to the Mirror, placing one thumb on each red gemstone embedded in the intricate silver design. The jewels watch you, scorning your every action. Just like everyone else.

Your eyes flutter closed, letting out the steadiest exhale you’ve had all night. “Speculum, speculum, in conspectu oculorum meorum,” you whisper, feeling the way the rubies press into the flesh of your thumbs. Already, the Mirror starts discharging more fog, enveloping you as it grows denser with each syllable. “Accipe donum meum et veritas libera me.”

You open your eyes as the last words leave your tongue, staring straight into the eyes of your own reflection.

The red gems glow radiantly, emitting a bright light that nearly blinds you. You squint, yet still unrelentingly stare into your eyes—or rather, your younger self's eyes. The fog swirls around you, swallowing you whole. You can’t see anything anymore, can’t even tell where you are. You feel as though your soul, your life’s very essence, gets sucked out of your body and into the Mirror.

You have the sensation of being shoved forward, but you don’t fall. In fact, you don't have a body anymore, no physical vessel to hold you. You try to look down, but you're greeted by the absence of your legs, sheer nothingness filling the space beneath you. You can’t really move around either, not in the way you’re used to. All you can do is simply float, your existence diminished to an untethered life force, with some semblance of what you once were.

Looking around, everything around you is white like before, but not in the suffocating way the fog was. Instead, you stand in a wide expanse of whiteness, a vast field of empty space. It stretches on forever, with no end in sight. It’s as if you’re stuck in a blank canvas, waiting for a painter to bring you to life.

The sound of wind whistles all around you, but not so much as a breeze actually comes. In fact, everything is completely unmoving. Despite the stifling stillness, you remain listening to the sound of the wind. If you strain hard enough, you can hear something almost like faint whispers filling your senses.

You look around again, ignoring the eerie voices. According to all the texts you read, after the Mirror accepts the wielder’s offering, they can ask for their answer. You’re not quite sure if this field of emptiness means your offering’s been accepted, but seeing as how you don’t feel insane yet, you think it’s safe to presume so. Still, your brain can’t help but point out that crazy people probably don’t feel like they’re crazy either.

Shaking off your doubts, you decide to continue with the process. After all, it is the only shot you have. You had memorized all the incantations for this particular spell earlier, repeating them over and over again until every word was engraved into your mind.

“Scire volo verum,” you recite. “I wish to know a truth.” Nothing happens.

You take a deep breath. “I wish to know why my mom left.”

The wind around you grows louder, howling even in the still air. The whispers increase in volume, once seemingly non-threatening and benign, now forming a cacophony of overlapping, chaotic voices. They grow distorted and grating, pushing in from every side, wrapping around you and slithering into your brain. You can’t block them out, no matter how hard you try; can’t swat them away, can’t make them leave, leaving you trying to tear them out of your head, despite not having hands anymore.

Suddenly, the white vastness turns a dark gray, and you start getting pulled downward towards something, like moving towards the center of a black hole. The whispers grow claws and fangs, clawing and scratching at your chest as they drag you down, making it hard for you to breathe. 

You try to fight back, but the voices now in your head keep pulling you down. They’ve taken over you, consuming you whole, and it’s impossible not to succumb to their will.

As they continue to drag you down into the abyss, you turn around—or rather, focus on the other side of your vague form of spiritual energy—and notice a tiny black dot very far down, but steadily growing bigger as you move towards it.

The whispers are screaming now, cries of agony of those who came before you, encompassing you whole and forcing you to the depths of this dark chasm.

And that’s when it hits you.

The others who used the Mirror did all end up getting the truths they sought.

And the truth was what drove them to madness.

You panic, trying to shake off the invisible hands of the whisperers, but they only tighten their hold around you. No matter how hard you fight them, they don’t relent in their endeavor of pulling you towards damnation.

“Are you really going to risk your future for knowledge of the past?” Morgie’s words echo in your head out of nowhere, haunting you with regret. You absolutely despise admitting it, but fuck, he was right.

Your last conversation with him replays in your mind, reminding you of your foolishness and idiocy. You had been so focused on getting what you wanted that you were indeed blinded to the truth that had been right in front of you this whole time.

“Your future is one worth living.”

His voice swirls around in your brain, drawing your attention away a little from the screaming voices in your head.

“You’re talented, and smart, and pretty, and you’re a good person.”

You realize these are probably the last words you’ll ever hear.

“You have a bright future ahead of you.”

You feel like crying again, the despair that’s taken root in you fighting to escape. Still, you don’t have an actual body in this dreamscape, so crying is impossible.

“It’s not worth it. You’re not worth it.”

You look back up the other direction and away from the black dot, resigned to your fate as you get dragged down into the chasm, deeper, deeper, deeper. At first, you think you’re imagining it; a mirage created by your mind to distract you from your pain. But as the descent continues, you begin to realize that it may not be an illusion after all.

In front of you, from the direction you came, a faint golden thread, seemingly made of pure light, stretches from your form of consciousness and ascends, up, up, up, all the way to the never-ending sky. With each of Morgie’s words you repeat in your head, the string of light grows stronger, brighter.

“You’re talented.”

The thread becomes thicker and more luminous, and you begin to realize that your descent has slowed down as well.

“And smart.”

The thread grows again, and you slow down a little more.

“And pretty.”

Your eyes follow the string upwards, and now, you see there’s a faint patch of white amidst the murky gray surrounding you.

“You’re a good person.”

The thread, still shooting out straight from your form, gleams with a shimmering golden light now. You notice that you’re no longer getting dragged downwards, but instead up, towards the whiteness. The screaming voices aren’t as insufferably loud anymore, either.

“You have a bright future ahead of you.”

You keep ascending, getting drawn faster and faster up. Morgie’s words serve as your lifeline, saving you from insanity.

“You’re not worth it.”

Now, you see that the white patch is actually an opening, an escape from this hell. The thread leads to it, its blinding brightness concealing whatever lies beyond.

“I know so.”

The last of his words give you the final push you need, sending you straight into the white light.

Your head snaps up with a sharp, terrified exhale. You look down, taking a moment to register that you’re back in your room. The locket dangles from one of your hands, the Mirror clutched in the other.

Fresh tears replacing the dried ones on your cheeks as you let out a sob of excruciating heartache, a sound of pure agony. The kind that no one should have to go through.

You look down at the cracked surface of the Mirror—a feeling of raw, unbridled anger set in the way you clench your jaw, and the way your face contorts with your cries—staring straight at the evil red eyes still gleaming at you.

With a swift motion, you lift your hand above your head, still grasping tight. Mustering together all your might, you hurl the Mirror towards the ground, watching as it shatters into a sea of glittering pieces.

“You’re late.”

You lean against the rough brick wall of an empty corridor, arms crossed, your figure partially obscured in shadows.

“And I’m surprised you’re still here,” Morgie quips, walking towards you. “Why’d you even want to talk with me? Especially through leaving that threatening note next to my nightstand for me to find when I woke up.”

He stops in front of you, leaving you to glower at him. Suddenly, with no warning, you lunge towards him, seizing the collar of his shirt and pushing him against the wall, your other hand summoning a rod of crackling lightning. 

His eyes widen with a startled gaze, but he doesn’t look quite as fearful as you want him to be. “Now, listen here.” You press the tip of the lightning bolt against his neck. “If you say a word of what happened last night to anyone—especially my father—I will kill you.”

Although you try to sound as menacing as possible, Morgie is unfazed. An amused smirk spreads across his face as he replies, “Alright, relax. I wasn’t planning on telling anyone anyways.”

His eyes trail down from your gaze to the locket dangling from your neck. He reaches out a hand, brushing his thumb along the tarnished metal as he softly says, “You didn’t go through with it, huh?”

You pull away, frustrated at his compassionate tone. “No. I decided…it was too risky. After all, what’s the point of figuring out the past if I can’t ever use that information, right?” A small smile spreads across Morgie’s face, that sympathetic, delicate look in his eyes again. Your irritation rising at this, you add, with a growl, “Although I will find a way to get my answer. I don’t care how bad I have to become, if you, or my father, or anyone stands in my way, you’ll truly see how evil I can be!”

Morgie keeps his unfettered appearance up. God, he’s so annoying! you mentally scream in frustration.

“Why are you so fixed on this?” he asks, tilting his head sideways and furrowing his brow as if trying to look past your cold, vengeful, rancorous mask and figure out the scarred little girl buried underneath.

You roll your eyes instead of answering. Never one to express emotions, the thought of opening up now about your years of pain feels terrifyingly vulnerable. It’s so much easier to just build walls around your heart and shut everyone out.

“Tell me this, and I promise I won’t tell a word of what happened last night to anyone,” Morgie bargains.

You narrow your eyes. “You already said you wouldn’t tell anyone.”

“Well, now I’m having second thoughts.”

You raise your arm again to summon another bolt of electricity, and Morgie lifts his hands, palms facing forward, in a gesture of surrender. “Relax, I won’t say anything, fine. But I just want you to talk to me. Bottling up your emotions like this isn’t healthy. Last night should be a good example of that.”

You shoot another glare at him, but can’t deny the fact that he’s right. Still, you hate the idea of how exposed and weak you'd be if you actually told someone how you feel.

“I’m not going to leave you, you know.”

You peer up at him, eyes wide in shock, as he continues. “I’ll stay by your side. You don’t have to worry about me abandoning you.”

Gulping, you nod, averting his gaze. Instead, you choose to look down at your shoes, studying the laces as you speak. “I…when my mom left, it was so sudden. No goodbyes, nothing. It was like one day, she just vanished.”

Your voice cracks, and Morgie places a reassuring hand on your shoulder, unknowingly pulling you closer to him. You swallow, hesitating for a moment before continuing. “My dad didn’t even care. It was as if she never existed. And everyone else…they all knew what happened. But they paid no attention whatsoever. They expected me to act normal, be all nice and sweet as if nothing changed. It made me hate them, hate all of them.”

“Do you hate me?”  

Morgie’s voice rings in the empty corridor, quiet yet speaking louder than a thousand shouts. You look up at him again, his image slightly blurred by the tears welling at the bottom of your eyes. You look up and you see the boy that stood by your side at your worst, who didn’t get scared or run away when you showed him your true colors.

The boy who said things no one’s ever said to you, whose words saved you from destroying yourself.

The boy who stands here, a concerned crinkle on his forehead as he awaits your answer. He doesn’t have to be here, listening to your problems. He doesn’t have to care.

But he does.

“No,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “No, I don’t hate you.”

In the suffocating sea of fake smiles and stifling pressures, Morgie is like a breath of fresh air. The first gulp of oxygen that you take as your head breaks free from the water.

“That’s a relief,” he responds, a trace of a smirk ghosting his features.

You give a small, bittersweet laugh. “Ever since my mom left and my dad stopped caring about me, I’ve never had anyone to talk to. No one seems to care about my emotions, or ask me how I’m doing. It’s as if I’m not a real person who has actual feelings.”

You’re on the verge of tears again, and Morgie must realize this, because he tries to lighten the mood by attempting—and failing—to inconspicuously wrap an arm around your shoulder as he says, “So, what I’m hearing from all this, is that you need a strong, reliable figure in your life to lean on, right? Like…a boyfriend or something?”

You duck under his arm, moving a good few feet away from him while fixing him with another glare. “Yeah no, I’m good.”

“Come on, that was smooth! You’ve got to admit it,” he whines, drawing out a small giggle from you. 

It’s been a long time since you’ve laughed like this: a true, heartfelt laugh, not the fake one that you do to appease other people under the pressure of society's expectations. It feels nice, like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders. 

All because of him.

“I don’t know, maybe I'll consider it with some time, if you treat me well,” you joke as you turn your head away with faux indifference. 

“Hey, a slim chance is better than no chance at all, right?” Morgie moves closer to you again, as if he can’t stand having so much space between the two of you. “I can see I’ve made some progress since last night, when you tried to kill me.”

“I wasn’t trying to kill you,” you shoot back, rolling your eyes at him.

“Oh yeah? Tell that to the bruises on my body.”

“It’s not my fault you’re so weak and sensitive,” you retort with a grin.

He nudges you playfully and you laugh again, shaking your head with an amused look. “Hey, I was wondering,” he asks, locking eyes with you, “what did you end up doing with the Mirror?”

You give a knowing grin, masking the undercurrent of what’s left unsaid. You vaguely respond, “It’s in a better place now.”

“If you say so,” Morgie replies, his smile returning to his face and lighting up his features once again. He continues to tease you, and you oblige him, keeping up the friendly banter as he walks you to class.

The Enchanted Lake glistens, reflecting the sun’s gentle rays with a bright shimmer. Deep down, under feet of clear blue water and various forms of aquatic life, in a far corner of the lake, lies a bag of glass shards. Next to it floats an ornate metal carving with a hollow center, reminiscent of something once set there. And at the top, two glowing red gemstones briefly flicker and die out, like watchful eyes finally closing.

end x

read more of my works here!

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a/n: how did this get so long...if you're still here, and if you actually read that entire thing, thank you so so soo much! I'm sending you a virtual cookie and a hug (if you're comfortable with it ofc) because you're absolutely awesome! <3 hope you enjoyed reading!

do not plagiarize, translate, remake, or copy my works, including my writing and images, in any way.

[cutie-lumi]

I LOVEEEE THE WAY YOU COLOR!!!!

Do you have any tips on coloring....

I HAVE YES YES!! anon let me teach u how to achieve this simple sketch result here

First, if you have absolutely no idea how to pick a color to shade your drawing, I'd highly recommend creating a new layer, setting the blend mode to Multiply and then test out some fun colors and see which one you like the most! I usually choose very dark colors and then change the layer's opacity to get a lighter color. That's basically what I do with most of my sketches

1- go to your art program (im using CSP) and find the blending mode option 2- change the blending mode option to Multiply 3- decrease the opacity for a lighter color result and voila!!

Then, color the lineart to make it look cuter!! I'd also highly recommend adding a black outline around the character bc. idk. i think it looks nice JHGJKDHDG You could absolutely stop here if you want to, but I always like to give my lineart a ✨​glowy effect✨, so to do that you'll have to: 1- Duplicate the lineart layer 2- Select the layer you just duplicated 3- Go to Filter > Blur > Gaussian Blur and select it 4- Set the strength around ​50 (really depends on how much glowy you want it to be) 5- Select the duplicated layer again and change its opacity to your liking!! AND YOU'RE DONE!! YIPPIEEE

You can also achieve a similar result by just duplicating your already finished drawing (make sure that this layer is above the original one), adding the blur effect to it and just changing the opacity again!! BOOM now your drawing is glowing ✨

[sitp-recs]

Happy Friday, friends! I’ve never done monthly wrap ups before but since Wireless pulled me back from a brief hiatus, I thought it would be cool to share some things I’ve been reading, that could use more love. 10 fics both old and new, Drarry and rare pairs, Wireless treats; pick your poison and have fun! 🙌

Drarry

Muscle Memory by @corvuscrowned (E, 7k) - brilliant concept perfectly executed, I’m so here for curse-breaking colleagues who fuck at the job to pass time and then forget about it every time 🤌🏼 genius and intriguing and captivating as per crow’s usual

There's something just beneath the surface, just at the periphery of Harry's mind. They've been here before — they've done this before. If only he could remember it.

And Embers at Your Lips by @nametheshadows (T, 15k) - sequel to one of my all-time favorite 8th year fics with insomniac roommates just as soft and healing as LLAYF. Gorgeous prose and all the kissing. Highly rec this series for A+ comfort food!

The sequel to Like Lightning at Your Fingertips: the kissing montage. And there’s that thing with Potter’s magic.

Rich Friend, Anon (E, 18k) - one of my faves from Wireless, pop star!Draco never gets old and both the pacing and the romance are perfectly developed! I live for Harry’s horny yearning and for their road trip together, kudos to casual Harry/Neville as a side ship!

As far as Harry can tell, Draco Malfoy is still rich as hell. He’s just not a wizard anymore. Featuring: Draco Malfoy trying to make it as a Muggle pop star, Harry Potter as our confused and horny hero, bad driving, good music, and the mysterious magic of falling for someone.

Waking Up Slow, Anon (E, 22k) - this ode to advent Drarry fics took my breath away with a charming Draco, fun dynamics, an enchanting Christmas shop and one of the sexiest smut scenes I’ve read this year, 10/10 recommend for hot & sweet magical vibes and lots of references as an homage to the classics!

'Twas the night before Christmas, although it’s July / Draco’s a shopkeeper, no-one knows why / There’s hiking and witch caves, freak snowfalls and more / Bad Christmas jumpers, nosy neighbours galore / Narcissa’s here too, but… something’s amiss / And what’s in those chocolates that’s making them kiss?

We Are Legend by Vaysh (E, 38k) - happy to report to @romaine2424 that I have finally read this epic apocalypse AU and am shooketh with its originality and serious tone. One of the most creative takes I’ve seen on animagus Draco, a poignant and devastating war story.

Eighty years into the future, Voldemort won. Harry Potter is a renegade wizard, Portkeying Muggles out of London to Hogwarts, last sanctuary in a Britain ruled by the Dark Lord. On a mission he encounters a powerful phoenix Animagus fighting on the Death Eaters' side. He recognises Draco Malfoy whom he thought long dead. But the differences between them are perhaps even greater than before. Cw: MCD

LA, Who Am I To Love You?, Anon (E, 42k) - I cannot believe this beauty was written for my lil Wireless prompt ♥️ perfect LA vibes, gorgeous aesthetics, horny ust and a fascinating take on both down and out bi Harry and out and proud bi Draco, we love to see it! Couldn’t have asked for a better story to fill my prompt, ty anon!

Harry’s summer in LA is not going as expected. Pansy Parkinson keeps inviting him to parties in the Hollywood Hills and harassing him to finally go to the physical therapist, Blaise Zabini keeps slipping new strains of his company’s magical weed into Harry’s pockets in hopes of an endorsement, and Draco Malfoy keeps having sex with everyone but Harry.

Rare Pairs

A Different Tune by November Snowflake (M, 8k) - very nice Dron get together, short & sweet with an undercurrent melancholy that I love, just what I needed before bed

Working in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office has led Ron to many strange encounters--but none more unexpected than this one. Cw: Harry’s dead

The Years Between by brummell (M, 14k) - another rare pair fave, this Rarry fic told from Ron’s smitten and jealous pov as he helps Harry recover from a coma is so deliciously raw and angsty. Gorgeous slow burn, the feels!

For both Harry and Ron, a wake-up call is just the beginning.

Things Remembered by avioleta (E, 17k) - best Snarry fic I’ve read this year, I’m low key obsessed with this hitmen + amnesia concept and how the romance develops so organically while they’re on the run. Intriguing plot, sexy ust and super scorching smut that made me salivate jfc 🔥

Harry wakes up in an unfamiliar bed, in an unfamiliar hotel room, and with absolutely no idea who he is. The man he’s in bed with has no memories either. But they think, maybe, they’re assassins, because they seem to be very good at killing people.

A Dress with Pockets by PacificRimbaud (E, 25k) - a Panville classic recced by anon (ty!!), what a sexy and vibrant read! I LOVED Neville and their dynamics are brilliant and so funny, I just couldn’t get enough of these characters. 100% sold on this ship pls and thank

Pansy Parkinson needed a drink. And a shag. She didn't care in which order. Enter: Neville fucking Longbottom and his rolled up sleeves.

[bellysoupset]

Hi Soup! Hoping you can spill your secrets about how you write your characters fighting with each other and making it both realistic and still loving? I'm always so scared about writing arguments even though I know they are a natural and healthy part of a relationship. For some reason I hate admitting my characters have flaws, but I know it makes them less interesting to always be so nice to each other. You have such a knack for balancing their personalities and the reasons they get upset with each other and then their apologies later.

Hi Lis!! Its so nice answering your asks off anon 😝

Alright so I've been thinking on how to better answer this, since I was literally writing a conflict when you sent it.

I think my tips to writing arguments/conflict are these:

Start small: anything can be a source of conflict, if you're inflexible enough. You don't need to give your characters these huge flaws, you can literally write fights out of one character thinking taking the main avenue is the best way to avoid traffic, while the other think they should do a shortcut and then when they get stuck they're both frustrated. None of these things make them evil or bad, it just gives them different perspectives and that's more than enough to start a conflict.

Everyone has flaws and everyone has bad behavior. Even your most precious OC. Being very harsh: Luke is too much, Jonah is selfish, Wendy is vain, Bella is proud, Leo is possessive, Vince is spineless, Max is judgmental. These don't make them terrible people, in fact, most of these traits have their own happy flip side.

Luke is too much, so he loves with his whole heart and with absolute no sense of consequence. Luke is the type of guy who brings everyone together and that people want to impress and be liked by, but this also the type of person who's highly susceptible to criticism (in his case, his father's), who takes reckless decisions, who is scared of being alone and who clings to people too tightly.

I often think a character's flaw and biggest quality can be quite similar. Vince avoids conflicts and that's what makes him this huge, likable teddy bear, but also why he's the type of person who omits information (cough, the whole deal with moving to Doveport), who'll avoid making up his mind for as long as possible and hurt those around him because of it.

So I do recommend looking into your OCs and thinking what makes them tick. Is Rory stubborn? Proud? He did go fishing into the deep sea and didn't want to own up to it to his friends, what does that say to you about him? Which situations would cause his worst side to jump out? And how would those around him react to that?

It's okay if not all characters are understanding to your character's flaws.

Jonah gets tired of Luke's intense personality easily. He's too secure in himself to want to be liked by Luke, like most people tend to, and he's too sullen of a person to tolerate his high energy. This doesn't mean he hates Luke, but it does mean that if Lucas' starts to lean into the worst of his personality, the first to lash out at him will always be Jonah.

Noa and Rory have been together for years, but how long did it take for them to get used to each other? Did they learn to avoid fights or did they compromise in certain aspects and keep fighting in others?

Another thing to keep in mind is to keep your fights clean. Unless you want to have a huge argument that will take you time to navigate and have your OCs changing their behaviors and personality, avoid fighting below the belt. If Nora brought up Rory's dead sibling in a fight, this would be below the belt. It's the type of hit you can't come back from, that requires not only an apology, but a change in behavior.

When Leo tells Jonah to not use his mental health against him, it's the type of fight that's drawing an invisible line and one that if I had Jonah repeatedly crossing, I'd be making his character toxic. That would be totally OKAY, by the way, if I meant to do that! Writing toxic characters is fun! But its not the story I'm telling, so I don't have Jon doing that, I have his character changing.

Uhhhh this is already so so long, so I'll quit the rambling. But I just wanted to say, don't be scared to make certain parts of your characters ugly and annoying and gross, we all are these things, and having someone who loves us despite our flaws and maybe even because of our flaws is much deeper than pretending to be perfect.

[thenoisethatkeepsmeawake]

Hi there! It seems like you watch a wide variety of horror movies. Could you recommend some interesting or unique vampire films that have caught your attention?

Hi there anon,

I'd sure like to help. Since you say "interesting or unique" I'll skip over the widely praised usual things. Vampire basics like Bram Stoker's Dracula (looks gorgeous, great cast, perfect soundtrack), The Lost Boys (peak 80s style) or Blade (great vampire action).

Only Lovers Left Alive - vampires are somewhat immortal and living long enough brings its own bag of emotions. Dread, depression, nihilism. Tilda Swinton and Tom Hiddleston play longtime married vampires living mostly apart and drifting back into each other's life for a bit. Also blood sucking isn't all that fun with todays diseases. (IMDB)

Near Dark - this is a classic, but sometimes it gets overlooked. Director/writer Kathryn Bigelow tells a sorta western story, but there are vampires in it, except we don't even call them that. It starts with young dude means a beautiful woman, and oops she bites him and then he falls in with the crowd she hangs out with. Lots of violence in this one. (IMDB)

Stake Land - I really enjoy the film "Daybreakers" about a world with vampires being the dominant species and the problems it causes, that is a wider known film of that variety. "Stake Land" is like the discarded sibling, focusing on a post-apocalyptic atmosphere. A vampire hunter finds a survivor who just saw his family being slaughtered and they drive cross-country to hopefully find a safe place. If you like typical zombie-apocalypse genre conventions, then this is a nice vampire version. (IMDB)

Shadow of the Vampire - really not a hidden gem, but I have to mention it. This film tells the story of the filming of Murnau's 1922 "Nosferatu", but in this the lead actor Max Schreck is actually a vampire. Willem Dafoe gives a wonderful performance and it's just film history wrapped into vampire drama. (IMDB)

What We Do in the Shadows - this was definitely unique when it came out and hey, it spawned a whole tv show. A mockumentary about vampires just living in the real world. Just fun to watch. (IMDB)

Cronos - this is Guillermo del Toro's first feature film and tbh it's been forever since I've seen it. There is a device that grants immortality, but the side effects are pretty much turning into a vampire (the hunger for blood, not going out in the sun). An old man finds the device and a not so noble businessman desperately wants it. Fun to see early del Toro and his use of monsters vs human evil. (IMDB)

A Girl Walks Home Alone at Night - an Iranian black-and-white film, about a female vampire who is drawn into some family drama about addiction. Not an easy watch, very stylistic (influenced highly by spaghetti western), but also really interesting with the themes of desire and danger. Unique for sure. (IMDB)

We Are the Night - if I'm really honest, I'm not sure I would even call this a good film. There is so much I'd like to change. BUT I also absolutely adore it for being unapologetic about a group of women doing what the fuck they want - as vampires. And there is a reason they don't turn men. This is something that can be build on. (IMDB)

Byzantium - full disclosure, I saw this once and didn't enjoy it much, but I want to give it another shot, because I think I was in the wrong mood back then. Director Neil Jordan is good with visuals and being weird like in "Interview with the Vampire", "The Butcher Boy" ot"Breakfast on Pluto". And here he tells a long interwoven life story of a mother and daughter vampire duo. In a world where vampires have a strict code and used to be mostly noble men. So there is class and gender in the mix, lots of sexuality (there is rape and prostitution) etc etc. Maybe this could be for you, idk. (IMDB)

Let the Right on in - always to be found on a list like this. There is the Swedish film (based on the book) and an US remake that made a few choice changes, but is overall still worth watching. Kinda a bummer to put it out as a vampire film right away. When I read the book I thought it was just a serial killer story and the twists and turns of who is who was a wild ride. There is a young boy who gets bullied at school, but befriends the new kid in the neighborhood who seems to live a weird life. Heavy themes about grooming and the true horror only sets in at the end. (IMDB)

As for simple vampire action, I do love the "Underworld" series. This year's "Abigail" shouldn't have revealed it was a vampire film at all, but it's very bloody and funny, so a quick watch. Also a bloody good time is "30 Days of Night", and I stand by my belief that red blood looks fantastic on white snow. If you like animated films, the anime "Vampire Hunter D: Bloodlust" is a great gothic vampire love story. There's lots to find.

[lorelune]

hey lore !!!!! I'm a big fan of your works <3 they honestly amaze me so much. i especially adore your world building it's just so ?? scrumptious ?! no seriously it's so good like i want to eat it up along with your characterization. i love how you enhance already existing world's as well as create new ones — not just world's but ways things work and intricacies within intricacies.. you provide such a clear idea that makes picturising it all so much easier and interesting

ive never written before other than some blurbs here and there on my notes app but recently hsr brainrot has been Hitting it lately and i've had way too many thoughts 💭 i was planning on maybe writing a fic.. but it requires insane amount of world building (and ik that's definitely not the right thing to start off on, as a new writer/for your first work but then again ig there is no right and wrong way to do it (?) it's more like my brain power might not support me and i’ll abandon it half way or something 🥲 haha) anyway i was wondering if you have any tips on how to worldbuild or build further on the existing ideas of certain organisations and all that sort.. there's just so many ideas haywiring and i would really love some advice if you don't mind. but no pressure !! sorry if this was too long,,

omg hello anon!! not too long at ALL hehe i'm gonna answer this below the cut hehe

first off THANK YOU 🥺!!! i appreciate your kind words so much <3 i really enjoy worldbuilding in my own writing and i'm very glad the ideas i bungle up translate well when actually in a story :'^) in my own little brainworld where i daydream, i tend to add details and layers to the original story that i do like... question if i can execute. so it is always nice to hear that they do in fact make it through 😭💓

as for advice!!

anon. so transparently. so REAL-y. if you have the brainworms for a story, even if its big and complicated and a lot to chew on it, just start!!! it is so intimidating truly but there is no better writing fuel than the muse of a story that has captured you. and!! if it does not end up finished, that is totally okay!! i have personally learned some of most valuable lessons writing while working on large pieces that ultimately ended up unfinished.

for more material advice:

when working on fic, i keep a lot of notes in a personal discord server. i have a wip channel and threads for certain fic ideas where i compile plot details, world details, fanart and inspo photos. it's super helpful!!!

one thing that helps me when i have big grand worlds in my head and i need to get them down and written is, instead of choosing to take a bite out of the whole world itself, i try to choose just a snippet or event and build around that. for example, in cicatrix, you get LOTS of lore abt calibrators and their relationship to the luofu, but plenty of what i had spinning around in my noggin didn't make it down. it wasn't relevant to the immediate story, event, or conflict, so it stayed unspoken. however, i think having really rich background going INTO writing these snippets of a larger universe helps fill things out and seem more like... lived in.

i will say. so indispensable. BETA READERS. the first few drafts of cicatrix where so ROUGH when it came to world building. i had the whole lore of calibrators and the luofu in my head, but getting it down clearly and in a way that made enough sense to an unknowing audience took a few read throughs and feedback by some lovely friends of mine. i highly recommend tracking down someone to read over your pieces and provide feedback on the things you're worried about!!!

and like... perhaps a little corny. but. believe in yourself. we are our own greatest critics, and the best attitude to cultivate toward the craft is that you can... do it. you just can. innately anon, regardless of experience, you can create the story and world you want to. bolstering a sense of confidence goes FAR esp if you end up writing a longer piece!!!

anon i got quite rambly asldkf. i hope this is in some way helpful!!! if you have any other questions, i am happy to answer!! i truly think writing immersive worlds is SO fun and engaging, and sometimes you just gotta. throw your hat in the ring. start the run and see where it takes you. i wish you such like and good tidings anon <3

[jolalibrary]

Hey there, I truly admire your openness about your anxiety, and I was wondering if you could offer any tips or techniques that have helped you, especially in the context of being active on this platform. Love your work!

tw: anxiety

hi anon! thank you so much, that's really nice of you. i deffo think i could be more open about it, but it's nice that I've been able to be open enough for you to reach out. i'm sorry it took me a day or two to get back to you, i just wanted to make sure i thought up/over things so i was being as helpful as possible! it's important for me to stress that my situation and my anxiety isn't going to be like everyone else's, and how i cope with it isn't like the "go to". but here are some things that help me (i am not claiming that any of these i came up):

creating a rainy day folder: bad days are a thing for everyone, but i know what things put me in a "stormier" frame of mind, and what i'm critical about. so, when things make me smile (comments, nice reblogs, tags, inbox, dms) i screenshot them and pop them in this folder. and when i need an extra boost (or some proof to fire back at my brain that it's wrong) i spend a bit of time in there. as it's me, it's highly organised HA! but, it deffo helps having the folder, and its reminded me, at times, why i love what i do here.

celebrate with cake: i'm a high-functioning person, who has super low self-esteem. for a good portion of my life (an embarrassingly large portion, honestly) good accomplishments were not celebrated. so, now i make a point to celebrate certain things with food (or books, if I'm reading a lot). one thing I've learnt with my anxiety is that it's easy to get into a cycle, and one way of breaking this is to stop and take the time to realise the milestones I've accomplished or how far I've come. just the other day, i took a walk to the shop and grabbed myself a chocolate bar. a year ago, i wouldn't have felt comfortable doing that by myself. and it's important to recognise those achievements when you've had a hard time. i also recommend everyone gets themselves cake when they finish a series (it's the rules, i swear).

learn about yourself: i'm going to be brutally honest and hope this doesn't bite me on the arse, but there are a lot of times i don't really like myself? i don't see the value i offer, i feel like i let people down, etc etc. it used to be worse, and one of the ways that helped me go from every day i didn't like myself to occasionally disliked myself, is by educating myself on me. I've spent a lot of time making myself small to fit in, I've done things others are into so i fit in to the point i wasn't sure who i was. so, when i had a menty-b (the name i call it), i sat with myself and learnt what i liked. music. movies. clothing. passions. hobbies. i have always written, but i wasn't necessarily writing things i loved. so, i changed it. i dated myself (a term lots of people use). i told my husband i was going to spend Friday nights with myself, and i did something i wanted to do. on my own. and in time, that helped with my anxious feelings and my fears about being online. because i spend a lot of time worrying about what people think, but by dating myself i could learn nice things about me - and that way, had things i could tell myself i knew were true: that i'm actually very nice, kind and really funny. it might not making pressing 'post" easier, but i can hold my chin a little higher?

set yourself a goal of happiness: we're all motivated by different things. sometimes, we make a mental goal to ourselves and it becomes blurred and distorted in numbers. but, if your anxiety (like mine) likes to have a thing to measure itself against, choose something that isn't numbers based, but happiness based. did someone tell you this month that your writing/art/gifs made their day? did something you say make them feel better? it's hard, it really is, and i know there will be people reading this and scoffing, but truthfully, one person telling me something i wrote made their day is all a jo really fucking wants. because i'm going to write regardless, it's a choice i make to share it. so, while i gave examples above, that isn't my current goal, but it was a goal i had, and as long as i try to remind myself of that it helps.

which leads me into, try to stay away from the numbers game which i know is hard. but it does nothing for an anxious mind. like, it's a fickle thing. moods change. don't base your worth on a number, you matter far more than it.

accept it's a part of you: this one is more about me, but since you're asking me i thought this is probably allowed. i have a long-term anxiety disorder - which took a long time to get diagnosed - and i have some other little... things that come with that. and for a long time, i felt broken. but, i was reading a self-help book (because your girl loves reading books about brains) and i realised that i have anxiety. it is already part of me. so i need to work with it. anxiety isn\t nice, it's not kind and it's really annoying. but it also makes me empathetic, it makes me care about the work i do (both here and in my day to day life), or makes me compassionate. whether you have it short term or long term, sometimes it's better to accept it's there, acknowledge it, but DON'T FEED IT. have the worries, and then halt them, tell them no. I've found fighting it before I've got the strength doesn't help me. but, waking up, knowing it's there, nodding at it helps keep it in check. this might not make any sense, but, you know.

and finally, the one i'm still working on is: i cannot fix everything and this is fun, so i need to ensure it stays that way for me. which i know isn't really a tip. but it's a good thing to remember. i am one person, it is not on me to check on every single person. it isn't on me to read every single thing. i don't have to engage with things i don't agree with, i don't have to say all my opinions. i can change fandoms. i can not post for a day/week/month. and all i have to do, if i want to, is offer my absolute best. that's it. it's hard. and it's tough to swallow. but sometimes, a jo just needs to be jo.

i am not sure if my rambling has been helpful, but i thought i could list these: plot your fic, find a buddy to talk about things with, surround yourself with good people. but I've said all of these. but the above are things i can do by myself. they are things i can control. and with anxiety, we're all just looking for the things we can manage, and so i based the list in that way. thank you for coming to my jo-talk, i'm going to go hide from being so vulnerable.

[misc-obeyme]

The anon's opinion on the otome games female main characters being sweet chicks was very interesting. I can relate to that. A perfect example of a female lead could be Beatrix Kiddo or The Bride from Kill Bill (I don't know if you have seen it but I highly recommend watching Kill Bill, if you haven't seen it. It's a great movie. However, I should warn you that it contains some pretty gruesome violence and gore. But if you can handle that, then I think you'll really enjoy the story and characters). Not only is it a different style of chick compared to these kinds of female MCs in otome games, but she's also her own reason and goal as she ends up in the main situation - meeting the other characters - not luck. Most otome games simply start with an MC who just accepts being in a situation around some hot guys.

This is an entire discussion within media in general, but it definitely varies depending on which type of media you're discussing.

I've seen Kill Bill and it does in fact pass the Bechdel test, which is really a good way to measure whether or not a female lead is a well rounded character on her own or only exists as a supplement to the male characters. The main rule here is that there should be at least two female characters who have a conversation about something other than a man. It's less about how many women are in the work and more about whether or not those women take an active role in the story. The idea that they have wants and needs outside of the men in their story.

The problem with dating sims is that all the characters are men. We have one female love interest in Thirteen, but she's the only one and she wasn't even around from the beginning.

I really feel like a lot of the issues Obey Me has comes from its format. Not only do you have an MC character that needs to fit as many people as possible while still being active within the story, but you've also got all dialogue all the time. There is no way to show the environment beyond the background images. Characters' inner thoughts are generally unavailable as well.

And in the case of a female lead, you're dealing with someone who needs to be generic by default.

You can certainly discuss why generic MC is always so kind and likable. Is that more about how society sees women and often prefers and praises women who are meek or nice or good at cooking or whatever? Or is it more about them trying to facilitate a love story between a generic character and any of the other characters?

If there were routes, you could be more picky about it, I think. Because they could make the "generic MC" the type of character that they know would be a good love interest for the romanceable character in that scenario. For instance, if you were playing a route to romance Lucifer specifically, they could give the MC character a little more personality to suit what they know would work well in a romance with him. However, when you're dealing with a cast of eleven characters that the MC could be dating, well then you need an MC that's likeable enough that all eleven of those characters will be able to fall in love with them simultaneously.

I'm not defending it or anything, I'm just saying there are major restraints to this kind of format.

What they have to do is create as generic an MC character as possible and hope that it works out for the players.

In media like movies and books, you definitely have more space to explore female leads that are different. Kill Bill is a good example. And generally I'd say this particular issue is improving in media as a whole.

But do I think it'll ever change for otomes/dating sims?? I have no idea, honestly. The best we can do for now is to reimagine the events as we play. I think this is why so many people tend to rewrite the whole story with their MC in mind. Because it would play out differently for every MC.

Anyway, sorry to ramble lol! But this is an interesting discussion!

[stunie]

Hello my beloved. If you are still doing matchups I’d absolutely love one. I’m off anon bc I am not shy and idc if you’re biased heheh ❤️

My day was not great tbh but hopefully tomorrow will be better. But my birthday is next Friday so I’m excited for that. Also sad. I’m going to be 27, time moves by so fast as you get older. I have nothing planned but maybe a nice dinner with my family. I am in sooooo many fandoms but they’re all listed in my pinned. I’ll take a matchup for any of those if that’s okay. I recently watched Bucchigiri and I’ve been obsessed with Zabu lately. He’s soooo handsome and a little pathetic and very loyal. If you haven’t seen it I highly recommend. Thank you for letting me yap ❤️ you are so loved

VIOLET !!! HIHI 🫂 it’s almost your birthday !!! i’m wishing you a lovely dinner & a happy day, happy weather, etc ^ ^ and ooo thank u for the rec :O looking into it !! I LOVE YOU MORE okok i came up with ..

KANJI NAKAMURA. he’s such a gentleman. a bodyguard. a great guy. i think he’s so dependable… walks you wherever you need to go, checks on you— although he’s pretty observant… he can tell whenever you’re down but he’d rather have you come to him yk? respects your space ^ ^ ALSO FLOWERS. very pretty bouquets… he knows what flowers you like !!! he’s asked shizuka & tsubaki for help at the beginning (he’s a little nervous … laughs a bit and rubs his neck .. middle pic for ref lol) AH. ITS JUST CUTE. staring at you two with sparkles like this ✨_✨

[sttoru]

to the 😶 anon i just wanted to say that you are so so strong for everything that you're going through and don't listen to the speech therapist !! ik they're technically qualified but a good therapist (speech or not) would never give up on their client or at the very least refer them to someone more qualified and trained.

i'm absolutely appalled and disgusted by their unprofessional behaviour, and please don't let them make you feel disheartened or like you'll never be able to speak again. i really and truly believe you can and you will no matter what, no one is beyond helping and that's the first thing we learn as psychologists/therapists.

trauma responses are incredibly tricky, especially ones like selective mutism. but if you haven't already i'd recommend seeing a psychotherapist alongside a new and better speech therapist. i'm not exactly sure how speech therapy works where you're based, but from what i know they're not specialised in dealing with the more psychological aspects of it, like with it being a result of trauma.

if you work to unpack the underlying cause of it first it could prove to be a lot more useful than just speech therapy alone. honestly from experience cbt does wonders and i'd highly recommend finding a good and qualified psychotherapist that specialises in ptsd/trauma responses. maybe put the speech therapy on pause for now and recuperate and when you're ready and comfortable look for a psychotherapist.

working at your own pace is so incredibly important and know that it doesn't matter how long you take, the road to recovery is a process that can't be rushed and a small improvement is still improvement!! even going back a couple steps is essential to progress and healing so please don't feel like it's not possible. it absolutely is and it's well within your reach.

i know i'm just a stranger on the internet but i really and truly believe you can do this and you've got this. i am so so proud of you for everything you've endured and i really hope that you report that speech therapist to their board or something. genuinely disgusting behaviour tbh i cannot believe it.

anyways i hope you feel better really soon and don't lose hope !! wishing you all the best forever and always <33

(also wishing you the best my lovely and i hope you're doing well too !! i hope you don't mind me sending such a long ask but as someone who's training to be a clinical psychologist (hopefully god willing) it genuinely fills me with such rage when i see rude therapists. you studied for so long and chose that occupation yourself how dare you treat clients/patients that way smh. anyways sending you all my love <33)

awwwww, its rlly nice of u to send such an encouraging message to the anon <3 you have a heart of gold 😽

i hope they read this and understand that what their previous therapist has said, was bullshit. finding a good therapist or psychologist, who’s certified to treat such cases, is so important and i hope they find that person. everyone deserves a chance for proper treatment !

thank you for speaking up and i bet its 100% appreciated ^_^ inshallah you’ll become the clinical psychologist you desire to be x and i’m sure you will bcs u r a sweetheart mwah

[more-than-a-princess]

Hi! Love your sonia characterisation and from your ooc posting, I see your tastes are great~ Can I ask the mun: do you have any recommendations for books or TV series? c:

Hi anon! Thank you so much for your kind words regarding my IC content and OOC ramblings, that's really nice of you to say. I'm happy to recommend some things (I admit I did a 'Stitch laughing maniacally on a pile of wreckage' when I got this ask because anon, I am not sure you know what you have asked to unleash!).

However, I wasn't sure if you were asking for recommendations for books/TV series that have directly inspired my Sonia portrayal, or recommendations of things I enjoy in general. With that in mind, I'm going to be sharing a long list of books, TV series, manga/webtoons, and story-based video games that I just happen to like.

If you're looking for media that has directly inspired my portrayal though, please send another ask and I'd be happy to narrow it down for you!

In order not to keep the dash tidy, everything is under a cut, with notes (some important, some just me making jokes) beside a few of them. I hope you find a new favorite book/series to enjoy!

Books: 

General Notes: For book series where the first book title isn't the series name, I've indicated which book to start with, save for the historical romances because that's easier to find online and there's a lot of them. I hope that helps! Additionally, for all romance series, assume that there is some mention of sexual content in various degrees of description, aka. "spice." Depending on your comfort level of literary sex, I highly recommend checking out each title on https://www.romance.io/ for their spice level rating, at the very least. The site will also show you tropes found in each book as well as reviews.

Contemporary Romance:

The Time-Travelers Wife by Audrey Niffenegger

American Royals series by Katharine McGee

Crazy Rich Asians series by Kevin Kwan (way, way better than the movie! It's a trilogy, followed by China Rich Girlfriend and Rich People Problems. I'd highly recommend this if you are writing a modern wealthy character of East Asian descent. Yes it's romance, humor, and contemporary family drama, but it gives what's apparently a very accurate look at high society)

Spoiler Alert by Olivia Dade (if you are looking for contemporary romance with plus size heroines, you want to check out Olivia Dade! Also Mary Warren and for young adult romance, Kelsie Stelting)

Modern Royals series by Aven Ellis (start with A Royal Shade of Blue)

The Royal Runaway by Lindsay Emory

The Royal We by Heather Cocks and Jessica Morgan (and its sequel, The Heir Affair)

One Last Stop by Casey McQuiston (this was better than Red, White, and Royal Blue, IMO)

Fantasy Romance:

Throne of Glass series by Sarah J. Maas

A Court of Thorns and Roses series by Sarah J. Maas

Crescent City series by Sarah J. Maas

A note about SJM series: I highly suggest reading TOG or ACOTAR first, with the understanding the first three or so TOG books and the first ACOTAR books have a slower pace and are more about worldbuilding than anything else. Read Crescent City after these two (CC 1 is also a big, long worldbuilding book). You must read ACOTAR to read CC, but you do not need to read TOG to read CC (though you'll miss some of the references/easter eggs!). 

The Empyrean series by Rebecca Yarros (Start with Fourth Wing)

The Shepherd King duology by Rachel Gillig (Start with One Dark Window)

The All-Souls Trilogy/series by Deborah Harkness (Start with A Discovery of Witches)

Historical Romance:

Don't Want You Like a Best Friend by Emma Alban

Love by Numbers series by Sarah MacLean (start with Nine Rules to Break While Romancing a Rake. If you finish this series and like her writing, move on to the Bareknuckle Bastards series and the Rules of Scoundrels series)

Spindle Cove series by Tessa Dare (start with A Night to Surrender. If you liked this series, move on to the Castles Ever After series and the Girl Meets Duke series)

pretty much anything by Lisa Kleypas (Bridgerton fans? This is how you get over your hangover/wait between finishing the books and/or Season 3. start with the Wallflowers or the Hathaways series, then move onto the Ravenels and the Bow Street Runners series. This is mostly historically the chronological order with crossover characters between the Wallflowers and Hathaways. Bow Street Runners is chronologically before Wallflowers but it's disappointing if you read it first, trust me!)

everything by Jane Austen. Just everything. 

Series/books I'm in the middle of/currently on my TBR list so I can't recommend them fully yet but I'm actively reading them:

The Folk of the Air series by Holly Black (start with The Cruel Prince)

Letters of Enchantment duology by Rebecca Ross (start with Divine Rivals)

Crowns of Nyaxia series by Carissa Broadbent (Start with The Serpent and the Wings of Night)

Hades x Persephone saga by Scarlett St. Clair (Start with A Touch of Darkness)

The Shadow and Bone trilogy by Leigh Bardugo (and Six of Crows. And everything else: I've yet to dive into Bardugo's series) 

A League of Extraordinary Women series by Evie Dunmore (Start with Bringing Down the Duke)

Royals series by Rachel Hawkins (start with Prince Charming)

Infamous by Lex Croucher

The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue by V.E. Schwab

The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo by Taylor Jenkins Reid

Legends & Lattes by Travis Baldree

Deliciously Dark Fairytales series by K.F. Greene (Start with A Ruin of Roses)

TV series:

Downton Abbey (my love for this show runs deep. It changed my life!)

The Gilded Age (Carrie Coon deserves an Emmy for this at some point I s2g)

The Crown (Claire Foy is the best QEII, Elizabeth Debicki is the best Diana, Josh O'Connor is the best Charles)

Gossip Girl (original 2007 series, not the remake)

The Royals (the E! show)

Succession (Come for Brian Cox emotionally and verbally harass his children, stay for Kieran Culkin, Jeremy Strong, Sarah Snook, Matthew MacFayden, Conheads, and a Ludicrously Capacious Bag.)

The White Lotus (Tanya is ICONIC.)

Miss Scarlet and the Duke

Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries (If you like Miss Scarlet, I can almost guarantee you will like Miss Fisher. And vice-versa.)

All Creatures Great and Small (the remake)

Sanditon

Black Mirror

Skins (UK series only)

Sex Education

The IT Crowd (the creator is an ass. The show is eternal.)

The Great

The Sopranos

The Empress

The Fall of the House of Usher

Midnight Mass (arguably the best Flanagan series. Fight me.)

Marie Antoinette (2022 TV series)

Dickinson

Euphoria

Stranger Things

The Tudors

Versailles

Unforgotten

Endeavour (you don't need to have seen Inspector Morse beforehand but it helps contextualize where some of this cast ends up in the future! Endeavour is the best murder mystery show ever written, IMO. Unforgotten is a close contender for second place.)

Outlander

Sherlock

Mad Men

The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel

American Horror Story (earlier seasons are way better than the later ones)

Gentleman Jack

Ted Lasso

Emily in Paris

Pride and Prejudice (the 1995 miniseries with Colin Firth)

Books and TV (that is, read and watch both!):

Bridgerton (books by Julia Quinn)

Magpie Murders (books by Anthony Horowitz. One of my few book recs that isn't a romance! Horowitz is a wonderful contemporary mystery writer)

Webtoons/manga:

(Because some people prefer manga/webtoons to novels! I have read all of these on MangaKatana. Mostly fantasy romance and contemporary romance, several have been made into J or K-dramas)

Under The Oak Tree

See You In My 19th Life

What's Wrong With Secretary Kim?

Like Wind on a Dry Branch

Marriage of Convenience

Father, I Don't Want to Get Married!

We Are Not Ourselves Today

An Hour of Romance

Innocent (The sole historical drama over here. Every sex and violence trigger warning you can imagine applies to this manga. It is also one of the most beautifully-drawn and intriguing stories I've ever read. Rose of Versailles fans, this is for you: this is your fave but darker.)

Marry My Husband

Video games with excellent storytelling:

(mostly. These are primarily otome games, mystery visual novels, and horror visual novels):

Zero Escape: The Nonary Games (there are three games in this series: 999, Virtue's Last Reward, and Zero Time Dilemma)

AI: The Somnium Files (There are currently two games in this series, AITSF and AITSF: Nirvana Initiative. Zero Escape and Somnium Files are basically required to play after Danganronpa. I said what I said: the storytelling is better)

Code: Realize (The best storytelling of all otome games, hands down. Do not watch the anime: it sucks. The first game is the best and really the only one you need to play. The other two games have okay side stories and are mostly romantic continuations of the first game's routes)

Collar x Malice

Cupid Parasite (mostly for the last two routes, though: if you're using a walkthrough guide. Generally much lighter than your usual otome...save for the last two routes that serve to break you.)

Higurashi no Naku Koro ni (you could watch both seasons of the original anime if you really want to, but the games are better)

Umineko no Naku Koro ni (Note: please keep in mind this was written 10+ years ago in Japan, especially when you get to the Big Reveals in the final game. There are Some Takes that would go over poorly today. Like Code: Realize, do not watch the anime: IT SUCKS.)

Spirit Hunter: Death Mark

Spirit Hunter: NG (You don't technically have to play Death Mark first but it makes one of the endings far more impactful if you do!)

Honorable mentions:

Hakuoki (so many routes, so very long! But if you like Japanese history around this time, you may like this)

Olympia Soiree (good on the more mature content, bad on some of the LIs giving me pause like 'this is not a good romance idea')

Amnesia: Memories (I'm not a fan of the female main character or two of the LIs. At all.)

Piofiore (Similar complaints as Amnesia.)

[yonemurishiroku]

So a while back you covered Nico being a child of Hades but a legacy of love, either Aphrodite or Venus whatever, and I figure with that he'd be something of a siren, drawing people into their deaths.

which would go kind of cool with your whole Poseidon/Nico thing your doing. thoughts?

In light of the recent Mermay prompts, I offer you my wholehearted gratitude, because holy jesus mary joseph and all of his carpenter friends, this is brilliant!!! 🥺🥺🥺

Now. This is a lot to unpack, bc ngl my brain can come up with a bunch of things when it comes to the whole... love and death thing, so to speak. I... also don't know what, exactly, is the Poseidon/Nico thing I was doing at the time of this ask (Apr 18 - I'm so sorry anon 😭😭😭) so I guess I'll just... ramble.

A vision comes to me upon reading this (wow it sounds like Rachel). The concepts of Love, Death, Siren. And I think of a vortex. Or a black hole, maybe?

It's kinda hard to explain. By definition, a vortex is a mass of air or water that spins around very fast and pulls objects into its empty center.

I mean it as in: when you lack something, you tend to seek it out, hold it in tighter, draw it in. Because you don't have it, so you desire it more than ever. And the force by which you pull it in must be enough to win over anything that's keeping you away from it.

What does Nico have to do with it? Well - and this involves quite a lot of my headcanons - Nico's a born extrovert with lots of love to give. He craves affection. He wants to be loved. But things happen and love is the last thing he's given throughout the story. He keeps giving away without receiving, and it creates a vacuum inside his chamber of a heart. And when the time comes that someone pokes a hold in it, or it just... breaks - the air - which, in this case, is Love - gets sucked into it.

Overall, a siren is a predatory creature (?) who feeds on sailors. But, have you ever considered a story of loneliness? - In which, perhaps, the deserted, abandoned siren crying out for acceptance at the bottom of the ocean, hoping for the love they have lost their hope in having?

It's like a water vortex. It sucks you into the deep, into its empty center, drowning you meters under the water's surface - like a Siren pulling you down, down to your death - Death, because that's what Nico is.

He pulls you to Death, to where he's locked in and what he is - to keep you with him.

Which brings us to Poseidon.

Ngl Happy would do this better than me. A lot. LMAO. He had a whole thing about Poseidon/Nico which I'm pretty sure I can never compete with (not that I want to. I'm very much happy leeching of his content 👀🥺). Highly recommend going for his blog if you like Poseidon/Nico btw.

But anwwwww we're here and you've chosen me of all people to ask. So.

Poseidon. Obviously, he isn't scared of sirens. And I'm pretty sure he can take some water disasters or whatnot.

He's also staying at the bottom of the ocean. Well, that saves a trip to your lover. Yeah I think it'd be kinda nice, you know? - you call out from the depths of darkness and crushing pressure, only to have someone amidst that darkness and pressure come to you.

And surely Poseidon has enough water to fill that emptiness at the heart of that vortex, don't you think?

I think it'd be nice. Atlantis is basically the wetter version of the Underworld anyway.

I wish I could provide some headcanons but my back hurts, so let's just hope Happy catch winds of this and idk maybe feeds us with his own input... 😭😭😭

[peppertaemint]

Aaah, do you think the members will ever make it onto Twitter? Accounts and stuff? I saw my moots going crazy because their idol talk to the fans almost everyday on Twitter, not only that, but he follows their accounts and comments their posts, aaaah, a dreaaam if the SHINee members would do thaaat. WHAT DO WE HAVE TO DO?😮‍💨

Hello Anon,

So they did dabble in Twitter during its heyday. You can see Jonghyun's twitter here. Highly recommended. He was a MENACE.

Taemin has used the SHINee account twitter before, but I don't think anyone else has or had an account. Key has always been an IG guy. Minho and Onew seem social media averse, but both now use IG.

I'm sorry to say I don't think anyone will be like Baekhyun just running wild on Twitter talking to me people. Also, they use Bubble to speak directly to fans in a more personal way. I was very skeptical of Bubble when I heard about it, but once I understood it, I think it's a nice service for both artist and fan. There is something special about it. Like, Minho has used it during uncertain times to give fans a direct message and comfort. And Taemin had used it to share more personal feelings. Key likes to use it to share private-ish photos and videos, and he will go off on everyone if they leak. Onew has been using Bubble during his rest from work, which has been nice too.

[destinyc1020]

The SAGs are not the Golden Globes, which is an organization exposed for taking substantial bribes, not having any Black members and being basically a little club of friends that don't work for any major press outlet. In general, the Andrea Riseborough incident showed how political awards are in Hollywood. Andrea did a movie that nobody saw (it made like $40k at the box office), but the wife of its director is a very well connected woman in Hollywood and she mobilized all her influential friends to vote for Andrea. She also said that the 2 strong black candidates, Viola Davis and Danielle Deadwiller (Till), were shoe-ins, so they didn't have to vote for them. Viola and Danielle were left out, and Andrea got the nomination. People can have fantasies about not needing "white awards" but that's not how the industry works. You can have 1000 NAACP and BET awards, but if you don't have a "mainstream" award, you'll have a hard time getting financing for your projects. I highly recommend this op-ed by Gina Prince-Bythewood, the director of The Woman King, to better understand award politics and their importance for POC hollywoodreporter.com/movies/movie-features/gina-prince-bythewood-oscars-shutout-the-woman-king-1235319026/

Thanks Anon for this! I'm going to take a read.

I already know that Hollywood awards shows are political. I've always known that. It still doesn't change the fact that it's very nice to be acknowledged by your peers for your hard work... no matter WHICH awards show it is. 🤷🏾‍♀️

Hollywood in general is political. Always has been.

That documentary that I saw and loved ("This Changes Everything") really opened up my eyes to how things operate in the business. It's very interesting to say the least. I always knew there were barriers but didn't realize just how many. I also didn't realize just how calculated what is shown to the masses. Many talented individuals are not even given a chance to make the films they want to make. 🥴

Highly recommend checking this documentary out. It was very well done. 👍🏾

Another great doc is "Is That Black Enough For You?"

Def worth checking out! 😊👍🏾

[sparkledgroove]

HII HELLO!

bom bom pak!! Its me, one of ur loyal anon followers (hint: that one requester who (for the first time ever - i think) asked for kpop idol graphics)

Since I've noticed you've been into vtubers (hololive specifically)... Can you suggest me some vtubers from hololive (or any indie or corporate) where they're quite fun?

(or maybe just name sole vtuber you usually tune into!)

Why did i even ask this you wonder?? Well... Since ive been stuck with 2434 en (which it's state is.... Uhm, yk!) And i was thinking about expanding my (crumbling) interests on vtubers

(basically, me trying to find more corporate (or indie) vtubers that exists)

I hope this makes sense (and sorry if this is long HELPDMSK....)

HELLO MY LOYAL ANON FOLLOWER!!! and yes you were the first congratulations !!!! yeah the current state of 2434 is....something! But I, tumblr user sparkledgroove, is here to help! (The best I can atleast) for hololive, I usually watch Ninomae Ina'nis and Koseki Bijou in en! I enjoy watching their streams and vods whenever im not busy/if I’m able to catch up , Ina is a little more calm than her genmates but watching her drawing streams and games are very nice :) i also really like Bijou SHES SO CUTE AND FUNNY and it’s fun watching her play games! I also really like Nerissa and definitely recommend her for obvious reasons BUT also she’s very fun to watch too!

Outside of hololive I also really like many talents from Phase-Connect as well!!! I really recommend Eimi Isami from their newer en gen PhaseEuphoria SHES SO FUNNY i actually have yet to watch her vods but from her debut stream yeah I highly recommend her :-3c i also recommend the agency Idol, especially their en gen E-sekai they’re all rlly funny and it’s fun to watch them especially in collab streams!

Overall I do recommend practically EVERYONE in HoloEN, they all have their own unique charm that it’s hard to choose a favorite . Sorry if I wasn’t much help BUT it was fun to ramble about the types of vtubers i enjoy and shine some light on other corporations!