#just in an unconventional way that I didn’t predict

[shouldprobablybereading]

Oh I think I was just spoiled on something for ssp4…..

I have 11 different tags filtered and it just showed up in my feed, not even from someone I follow just as a “based on your likes” in my regular feed. Yeah I am mad

[aventurineswife]

I'm currently experiencing hsr brainrot help me, may I request aventurine, blade, sunday, jing yuan and boothill about their types or preferences(appearance, personality, and stuff like that) for their future significant partner? I'm not sure if this had been already done so ignore if yes!! Also I'm a new follower and I've read many of your works recently, I really love your writing style and how it ticks my brainrot just righttt ♡♡♡

HSR Characters and their preferences in a S/O

A/N: I tried my best here, but I didn’t get into specifics about hair color, eye color, or other physical attributes (except for scars and such). So please, don’t come after me (I’m joking, of course). After all, at the end of the day, it’s all fictional! 💀 And this is just my personal opinion on what the men would want in a S/O 😇. I hope you like this!

Appearance:

Aventurine is captivated by individuals who radiate subtle individuality—those who blend sophistication with an undercurrent of boldness. Unconventional touches like asymmetrical accessories, vibrant patterns, or a daring hairstyle intrigue him, especially when worn with confidence.

He’s drawn to a balance between practicality and elegance—someone whose style is functional yet carries an artistic flair, a quiet rebellion against conformity.

A piercing gaze, sharp and confident, mesmerizes him. He loves the challenge of eyes that seem to see past his charm and into the broken truths he hides.

Scars, blemishes, or physical imperfections catch his attention. They whisper untold stories he aches to unravel, providing a glimpse into the person beyond the surface.

Personality:

Aventurine seeks a partner who thrives in the dance of words and wit. He’s fascinated by someone who can keep him guessing—playfully resistant to his charm and never predictable.

He’s drawn to people who’ve endured hardship and emerged stronger, finding common ground in shared trauma or survival instincts.

While Aventurine guards his vulnerability, he craves someone with the emotional intelligence to see past his bravado. Their ability to intuit his needs, even when unspoken, creates a sense of safety.

He admires a grounding presence—someone self-assured yet humble, who can counterbalance his more dramatic tendencies without overshadowing him.

Compatibility:

High-stakes situations invigorate him, so he appreciates a partner who thrives under pressure. Whether it’s in a game of strategy or a tense negotiation, he seeks someone who can match his composure and cunning.

Trust is a slow-burning process for Aventurine. His partner must be patient, willing to navigate his walls without forcing him to open up before he’s ready.

Dynamic:

Aventurine doesn’t just want a lover—he needs a partner-in-crime. Someone willing to embrace the thrill of calculated risks, whether it’s a dangerous gamble or a perfectly executed scheme.

They balance his indulgent tendencies, providing a steady hand when he flirts with self-destruction. Together, they form a dynamic duo—equal parts chaos and control.

Appearance:

Blade has little concern for traditional beauty, focusing instead on the feeling someone evokes. He’s drawn to understated traits that exude calm, mystery, or quiet strength.

A serene or enigmatic aura captivates him, especially in those who seem like they’ve weathered storms of their own. Scars or imperfections are less flaws and more badges of survival—silent testaments to a shared pain.

There’s a certain poetry in subtlety that Blade finds magnetic, such as the way someone carries themselves or a fleeting, knowing glance.

Personality:

Blade’s ideal partner must embody gentle resilience—a quiet strength that offers stability amidst his chaos. He’s not drawn to overt displays of power but rather to those who endure with grace.

His partner needs to respect his emotional distance and allow their bond to deepen organically. They provide solace through presence, not pressure.

Understanding his guilt and anger without pitying him is crucial. He needs someone who offers comfort without trying to “fix” him.

He admires individuals who remain true to themselves, even in the face of his volatility. Their grounded nature becomes his anchor.

Compatibility:

Blade struggles with verbal affection and grand gestures. His partner must value actions over words—small, meaningful gestures like a shared silence or a comforting touch.

Loyalty is paramount. Blade often tests boundaries, whether intentionally or not, and needs a partner who remains steadfast in their care.

Dynamic:

Blade seeks a relationship built on mutual protection. His ideal partner isn’t there to save him but to walk beside him as he confronts his demons.

Their love is a slow-burning fire, marked by quiet moments of vulnerability and unspoken understanding. They don’t demand his trust but earn it, piece by fractured piece.

Appearance:

Sunday gravitates toward those with an ethereal or graceful quality—a beauty that feels otherworldly yet grounded. He appreciates the quiet elegance that reflects his Halovian heritage.

Symbolic trinkets or meaningful accessories, like earrings or pendants, resonate deeply with him, mirroring his love for intricate details and subtle meaning.

Personality:

Sunday is drawn to those who counter his melancholic worldview with a hopeful, compassionate perspective. He needs someone who gently challenges his ideals without dismissing his emotions.

His partner must possess a quiet, unwavering self-confidence. They confront his twisted philosophies with patience and understanding, offering a grounding presence.

A partner with a playful streak appeals to him, especially when it contrasts with his solemn demeanor. Their lightheartedness reminds him of life’s simple joys.

Compatibility:

Sunday needs a partner who can understand his lofty ideals and gently challenge them, offering a grounded perspective that helps him reconcile his desire for a perfect world with the imperfections of reality. They should help him navigate his philosophical struggles without dismissing his emotions.

Sunday thrives in a relationship where emotional depth is paired with moments of lightness. His ideal partner balances serious conversations with a playful streak that brings joy and reminds him of life’s simple pleasures, helping him reconnect with spontaneous joy.

Trust is built slowly for Sunday, so his partner must be patient, allowing their bond to deepen organically. They should provide stability and comfort, supporting him as he works through his emotional walls and guiding him toward growth without forcing him to change before he’s ready.

Dynamic:

Sunday’s ideal relationship thrives on emotional intimacy. His partner navigates his philosophical struggles with care, providing warmth and optimism without trying to fix him.

They challenge his tendency to idealize perfection, helping him rediscover beauty in imperfection and spontaneity.

Appearance:

Boothill is drawn to raw, unrefined beauty—someone who’s lived and survived, marked by the stories their body tells. Scars, tattoos, and bold fashion choices are a reflection of resilience and adventure, and he admires individuals who wear their history as a badge of honor. He’s captivated by those who can rock vibrant, contrasting colors or mismatched styles with confidence, projecting a sense of strength and individuality.

He’s particularly fond of eyes that burn with fire and determination—eyes that match his intensity, yet hold a vulnerability only the right person can see. Confidence is key, but it’s that unpolished confidence, the kind that’s earned through hardship, that pulls him in.

Personality:

Boothill craves a partner who can match his fierce energy and boldness. He’s drawn to those who share his burning passion for justice and fighting for what’s right, even if it means breaking the rules. He admires fearless individuals who challenge authority and embrace a world of gray, not just black and white.

A sharp, witty partner who can banter with him is essential—they need to hold their ground in arguments, but still know how to make him laugh. Beneath his hard exterior, he secretly yearns for warmth and loyalty, someone who sees past his rough exterior and recognizes the vulnerabilities hidden underneath.

Patience is a challenge for him, but he seeks someone who can balance his impulsive nature, tempering his decisions with wisdom while never dulling his fire. The ideal partner doesn’t just soothe his rage—they fan the flames in the best way possible, stoking the fires of his passion and his purpose.

Compatibility:

Boothill’s partner would have to keep up with his relentless pace, matching him in the heat of battle as much as in life. They must be able to stand beside him during intense moments of action, yet offer solace and understanding in quieter, more reflective ones. His ideal relationship is built on equal footing—where passion and respect for one another fuel their connection.

Their dynamic would never be boring—full of challenges, shared adventures, and a fiery bond formed through trials, risks, and the occasional reckless decision. They would push each other toward greatness, not with soothing words, but through daring acts of loyalty and love.

Dynamic:

Boothill wants a relationship full of intensity, one where his partner isn’t afraid to stand by him, even if it means navigating chaos or defying the odds together.

This is not a relationship where either party is passive—it’s a partnership of equals, where each individual’s strength and spirit fuel the other. Their love would burn brightly, fueled by both passion and unshakable loyalty, with both of them walking side by side through any storm, ready to fight for each other and what they believe in.

Appearance:

Jing Yuan is drawn to elegance and grace—someone whose appearance radiates composure and quiet strength. He appreciates fine details and a refined aesthetic, as he values artistry in all aspects of life. A partner who can carry themselves with quiet dignity, with clothing that flows or intricate designs, would catch his attention.

However, while Jing Yuan admires serenity, he finds himself captivated by the unexpected spark in someone’s personality. A playful glint in the eye or a mischievous smile is enough to unsettle his calm demeanor, drawing him in even more. He appreciates someone who can maintain their elegance but isn’t afraid to reveal the more unpredictable, adventurous sides of themselves when the moment calls for it.

Personality:

Jing Yuan is in search of a partner who has a calm, patient demeanor—someone who understands the complexities of his strategic mind and the burdens he carries. His ideal partner is not only compassionate and wise, but also someone who can see the long-term view, matching his ability to think and plan for the future.

At the same time, he’s charmed by a partner who can bring a sense of spontaneity to his life. While he thrives on stability, he appreciates the occasional touch of unpredictability—someone who can light a fire under his more sedentary tendencies, adding a dash of excitement to the otherwise peaceful routines he enjoys. He values a balance of tranquility and energy, where his partner’s playfulness can bring joy without overwhelming him.

Compatibility:

Jing Yuan’s ideal partner would have the patience to stand by him through quiet moments of reflection, as well as the capacity to engage with him in deep, meaningful conversations. They would respect his thoughtful, strategic nature, while also encouraging him to take moments of respite, enjoying the beauty of life’s simpler pleasures together.

They would need to understand his need for a sense of long-term stability, yet not let him become too withdrawn or passive. A deep intellectual connection, rooted in shared wisdom and mutual understanding, would lay the foundation of their bond. Their connection would be built on the steady progression of trust and affection, growing subtly over time.

Dynamic:

Jing Yuan seeks a partner who can offer emotional intimacy without pressuring him for more than he’s ready to give. They’d share moments of serene companionship, where quiet silences are comfortable, and words aren’t necessary to convey their bond. However, his ideal partner wouldn’t shy away from challenging him, nudging him out of his intellectual ruts and helping him see the world in a new light.

The dynamic would be one of mutual respect, with his partner both grounding him and adding an unpredictable spark to his life. While he values peacefulness, he enjoys the occasional adventure or light-hearted moments that break through his more serious demeanor, reminding him that even in the pursuit of wisdom, life can be full of wonder.

P-please don't come after me...😭😕

[choerypetal]

The Prank / Harry Potter

summary: Being Draco Malfoy’s sister offers significant advantages in Slytherin, with strong platonic ties to Mattheo and Theodore and a protective brother. Consequently, Harry's chance to make an impact might rely on an unfavored prank, providing him an unconventional path to disrupt the existing dynamics.

ps; english ins't my first mother tongue language if any grammar error is seeing through the story, it will be eventually corrected by me. enjoy!

Harry was all too aware of the weight his last name carried. His fame, a double-edged sword, had shaped much of his life and interactions with others. Among his classmates, it was a constant presence, a reminder of his place in their world. But there was one person who had caught his interest in a way no one else had—someone who saw past the fame and into the person behind it. That person was you.

But somehow, just looking at you wasn’t enough for Harry. He had become utterly fascinated by you—by your values, your independence, and, most intriguingly, the stark contrast within your own family name. Being a Malfoy had brought its privileges, but you had carved out your own identity, distinct from the expectations of your lineage. With a fiercely protective brother and a mother who showered you with care, you were surrounded by the trappings of tradition. Yet, you had found a way to stand apart, to be your own person. It was this strength that drew Harry in, making him feel both intrigued and conflicted.

He almost felt ashamed for even entertaining the thought—seeing himself with a Malfoy. It was a notion that seemed impossible, yet it lingered in the back of his mind, impossible to ignore.

It was during a rainy day, early in autumn, when most students sought shelter either in the Astronomy Tower or, like you, found solace in the quiet of the library before lunch. The sound of rain pattering against the windows created a soft background noise as you browsed the shelves, hoping to steal a few moments of peace. Your brother, Draco, and his ever-loyal group of friends had been abuzz with excitement about their latest scheme to alleviate their boredom. 

And, of course, in typical Draco fashion, he was predictably drawn to stirring trouble with Harry Potter. His lack of originality when it came to tormenting the Gryffindor had become almost a routine, a familiar dance between the two. You, however, found yourself growing tired of the same old rivalry, even if it was expected in the Malfoy name. Today, more than ever, you felt disconnected from it all, your mind wandering elsewhere.

As you finally located the book you’d been searching for, Theodore Nott appeared in the hallway, offering you an escort to the cafeteria. It was a small but thoughtful gesture, especially considering that Draco hadn’t even bothered to come get you himself. You smiled at Theo’s presence, appreciating the effort despite your brother’s predictability.

“Theo, you know I can make my way there alone. My brother doesn’t—” you began, but Theo quickly shook his head, cutting you off with a knowing look. His expression suggested that Draco’s insistence had been genuine, or perhaps it was just convenient timing.

“I must indulge you on the matter, Y/N,” he said, a hint of amusement in his voice. “But Draco insisted I pick you up. For subtle measures, of course. He wanted to make sure you weren’t... you know.” His words trailed off, but you knew exactly what he meant. Draco always had his protective streak, often imagining threats where there were none. Theo’s tone was light, but there was an underlying concern from Draco, no matter how overbearing it might seem.

Theodore didn’t need to sugarcoat it—the truth was clear. Draco didn’t want you crossing paths with Potter, and though you hadn’t, the underlying message was always there. “Fine,” you relented with a playful sigh. “And since you’re already here to escort me,” you added with a mischievous grin, “why don’t we intertwine arms and you can whisk me away to lunch? I can’t bear to hear my stomach rumble in protest again.”

Theo mirrored your grin, clearly amused by your sudden shift in tone. Without missing a beat, he extended his arm. “I shall, My Lady,” he said with exaggerated formality, linking his arm with yours as you both made your way to the cafeteria, the earlier tension dissipating into shared humor.

Harry had already been in the cafeteria for a while, arriving before Draco as he slumped at the Gryffindor table. His disheveled appearance and tired eyes were telltale signs that he hadn’t slept well—likely out on one of his late-night excursions around the school. He had probably lost a few Gryffindor house points, for his lack of subtlety, but the consequences didn’t seem to bother him much.

Just as he was about to respond to Ron’s incessant complaints, his eyes shifted naturally, almost instinctively, from his untouched plate to where you entered. He didn’t quite understand how or why it happened. Chosen or not, it felt like a curse. The sight of you—so effortlessly poised—gnawed at something deep inside him, making him feel unsettled, even sick to his stomach. You, a Malfoy, represented everything he should stay away from. Yet, somehow, you always drew his gaze, an unwelcome and persistent distraction that pained him more than he cared to admit.

And there you were, moving with effortless grace, your hair catching the cool autumn breeze that slipped in through the slightly open windows. It swept through the room in a comforting way, though it seemed to stir something far less peaceful in Harry. As you made your way toward the Slytherin table, Pansy’s voice called out, greeting you from afar, but Harry’s gaze had already found you—unbidden, magnetic.

Your eyes met his across the room, and for a brief moment, something like understanding passed between you. His heart clenched at the sight of your slight smile. It was nothing more than a fleeting, innocent gesture, but to him, it felt like a wound. Oh, how he longed to just stand up, walk over, and close the distance between you. Like Draco would. Like Theodore, or any of your friends, could without a second thought. But he couldn't. He was Harry Potter, the Gryffindor hero, and you were a Malfoy. The invisible line between you felt impossible to cross, even as every fiber of his being ached to do just that.

“Y/N,” Draco’s voice rang through the air, sharp and authoritative, instantly pulling you—and Harry—back to reality. Harry’s heart sank as he turned, catching the familiar sneer on Draco’s face. Your brother had a talent for making himself impossible to ignore, and judging by the look he shot Harry, it was clear he wasn’t just here to fetch you. He was delivering a warning.

“You look absolutely ridiculous sitting there,” Draco continued, his voice dripping with irritation as he strode up to you, arms crossed. “People will start to think there’s something going on between you and Potter, and you know what Father would say about that.”

His words carried the weight of the Malfoy legacy, a burden you had carried for as long as you could remember. The invisible chains of expectation wrapped around you, tightening as Draco’s cold eyes bore into yours. Harry clenched his fists under the table, resisting the urge to say something, do something. But he knew better—Draco was already spoiling for a fight, and Harry wasn’t about to give him an excuse. Not here. Not now. Even though his chest burned with frustration, he simply sat there, watching, waiting, and silently hoping you'd choose to defy your brother’s words.

“I know,” you murmured quietly, your words barely audible as you approached the table, your sigh lingering in the cold air. The weight of Draco’s presence pressed down on you, but as you sat, your gaze lingered on Harry for a fleeting moment, catching his eyes once more. It wasn’t just his gaze this time—both Ron and Hermione were watching too, their faces clouded with concern. They knew, just as well as you did, the unspoken rules of your world. A love like this, between you and Harry, was forbidden, as if the mere thought was destined for tragedy.

As you settled in, you caught Harry’s lips moving, his quiet whisper to Ron barely reaching you. "There’s no way I can. Just look at her brother. He wants me dead. I’m not worthy of her love.”

The words stabbed at you, even from across the room. You saw the doubt, the resignation in Harry’s eyes, and it mirrored your own inner turmoil. The weight of your family’s name, the constant scrutiny, and Draco’s looming presence—it all made the idea of being with Harry seem impossible. And yet, the connection between you both felt undeniable, as if the universe had pulled you together in defiance of the very forces trying to tear you apart.

"Not worthy." The words repeated in your mind like a slow, haunting echo. Even as your friends chattered loudly about their next cruel prank on Potter, you could barely register their voices. Your fork hovered over the plate, numbing your movements as your thoughts spiraled. You were barely present, your focus lingering on Harry, on his defeated gaze, on the hopelessness you read in his lips. That was until Draco’s voice slithered in, dripping with arrogance and disdain. “Sister,” he muttered as he leaned in beside you, fingers boldly stealing food from your plate. He didn’t care to mask his smugness as he licked the remnants of the sauce from his fingers, his eyes drifting towards Harry’s table, locking in for a brief moment. His gaze then slid back to you, sharp and accusing.

“A little bird told me it was wrong to stare,” Draco said, his voice taunting, as if daring you to deny it. His smirk deepened as though he had caught you in some hidden act of treason.You quickly turned your head, breaking the invisible connection between you and Harry. Your heart raced with the silent understanding that Draco had seen it—the shared glances, the tension neither you nor Harry could fully conceal.

Draco leaned in closer, his voice lowering to a dangerous whisper, “What’s going on, Y/N? Don’t tell me you've taken a liking to Potter. You know what Father would say. What I’d say.” His tone dripped with malice, a quiet threat laced in every word.

“Especially— when they stare back at us.” 

You rolled your eyes, fixing Draco with your signature glare. His snarky smirk only deepened, clearly enjoying the discomfort he was causing. “Don’t fret, Y/N,” he said, his tone laced with mockery. Theo’s voice cut in, carrying a darker edge. He held his glass with an almost possessive grip, his eyes never shifting towards Harry’s table. “It’s not as if it’s not obvious who he’s obsessed with,” Theo said, his voice filled with disdain. “I don’t like it one bit.”

Mattheo joined in, his presence bustling with energy as he, along with Blaise, added their two cents. He leaned in to peck your cheek, his lips brushing against your skin. “Tell me about it,” he said, his voice low and conspiratorial. “He’s been murmuring your name during Snape’s class. Creepy, if you ask me.”

Their words washed over you, adding to the already heavy tension you felt. You could almost feel the weight of their disapproval pressing down on you, mixing with your own swirling emotions. The combined voices of your friends were a harsh reminder of the precarious position you found yourself in—caught between the expectations of your family, the harsh judgments of your peers, and the undeniable pull you felt towards Harry.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself amidst the growing chaos. “I appreciate the concern,” you said, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside. “But can we focus on something else for now? I’d rather not have the entire cafeteria knowing my business.” The conversation shifted as your friends begrudgingly complied, their murmurs fading into the background. But the feeling of being scrutinized, of having your every move and emotion laid bare, lingered, reminding you of the impossible choices you faced.

The realization hit you like a jolt, a spark igniting your curiosity despite the swirling chaos around you. The way Harry’s gaze seemed to follow you with a mixture of longing and helplessness, even in the face of Draco’s and your friends’ disdain, piqued your interest further. His eyes, intense and unwavering, betrayed an emotion that went beyond mere admiration. 

The peck on your cheek from Mattheo, once a simple gesture of camaraderie, now felt like a stark contrast to Harry’s silent, persistent gaze. It was a reminder of the stark divide between what was expected and what was truly felt. The starkness of Harry’s unspoken affection contrasted sharply with the superficial gestures you were accustomed to, like Mattheo’s fleeting touch. You found yourself wrestling with conflicting thoughts. Could Harry’s feelings be genuine, despite the walls and barriers that surrounded both of you? Could he truly harbor something deeper than the casual affection you had seen from others, akin to what you had seen with Riddle’s more manipulative displays?

As the cafeteria noise buzzed around you, you forced yourself to refocus on the present. The day’s events had revealed more than you’d anticipated, challenging your assumptions and stirring a storm of emotions you’d rather not face. In the midst of the laughter and conversations, you felt a renewed determination to understand the depth of Harry’s feelings, and why, despite everything, he continued to look at you with such unwavering intensity. The path ahead was murky, filled with shadows and uncertainties, but you were now more resolved than ever to uncover the truth behind those haunted, hopeful eyes.

Hermione’s nudge seemed to snap Ron out of his distasteful reverie, his eyes shifting to her with a mix of confusion and curiosity. “What was that for?” he asked, his tone laced with irritation but tinged with curiosity.

Hermione, ever the mediator, shot Ron a look that was both reproachful and sympathetic. “It’s just that,” she began, choosing her words carefully, “Y/N’s been dealing with a lot lately. And,” she hesitated for a moment, glancing over at you, who were now engrossed in a quiet conversation with Theodore and Mattheo, “she might not show it, but it’s clear there’s more going on than meets the eye. Harry’s not the only one with feelings here.”

Ron’s expression softened, though his brow remained furrowed. “You think we should—” “—I think we should be supportive,” Hermione cut him off gently. “We don’t know what’s really going on with Y/N and Harry. And honestly, with everything that’s happened, maybe it’s time we gave them the benefit of the doubt. Besides, the last thing we want is to make things worse by adding to the drama.”

Ron nodded, albeit reluctantly. “Alright, fine. But if things get out of hand—” Hermione cut him off again with a reassuring smile. “We’ll handle it. For now, let’s just be here for Y/N and not add more fuel to the fire.”  The conversation shifted as the two of them turned their attention back to their meal, while Hermione’s words lingered in the air, a subtle reminder of the complexities of emotions and the importance of empathy in a world full of uncertainties.

Hermione’s recollection of the party was like a wave of nostalgia mixed with a hint of envy, and her eyes softened as she continued. “You were stunning that night, Y/N. The way the dress accentuated your every move, it was like you were meant to be the center of attention.”

Ron, still blushing, shifted awkwardly in his seat. “And what’s that got to do with anything?” Hermione gave him an understanding look. “Harry’s been thinking about you a lot, Ron. That night, especially. He couldn’t take his eyes off you. It was as if he was caught between admiration and frustration, because he couldn’t get close to you the way he wanted.”

Harry, who had been silently listening, shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “You don’t have to bring up the party, Hermione. It’s... embarrassing.” Hermione smiled gently, her tone soothing. “It’s not about making anyone uncomfortable. It’s about understanding that there’s more going on beneath the surface. Harry’s not just pining away; he’s been genuinely affected by you.”

Ron, still flushed but now a bit more thoughtful, glanced at Harry. “So, you really do care about her, huh?” Harry nodded, his gaze earnest. “Yeah, I do. I don’t know how to make it right, but I do care.” Hermione’s expression softened further, and she patted Ron’s arm reassuringly. “See? It’s not all about giving advice or judging. Sometimes it’s about recognizing when someone’s struggling and just being there for them.”

Ron nodded, a hint of understanding dawning on his face. “Alright, I get it. Maybe we should just let things play out and support Y/N, and Harry too.” Hermione gave him a grateful smile. “Exactly. Sometimes the best thing we can do is to just be there for each other and let things unfold naturally.” As the conversation drifted back to other topics, the air was lighter, and the underlying tension seemed to ease. For now, the focus was on navigating the complexities of emotions with a bit more empathy and understanding.

Hermione’s teasing tone was gentle but persistent. “She mentioned you often, Harry. It wasn’t just idle chatter. That night, she was so taken with you that she couldn’t stop talking about how you caught her attention. Even when she tried to play it cool, it was clear she was struggling with her feelings.”

Harry shifted uncomfortably, but a small, genuine smile tugged at his lips. “Really? I didn’t realize I made that much of an impression.”Hermione nodded, her gaze thoughtful. “She tried to keep it hidden, but it was obvious. She spoke about how conflicted she felt, especially with Draco hovering around and her own feelings about the Malfoy name. It’s not just about admiration; it’s deeper than that. She was worried about what people would think, especially considering your past with Draco.”

Harry's eyes widened slightly, realizing the depth of your struggle. “So, she’s been dealing with a lot more than just—” Hermione interrupted gently, “Yes. It’s not just about you being ‘handsome’ or whatever. It’s about her own internal battles and the fear of being judged for her feelings. That night, she was quite a mess. And despite her attempts to hide it, her vulnerability was apparent.”

Harry felt a pang of regret and concern. “I wish I had known. Maybe I could have helped her through it.” Hermione placed a reassuring hand on his arm. “It’s never too late. Understanding what she’s been through is the first step. She needs to know that someone cares, without judgment. And right now, she needs to see that you’re not just someone she’s worried about but someone who genuinely wants to be there for her.”

Harry nodded, his resolve firming. “I’ll find a way to show her that. I don’t want her to feel like she’s alone in this.” As the conversation wrapped up, the mood shifted to one of mutual understanding and determination. Harry’s newfound clarity about your feelings and struggles gave him the motivation he needed to approach the situation with sensitivity and care.

Draco’s plan was set with his usual confidence, and though you felt a twinge of unease, you knew better than to question him openly. “Tonight at dawn, then,” you agreed, your voice soft but resolute. The instructions were clear, and Draco’s expression was one of satisfaction as he dismissed the others, leaving you with your thoughts and preparations.

As the evening approached, you couldn’t help but feel a mix of apprehension and resolve. Draco’s scheme was typical—using you as bait to catch Harry Potter in a moment of vulnerability. It wasn’t the first time you’d been used in one of Draco’s schemes, but the stakes felt higher this time. There was something more personal about this plan, especially considering how your feelings for Harry had been evolving.

The hours ticked by slowly, and as midnight approached, you found yourself pacing in your room. You had to remind yourself that your role was to lure Harry into a situation where Draco could confront him. It wasn’t about your own feelings or the growing empathy you felt for Harry. It was about following orders, maintaining your loyalty to your brother, and not causing any more trouble than necessary.

When the clock struck midnight, you slipped out of your room, carefully making your way to the library. The corridors were eerily quiet, the only sounds being the faint echoes of your footsteps and the distant creak of the castle. As you approached the library, you spotted Harry in the dimly lit space, hunched over a stack of books. He was absorbed in his reading, his focus evident. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for the task ahead. The plan was simple: engage Harry in conversation, lead him into a situation where Draco could confront him, and hope that everything would go according to plan. As you made your presence known, Harry looked up, his expression a mixture of surprise and curiosity.

Harry’s initial surprise quickly turned to curiosity as he looked up from the book he was studying. The dim light of the library cast a soft glow on your face, highlighting the delicate features and the genuine concern in your eyes. As you bumped into him, the contact was fleeting, but it left an impression—one that made Harry's heart race.

He looked at you, taking in the way you seemed genuinely apologetic, a stark contrast to the usual icy demeanor of your family. “It’s alright,” he said softly, his voice betraying the same mix of surprise and unease that you displayed. He took a step back, his hand lingering a moment longer on yours before he released it. “I didn’t expect anyone else to be here this late.”

The library was a place of refuge for him, a sanctuary away from the prying eyes and expectations of the outside world. Seeing you here, and in such an unexpected way, felt like a strange twist of fate. The vulnerability in your voice was palpable, and it drew him in, compelling him to stay longer than he might have otherwise. “I didn’t mean to intrude,” you continued, your voice barely above a whisper. “I was just... getting a few more books before heading back.”

Harry nodded, his gaze not leaving you. “No, it’s fine. I’ve been spending a lot of time here lately. It’s peaceful.” There was a pause, the silence between you filled with the distant hum of the library’s quiet atmosphere. Harry could see the way your eyes darted around, perhaps anxious or simply uncomfortable. The contrast between your nervousness and his own hesitation created a quiet tension, one that seemed to draw them closer.

“So,” Harry began, trying to break the ice, “What are you reading? Or... studying, I guess?” The question was simple, but it opened the door for conversation, allowing both of you to escape the awkwardness of the moment. He hoped that, perhaps, talking about something more neutral might help bridge the gap between you and him.

Harry’s breath hitched as you closed the gap between you, your hand brushing against his chest and your fingers lightly gripping his tie. The proximity was electrifying, and he could feel the warmth of your body against his, a stark contrast to the cool air of the library. His heart raced, a mix of excitement and apprehension coursing through him. Your voice, soft and almost seductive, drew him in further. “You know...” He swallowed hard, his eyes locked onto yours, trying to make sense of the sudden shift in your demeanor. “What... what do you mean?” he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper. The library, once a haven of solitude, now seemed to pulse with a different kind of energy, one that was both thrilling and nerve-wracking.

The space between you was almost nonexistent, and Harry could feel the heat radiating from your body. His mind raced with questions and possibilities, unsure of what to expect but unable to pull away. The library’s shadows seemed to deepen, adding to the intensity of the moment. “What’s going on?” he managed to ask, his voice trembling slightly as he tried to keep his composure.

Harry’s eyes widened slightly at your confession, his mind racing to process your words. The pink flush on your cheeks was unmistakable, adding to the growing intensity between you. He could barely believe what he was hearing, especially considering the way you had approached him.

“I... I stare?” he managed to stammer, his voice cracking slightly with surprise. The vulnerability in your admission made his heart race even faster, and he struggled to find his voice amidst the whirlwind of emotions.

You could see the hesitation in his eyes, but also a glimmer of something deeper—a curiosity, perhaps, or a hint of hope. Your fingers, still lightly touching his tie, gently encouraged him to close the distance between you even further.

“Yes,” you said softly, your voice carrying a blend of shyness and determination. “I noticed. And honestly, I’ve been thinking about it. About you.” You took a deep breath, gathering the courage to continue. “It’s not just about the way you look at me. It’s more about how you make me feel when you do.” Harry’s gaze softened, the tension in his shoulders easing as he took in your words. The library, with its quiet and secluded atmosphere, seemed to wrap around you both, creating a cocoon of intimacy.

“Y/N, I...” He paused, his eyes searching yours for any sign of pretense. “I didn’t know you felt that way. I’ve always admired you from a distance, but... I didn’t think you’d feel the same.”

The uncertainty in his voice was palpable, but there was also a flicker of hope and longing. Your confession had clearly affected him, and he seemed to be grappling with his own feelings as he looked at you. The library’s shadows seemed to deepen, heightening the emotional weight of the moment. “Are you sure?” he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper, as if afraid to break the fragile connection between you. “Because... if you are, then maybe we should... talk about this more. Together.”

Until the sudden noise from the corridor startled both of you. The unmistakable sound of footsteps echoed through the library, breaking the intimate moment you were sharing. Harry’s hand froze beneath your chin, his eyes darting toward the source of the noise with a mix of concern and disappointment.

The library’s shadows seemed to dance around you as you both pulled away, the spell of the moment shattered by the intrusion. You exchanged a glance, your heart still racing, and Harry’s face reflected a blend of frustration and urgency. “We have to... we should—” Harry began, his voice hurried as he glanced back at the approaching footsteps. He reached for your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze before letting go. “We can’t be seen here.”

You nodded, feeling the weight of the interrupted moment but also the lingering excitement of what had almost happened. You quickly gathered yourself, smoothing out your clothes and trying to regain composure. The footsteps grew louder, and you both knew it was time to make a swift exit. With one last meaningful look, Harry gave a small, almost apologetic smile before you both slipped away into the labyrinthine stacks of the library, seeking refuge from the unwelcome interruption.

As you parted ways to avoid detection, the promise of what might have been hung heavily in the air, leaving both of you with a mix of longing and anticipation for what the future might hold.

Harry’s fist collided with Draco’s face in a sudden burst of anger and defiance. The impact sent Draco stumbling backward, his surprise quickly morphing into a mix of pain and fury. The library’s atmosphere shifted from one of tense anticipation to chaotic confrontation.

Draco’s eyes blazed with indignation as he wiped the blood from his split lip. “How dare you!” he spat, his voice laced with rage. “You have no right to touch her!”

Theodore and Mattheo, momentarily stunned, quickly regained their composure. Theodore’s smirk faded as he stepped in front of Draco, his own anger boiling over. “You think you can just waltz in here and act like you own the place?” he sneered.

Mattheo, still holding a mocking grin, was quick to chime in. “Looks like Potter’s got a bit of a temper. How amusing.” You moved to stand between Harry and your brother, your voice trembling but determined. “Please, just let him go. This isn’t helping anyone.”

Draco, rubbing his jaw, shot a venomous glare at Harry. “You think this is over? You’ve just made things worse for yourself.” His voice was low and menacing, filled with the promise of retribution. Harry, breathing heavily, glared back at Draco. “I’m not afraid of you or your threats. Let’s settle this somewhere else, away from here.” You could see the frustration and desperation in Harry’s eyes, a reflection of your own turmoil. “Harry, please. Let’s just go before things get worse.”

The tension in the library was palpable, each of you caught in a complex web of emotions and conflicting loyalties. Draco, Theodore, and Mattheo seemed ready to pounce, but the realization that the situation was spiraling out of control was clear to all. With a final glance at you, Harry reluctantly stepped back, his anger still simmering but controlled. “Fine,” he said through gritted teeth. “Let’s go.”

As you and Harry made your way out of the library, your brother’s furious eyes followed you. The confrontation left a bitter taste, but it also solidified the resolve between you and Harry. The path forward was uncertain, but the bond between you had been tested and, despite the chaos, had grown stronger.

Outside the library, the cool night air felt like a welcome release, and Harry’s hand found yours again, offering a comforting squeeze. The events of the night had only intensified the feelings between you, leaving both of you with a mixture of relief and anticipation for what lay ahead. But not until Mattheo had the last words in your defense. 

Mattheo’s voice cut through the chaos, his frustration evident as he tried to intervene between Draco and Harry. “You’re such an asshole!” he shouted, his anger palpable. The library’s peaceful ambiance was now a battleground of shouts and clashing spells, and the situation seemed to escalate by the second.

Draco and Harry were locked in a heated struggle, their spells and curses lighting up the library like a chaotic light show. Theodore was trying to separate them, but his efforts were in vain as the two continued their relentless battle. The intensity of their fight was palpable, each movement fueled by a mix of personal vendettas and raw emotions.

Mattheo, seeing that his attempts to break up the fight were futile, resorted to threats. “I’ll tell Father about this!” he roared, his voice filled with menace. “You’ll regret this!”

Despite Mattheo’s threats, Harry and Draco were too caught up in their conflict to heed his warnings. The air crackled with magical energy, and the sounds of spellcasting and grunts of exertion echoed through the library’s aisles.

Amidst the commotion, you felt a mix of panic and determination. You stepped between the combatants, your voice rising above the din. “Enough! This has to stop!” you shouted, trying to grab their attention.

But your words were lost in the chaos. It was clear that neither Draco nor Harry was willing to back down easily. The library’s tranquility was shattered, and the once-serene study space was now a scene of conflict and anger.

Realizing that a more drastic approach was needed, you tried to summon your own magic, casting a powerful barrier between the two fighters. “Stop it now!” you commanded, your voice filled with authority. The barrier shimmered with a protective light, momentarily halting the duel and forcing both Harry and Draco to take a step back. The sudden ceasefire gave everyone a chance to catch their breath, but the tension was far from resolved.

Mattheo, still seething with anger, glared at you. “This isn’t over,” he warned, his voice dripping with venom. “I’ll make sure of it.” With a final, furious look at Draco and Harry, you turned to lead Harry away from the scene. “Come on,” you said urgently. “We need to get out of here before things get worse.”

Harry, still breathing heavily and with a look of determination in his eyes, followed you out of the library. As the two of you exited into the night, the cold air felt like a balm against the heated emotions of the confrontation. The events of the night had left a mark on both of you, but the bond between you had been tested and strengthened in the face of adversity. The path ahead was uncertain, but together you faced it with a renewed sense of resolve and connection.

The scene in the library had reached a fever pitch of chaos and confusion. Despite your desperate attempts to intervene, the fight between Draco and Harry had become almost uncontrollable. Each spell and curse seemed to add fuel to the fire, and even with your friends and Professor Snape now involved, the confrontation continued to spiral out of control.

Professor Snape's authoritative voice cut through the tumult, commanding the situation with a chilling firmness. “Hospital, now,” he ordered, his tone brooking no argument. His presence brought a semblance of order to the chaotic scene, and he quickly took charge, guiding Draco and Harry toward the hospital wing.

You reached out to Harry, your voice trembling with concern as you tried to hold onto him. “Harry, please, let me help—” His response was strained but resolute. “Don’t,” he said, his voice edged with pain and exhaustion. He pushed your hand away gently but firmly, signaling his desire to deal with the aftermath on his own terms.

Feeling helpless, you watched as Snape and the others escorted Draco and Harry out of the library. The corridor’s dim light cast long shadows, and the tension hung heavy in the air as they moved toward the hospital wing. You were left standing alone, the aftermath of the confrontation weighing heavily on you. Your friends gathered around, their faces reflecting a mix of concern and confusion. Hermione’s hand found yours, squeezing it reassuringly. “We need to make sure they’re okay,” she said softly, her eyes full of empathy.

You nodded, though your mind was a storm of conflicting emotions. The fight had revealed deep-seated tensions and unresolved feelings, and now, all you could do was hope that the wounds—both physical and emotional—could be healed.  As you made your way toward the hospital wing, you couldn’t shake the feeling of dread that settled in your chest. The night had taken a turn that none of you had anticipated, and the road to resolution seemed fraught with challenges.

The hospital wing's door loomed ahead, and you braced yourself for what lay beyond. The events of the evening had left scars that would take time to heal, but you knew that facing them was the only way forward. With a deep breath, you steeled yourself and stepped into the unknown, ready to support those you cared about and navigate the complexities of the relationships that had been strained by the night’s events.

The next morning, you hadn’t slept a wink. Mattheo found you alone in the common room, your sleepless night evident in the dark circles beneath your eyes. “Didn’t sleep?” he asked gently. You didn’t respond, your whole demeanor blank and distant. He sighed, understanding why you were silent and why you hadn't spoken to Theodore, Blaise, or Enzo.

“Look,” he continued, “I tried to tell your brother it was a bad idea. Even Pansy would agree with me. We were all against it—knew how you felt about Potter. And though everyone might think otherwise...” He paused, waiting for you to meet his gaze. When you finally did, your eyes glassy and weary, he added, “I’m genuinely glad to be the first to hear that you and Potter are together.” His smile was warm, sincere, and offered a small beacon of comfort.

“But... what about Draco?” you asked, your voice tinged with uncertainty. Mattheo raised an eyebrow, immediately understanding who you were referring to. “Draco? Forget him. We’ll figure something out. If we need to keep your relationship a secret, so be it. I just want you to be happy—me, Theodore, everyone else.” His words were sincere, and you hugged him tightly, your face pressed against his chest.

“Finally, the peepsqueak is awake,” Theodore’s voice cut through the moment, a smile on his lips. He looked relieved to see you up. “Where were you?” you asked, feeling a mix of exhaustion and curiosity. “In the hospital wing. Harry’s been given a day off. He wants to see you.” Despite Theodore’s attempts to sound upbeat, you could sense the undercurrent of concern in his tone. A sigh escaped you, unsure if you were ready to face Harry. But Mattheo’s reassuring squeeze and the silent nod of support convinced you to go.

Harry sat on the hospital bed, Hermione at his side while Draco slept nearby, his presence barely acknowledged. “I’m sure she wasn’t…” Hermione whispered, trying to keep her voice low as Draco shifted restlessly in his sleep. “From what you’ve told me, it seems more likely that he set her up. Regardless…”

Harry’s gaze shifted, and he noticed you standing there, looking even more fragile than the night before, a clear sign of the toll it had taken on you. Hermione, who had been speaking, fell silent as Harry’s eyes met yours. 

“If you want to see him, he’s here,” Harry said, his voice carrying a hint of threat. “It would be helpful if you picked him up.” Hermione’s reaction was swift; she slapped Harry gently on his wounded arm, her disapproval evident.  Although you appreciated the offer, you barely acknowledged it. Your focus remained on Harry. “Harry…”

His eyes closed tightly, a clear sign of his struggle to process your words. “Harry… please listen to me,” you pleaded, your voice trembling as you fought back tears. A choked sob slipped through your lips. “I didn’t know anything about it, not even the prank. My brother mentioned something about you, yes… But never in a thousand years would I have thought it would come to this, especially when I was about to confess my love for you…”

His eyelids softened as he listened, his anger wavering. “And the fight... After you were taken away by Snape, Mattheo—strange as it may seem—is on our side. He trusts you with his life, more than...” Your gaze shifted nervously from him to your brother. With a hint of disgust, you added, “More than him.”

Harry paused, a heavy silence settling between you. Hermione nudged him, silently urging him to speak. His brow arched in questioning, “You meant it?” His voice was filled with a mix of hope and disbelief. 

“Yes,” you replied, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside.

“Everything.” 

As you approached quietly, Harry flinched slightly at your sudden presence. Hermione took her cue and left, giving you a reassuring smile before exiting. You settled beside his bed, reaching out for his hand. Though he tried to pull away, the connection was too strong to resist. He loved you, despite everything.

"Harry James Potter," you said softly, using his full name as you leaned in, echoing the intimacy of the previous night. "I loved you from the very first moment. Will you accept this kiss?"

Harry's heart swelled with a mix of affection and relief. A gentle chuckle escaped him as he cupped your face, his smile tender and sincere. "You may, Y/N Malfoy." 

With that, he leaned in, meeting your lips with his, sealing the promise of his love.

[captainpains]

Wedding Vows (Wrecker x reader)

For @autistic-artistech in the @cloneficgiftexchange. I had so much fun writing this and it helped me with my writers block. I hope you enjo💕💕

Prompt: I can’t believe this is happening

Warnings: fem reader, making shit up about wedding traditions, FLUFF, established relationship, Wrecker being adorable

~

You took a deep breath as you nervously pulled at your dress. You honestly never thought that you’d end up here, in a beautiful dress with a bouquet.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” you breathed as you looked at yourself in the mirror.

You met the bad batch at the start of the war, when you were assigned as their team medic. You didn’t know that Wrecker would become so dear to you.

“Wow! You’re short!” The first words Wrecker said to you.

“Wow! You’re tall. I think everyone is short to you.” You replied, somewhat sarcastically, looking up at him.

Wrecker gave a hearty laugh, “I like this one!”

It was an odd way to start a job – or a friendship – but you really did like working with the batch. They were chaotic but (despite what they seem to think) reliably predictable. It was a weird dynamic that provided a bit of stability in such an uncertain time. Hunter was a very stoic and good leader. Tech was really smart, if a little arrogant and emotionally unavailable. Crosshair was terrifying but his sarcasm made him slightly less so. And Wrecker was very loud, but kind and sweet to you. He was the first one to accept you as a part of the batch. It probably helped that Wrecker was the one who needed the most regular medical attention. 

“Ya know I don’t think I need the bacta shot after all.” Wrecker nervously bargained as he eyed the needle in your hand.

“Oh, well the fact you’ve been moaning about how much pain you’re in is definitely not a reason to give you some bacta.” You sarcastically said, but you placed a hand on his large shoulder to help ground him. “And breathe in…”

You were always especially gentle when caring for Wrecker. None of the batch liked getting any medical attention, and you were weary of it. But if the others noticed that you gave Wrecker extra special attention, they never mentioned it.

You don’t quite know when your feelings towards Wrecker started to become amorous. Maybe it was when he started to talk to you more about topics not related to the missions. Or maybe it was when he started to sit much closer to you.

Or more likely it was when he’d defended you in the midst of a battle gone wrong.

“You really have to be more careful,” you scolded as you cleaned one of his wounds.

“But, I don’t want you to get hurt…” He mumbled, looking at his hands on the edge of his knees.

You stopped what you were doing and looked at him. He had a solemn look on his face that you’d seen him have before. You grabbed one of his hands, causing him to look at you.

“And I’m thankful for that…” You said, sincerely. 

Wrecker engulfed you in a hug. You gave a small smile and hugged him back. He placed his head on your shoulder. He took a few deep breaths before letting you go.

You continued to smile as you worked on wrapping one the wound on his arm. Wrecker was affectionate with you but this time it felt different. More meaningful. 

When you finally confessed your feelings for one another, it was in a very unconventional way. At the end of a mission, Wrecker had blown up a pirate hideout. You still had no idea how, but he managed to make the smoke from the explosion spell out your name. It was probably the sweetest and most Wrecker thing he could’ve done.

That one date obviously turned into many, many more. And when

A knock on the door brought you out of your thoughts.

“Hey…” Hunter said as he opened the door. “It’s time. Are you ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.” You gave a nervous laugh.

Hunter nodded and offered his elbow. You placed your arm through his and walked together towards the balcony where the ceremony was taking place.

“You seemed a little out of it.”

“I was just thinking, is all.”

“Having second thoughts?”

“Never.”

You reached the top of the aisle and Hunter moved away from you, walking on the otherside of the chairs to stand next to Wrecker at the altar.

You took a deep breath and started to walk down the aisle. Wrecker stood at the end with a large smile, in his freshly painted armor. He didn’t consider himself a mandalorian, at least not as much as Hunter did, but that tradition he wanted to honor. 

When you reached the end of the aisle, you handed the bouquet to Omega and placed your hands in his. 

Shep was standing in the middle of the arch you two were under, ready to officiate the wedding.

“And we will begin…”

You smiled at your groom and he gave a large grin back. 

“We have gathered here today to join two souls together. Fate and love will now entwine these two forever more. And we celebrate their union and honor them as they deserve. Now for the vows. Both the bride and groom have decided to say their own vows.”

He gave a nod to Wrecker, the sign for him to start talking.

“I want to start by sayin’ thank you for helping my family. You are the best medic that we could’ve asked for. I’ve known since I first met ya that you were an amazing person, but you’re more than that. You are the kindest and funniest person that I’ve ever met. You are the most beautiful person I have ever seen, and I am excited to wake up with you everyday. I promise to love and care for you. I promise to be your friend and partner until the day I die.

“Wrecker, I love you more than anything, And would not trade this life for anything. I love your laugh and your smile. You are one of the best people I have ever met, and I promise to love and care for you, for the rest of our lives.”

“You may now kiss the bride.”

You ecstatically threw your arms around your husband and happily kissed him. Wrecker wrapped his hands around your waist and lifted you up into the air. You broke the kiss to squeal.

The attendees laughed. Wrecker put you down.

“Now it’s time to party!”

[raccoon-eyed-rebel]

Part 22

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Part 21 🟣 Part 23

A reverse harem vampire AU ft. Mikey, Marshall, August and Sherlock

Series summary: Somehow, you've managed to live with your boyfriend and his roommates for months before finding out they're vampires, but the real shock first comes when they find out you have a special quality. A quality the guys would love to make use of...

Warnings: Fluff, ongoing vampire shenanigans, abusive parents, drama, angst, more drama.

Word count: 2.3k

A/N: Alright so actually I'd completely forgotten that I had this finished, and I found it today, so... enjoy!

@geralts-yenn @deandoesthingstome @summersong69 @ellethespaceunicorn @mis-lil-red @sillyrabbit81 @livisss @itsrubberbisquit @ktficworld @proud-aroace-beastie

Three weeks later you had all but forgotten about Katie’s threats, and you were getting ready to spend a day in with your four favorite guys, gathering snacks, drinks and blankets for a cozy movie-marathon — something you felt you very much deserved because not even August had been able to ward you of all the discomfort of having that IUD put in.

Your plans were disrupted by the doorbell. Sherlock opened the door, and though you couldn’t hear exactly what was being said, you recognized that voice immediately.

“May I inquire what this is about?” Sherlock asked politely, not immediately ready to let the strangers inside.

“We were informed that our daughter is living here, and that we should go see her.” You’d recognize your mother’s distinctive accent anywhere. It cut through all other sounds — and not in a good way… Sherlock turned to look at you, and you nodded as you tried to swallow the lump in your throat.

“Darlin’!” your mom pulled you into a hug, and after that your dad did the same, only in a much more possessive way. Your mother looked around the room, at the table full of snacks, the nest on the couch and the four guys in the living room. “Are these friends of yours?”

“These are, eh… my roommates,” you stammered, surprised you had even managed to choke out a single word of that sentence. This was not going to end well.

“You’ve been living with four men?” Your father looked as though his face was about to explode. You could have seen that coming. You should have seen that coming. Just like you could have predicted your mom’s gasping and proverbial pearl-clutching. What were they even doing he—Katie! That bitch.

“Yes, mom,” you said, your voice betraying you. They were never going to approve of this arrangement, never mind the other arrangement you had with the guys. Maybe there was a chance you wouldn’t have to tell them about that.

Of course, they weren’t just going to leave — especially not after such a long drive — so August made everyone coffee while trying to keep you as calm as possible. Mike tried a few times to get closer to you, but you shook your head. Having four guys as roommates was strike one. A boyfriend would be strike two, and possibly also three. Learning that any of them was a vampire would likely give your dad an aneurysm. Not that that would be such a bad thing, but still. You were so completely unprepared to have this conversation…

So you drank your coffee and introduced your partners as friends, tearing off little pieces of your heart with every word, not so much because of the lie you told your parents, but because you couldn’t gather the strength to tell your family about your situation. Yes, it was unconventional, and yes, it was absolutely going to cause some really big problems… but you loved the guys so much. Then why was it so hard to choose their love?

“They’re your family, I promise we all understand,” Marshall let you know, and you thanked the universe for his gift and the fact that it was becoming so well-established outside of feeding situations.

“You’re my family too,” you replied, fighting back tears. “Probably more than they are.”

He promised you that you’d get through this, that life would go back to normal, and that your parents didn’t have to find out about the details of your relationship with the guys, and it all seemed to be headed that way — until something startled your mother and she dropped her empty coffee cup as she reached to put it back on the table. Unthinkingly as ever, Mike snatched it before it could hit the ground — a feat you could have passed off as ‘incredible reflexes’, if not for the fact that he was on the other side of the room from your mother when it happened, and he was back in his chair with the cup in his hands after barely a second.

“Darlin’, come here,” your father said slowly as he got up from his chair. “Now.”

“No, dad, sit down.”

“We have to leave,” he insisted. “That man is a vampire.” He held a hand out to you, and in that moment half of your childhood flashed before your eyes. Countless memories of being pulled along, dragged away from all things deemed dangerous and ungodly… Endless lectures on dangers you now knew never even existed in the first place. The amount of times that hand had struck you for disobedience and being ‘too curious for your own good’ — whatever the hell that meant.

“I’m aware of that,” you answered, your voice surprisingly even.

As per your predictions, your dad’s face looked like he was about to explode. “Y-you’re… aware of that?”

“Honey, you… you knew he was a vampire, and you chose to live with him anyway?” Your mother was pale as a sheet and looked like she was about to faint.

“I didn’t know at first,” you explained quietly, “and when he told me… I was shocked, of course. But… it didn’t change anything. He was still the guy I met… the guy I… fell in love with.” Cat, say goodbye to bag.

You focused your attention on the throbbing vein on your father’s forehead, so you could avoid looking into his eyes for a moment longer.

“Do I understand correctly that you are living with four men, one of whom is a vampire, and you are also seeing that boy? That… monster?” Mommy dearest was three seconds away from smoke coming out of her ears, dad’s face displayed an interesting mix of terror and fury. And you… you were finally fed up with all of this.

“No, mom, you’re mistaken,” you spoke slowly as the rational part of your brain begged you not to do what you were about to do. “I’m living with four men, all vampires…”

“Don’t say it,” Marshall broke into your thoughts, “please. They’ll never forgive you. Think about this.”

He was right, of course, and you should think about this a while longer. Blowing up your relationship with your parents on a whim was probably not a great idea, not to mention that they were only here because Katie was such a bitch. And Marshall was right: they’d never forgive you.

“After everything we’ve given you, everything we’ve done for you… we let you go to college!” Your dad spoke through gritted teeth, his fists clenched tightly at his sides. “And you thank us by getting involved with these miscreants? You’re coming home, you ungrateful little whore!”

He raised a hand to hit you, but Marshall was faster. Of course he was faster. As soon as your father’s hand connected with Walter’s body, you heard a strange, loud tick — one that reminded you of the electric fences around your old neighbor’s yard. Whatever it was, it made your father retreat.

“Marshall…” You reached for him, only to be pulled back by August.

“Don’t touch him right now,” he warned you quietly. “You’ll get hurt.”

“He attacked me!” your father screamed — presumably mostly at your mother, but who knew…

“Young lady, you are coming home with us,” your mother said, wiping the tears from her eyes. “Back to where it’s safe, far away from these abominations.”

“No.”

“I beg your pardon.” Your father seemed to have forgotten the mysterious incident with Marshall, who had now reluctantly stepped aside and seemed to have regained his composure. “Do not go against your mother, young lady, or…”

“Or what? You’ll hit me again? I don’t think any of them will let that happen,” you said, gesturing around you at the guys. “And I don’t think I will, either. I’m not going anywhere. I belong here.”

“You belong with your family,” your father snarled.

“I believe I just said that.” Tears escaped your eyes as you said it.

“You’re truly choosing these creatures over your own flesh and blood?” your father inquired angrily.

“Oh they’re more my blood than you can possibly imagine.” And that was the precise moment all remaining bridges went up in flames. Had your mother been wearing pearls, she’d be clutching them, and your dad… The anger in his face disappeared, making room for a completely blank expression that carried more hatred than anything you’d ever seen before.

“You’re feeding them.” Not a question, very much an accusation. And a correct one at that. Your father didn’t need an answer. “We’re done here.”

“Dad…”

“You are no daughter of mine,” he said, his voice dripping with contempt. “I thought we could save you, but this sin will never be forgiven.”

They left quietly, leaving the five of you behind in your own bubble of deafening silence.

It took a while for you to speak. “Mike,” you whispered, “I’m going to get so totally unreasonably mad at you. I’m already sorry, and I won’t mean a word of whatever I’m about to say…”

“That’s okay, Sweetcheeks. Kinda deserve it.”

“I… you…” But whatever words you had planned on throwing at him got caught in your throat, and before you fully realized you were moving, you were on your way to your bedroom, where you dropped down on the bed, no longer able to fight back your tears.

Some time went by and the mattress dipped next to you, and two arms wrapped around you. Mike. Then again, and another pair of arms. Sherlock.

“Can we…”

“Get in here, both of you,” you grumbled. This bed was not big enough for all of you, but fuck that.

Marshall got in behind Mike, August behind Sherlock.

“Hm, this hasn’t happened in forty years,” Marshall mused as he squeezed both you and Mike close.

“What the hell happened in the eighties, damn,” you laughed.

“We could show you,” Mike said as he snuggled closer to you, suggestive eyebrow wiggle included.

“I have no problem with the cuddling, but if this turns into an orgy, I’m gone,” Sherlock warned half-jokingly.

They all laughed. Half-heartedly at first, but soon… the sound of them was genuine and deep and warm, like a blanket and a warm bath, all at the same time.

“Did I fall asleep?” It was getting dark outside, so you must have, right? Sherlock was still holding you, but Mike was gone. Apparently, Marshall had taken his place.

“You did, darling,” Sherlock answered. “How are you feeling?”

“Weird…” As was to be expected after such an intense break up with your parents. “Is it bad that I don’t feel as bad as I think I should feel? Where’s Mike?”

“He had to get out of the house. He feels guilty,” August said calmly.

“I couldn’t have bluffed my way out of this forever,” you sighed. “And I know they’re not going to change. I’m so sorry for everything they said about you.”

“I’d say we’ve heard worse, but… it was up there. For me, at least.” Mike. Standing in the doorway one moment, sitting at the foot of the bed the next. “I’m sorry. If I hadn’t caught that cup…”

“Like I said, Mikey… I couldn’t have kept this from them. Even if this had gone over well, Katie would have told them eventually.” You reached for him, and he immediately took that to mean ‘please dive on top of me this instant, preferably face-first into my cleavage’. It did not mean that, but it was fine. More than fine, even. You ran a hand through his messy curls and smiled at your favorite idiot.

“Is there anything we can do for you?” You were fairly sure you’d never completely grow used to sweet August.

“Someone could explain to me what the hell was going on with” — you turned around so you were facing Marshall — “you… And then we can get to our movie night, maybe?” Mike immediately jumped up, mumbling something about snacks, and disappeared.

“Right, that…” Marshall said. “I can tell you, but I can also show you… I promise I won’t hurt you.”

With your curiosity thoroughly piqued, how could you refuse? You put your arm on the covers like he asked, and gasped in surprise when he ran a hand over it. Little… pricks, of some kind, stung your skin as he moved his hand. It felt like…

“Electricity?” you asked. Marshall nodded. “You tased my dad?”

“I suppose you could say that,” he responded calmly — maybe too calmly for someone who was admitting to electrocuting your father. “It’s not that dramatic, love.” Right. Mind reading. “As far as we know, I can manipulate existing electrical currents.”

“Can you turn the lights off?” you blurted out. They flickered for a moment, and he smiled at you. So, yes. He could.

“I don’t know how it works, just that it does,” he shrugged — for as far as possible when one is lying in bed, anyway.

A dirty smirk revealed he knew what you were thinking. “Pondering the possibilities, are we?” he said softly as he ran a hand over your arm again. The feeling raised goosebumps all over your arm. “We’ll continue that experiment at a time when it doesn’t make Sherlock insanely uncomfortable.”

“Sorry, Sherlock,” you mumbled.

“It’s alright, darling,” he replied. “We should join Mike, I think he’s done setting up.”

Marshall carried you to the living room and pulled you into his side as he sat down on the couch, while August put your feet in his lap. Mike, who just came back with a cup of tea for you, whined softly.

“Do you want attention?” you asked with a smile, already knowing what the answer would be. Mike nodded furiously. You gestured at the floor in front of the couch. “Come sit here. You’re staying with me tonight, okay?”

You’d asked the guys a million times if they weren’t uncomfortable on the floor, and they’d sworn they weren’t, but you still felt slightly awkward asking Mike to sit there. He hummed softly when you ran your fingers through his hair, and reluctantly reached for the remote.

“Movie?”

[ominous-feychild]

Hello, @ominous-feychild ! 👋✨

From the QnA tag, my eyes immediately went to Tazin the theatre kid (can relate). Can you tell me a little more about this character?

Haha, it doesn't shouldn't surprise me that you'd be interested in Tazin "the theater kid" {REDACTED}, Golden! Sorry for taking a while to get to this ask, I've been busy!

(Aka I've been stubborn about trying to get to these in order, but was stuck on Ludmila's part of another ask...)

Before I begin, I figured I should clarify: Tazin's name is pronounced "tah-zeen"! I've received some questions on this in the past and I know it's unconventional, so.

Tazin {REDACTED} | aka "Svarog"

So, to begin with! Unlike most characters, Tazin's last name will never be given within these posts, haha. Not only does he purposely hide it/his family, but it's actually spoilers! His family's name appears within the story, and I definitely don't want to expose him early, haha.

The reason I call him "Tazin the theater kid" is because, predictably, he's an absolute theater kid. I mean, he's never been able to do participate in theater stuff because Glavnran (but especially Kavo, the town he grows up in) is way too poor and stuck in survival mode to be able to afford stuff like that. But, still! Just one glimpse at this kid and you'd see it.

I'll give you a few glimpses of an as-of-the-moment (and will be for a while) unpublished chapter narrated by him as a treat, haha.

It wasn’t normal for someone to be in the alley, of course. The only “decent” people to ever go there would be the pasidnyy—taking a shortcut in pursuit of a villain—or a person chasing something stolen by the wind. Why would you go through an alley when it put you at risk of running into a bolyui or some punk looking for trouble? Well, Tazin was that punk. And bolyui weren’t real. They were just a scary story told to children to make them behave for adults.

(Note: bolyui are very real. The first and second chapters prove that much, and that they are utterly terrifying. He's just an arrogant kid who thinks he knows everything. /lh)

But some of {the "everyday people" on the streets} might’ve been pretenders, like him. Some of them might be out there with ominous motives—might even be working with the khonitva. Them, or the uzhar. Like him. Except, he didn’t work with the uzhar anymore. He’d seen to that.

(This kid KILLS me, istg--)

This strategy never went wrong. Nope, nuh-uh.

A genius plan, of course. He’d come up with it, after all.

Worst case scenario, if he couldn’t lose his pursuers, he could just set another building on fire. That always distracted people. A kid goes in a building, then the building burns down. Nobody ever suspected that the kid made it out—much less that the fire was meant to cover his escape.

(If that seems unrealistic, it's because it is. The cops absolutely suspect the kid survived, especially since he's pulled that exact same stunt a few times. He just thinks he's getting away with it because he hasn't noticed anything and they're too busy putting out the fires/saving others to find him in or escaping from the site.)

But Tazin’s mind wasn’t on any of his strategies. Instead, he was thinking of the letter he’d left. ‘I left the uzhar,’ it’d begun. ‘I don’t care if you want me to stay with them, I QUIT!’ Tazin had written, aggressively underlining the word “quit.” When he’d left the uzhar, he’d destroyed one of their hideouts. The recipient probably didn’t know that, but Tazin was sure that the uzhar had figured it out. That, and the message he was trying to send by doing so. Fire was Tazin’s whole ‘thing’, after all. ‘They were horrible, just like YOU, and I hate both of you!’ he’d written, once again aggressively underlining the word “you” on top of using all caps. ‘So I’m not going back,’ Tazin had written. Little did the recipient know that Tazin wouldn’t be able to go back even if he wanted to. He’d burned that bridge—almost literally—alongside their hideout. That’s why he’d done it, after all. ‘And don’t expect me to come back to you, either,” Tazin had initially finished the letter with. ‘You’re no better than them.’ But then he’d crossed the two sentences out, running the charcoal over them so it’d be impossible for the recipient to read it. As much as he wanted to hurt the recipient of his letter, he also hated the thought of it. And calling them “no better than the uzhar” would be too far. If Tazin had told them that, they might’ve finally given up on Tazin completely. Left him alone. And, as much as Tazin tried telling himself otherwise, he didn’t want to be abandoned. Not again. So, instead of that, Tazin had replaced those lines with: ‘and tell Mom I’m NOT coming back and to STOP looking for me!!!’

THIS IS ALL FROM HIS INTRO CHAPTER BTW-- 🤣

That last "bit" (read: everything about the letter) is spaced out between paragraphs of action. He's thinking about it while doing other stuff. I think it's a great intro chapter in general that pretty solidly explains his character and a lot of his business, haha.

Then again, maybe I'm just flattering myself.

ANNNNYHOW! As you can probably tell, he's an absolute drama queen with horrible attachment issues. A little under a year before the start of the story, Tazin was kicked out of his home. His family later changed their minds and tried inviting him back, but he's stubbornly refused to return, leading to him being in the position he is at the start of the Arcane Rifts.

I don't know if it's clear from the snippet (overall it's not the biggest deal but I want to clarify), but the "recipient of the letter" isn't his dad, but someone who is/was closely associated with his family.

Overall, Tazin's genuinely a fun character to write (most of the time)! He's very overdramatic; his narration is condescending toward the reader, as though he's talking to them, because he sees his own life as a story where he's the tragic hero; and whether it's ironically or played straight, lots of people seem to find him pretty funny.

Which, hey, he'd love to hear that!

(Minus the ironically part... actually tbh young!Tazin would probably lash out at you if you told him you thought he was funny. Y'know, thinking you thought he needed the validation. Whoops.)

Like Gene, Tazin starts the story young. He's only nine at first (if you couldn't tell,,,) but progresses to fifteen by the end of book 1 (there's a lot of timeskips through Important Events as the kids age up. Trust me, I'm careful with the pacing though, haha).

But, uh... that definitely colors my perception of his character a little differently than I'm sure you guys will see him. For a long while, you'll only see him as a kid, where his more negative traits (arrogance, selfishness, refusal to admit if/when he's wrong, etc) are a lot more excusable and possibly even charming. But in my head, all I see is how that stuff carries over to Adult!Tazin (because he never gets better), and I like him a lot less because of that, haha.

On a similar note, feel free to check out the songs that represent him.

A little more relevantly! If it wasn't obvious enough already (or if you haven't stumbled upon me mentioning it before), Tazin is a fire mage and healer! Otherwise known as a sech and izsech respectively in their language. Both powers typically come from their fire god (which, out-of-universe, takes a lot of inspiration from Hestia), Rholvny.

Like most mages, Tazin has an affinity for his element... which has turned more into an obsession for him if you couldn't tell. I've mentioned before that his (actual, lowkey) obsession with arson is related to a traumatic incident in his past?

Tazin is a complicated character. As much as I (hate to hate and hate to) love him, his character arcs revolve around his family / abandonment issues; the many, many problems it caused him (he used to just be a brat, but now...); and his relationship with Gene.

The two--Gene and Tazin--grow up together supporting one another because nobody else will do so for them. Tazin faces discrimination for his arson his skin tone, being Jhandan (or Fantasy!Indian) in a xenophobic country, aaaand for his deeply problematic aggression issues. Gene, on the other hand, is disabled and autistic--and you betcha Glavnran is ableist and social darwinists, too!

On Tazin's end, their relationship is/was problematic for a few reasons. One, Gene is too timid to stand up to him, leading to Tazin's worse habits never getting corrected since he can get away with them. Two, Gene becomes an enabler for Tazin's worse traits because of their history together. Aaaand, three... while Gene sees Tazin as like a brother, Tazin develops romantic feelings for him by the end of the first book.

Yeah. There's just NO end to the problems there--

But I guess those are just some of the many tragedies associated with two kids raising themselves and each other! (Despite that, they're still cute to read the interactions of whenever Tazin isn't being toxic.)

And, of course, this is all stuff I tackle (even if only through implication) within the story!

I'm sure this all is only one of the many reasons tAR won't be the most popular of my stories. 😅😭

Sorry I got a good bit into Gene there! I don't know if you can tell, but the two are practically inseparable, and their dynamic with one another majorly shapes how they turn out! (For probably obvious reasons.)

Hope you enjoyed reading! I actually cut out a LOT of possible snippets for the sake of (nonexistent) brevity, haha. Feel free to reblog and/or tell me what you think! PS: I think I'm probably going to change Tazin's title to "the dramatic". Thoughts?

Tag list: @honeybewrites @the-golden-comet @illarian-rambling @ashirisu @urnumber1star

@the-letterbox-archives @48lexr @aalinaaaaaa

Divider by @cafekitsune

[yunacoeur]

the choices we make

our last dance: chapter iii

chapter synopsis: you, as the oldest royal child of your family, are up to take the throne. in your search for a partner to be consort, the royal family is throwing a party in your name for you to meet potential suitors.

look at me like i’m the only person in the room.

word count: 3.2k

a/n: i apologize this is kind of the filler chapter to get us to the climatic ending of the main story! so excited to show you chapter 4, but in the meantime: enjoy!

taglist: @en-ct @dimplewonie @cherriegyu @zerobaseonefics @haesunflower @shiningstar-byulxx @kpoprhia @harus-simp @taerrrrrae @zhanghaos-hairclips @big-uwu-stan @seok02 @kpop17 @quanrui-vamp @mins-fins @huipinkhair @beomibeom @wonluvrbot @gyuvinie08 @flwrinn @wigobkm @deadlycute-cutelydead @ladyestelleofthesea @aerzb1 if you’d like to be on the taglist please fill out this form!

you wake up the morning after, after having been right to assume you’d be restless. the whole night was spent thinking about all of them. you couldn’t eliminate a single one without some part of your brain begging you to reconsider. a small memory shard would be given to you every time you tried to eliminate them. a moment that made you like them.

and then you’d be back to square one.

gyuvin seemed younger, but he was charming in a youthful way. he still had all the stars in his eyes, while the others seemed to only have a few. he had beautiful dreams and ideas and you wonder if maybe, just maybe, you could run away with him. to a place where nobody knew either of you.

matthew was polite and kind and everything you expected in a partner. he’s practically perfect for you. he’s strong and saved you from so much embarrassment when you fell. he kind of felt like the hero you needed in life.

hao was someone who felt real. he felt genuine. you didn’t feel like royalty around him, you just felt like you were someone and he was someone and you were destined to fall in love. you could see it when you were deciding whether or not to dance with hanbin. he felt it too. he was comfort and protection and calm. maybe that’s what you need a little more of.

taerae, the hopeless romantic. god it felt like a typical romance straight out of a movie. what’s nice is that these kind of movies are predictable. there are no surprises, just a guy who falls helplessly in love with you by the end of the story. you could be the happy ending that romeo and juliet never got.

jiwoong is familiarity, and also unfamiliarity. he’s someone you’ve known for years, and also someone completely unknown to you entirely. and while you have spent this time not really knowing him, he has spent his time falling in love with you, to your surprise. he said he’s wanted to marry you all his life. maybe you could make his wish come true.

yujin is also familiarity, but in a different way. you could never marry that kid, but maybe you should consider the possibility of giving the position to him on paper so he could get the chance to rule like how he’s always dreamed of, and your real lover could be someone else behind the scenes. perhaps that is a good ending too, is it not? sacrificing everything so yujin gets a happy ending?

gunwook, the noble scholar, who gives meaning to the stars in the sky. he’s smart, effortlessly so, and he’s beautiful, adorable, sweet, etc. he could say there’s meaning in the most innocuous things and you would believe him. the sun is shining a little bit brighter today? it’s a sign that we’re meant to be together, shine together.

and ricky. a ghost of a presence. an orange rose hidden in the bouquet, waiting for you to search and rescue it. he’s a mystery, but as you think more about him, ask around more, you learn how sweet the people around him think he is. they compare him to a kitten. you’re not sure you see it.

—

the night is slowly coming to an end. you can feel it in the air.

you look for a place to rest your unconventional bouquet, finding an expensive vase resting on a podium in the center of the room. you assume it’ll do the job. you put them in the vase, adjusting them so each one stands out just a bit more. they look chaotic and mismatched together, but even still, they’re all reminders of the beautiful people you’ve met tonight. it would be a shame to hate them and their lack of uniformness.

your eyes search for suitors with flowers still in their suit pockets, a sign that you must still speak to them. one last suitor stands out to you. he’s tall and his hair is bleached blonde. he's wearing more modern styles of jewelry and makeup, he looks cool. trendy even. it means he doesn’t fit in super well with the rest of the crowd, but he also stands out. he is incredibly attractive and his modern look is not doing him any disservice. he’s quite beautiful. you make your way over to him, but as he sees you, he walks over to meet you in the middle.

he tells you his name, but you don’t quite hear him, “my name is ricky.”

“hi, ricky,” you say with a giggle. it’s weird that you feel so shy, but the way that he’s looking at you is making you question everything. his eyes are enchanting, but he’s a little more reserved than he seems from far away and he’s quieter than he seems as well. he hasn’t said anything this whole interaction besides his name.

that’s probably the only reason you can keep talking to him without getting flustered, “i saw you fall earlier. you were with another suitor, i believe? it was so shocking.”

“what do you mean?”

“well, so many people saw but you kinda fell into that guy’s arms so no one said anything,” he shrugs, “are you normally that clumsy?”

a part of you is screaming at yourself to recognize that he hasn’t addressed you respectfully this entire time and that he’s talking way too casually. the other is too charmed by him to really care about the disrespect.

“i-i guess so,” you murmur.

“you should be more careful,” he advises. you mumble out a shaky acknowledgment as he looks at his watch for the time.

“it’s getting late,” he comments, looking back up at you, “did you succeed tonight? did you find ‘the one’?”

a part of you wonders how he even knew of your worries about not finding ‘the one’. a part of you knows he could of overheard. it’s still shocking.

“i don’t know,” you say, and he shakes his head.

“no, i think you do,” he says in return. he’s serious, and the fact that he’s so self-assured makes you believe him just a bit.

you remember talking to a staff member earlier in the day, from a neighboring kingdom. they had sent a son of a powerful, wealthy duchess. they had called him something, an adoring nickname that didn’t make sense nor matter at the time, and now looking back on it you’re wondering how someone like this could be so adored and practically babied by the people around him.

but they definitely referred to him as the one with the blonde hair.

the nickname was something you could not remember, but you could never forget how highly they spoke of him, like he was the sweetest person they had ever met. like he was a teddy bear.

which was ironic because the guy in front of you doesn’t seem like that. maybe there’s more under the surface.

because he is definitely a softer guy than he’s letting on. he can hide it with his intimidating energy and mystery, but you can see it in his eyes, in the way he’s nervous fidgeting with his hands. he seems sweet under it all.

you try to talk to him more, but he almost seems to be rushing to run away, disappearing practically mid-conversation into the crowd. it’s disappointing, but you can finally seem to drag yourself out of the spell you seemed to be under while he was around.

and then it hits you, he never gave me a flower. as you realize it, you walk over to the vase in the center of the room where you had put the other flowers.

you find an orange rose hidden in the bouquet. there’s a note attached to it, taped to the thorny stem.

“remember me. ricky.”

the party has been over for a while now. not literally, you suppose, considering all the people still here. they won’t start to trickle out until you leave.

you retreat to the bar, hoping to find a certain comforting face once again. now that all the dancing has stopped, most of the guests are standing around, drinking, and chatting with their comrades. it may be hard to find the particular face you’re searching for.

and yet, right when you wanted him, he appears before you. it might just be magic.

“hello, stranger,” you say to him. your tone is much warmer and more fond than before. it has lost all sarcasm.

“didn’t i tell you not to call me that?” he replies as he turns to face you. it makes you smile knowing he recognized your voice, your teasing before he saw you. maybe he’d see the personality before the status, unlike so many people in your life, “are you doing alright?”

“yeah, why wouldn’t i?”

“i told you to come find me if you needed a break, so i had assumed-”

“don’t assume anything, dear stranger. i can’t only come to you during bad times. that is not love,” you say, reaching for his hand. he lets you take it and hold it in yours.

“my apologies, your highness,” he says with the most endearing smile.

“but unfortunately you were right,” you say, and he breathes out a laugh. it’s such inappropriate timing, but he can’t help it. you playfully glare at him and he rushes to defend himself.

“i’m sorry, i shouldn’t have laughed,” he says, “what’s wrong?”

you look away from him to gaze over the crowd, eyes wandering to your bouquet sitting gently in the center of the dancefloor. it stands out even more on its podium now that no one is dancing.

it’s an ominous thing. just sitting there peacefully, holding a representation of 8 different guys who offered to marry you, and also yujin, who you think forgot to give you the flower that was sitting in his pocket. you smile fondly at the thought.

out of all the possible thoughts to share with hao, you choose a very unspecific one, “i don’t feel right about any of this,” you say.

“what do you mean, your highness? the party?”

“this isn’t right, hao,” you whisper anxiously. even though he can tell you didn’t mean to say his name so casually, that it just slipped out without you noticing, he smiles. you’re already comfortable with him and that gives him peace, “i don’t feel good forcing people to perform and be the perfect candidate for my husband so i can find ‘the one’.”

“hey, don’t say that. you’re not forcing anyone,” he squeezes your hand to get your attention back on him. you seem distracted.

“i just- it all feels so wrong,” you say, and he heaves out a big sigh like he’s preparing to make a huge mistake.

he pulls you by your hand into him, his free arm wrapping around you as your head rests on his shoulder. he rests his head against yours, letting you relax and breathe before he says anything else.

“i’m sorry,” he whispers, “i’m sorry i keep doing things without asking you. i’m sorry i keep disrespecting you as the future monarch of this kingdom. and mostly i’m sorry that you feel like you’re the villain here.”

you’re not crying, because keeping in emotions is something you’ve been learning to do for years. god if you aren’t a little bit close.

“this should have been a cute story. a love story. finding your perfect match and having a perfect, happy ending,” he taps his hand against your back as a soothing motion, “instead you’re here feeling like you’re the bad guy, like you forced everyone here. that must feel horrible.”

“it does,” you whisper back.

he chuckles, and you feel the vibrations from his chest. his rhythmic heartbeat comforts you.

“i’m sorry, your highness. if it’s any comfort, i can assure you that no one you’ve met tonight feels forced to be here.”

“how would you know?” you mumble against his shirt.

“because i’m standing here with you. i could not imagine being displeased with your company,” he smiles, you can’t see it but you can hear it in his voice, “i could not imagine disliking you. i couldn’t even begin to describe what that would be like.”

you raise your head to look at him. his eyes are so intense, but they’re beautiful, burning into your soul.

“thank you, stranger,” you whisper to him with a giggle, and he scoffs, letting you go but still holding your hand.

“you’re never gonna let that go, are you?”

“i don’t think so,” you smile, and he smiles back.

“are you thinking of calling it a night soon?” he asks.

“yes, i think so. i am tired. i will think it all over in the morning,” you say, thinking of the restless night you are about to have. all those pretty smiles and charming personas. it will definitely take some time to decide who you’re going to marry.

“then i suppose this is goodbye until i see you again,” he sighs, and it feels tragic. there’s this heavy feeling on your soul, “whether i see you again as my fiance or as an ally, please know that i will always be here to be your peace, should you ever need me.”

“thank you, hao,” you tell him, before suddenly, you remember something, “oh, my, i almost forgot!”

he looks shocked for just a moment, “what? what is it?”

you look back at him, apologetic for getting up to leave so suddenly, “i promised something.. to someone.”

of course, you see in his eyes that he’s not fond of what you’re implying. he looks subtly upset like he’s hiding it well. maybe your heart likes that he already wants you to himself.

you don’t have to do it. you could stay with hao and be comfortable. he seems to be the only real person here. he’s sweet and charming. he’s a perfect bachelor.

but you see hanbin from across the room. his darling charming smile and his cheek dimples stand out the most. he is exciting, breathtaking, and it would be a crime to not dance with him at the very least one last time ( hopefully this isn't the last).

“stay with me,” hao says, tightening his grip on your hand. you stare at your hand being held in his, desperately holding on, “stay. please.”

“i promised him,” you whisper, looking up at him. something is going on inside his head, an emotion you can’t exactly pinpoint. you give one last look to hanbin, who at very long last makes eye contact with you. his eyes shine impossibly brighter, like he’s found what he’s been looking for.

hao sighs, “then go,” he changes his mind suddenly, and you turn back to face him, “no, really. go. dance with him. it’s okay.” it’s confusing and heartwrenching to see hao let you go like that. you know he hates the words leaving his mouth.

you mouth a simple thank you to him before running off to fall into the arms of your final dance partner of the night.

you get to him easily. he’s still just as effortlessly beautiful up close as you remember. he immediately reaches for your hand to hold. he’s warmer than zhang hao is. he’s not as soft spoken. he’s brighter. his grip is less gentle. so many little differences.

“hanbin,” you smile, and he smiles back. he adores how softly you say his name. it’s only been hours, but he thinks he’s ready to fall in love. it feels too fast and too quick, but he’s been preparing for this moment his whole life. considering he has no chance for his own kingdom's throne, marrying you would be fulfilling his destiny.

plus, he likes the way you look at him. he likes how clumsy you dance, it’s kind of charming. he likes how humble you are despite your position. he likes a lot about you already.

“will you join me?” he asks, but when your face falls just slightly, he gets concerned. he’s faulting just a bit, his hand retracting slightly. he’s worried that you’re giving him this last dance as a final goodbye, “what is wrong, your highness?”

“you’re asking for the… last dance,” you mumble, and before he has a chance to even respond to that, you wipe the sadness from your face and take his hand, “very well, i suppose i will join you.”

he’s slightly stunned, but he follows. he feels out of place for wanting to correct you. you haven’t given him the opportunity, but he still feels like he must. for your feeling’s sake.

“your majesty, i had asked for your first dance as a formality. and i had asked for your last dance out of avarice for your time, but if i'm being honest,” he says, his grip on your waist as you sway together making the moment even more intimate. god, he’s so close to you, you can feel the breaths he exhales on your skin, “i think i’ll need more than just those two.”

“yeah?” that, in all your dazed glory, was all you were capable of responding with.

“i would ask for all of them if that didn’t feel just a bit too greedy, your highness,” he gives you a goofy smile and it just all stops. time freezes for just a second.

you let it all go for a moment, just enjoying your last moments of the night with him. he decides to relax and enjoy these moments as well, twirling you around and smiling so endeared when you giggle. he might just be in love already.

you’ve gotten a little bit more bold since the first dance with him, and now that it is the last one, he happily lets you lead him around in your clumsy rendition of the graceful dance he had led you in earlier. he is so much better of a dancer than you are, but he’s patient with you. you step on his toes at one point, and you hurriedly apologize, but it doesn’t even matter to him. his expensive shoes are replaceable; this moment with you is not.

people who look on simply see you and him, giggling and laughing at your silly dance, holding onto each other for fear you’ll fall, and they must wonder if all these other suitors thought they even stood a chance.

“i have a request,” you say to him, “could you promise me this is not our last dance?”

he smiles so endearingly, “your highness, no matter what your answer is in the coming days, should you ever lend out your hand, i will reach for it. i will always twirl you around and dance with you, and we will come right back to this moment,” he says. it gives you comfort for a brief second before the anxiety of the question of who to pick comes back to you.

hanbin?

with his perfect smile and dimples, are you going to choose to spend your mortal life ruling a kingdom with sung hanbin by your side?

“thank you,” you say, pulling his hand close to your lips to kiss the back of it.

he shakes his head adorably, pouting, “oh, your highness, that should be me. i should be thanking you for your consideration and time-”

“hanbin,” you stop him, “thank you. i should go now, but i thank you for everything.”

the feeling of the kiss on his hand still lingers after you’ve left him there.

[theshotsheardacrossworlds]

Cat

Gale has a terrible, no good, very bad day. Thea decides to help in an unconventional way. NSFW.

If he was being honest, Gale found that most of the days on their adventure had been good. Today, however, was not one of those days. Fat. Middle aged. Can’t keep up. Not hitting the target enough. Putting her in danger. Gods, if anything happens to her because of me, I…

“Meow?”

Is that a cat? That surely cannot be Tara because she would’ve announced herself with an energetic, “Mr. Dekarios!” He pulled the flap of his tent and, as he predicted, the cat was not Tara the tressym. It was an orange tabby with bright green eyes. Funny, that’s the exact color of Thea’s eyes. “Hello there! Are you lost, little one? Come in, come in.”

The cat meowed happily and walked in, waiting for Gale in an excited way. A cat excited about a person is very strange, though perhaps that is simply how this lovely cat is.

He went back to sitting on his bedroll, and the cat followed. Seems to be waiting for me to say something? Very curious. “I don’t know why you’re here, my friend, but I’m happy for the company.” The cat began to purr and climbed onto his lap. He laughed nervously. “Want a cuddle, do you? I suppose that’s alright. You’re awfully cuddly, aren’t you, sweetness?” He starched behind the cat’s ears, the purring growing louder. “You know, this is just what I needed. I had, quite frankly, an awful day. Every day on this journey I’m feeling my age more and more. And look at me!”

His parasite tingled.

I do see you, Gale, and I, quite frankly, love what I see.

Thea?!?!?!

Yeah! Hi! Sorry, I didn’t mean to like…be weird or anything. When we got back, you just seemed so fucking sad, and I had no idea why. I felt so bad, love. So I thought, “Well, Gale likes cats, and I can wildshape into one in seconds, maybe that would make him feel better.” So…I did that! Yup. The cat stared up at Gale with what he thought were adorably pleading eyes.

My love, you are the most thoughtful and sweetest woman in the realm. And it’s not weird! I’m still very interested in learning more about the magic behind wildshape.

I just…do it. I know that’s not the most helpful, but I’d say it’s the most accurate. At least for me! Maybe Halsin could explain it better. Anyways, if you want me to change back, I can.

Absolutely not. Unless you want to, of course! I don’t know how comfortable you are…

Thea practically began to vibrate with purrs in his lap. Are you fucking kidding me? I’m a cat in a nice, warm, soft lap. This is heaven, Gale love.

He chuckled softly, scratching behind her ears. Darling, you may stay in heaven for as long as you’d like. Then a thought slowly dawned on him. Oh shit. The glamour—

Gale, please—

One moment!

You look better with it off!

He stopped just short of his earring. I…do?

Yes. Well, I think so. You’re very handsome either way, but I prefer you like this. You’re just so snuggly, and I love that.

Gale blinked. Snuggly? I don’t think I’ve ever had that word associated with me at any point in my life. I will…take that as the compliment I hope it is.

Gale, of course it’s a compliment! Listen, I know that I’m literally the last person who should be saying any of this, but you’re very, very, very handsome. I love how soft you feel…it makes me want to hug you more than I already do. The gray in your hair is gorgeous, makes you look so distinguished. You’re hot. That’s all there is to it, love!

He laughed. Thea darling, I’m not quite sure how to respond to all of that. However, I will say that I’m pleased that I make you feel that way.

I’ll show you “pleased” Mr. Of Waterdeep! Thea leapt off his lap and then reverted to her quite beautiful wood elf form. “Sorry, I just need to do this!” She scooched over to him and then threw soft arms around him. “I love you no matter what you look like, okay? But as you are, right now, in this exact moment, you are perfect. To me, you are perfect. Perfect as you are.”

He motioned for them to lay down, which they did face-to-face, their fingers entwined. “I’ll take your word for it and hope that you know that it applies to you as well. You are stunning. You take my breath away. You arouse such feeling in me, my love. What I feel for you is more than anything I’ve ever felt towards anyone, mortal or immortal.” A wry smile tugged at his lips. “I love you no matter what you look like. As you are right now, in this exact moment, you are perfect. To me, you are perfect. Perfect as you are, dearest.”

They moved closer together, enough that their noses touched. Her bright green eyes (I know those anywhere, my love) met his brown ones. She felt one of his hands caress the softness of her wide hips, as one of hers rubbed one of his lovehandles. “I love you, Gale.”

“Love you too, sweetness.”

They shared a quick kiss and stayed lying like that for some time before Thea spoke. “I don’t think you’re that old either, if I’m being honest.”

Gale rolled his eyes. “Darling, you’re a wood elf and a druid on top of that. Of course, forty isn’t going to be that old to someone like you! But to me, it simply means my youth has passed.” Fat. Middle aged. Physically unfit. Thea loves it. Thea loves me. She loves me as I am. To her I’m perfect. “Ah, but with age comes wisdom, I suppose, so it can’t be that bad.”

She stuck her tongue out at Gale and made a valiant attempt to look angry but alas, she only looks more adorable. “A wood elf and druid I may be, but I am only thirty! And you’re not that bloody old even for a human. I mean, Elminster Aumar’s like twelve hundred right?” She grinned at him. “Surely Gale of Waterdeep could figure out how to live a few hundred years?”

His expression was playful with more than little seriousness. “Challenge accepted, my dear. While I get to work on that, there’s something more immediate, more pressing, one might say, that I need to see to.” The hand on her hip slowly drifted up to an unbelievably perfect breast, gently kneading it. “I find this to be a quite serious distraction.”

“Do you now?” She teased, bringing a long leg over his hip. “Is this also distracting?”

His lips met hers in a somewhat sloppy kiss, the hand on her breast continuing to knead. “Quite. Might I suggest—” He was silenced with a kiss and a squeeze of his side. “What? Is something wrong?” Gods, have I overstepped? I don’t think I have. She would have it written all over her face if I did.

Any hint of teasing left her face, though she was smiling. “If you ask something of me, then I’d like to ask something of you too, love.”

I’m not sure what she’s getting at, but I’ll play along. “Of course, but I only wondered if you’d take your shirt off.”

She moved to sit up and remove her shirt, revealing what Gale had longed to see---porcelain skin covered in freckles and a large, soft belly and equally large breasts. Gods be good, she’s even more beautiful than I ever could have imagined. Thea, you are a goddess. “Now you.” She whispered as she lay back down.

“As the lady requests, so it shall be done.” he said as nonchalantly as possible, ignoring his heart threatening to beat through his chest. She thinks I’m perfect. She thinks I’m handsome. I trust her judgment on so many things, so why not this? “Here goes…” Sitting up, he took a deep breath before taking his shirt off.

He was not prepared for the gasp that escaped Thea.

“Oh my gods, you’re so hot!” She squeaked, her hands over her also perfect mouth and green eyes wide. “I bet she never told you you’re hot! Well, you are!” Suddenly, she grinned and reached for him. “Come here, love!” As the lady commands! He resumed his former position, their bodies pressed against each other. A look of wonder graced Thea’s face as she ran her hands over his hairy chest that made Gale’s heart skip a beat. “You feel amazing…”

“So do you.” He captured her with a passionate kiss, a hand running up and down her pillowy upper arm. “How would you like it if I kissed every freckle on your gorgeous body, o goddess of mine?” As her cheeks turned red, he chuckled. “One must be able to take compliments when one is so willing to give them, my sweet.”

Shaking her head, she said shyly, “I’m not a goddess. I’m just me.”

Gale shook his head vehemently. “You are. I happen to be an expert on such matters—”

“Mhmm.”

“And I can say with one hundred percent certainty that you are, in fact, a goddess.”

“I-I’m not.” Her entire upper half is blushing. Goodness gracious, she’s so beautiful. “I’m a normal—”

“Not normal, extraordinary. Extraordinary in every way.” He kissed her, slowly at first and then more heated. “Please allow me to show you why you are deserving of worship, darling. Please.” He tugged on her lower lip, noting how she moaned. Perfect. Moan more for me. “Please, my beauty.”

She nodded wordlessly.

He tutted at her affectionately. “No, sweetness. Use your words.”

Gale did not know how it was possible for his beloved to turn redder, but she did. “I-I…I want…” She trailed off as her gaze returned to his plump, hairy chest. In every part of her life, she seems so confident and sure of herself. But in this arena, she’s so shy. Maybe I should take the lead.

Tipping her chin up, his brown eyes met hers. “Would you like me to touch you?”

“Yes.”

That’s a start! His other hand untied her trousers and slipped inside her underwear. He imagined a mass of ginger curls at the apex of her thighs based on what he felt. “May I touch you here?”

“Gods, yes.”

Smirking, his long fingers circled her clit, causing her to moan. “That’s it, darling. There’s a good girl.” While this is greatly enjoyable, I think a change of position might make things easier. He withdrew his fingers. Oh, she is not happy. Don’t worry, my love! “Lie on your back, sweetness.” Still blushing, she did as she was told. “Good girl. You are so worthy of devotion…let me show you…”

She wrinkled her nose and giggled, reaching for her trousers. “And maybe I should show you the rest of me. That’s if you want—"

Within moments, he was tugging her pants and underwear off, panting heavily. Once they were discarded, he stopped. “There’s something you need to know. I won’t be making love to you tonight.”

Upon hearing that, she whined. “Gale…”

“Shhh, I won’t leave you wanting. Especially after how good you’ve been to me this evening. My beauty, I have something very special planned for us, but it’s…not quite ready yet.” A few more days of preparing, and then I will make the sky come alive for you. There was a time I could do it in an instant…no. Don’t go down that road tonight. Focus on her. “I want it to be the most magical night of passion you could ever dream of.”

“I’m happy to wait, love, and I’m very interested in hearing about how you won’t leave me wanting.” She attempted to squeeze her thighs together for more friction, but with him now in between her legs, she got no relief from that. But relief is coming, my sweet.

With a sly look on his face, he smirked. “This tongue isn’t simply for speaking, my darling pussy.” Pause. “Cat.”

She laughed and groaned, covering her hands over her face. “Gale, I love you so much, but that was awful!”

He looks far too pleased with himself. “Well, I happened to think it was clever. But if that’s not to your taste, my dear, then my tongue has other talents.” His head dipped as his hands gripped her thighs. They are so incredibly large. Soft. Full of freckles like the rest of her. “So wet for me already, my dear, and I’ve barely done anything…” His very practiced tongue circled and sucked her clit. She tastes so sweet. My beauty, I could feast upon you every moment for the rest of our lives, and it wouldn’t be enough to sate me. Must taste more of her. All of her. His hands kneaded her thighs, her soft flesh spilling through his fingers. She is perfect. Perfect in every way. I can’t wait to show her the Astral Plane, making her feel sensations she’s never felt, hear her cries of utter pleasure as I— The tadpole stirred once again.

As you what, love? I’m so close…

That must wait, sweetness. There’s so much I want to show you. But for right now, let go. Let go, my love.

Several small gasps escaped Thea’s perfectly plump lips as she came apart on his fingers and tongue. “That’s it. There’s a good girl. What a good girl, my darling.” He purred, finally taking his mouth off her and glancing at her heaving chest and belly. “What a sight you are! Still trembling as I wring you out…so wet…good girl, Thea…good girl…” Her breathing evened out as he praised her, her body eventually stilling. “Such a good girl for me. I’ll clean you up and then—”

“What about you?” She inquired softly. “You’re quite…excited…” That’s one word for it.

He sat up and conjured a bowl of water and moistened a clean cloth with it. “No, no, no. Don’t worry about me. There will be many other nights for that.” They fell into a comfortable silence as he cleaned her (and licked her juices off my fingers and wiped my beard) and then settled on the bedroll with Thea spooning him. I’m in heaven. This must be heaven. It must…

She planted light kisses along his shoulder and kept one hand on his hairy belly. Truly, this is heaven. I’ve never had any lover as interested in my body as she is. No. She loves me. All of me. No one has ever loved me as she does. “Hey, you alright love?” She gave his middle a squeeze. “You’re very quiet, which is not exactly normal for you.”

He chuckled. “Simply thinking, my love. Would you like to stay? Obviously, you’re free to return to your tent and sleep, if you wish.” Good gods, man. You’re forty years old, not a Blackstaff apprentice.

Gale felt her smirk into his shoulder. “Elf or cat?” she asked, punctuating each word with a kiss.

She won’t see this coming.

“Darling, I can never have enough pussy.”

“You naughty man!” She managed to get out as they both exploded with laughter. “Gale, you are the very definition of a chivalrous pervert.” He turned his head to give her a kiss.

“You wouldn’t have me any other way, would you?” He teased lightly. However, he felt as if his heart was beating through his chest. I know what you’ll say. But I so need to hear it.

Her bright green eyes were full of emotion and sleep. “Never. You are just what I’ve always wanted and hoped for. Never, ever change, love.”

Gale thought of his previous lovers, including Mystra, and how he had been asked by every single one to alter part of himself to suit their needs and desires. And then there’s her. She who wants me as I am. She who wants me alive and safe and happy and…She who wants…me. “Thank you, my darling girl. You are a wonder. Truly.” He kissed her nose and then turned his head back around, sleep starting to claim him as well. The protest on her lips died as Thea’s meditation started, her hold on him slackening slightly. “Have the sweetest reliving of memories, Thea my dear.” He whispered, as his eyes fluttered closed.

And you have the loveliest dreams, my handsome man. Her voice murmured in his mind via their tadpoles. My beautiful wizard. My Gale.

I will certainly try, my beauty. Good night.

[marengogo]

QUICKIE - 3: Must Be Just Me …

Island - by Colde  [Love Part 2]

[Music is a very big part of my life and I’m MOSTLY INCAPABLE of writing without music, so I just thought I'd share what I am listening to while writing this]

🐺 — 🐺 — 🐺—

How’s everyone been? How are you enjoying Chapter 2? How is your Jikook-neck-of-the-woods fairing for you? Is it everything you were looking for? … *picks into some of the woods* … If so, I am happy for you but, NOT. GONNA. LIE. Some of y’all woods it feel like even just asking these simple questions might be potentially triggering 🤡.

I recall saying something akin to “live and let live” in my previous post → DEAR FUTURE BABY JIKOOKER, and I’d really love to do so, yet, I fear I must step on a toe, or two, because this “Jikook-Anxiousness” has reached my end-of-the-woods so, out of curiosity, I just had to know … I had to know if this quick thing I am about to talk about is all in my head, or if anyone out here has also the same perception as mine.

Before I get into all of that tho, remember when in this post → ME, MYSELF & JIKOOK, which I uploaded on January 12, I felt like we were going to not get any, “relevant” Jikook content for like 1076 days more or less? Somewhere in this post I also wrote

Please let that sink in and understand what this means.

… Well, we are 125 days in, and for some Jikookers, it doesn’t seem like this has either sunk in, nor has it been understood, in fact, it appears as if shit has already either being lost or hitting the fan hard. 

I can understand the anxiety out of lack of Jikook content, I can try and understand the anxiety out of lack of off-camera Jikook content, but the “I guess it was really fanservice / they must have broken up” in this CHAPTER-2-SOUTH-KOREA-LIVING-AND-BREATHING BTS economy is … I … 😩😩😩.

“They never meet”, “they don’t like each other anymore”, “He obviously doesn’t care / never cared” and all that shit … like, I’m not going to keep repeating myself but I am also very keen to understand how according to some of you a non confirmed, potentially gay couple, of great relevance, in a somewhat homophobic country should act?

That being said, let’s get back to what I quickly wanted to point out, which is the following. I quickly and roughly made this table concentrating on our boys activities in 2023 during chapter 2, with some exceptions:

Purple activity: Happened in 2022, but relevant to this person in their Chapter 2

Celebrity/Fame related: These are all names I tried to recall off the top of my head, most likely not accurate, but a gross approximation (so feel free to not take this part seriously at all)

Magenta activity: Is for those members who haven’t yet released anything for their chapter 2 … and then there is Namjoon who might be having a Chapter 2 pt.2?

I started doing this throwing in as much stuff as I could remember. The places where I put a P are my predictions (dark purple background is non-activity). As you keep looking at this table you’ll see that I didn’t even finish it, the magazine section is completely empty for example and as you might have noticed, I colored JK’s participation in Letter and his unconventional promotion of JM in a different color because other members have promoted JM but in a much more “conventional way”. THIS we all have noticed, and though it standouts in itself, regardless of the intended audience of Letter or the purpose behind JK going on a 1 hour JM binge - What JK did is NOT YOUR EVERYDAY RUN OF THE MILL BANGTAN OCCURRENCE. FIGHT ME.

The main thing that this table should sort of point out - DESPITE IT’S GROSS INACCURACY - is how it seems to be that for the most part, given that Jin was already gone before 2023, the tannies were sort of split in 2 groups of 3, like sort of subunits part of me feels like the way I’ve ordered them is the way they are going to go MS, I know, I put Joonie last … There is a method behind my madness, but it is worth pointing out that is indeed just MY madness, so for all we know Joonie could be the next to go:

JiYoonMin

NamTaeKook

Mind you, despite being the nonchalant kings we love them to be, they are still a force to be reckoned with and as such they have to do some serious planning of almost anything work related. By the looks of it, we are going to have a video from Jin for every important day of the year, or Disney Documentaries that will soon replace the memory of Disney Channel in our minds, etc, etc, etc … as I said: SOME SERIOUS FORWARD PLANNING.

Ironically enough the only thing that seems a bit off from the meticulous planning are all of JK’s lives, weverse post, and such and that ALSO should make you think a bit …🤡 . So all the, JM only mentioning Hobi and Yoongi as people he hangs out with the most, or JK hanging out with Tae a lot and Joon as really , AT THE VERY LEAST TO ME, is just so subunity, like … am I the only one, who, despite missing Jikook interactions, as I knew I would during this period, is not really worried at all? I really would love to know; really, just curious...

Always respectfully yours,

Marengo.

[crookedcrowclub]

My review of Threads that Bind by Kika Hatzopoulou.

Threads That Bind weaves an imaginative tale about magic, infused with the perfect dose of Greek mythology. As someone who loves Greek / Roman folklore, I was absolutely fascinated by how cleverly the author introduced those elements in this story. It felt like I was reading those myths with fresh eyes because it was that unique and creative. Not only that, there was a multitude of representation (diversity in characters and sexualities) which made me really enjoy this book.

The pacing was great. I was a tad worried that it will be rather slow paced but the plot took off from the get-go for which I was grateful. I was super invested in Io’s investigation and I couldn’t have guessed most of the plot twists. Some were predictable, yes, but I was still blown away by many of the big reveals. The danger element in this book was well done and the plot moved with an urgency that made it hard for me to put the book down. Fair warning, this book ends on a cliffhanger but I’m not complaining because that just means the sequel will be even more thrilling.

I liked Io’s character. She was emotional yet brave since the two aren’t mutually exclusive and I am glad she had a good balance between those two qualities. From enduring the emotional abuse caused by her sister, to finding her own voice, Io's character was pretty well rounded and I was rooting for her the whole time. There was also discussion surrounding shame and how it can control someone, which was something I resonated with deeply. We all have that one person’s voice that we always hear in our mind, chiding and chastising us whenever we do something that falls short of their expectations even when they are not around to witness it. This book had one the of the realest portrayals of that and it hit close to home.

Something that I didn’t like was Io’s immediate infatuation with Edei and not one chapter was without a mention of how good looking he is. Don’t get me wrong, I usually don’t mind such depictions of the love interest but in this case, it felt forced as I personally didn’t feel any chemistry between them. The addition of romance itself wasn’t necessary as it didn’t contribute to the plot in any way but every fantasy novel needs to have romance, right?! I just wish more authors would realise that you can have a great story without including romance in it but to each their own. I personally didn’t enjoy the “insta-love” and constant swooning over the male MC’s cheekbones because I was rolling my eyes the whole time.

As for the worldbuilding, it’s set in a contemporary urban fantasy world full of gangs, crime bosses, and old bloodshed similar to the likes of Ketterdam (Six of Crows) and Nadežra (The Mask of Mirrors). The details were woven throughout the text so that the information feels natural and none of the characters were two dimensional or lacked depth, even the villains. They were all very interesting and unconventional.

Overall, I would highly recommend this book for fantasy readers who love the integration of a future world with mythological powers, mystery, complex familial bonds, and figuring out one’s true self.

[mickgaydolenz]

i was thinking the other day like “gosh, you know, Micky and Peter are weird but in a very humorous and palpable way, but Mike and Davy are actual freaks of nature” and so this allowed me to recollect the info and what do you know: Micky and Peter have absolutely no Sagittarius placements!

Sagittarius is infamous for being the most whacked-out sign because of its exploratory nature and love for the unconventional, so it makes all the sense that a.) Mike has his POF and Mars in his 9H — its domicile house, and b.) Davy has his Mercury and asteroid Pallas (much like an off-shoot of Mercury) in his 8H. it explains some of the most out-of-pocket behavior ive ever seen from them. sometimes i wonder if they were even aware, because Sagittarius has a bit of that lacking self-awareness to it in the heat of its moments.

Micky’s 9H and Peter’s 2H are ruled under Sagittarius but have no placements or aspects to them. you could look to the house cusp degree and see what theme with rule that house for them, but funnily enough both Micky’s 9H and Peter’s 2H house cusps start at Scorpio, and the Sagittarius cusp doesn’t happen until the next house; in Micky’s case this is his Midheaven, and Peter’s his 3H.

but having no Sagittarius placements doesn’t mean other placements made up for their goofiness. all signs have their level and style of humor. Peter has a Aquarius stellium 4H, which is almost similar to Sagittarius but much more cool & collected about it, and also very mentally agile and quick-witted. the 4H is the most private house and ive noticed that Peter’s humor revolves around what he personally found humorous, even if others didn’t, and being it in Aquarius he could literally give less of a shit about other’s opinions on it too. Micky has a Pisces stellium in his 1H; Pisces can blend into any kind of humor but it obviously won’t go to territories where it will at any capacity hurt the audience, and instead opts for a no-risk style of humor, making it suitable for as many people as possible, which is what i sense from a lot of Micky’s style of humor!

there’s other ways to find and determine humor in natal charts but i just found this to be the most interesting 🧐

i fucking love all of this kale, but especially i am intrigued by micky’s!! micky himself has called his humour predictable, which definitely fits the idea that he keeps his jokes to a comfortable place (although he has definitely said his fair share of unhinged shit, but on the whole you can rely on micky to make the same jokes 💖😂). it’s really interesting that you can even see those kinds of patterns by looking at signs and planets (sorry if my language is oversimplifying the process here i am still but a lowly newbie when it comes to all things astrology)

[shadowsshowdown]

Deus Ex: Human Revolution Shadow’s Showdown: Chapter 11

The Nobody.

Sarif Industries Headquarters. Adam Jensen’s Office.

It was supposed to be another typical day at the company. One of those he already knew by heart and could predict every movement and glance to the minute. Unluckily, nothing was typical. Adam was flipping through the pages of documents without much interest. He couldn't identify the separate words, only the strings of markings that screamed into his face: "You're responsible!" He rubbed his eyes, trying to shake off this state of stasis, but to no avail. Wherever he looked, the memory struck him. The door as Laura walked in and out, the floor she was crossing, the glass wall still bearing her mark. Even the cigarette reminded him how she disliked when he smoked. It all overwhelmed Jensen so much that he was incapable to swallow anything. Of course, he noticed that Miss Werner was gone for the second day and felt guilty for it. If only he could turn back time, behave differently, change anything. He even wanted to talk to her but was still blocked by his own decisions. The Chief of Security was powerless. Funny, as an ex-SWAT, he had solved a whole lot of difficult cases, and with this one, he didn't know how to deal.

After parting ways with Megan, he changed a lot, still living the fantasy that it was only a transitional stage and in a while, everything would be like before again. How naive. However, when he realized his childish attitude, he built a fortress in which he locked himself away. Unfortunately, Miss Werner had discovered unconventional ways to reach him, as he had been thinking more about her than about his duties lately. He was disturbed when something bad happened to her and above all missed Laura unimaginably strong…   In the last hour, Adam had carefully analyzed all the encounters and gestures, concluding that the breakthrough must have come when he saw Laura dancing. She had been real then, so real that she had etched herself deeply into his memory. She didn't wear a daily mask to pretend to be someone else, to hide from the world as he did. Until now, he hadn't realized how much they could have in common. Still, he kept his emotions in check with a donkey's stubbornness.

The Chief of Security took a deep breath and reached for the police notebook to his trouser pocket. He opened it on the intel he had started to gather about Laura and began adding new observations:

   Pretty serious looking wound on the right hand. Located on the outside of the upper part of the fingers, near the knuckles, it could be from a fist punch.

   She was gone for a week due to a terrible cold. At present both Pritchard and Laura are absent. Maybe she and Frank? NO! It's problematic to entitle him a human being, let alone suspected of having feelings. This insensitive egotist simply parasites on her.

   Miss Werner is a gifted ballerina. Who would have thought? (It was an unforgettable impression. I felt like Siegfried seeing Odette as a beautiful maiden for the first time. She was terrified seeing Siegfried same as Laura.)

For some time now, Miss Werner's behavior has been suspicious, to say the least. I have noted several instances of this already:

   ‘The Jackdaw’ - When I seized a cup of rum from her (I can't stand the sight of women drunk to unconsciousness). Laura momentarily stated that she had to go and left the tavern.

   The blush on her face is also an unusual phenomenon. She explained it with a cold, but somehow I don't wholly believe it. (Besides, she looked lovely.)

   I was gone for a few days, and Laura must have ruined everything. She entered my office without permission. It’s beyond all limits. Frank asked her to so, but she should refuse. Sarif would be angry, so what?  It is quite possible the blame would fall on me. If not I would not hesitate to accept the responsibility. However, just entering the office in my absence and leaving Grumpy Cat (which is at my home now) is not particularly strange itself. But when I reached for the plushie, Miss Werner wanted to jump away, but she fell down and curled up as if afraid that I would hit her. Why did she react like that? I have observed such reactions of people who have experienced physical or psychological violence. I doubt that was the reason. It would have to be something extremely strong, and she doesn't look like a victim.

Jensen closed his notebook and slipped it back into his trouser back pocket. A moment later finally, he lit a cigarette. He didn't even have time to inhale properly, cause someone just knocked on the door.

"Oh, Faridah, it's you. Come in," he invited her with a gesture of his hand, crossing his legs.   "What an enthusiasm. Were you expecting someone else? " she asked, folding her hands over her chest. "No, I didn't expect anyone," he replied. "You seriously don't mind the silence? Frank does not complain, no scandal, security guards perform their duties."

Since Malik does not know about anything, Adam did not mention the incident with Laura. He also noticed she hadn't even mentioned anything about Miss Werner. It’s better that way. She should be aware it’s a very bad idea to talk about Laura.

"Coffee?" he proposed kindly. "Today I must decline. In a moment..." she paused looking at her watch. "Oh my gosh it's almost time!" she finished slightly panicked. "Almost time for what? Can you be more specific?" he inquired holding a cigarette between the index and middle finger of his right hand. "A flight, BIIG BADA flight! Therefore, I must keep it short and to the point," she uttered in one breath. “Tickets are here. Saturday in two weeks. This one is yours.” Faridah placed a rectangular piece of paper on the desk and pushed it towards Adam. "Fortunately, the seats are next to each other. Meanwhile, Faridah says bye-bye and flies away. Literally."   On her way out, she raised her hand in a farewell gesture. Jensen shook his head with a slight smile and looked at his ticket. Finally, he'd be off somewhere in enjoyable company.

Detroit.

Frank Pritchard's apartment.

The second day spent with the boss did not bring surprising observations. Frank hasn't cleaned up a single piece of paper and since yesterday, even new ones have appeared. He might have been less irritable, but perhaps that was just her humble wish. At least he stopped picking on her laptop. Today they barely talked to each other at all, both of them dived into their own worlds, listening to their favorite music. The incessant clicking of the keyboard keys was killed by the silence from time to time. Laura looked at her watch with increasing impatience. More code fragments flashed past her eyes at a tortoise's pace. She was fed up with correcting everything after others. On top of that, she was going to have even more responsibilities.

"I sent you the corrections." she typed into the messenger window. "OK, got it." he wrote back after a moment. "I think we've got over with the main security systems. Now we have to connect the individual offices." "Let's sensibly divide them. Maybe..." she didn't have time to finish because Frank already had a plan. "You take Jensen, Malik, Margoulis, Maher, Dobel, Bruger, Van Wesel, and Stichner. I take Rogers, Rosellini, Pine, Gonzalez, Mitchell, Carella, and Sarif."

Of course, he had to assign Adam to her. She always gets the worst of it. If anything goes wrong, she'll be the one responsible for everything. Unfortunately, she knew very well that her protests would be of no use, so she set to work. Laura started with the less important names, which she dealt with quickly. Occasionally she glanced at Pritchard, but he seemed not to care at all about her presence. He sank into his virtual world and reality ceased to exist for him. The auburn-haired girl began to wonder if he didn't feel very lonely. All those sarcastic comments are just a mask, just like the one she wears. Maybe she should be nicer to him?

“Laura, just don't dawdle because we'll never end this. I'm not going to answer Sarif for your mistakes."

After those words, the first to be spoken other than "Good morning," she definitely gave up any attempt to befriend him. His false admiration was even worse than Jensen's false kindness. If she wasn't so good at what she did, Frank would treat her like an inferior entity unworthy of his attention.

Just like yesterday, she sat on the modifications until late afternoon. When she got to Adam, she was doubly focused because she knew how even the smallest mistake would end. Pritchard carefully looked through her work and muttered something that sounded like: 'You could have tried harder'. Eventually, he accepted the improvements.

“You will get the documentation regarding the changes in Cyber- Security right away. You'll bring it to Jensen later today. This is important," he stressed the last word, but Laura felt he was playing his old game again. "No, you can't tomorrow at the office," he forestalled her question, so she only had time to open her mouth. Chiron Building, Apt. 3434. " "Okay, I'll take care of it," she replied reluctantly. “Tomorrow I won’t be at the company either. Unfortunately, you will have to take over my responsibilities. Just don't screw up anything! You'll get access to my office and all of my equipment. I really don't want it, but that's how the chain of command works."

Frank's office, Frank's computer, a treasure trove of data. If she does her best, she will finally satisfy her superiors. Even visiting at Adam's ceased to bother Laura. A quarter of an hour later Miss Werner was on her way to the lion's jaw. The good thing was that Cerberus lives vis-à-vis her building, at least she'll be home soon.

Chiron Building.

She stopped for a moment just after entering the building and breathed deeply a few times. The vast hall was illuminated by lamps hanging in several places on the walls and one large hanging from the ceiling in the center of the room. It reminded Laura of wind chimes. The ceiling was supported by two wooden pillars of fancy shapes set on a floor laid with white stone slabs. She spotted a few people, but they were too busy with their own affairs to pay attention to her. Laura headed straight to the elevator but didn't manage to do anything else.

"Miss! Please wait a moment," the receptionist's voice halted her.

The auburn-haired girl looked to her right at the built-up reception area where the voice was coming from. She hoped she wouldn't have to explain the reason for her visit. Apparently, the employees of this building are just like Grumpy Cerberus.

"Why did you stop me? Is something wrong?" Laura asked in surprise as she estimated the black-haired woman around 40. "I don't think you live here," she stated in a dry tone, checking something on the computer. "Only residents may enter, and solicited visitors. Are you any of them?”

Hearing this, the blood boiled in her veins. This nasty woman is about to regret her words. What causes her to think like that? Does she look like a bum or something?! Because she's wearing ordinary jeans, a leather jacket, and a jumper? She wanted so badly to talk back to her, but in the end, she managed to restrain her nerves.

“I’m the Sarif Industries Cyber-Security worker. I came to see Mr. Jensen. Apartment 3434. It’s an urgent matter," she replied with a polite smile. "Ah, I understand." the woman nodded slightly. "If that’s really important, I'm not holding you anymore." "Bang, bang." Laura thought. "I shoot that bitch down." "Second floor." Miss Werner heard when she left.

Her nervousness grew stronger, the closer she was to her target. Laura shifted from foot to foot waiting for the elevator to stop, and when it did, she did not dare to step outside. Laura had walked back and forth, along the narrow corridor, near Jensen’s apartment door for a long time. Her hands were clutching a thick file with Frank's documentation in it. When she finally decided to ring the bell, she immediately regretted it. For a long time, no one answered, so Laura was about to leave with a feeling of relief, but that's when Adam opened the door. He was wearing a black t-shirt and navy blue jeans. She felt that he was amused, but his face solidified at the sight of her. Instantly he became very formal as if tense. He smelled like women's perfumes and although the scent was not strong, Laura still had the impression that she was choking. Jensen didn't invite her in. He stepped over the threshold, blocking the door with his hand to prevent it from closing.

"May I know the reason for your unannounced visit?" he asked in a rough husky voice.

He was right she should have called, let him know but Frank ordered her to just go and she obeyed. Shit, when will she finally do something by the book?

"Sorry for the intrusion," she replied remorsefully, hoping he would at least mellow a little, but he didn't.

Jensen frowned in impatient anticipation of an explanation.

"I'm just getting back from Pritchard’s. He asked me to give you this." She handed him over the file she was tightly holding. "What is this?" he asked, picking up the orange, rectangle object with his free hand.

He slid his foot on the sensor line, thereby freeing the other hand, and began scouring the contents.

"Documentation of our security systems. The boss said it was urgent."

The Chief of Security shook his head with resignation. Pritchard was getting more and more insolent, and this girl was still a blind executioner of his will.

“You could come by to my office tomorrow with this. There is no rush." "But..." she broke off, hearing a woman's voice from deep inside the apartment. "Adam, who came?" "Nobody important.” Jensen turned his head towards the voice source. "One of Frank's employees is bothering me with some reports."

Laura longed to disappear. She didn't realize that he saw her that way and relations between them were so bad. She should punch him straight into his stupid face right now, shouldn't care at all, but damn it, she cared about every single word or gesture.

"I'll take my leave. Have a nice evening, Mr. Jensen," she struggled for the courtesy and sincere smile. So honest that it stabbed Adam right in his icy heart. "I hope you won't make a habit of bothering me at home," he muttered disgruntled. "You can rest assured," she replied and walked away towards the elevator. "Come on Adam. We have something important to discuss," the woman urged impatiently. "I'm coming, Meg."

Adam tossed the file on the desk placed next to the window and poured himself a glass of Whisky. From his apartment window, he saw Laura running out of the building and crossing the street in the sound of howling car horns. He saw and his heart squeezed that unfeeling, icy heart. Jensen wanted to make things right, but instead, he destroyed their fragile relationship. After a moment, he noticed pale light in the terrace window. A sketch of the female figure threw something, probably against the wall, and then slide down on the ground. Jensen couldn't understand why this girl was absorbing him so much. After all, the love of his life, everything he could possibly want, is now at his fingertips reach, but he can't simply enjoy it.

The auburn-haired girl was devastated by the cruelty of Jensen's words. She tried to explain to herself that he didn't think so at all, and his reaction was caused only by her earlier mistakes. Laura had unknowingly breached his private space. If someone had come to her unannounced after working hours and forced extra duties, she would have been angry too. Miss Werner sat on the ground for a long time with her cheek pressed against the cool glass. When she involuntarily looked toward the Chiron Building, she spotted a second silhouette in Adam's apartment. Laura guessed that it might be Megan Reed. Compared to her, she was indeed a nobody.

Laura forced herself to get up and walk a few steps to the bedroom. She crawled into the bed without bothering to put on her pajamas. It didn't matter to her right now. Tomorrow she will be lost as the temporary Chief of Cyber Security anyway. Her career at Sarif Industries will come to an end. When that finally happens, she'll chuck it all and return to Uppsala. That's the plan.

After an hour of pointless staring at the ceiling, she managed to close her eyes and at least pretend to be asleep. One more hour later she was in the arms of Morpheus. Unfortunately, the night did not bring peace. It began with restless wriggling as if she could not find a comfortable position as if something was pressing on her not letting her rest peacefully. Then a wave of heat came, and her heart began to beat faster and louder. Her breathing became shallow, more nervous until finally a feeling of shortness of breath overwhelmed her. Laura struggled with taking another inhale as if smoke was clogging her lungs.

"She's lost to us!" "No, she's not! I'm going in." "You're crazy! Wanna die there?" "I do."

She woke up with a scream on her lips and panicky looked around the room. It only took her a moment to realize this was just another nightmare. Laura was unable to sleep anymore, so she got up and returned to her customary place of observation. Adam's apartment was dark, he probably was already asleep and she wondered if he is dreaming about anything.

All  chapters can be found: [AO3], [dA], [Wattpad] and [Tumblr]

[darthmaclunkey]

october reads!

- severance by ling ma: holy fuck what do you MEAN this was written in 2018?! uncomfortably prescient and predicted so much of the covid era, but it still had the flavour of an early 2010s setting (hipsters, blogs) and plenty of good commentary on being a millennial. I felt like the ending was maybe a bit rushed but overall this was a 5/5

- venemous lumpsucker by ned beauman: chaotic in a good way, although every so often it veered a little into lol xd random holds up spork territory (I’m reading an iain m banks culture book atm and I think he does this background weirdness very well, by comparison). but I really liked this one and what it had to say about the climate emergency and our responses to it, especially to do with individual guilt (or the avoidance of it)

- chain gang all stars by nana kwame adjei-brenyah (read on kindle): to be honest I thought the writing quality of this was poor, but the concept was so strong and the whole book seethed with urgent anger from start to finish - it almost felt like the idea had just been so compelling and important that it had leapt from a first draft to published without any edits. the melding of real and fiction in the footnotes was a great stylistic choice, I love it when fictional texts are presented in the medium of a real-life historical record. I usually never think this but I fully believe this one would be served well by a faithful live action adaptation

- paladin’s strength by t. kingfisher (audiobook, borrowed from the library): listen I didn’t really vibe with the first one in the series because fluffy romance isn’t exactly my thing, but I DID like the world building and I DO like paladins, so when I saw my library offered them all on audio I was like yeah ok why not let’s continue the series. this was fun, no insightful comments on it, it’s a good solid romance with some delightful unconventional elements. my partner walked into the room one night when I was listening to it on speaker and the line was like “we have to figure out why someone would kidnap these nuns” and he was like “what the fuck are you listening to” and I was like “the nuns are werebears and were kidnapped to fight in a gladiator arena” and he was like “again, what the fuck” which was fun

[the-stars-in-between]

DAY 7: The Heart of a Demon

The heart of a demon, willingly given, is a powerful weapon for the one who wields it.

I hated that Crowley got so little recognition after his death from the Winchesters. Obviously with Cas dead he wasn't going to be the priority but even in death he's the second choice. It makes me want to scream. He deserved so much better. There will be a second chapter to this story because I didn't have time to write the ending and I won't have time until tonight. Fandom : Supernatural Character(s): Crowley Relationship(s) : Crowley & Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Crowley/Dean Winchester Words Count: 3,060 Trigger Warnings : - Suicidal Thoughts - Implied Future Self-Sacrifice - Stabbing No. 7: ONLY FOR EMERGENCIES Unconventional Weapon | Magic with a Cost | "It's us or them."

“Yeah, but not our kind of weird. Look, whatever this thing is gonna be, it's gonna be big and bad–”

Crowley couldn't help but appreciate the irony of the situation. 

He materialized inside the library, the Winchesters still trusted him enough, even implicitly, to include him in the Bunker's wards. That would change, of course, now that they realized he'd let Lucifer out of the Cage but the trust and… companionship had been nice while it lasted.

“You rang?” Crowley smirked. “Hello, boys.”

Dean's reaction was immediate, not that Crowley expected anything else from him. He was so predictable sometimes, to Crowley at least.

“Did you do it? Did you let Lucifer out?!”

Dean’s voice was thunderous, shaking with rage and betrayal, and a cold blade was at his throat before he even hit the ground, his nose broken by Dean’s punch.

“I didn’t ‘let’—”

Crowley tried to justify himself but Dean immediately cut him off, shaking him roughly by the collar of his suit, seeing through his lies, as usual. Seeing that he couldn't get anything out of Dean, Crowley turned to Sam, hoping that his logical mind could cut through Dean's anger.

"Moose, a little help here!" Sam sighed, stepping towards his brother.

"Dean, wait."

"Seriously?"

The surprise was apparent to both mother and son, and while Crowley didn’t give a damn about Mama Winchester’s opinion of him, Dean’s reaction hurted where it shouldn’t have. He and Dean had tried to kill each other for years, but Crowley had come to see those interactions as foreplay.

Today, Dean could have plunged his knife into Crowley’s heart without thinking twice. And Crowley probably would have let him do it if he didn’t have a mission.

Still, Dean’s hands loosened around his neck. But not for Crowley’s sake, for Sam’s.

“Look, just don't kill him. He worked the Cage spell with Rowena. Maybe he can help us,” Sam explained.

“And what if he can't?” Mary asked skeptically.

“Well, then we kill him,” Sam replied.

Crowley stood up and dusted nonexistent specks off his jacket, ignoring the death threats and mimicking the Winchesters’ disdain and nonchalance.

“Cage spell? Thought you had Mother for that.”

Crowley tried not to be petulant in his bitterness. His relationship with the Winchesters was strictly professional, sworn enemies or tentative alliance. No hard feelings. Except—

“Rowena’s dead,” Dean announced calmly, coldly .

Would he talk about Crowley’s death the same way if that happened? Probably, they might have been more one day, but at the end of the day, Dean would only keep him around for as long as he was useful.

“Really?”

Mother was a bitch but she was a tenacious bitch, a survivor . Crowley had a hard time believing she would die so easily. He himself was currently assumed dead by everyone except the Winchesters.

"Yeah, really. Lucifer ," Sam replied.

Sam was tired but the venom in his voice at the mention of Lucifer was deadly. Few people hated the Devil with such force and they were all in this room.

"Funny. I always thought I'd be the one to kill her," Crowley said, keeping his voice steady and avoiding Dean's gaze.

Crowley didn’t know what to think. He had hated his mother most of his life, both of his lives, and yet for a moment, he had truly believed that they could be… family . But now was not the time to assess his complex feelings toward his blood.

(A wise man once told me family don’t end in blood, but it doesn’t start there either. Family cares about you, not what you can do for them. Family’s there through the good, bad, all of it. They got your back even when it hurts. That’s family.)

“Crowley...why did you do it? Save Lucifer,” Sam asked. “What did you want?”

Crowley didn't know what he had expected when he went to the Bunker. But certainly not Dean attacking him without even being able to meet his gaze in his anger and Sam hearing his reasons, giving him a chance to explain himself.

"I wanted to win," Crowley seethed, humiliation and anger still deeply rooted in his mind. "I perverted Mother's spell, put Lucifer in a vessel of my own making because I wanted to win ."

It wasn't a feeling the Winchesters could understand, they had fought all their lives for others. But Crowley was a demon , he fought for himself and himself only (not anymore) and for cockroaches like Lucifer to think they could take the fruits of his hard work was infuriating.

“You have any idea how many people have made a play for my throne over the years? Lucifer, Abaddon, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah. Too damn many,” Crowley snapped angrily. “I thought if I could put the Devil on a leash... my own personal nuke, no one would ever dare challenge me again.” 

“Yeah, that worked out great ,” Dean scoffed.

Crowley couldn’t deny it considering how he’d narrowly escaped death. But it had given him time to think about what was truly important. His throne wasn’t even in the top ten.

“Wait. In an actual rat?” Mary asked.

“Wasn't too bad, really,” Crowley replied, never one to refute his own mistakes. “Gave me time to think. You know, I've been focused for so long on keeping my job. Never realized I hate it. All those whining demons, the endless moan of damned souls, the paperwork! I mean, who wants that?”

The Winchesters didn’t seem very sympathetic to his introspection.

“You,” Sam replied, impassive.

He should have know that they were going to be little shits about it.

“Once, maybe,” Crowley replied dismissively.

“So why are you here?” Sam insisted impatiently.

“Well, whenever there's a world-ending crisis at hand, I know where to place my bets,” Crowley replied, smirking. “It's on you, you big, beautiful, lumbering piles of flannel. So if you'll forgive my transgression, I'll make it worth your while.”

Dean straightened up from the table he was leaning against, addressing Crowley for the first time since he’d tried to kill him. Which, by the way, was still incredibly rude .

“Which means?”

“After we put Lucifer back in his cage, together, I'll seal the gates of Hell. You'll never see another demon again, apart from, of course, yours truly.”

Crowley knew they would accept. Even if the semblance of trust between them had been destroyed, the Winchesters had once fought, almost to the death, to close the Gates of Hell. And their greatest obstacle at the time was offering to finish the job for them.

(Crowley winced as he remembered what he’d revealed in that church, to Sam and to himself. He hadn’t been the same since, he hadn’t been the Winchesters’ enemy since.)

“You would do that?” Mary asked skeptically.

“Why not? They stab me in the back, I'll happily stab them in the front, the sides, and right up their little black-eyed asses,” Crowley replied viciously. “So... we have a deal?”

Crowley met Dean's gaze for the first time. Everyone had their own motivation, sense of duty, greed for power, need for love or dear old spite. The Winchesters didn't need to know which one drove Crowley.

(Maybe he would tell them if he knew himself.)

Dean nodded slightly in his direction. Everyone collectively let out a breath.

"Alright," Sam decided. "We still have to find Cas and Kelly."

The Winchesters sat back down around the table and pulled out their laptops, leaving Crowley standing alone at the end of the table. There was a seat next to Dean but it wasn't for Crowley, it never would be despite what Crowley had once thought they had.

The Winchesters clearly didn't need nor wanted his help, otherwise they would have already requested his assistance, with more or less threats depending on their mood. Given the stiffness of Dean's shoulders, they wouldn't have been very polite.

Crowley could have snapped his fingers to summon a glass of scotch but he preferred to advance to the bar in a corner of the room, his leather shoes echoing against the library floor. He opened the precious wood cabinet and, still in its place, was a bottle of his favorite brand.

Crowley poured himself a glass, the amber liquid appearing almost like liquid gold in the dim lighting of the room. He returned to the table and sat down, the glass in his hand. At the head of the table.

"This is what you do when I'm not here? Type?" Crowley asked after a few moments of silence, an inquisitive eyebrow raised.

At least when he was King, he could order his minions to do the boring work for him.

"Yep," Dean replied without looking up from his phone.

"Wait a second. I got something," Sam interrupted. "Okay, two hours ago, there was a massive power outage in the Pacific Northwest."

"Sounds like the right kind of weird," Mary conceded, glancing at the article on her son's computer.

"Oh, yeah. Wait. They tracked the outage to an address in North Cove, Washington, to a house currently being rented by one James Novak ," Sam continued, emphasizing the last few words.

Only a few people in the world knew the importance of that name, but with an alias like that, Cas was practically begging the Winchesters to find him. Even Crowley knew that.

"It's Cas. Let's roll," Dean decided.

"It’s about time," Crowley said, standing up to follow the Winchesters.

Faster than Crowley could register, Dean stabbed Crowley's hand with his knife, pinning him to the table. A flash of gold illuminated the bones in his hand for a second and Crowley cried out in pain as his blood spilled onto the table.

"Think we're gonna trust you out there after what you pulled? Hmm? No ," Dean snapped, his green eyes deeper than the lushest forests, blazing with anger. "You stay here, sit down, and you shut up."

Dean twisted the knife in the wound for good measure before walking away, leaving Crowley alone. Great, now he was going to have to rip his hand off before he could leave.

Asshole .

XXX

Dean, as usual, was the first to notice.

"Oh, come on!"

"Hello, boys. Again ," Crowley greeted.

"Wait a second," Sam asked, "how the hell did you—?"

Crowley held up his bloody, bandaged hand from where he had — painfully, he might add —pulled out the knife.

"I improvised. Lucky I did. Turns out I'm the answer to all your problems."

Dean groaned in frustration, throwing his hands up in the air in defeat. “It's impossible to get rid of you, you're like a cockroach!”

“Now that we've all come to the same conclusion, maybe we could stop wasting time?” Crowley suggested with a saccharine smile.

Crowley didn't wait for Cas or the Winchesters to answer and headed towards the house. This isn't where Crowley would have imagined the birth of the Antichrist, more on an altar made of skulls and blood, but the Winchesters never did anything like everyone else.

Including rifts through space and time to an apocalyptic world.

Luckily for Chip and Dale, Crowley didn't do ordinary things either. And in theory, he knew a spell that could close the rift, preferably with Lucifer on the other side. In theory.

When they arrived a few minutes later, Crowley was already seated at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee. (There was no alcohol in the cupboards, he had checked.) Cas glared at him for invading his space. Cas stayed by the door, Sam positioned as a barrier between him and Dean.

Crowley smiled viciously as Dean took the chair next to him. It seemed he wasn’t the only one in Dean’s bad graces.

“I’m going to check on Kelly,” Cas mumbled, glancing at Dean one last time.

“So what’s your plan?” Sam asked, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed.

“I know a spell that could close the rift,” Crowley explained. “And with Lucifer a few hours behind you–”

“We could lure him into the other dimension and close the door on him,” Dean realized, a glimmer of hope lighting his eyes for the first time.

Dean had a way to fight, to resist. It was enough for him for now. He smiled at Crowley, as if the betrayals and anger had never come between them. Crowley let himself believe for a moment that this was a recurring occasion and not a rare memory.

"What do you need for the spell?" Sam asked, searching the kitchen for a piece of paper.

"Nothing I can't find in your little Bunker," Crowley replied, standing. "Be back in five."

When Dean reached for him, Crowley quickly removed his hands from the table and hid them behind his back. Stab me once—

Dean gave him a strange look as his hand came to rest on Crowley's shoulder to stop him in his tracks. "I'm coming with you."

"You still don't trust me?" Crowley asked, his bandaged hand resting on his chest, pretending to be hurt. “You wound me so, Squirrel.”

“Stop talking so much,” Dean complained.

Taking Dean to the Bunker took more energy than he would have normally used, but considering he hadn't planned on surviving the night, Crowley didn't care.

"All that to get back here," Crowley remarked as he arrived. "It would have been quicker if you hadn't stabbed me in the first place."

"If you want an apology, Crowley, you're not getting one," Dean replied.

Now that they were alone, Dean couldn't hide behind his brother and mother to mask his anger at Crowley. But anger was good, it was better than the cruel and indifferent apathy of Lucifer or his mother.

To be angry was to feel .

"You're not the least bit sorry?" Crowley insisted.

A stab in the hand was nothing. It was the proof that Dean didn’t want him around, didn’t trust him, that hurted him.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you’re not exactly trustworthy,” Dean retorted.

“You always knew who I was, and yet you used to trust me,” Crowley pointed out. “What changed?”

Crowley knew what had changed, Dean thought Crowley had reformed, that he wasn’t the demon he once was. Because Dean Winchester could never love a demon, could never love who he was.

Crowley wasn’t enough .

But he wanted to hear Dean tell him. If he couldn’t have love, he would have the truth. He wanted to know if the man in front of him was worth dying for.

Dean turned on his heel, not wanting to hurt Crowley or caring enough to answer him.

“What do you need? We don’t have much time and I don’t want to leave Sam, Mom, and Cas alone for too long,” Dean asked, his back turned.

“Holy oil,” Crowley answered without missing a beat, as if their conversation never happened.

(Crowley didn’t even deserve the truth.)

(The answer was yes .)

Dean left Crowley to search for the rest of the ingredients alone and Crowley wandered through the Bunker, past Cas’s room and down into the basement. Maybe he could have that, he’d be content being the group’s demon mascot, helping Dean on his hunts. They’d made a good team, hadn’t they?

(Dean didn’t trust him.)

(Crowley wasn’t enough.)

But victory over Lucifer wouldn’t be satisfying enough unless Crowley wiped that arrogant smirk off his face himself. He had to deliver the final blow, no matter if it was through his own heart.

It wasn’t like he had any other reason to stay.

Crowley opened a cupboard, searching for lamb's blood and his gaze froze on a bag of small, decorative red plastic tridents. He pulled one out of the bag, it was so small in his fingers, so easy to break. After a moment of hesitation, Crowley put it in his pocket and closed the cupboard behind him.

Crowley grabbed the lamb's blood from the next cupboard and went back into the library, the trident burning in his jacket pocket. Dean was already waiting for him in the library, tapping his fingers nervously against the wooden table. He looked up well before Crowley arrived in the room, damn hunter senses.

"Ready to take on the Devil? Again ," Crowley asked mockingly. "What must this be, the third time? You're not very good at your job."

"Whose fault is that?" Dean accused.

It wasn't a very good idea to remind Dean that Lucifer was on the loose again, especially when he wanted his forgiveness but Dean was so easy to rile off.

"I counted and I only let him out once, while you bozos let him out twice," Crowley retorted. "I don't see why I should take all the blame."

Dean’s jaw muscles clenched and part of Crowley wanted to brush against him to see if Dean would bite him.

(Depending on the context, Crowley would happily let him.)

“Come on, I know you get cranky when you’re away from Samantha for too long,” Crowley smirked.

Crowley grabbed Dean’s shoulder and led them back to the house, the effort taking a toll on the bones of his vessel. His vessel was falling apart slowly, with Lucifer’s attempted murder and the strain he was putting on it with the repeated use of his powers, but Crowley had grown too fond of it to jump ships. And it wasn’t like he was going to keep using it for long.

Crowley nearly stumbled upon landing but Dean caught his elbow, pulling him against him to steady him. His brows furrowed almost in worry as he studied Crowley’s face.”

“Are you okay?

“Don't worry your pretty little head about me,” Crowley replied, pulling away from Dean. Dean's hands were warm against his forearms. “Just missed a step.”

Crowley walked away in the direction of the kitchen, but Dean’s voice made him stop in the hallway, just under an open window. One floor below, the rift glowed brightly in the night, the exact shade of gold a demon or angel produced before dying. Crowley caught Dean’s gaze in the reflection of the glass.

“Crowley, thank you for coming. I–” Dean paused, searching for his words. “I needed you here.”

Crowley turned around. "We make a pretty good team, don't we?"

"Yeah," Dean smiled weakly, the tiredness on his face even more visible in the silence.

"It was a pleasure, Dean," Crowley replied sincerely.

I'm a firm believer that Crowley was at least a little bit in love with Dean. But who can blame him? Either way, their relationship is so complex and interesting, I love them.

[marqeting]

Why the Best Influencer Campaigns Are the Ones You Never Expect?

Have you ever seen a 21-year-old earning 30 lakhs a month? Or an entrepreneur managing each and every task all by himself? Imagine an influencer’s post that shatters people’s expectations and catches your attention in ways you never saw coming. What if I told you that these extraordinary scenarios are more common than they used to be, thanks to one innovative marketing technique.

Have you ever thought about why these people often go viral very quickly? Is it their content niche which makes them hyped or is it something else? It’s the X factor or a contradictory approach in their content due to which they have maximum likes and impressions, the use of unexpected or contradictory content. X factor never means you will ignite controversies most of the time, instead you will surprise people with content they didn’t anticipate. This strategy has become a new approach lately, allowing campaigns to gain traction in no time and leave a lasting impression in the audience’s hearts and minds.

In this blog, we’ll explore how injecting a dose of the unexpected into your influencer campaigns can subvert mundane promotions into viral sensations. We’ll understand the psychological reasons behind why the unexpected grabs attention, showcase successful examples, and provide actionable strategies to use this technique effectively. Buckle up as we move towards making your content not just seen, but remembered.

Understanding the Unexpected Approach In influencer marketing, the conventional approach often follows predictable patterns: filtered brand sponsorships, boring product integrations, and AI caption strategies. However, there’s a growing trend that disrupts this process— which is infusing unexpected or contradictory elements into content. But what exactly does this mean, and why is it so effective?

Definition Unexpected content, in this context, refers to infusing surprising or unconventional elements into influencer campaigns. These are not controversial or negative, but rather unexpected twists that your audience has never expected from you. For example, an influencer might start a video with an unrelated or humorous incident before integrating the brand message. This approach contrasts with the boring formulaic content and aims to hold the audience’s attention through a witty way.

Psychological Impact The effectiveness of this approach can be attributed to several psychological factors. One key reason is the human brain’s tendency to look for novel stimuli. When presented with something unexpected, our brains are naturally inclined to pay closer attention and engage more deeply.

Unexpected content creates a form of cognitive dissonance—a psychological state where conflicting thoughts or perceptions create a sense of tension. This tension prompts viewers to engage more actively as they work to resolve the dissonance and understand the content’s context. For instance, a video that begins with an offbeat, related scenario before introducing a product in a creative way can intrigue viewers and make the brand message more authentic and relatable.

Creating a Viral Effect Unexpected content has a high potential for going viral. When content surprises and delights, viewers are more inclined to share it with their networks, amplifying its reach beyond the initial audience. This viral potential can improve a campaign’s impact and visibility. The more engaging and unconventional the content, the more likely it is to be shared and discussed, driving even greater exposure for the brand.

Now let’s hop on to some brands who used the unexpected content approach in their marketing campaigns.

Dove’s “Real Beauty Sketches” Campaign Dove’s “Real Beauty Sketches” campaign used unexpected content to grab its viewers attention. Instead of the typical beauty product ads featuring filtered models, Dove took a different approach by talking about the real problems faced by women and their self-perceptions.

The campaign featured a forensic artist who drew sketches of women based on their own descriptions and then based on descriptions from strangers. The surprising outcome showed that the women often described themselves more harshly than others did.

The campaign went viral due to its unexpected approach, leading to widespread media coverage and increased engagement on social media. It clicked well with viewers because it challenged conventional beauty standards and led a broader conversation about self-image and confidence.

Louis Vuitton’s Micro Handbag, Smaller Than a Grain of Salt, Sells for ₹51 Lakh The title alone is surely not gonna convince you. Let us add more details to this to show you how this was a brilliant approach on part of Louis Vuitton. Sold for ₹51 lakh ($63,000), the brand’s new product- a new handbag measures just 657 by 222 by 700 micrometers. It’s incredibly tiny size smash traditional expectations of luxury fashion items, making it a striking example of using unexpected content to catch attention and engage an audience. The brand earned publicity whether positive or negative, publicity is publicity.

This tiny Louis Vuitton bag sparked some fun and extraordinary reactions on social media. People joked about its size or imagined what could fit inside. Above all, it was clear that its minuscule dimensions got people thinking and laughing. Sometimes, the most unexpected product launches like these can spark the most catchy conversations.

Burger King’s “Whopper Detour” Campaign This is another brilliant example of unexpected content that once blended technology, location-based marketing, and competitive strategy. Burger King’s “Whopper Detour” campaign cleverly used mobile technology to drive customer engagement by giving Whoppers for just one cent—on the condition that customers ordered through the Burger King app while near a McDonald’s. The campaign led to a massive increase in app downloads, with over 1.5 million downloads in a short span, increasing mobile orders by 300%.

So, whenever you see an influencer’s profile going viral on social platforms, it’s the contradictory factor which is allowing them to make waves. They are challenging the perceived notion commonly held by the masses. The next time you want to make your influencer campaigns a trending hit, understand how you can incorporate that unique factor in the content and market it eventually.

Marqeting knows what makes people stop scrolling, so we work with influencers to add those unexpected twists that make their content go viral, hence improving a brand’s online visibility.

[j-graysonlibrary]

The Xiang Chronicles: Book One Chapter 13

Title: The Xiang Chronicles: Book One

Author: Jay Grayson

Word Count: 83k

Genres: Fantasy, adventure, drama, LGBT+

Available on: my website

Synopsis: Every few centuries a hero is born—one chosen by the God Tiandi to carry out his will in the mortal realm. The Xiang. Whether it is to quell a war instigated by the forces of shadow—of Shakti herself—or whether it is the miasma that poisons the world, the Xiang is born to bring the world back into balance.

Shu Pangu Min knows what his purpose is and he does his best to fulfill it even if he doesn’t fully understand all of the details. He must travel from city to city—lord to lord—to clear out the miasma. Along the way, he is to enlist the aid of four disciples. Each is to be of a different country and each must have high resonance and deep faith.

The holy men who raised him have great confidence in his future successes and they leave him to begin his journey on his own. But, can Pangu live up to the expectations of those around him? Can he really save the land like all other Xiang before him or will his unconventional methods doom them all?

Full chapter 13 under the cut

Chapter XIII

With Raine unconscious in his arms, Kira couldn’t pay much attention to anything else. He tried waking him—at least enough to where he could stand on his own feet. If he needed to, he would be able to carry him but it would take all of his strength.

“You absolute idiot,” he hissed between his teeth. “We told you to slow down and relax and what do you do? Fucking pass out from exhaustion and fever….”

When Raine, predictably, didn’t respond to him, Kira sighed and looked over his face. He brushed some of his hair out from his eyes and grumbled under his breath.

Sometimes he really thought his feelings for the man were more of a hindrance than anything. He couldn’t even properly stay mad at him.

Pangu surveyed the area, walking until his disciples were just out of sight behind him. When he spotted the top of a field of wheat up a hill, he jumped up and then ran back to Kira.

“I found wheat! That must mean there’s a farm nearby, right?”

“Stands to reason,” he agreed, “But who knows if they will help up.”

“Try to get Raine as close in that direction as possible,” Pangu instructed and pointed, “I will go ahead to find who lives there and talk to them.”

Kira nodded and began his effort to pull Raine up to his feet. He wasn’t sure of the best way to carry him but he had a feeling that his feet would end up dragging along the ground no matter what he did.

“Be careful,” he said to Pangu once he had Raine steady in his grasp.

“I will,” the Xiang assured him before disappearing off into the field.

There was always a chance that whoever lived on the farm would coldly turn them away and they would have to continue searching for help but, at the very least, Pangu hoped to get directions to the nearest town. After all, farms were always near some town or city so, no matter what, they were close to finding rest.

He found the path through the wheat and followed it until he came upon a clearing which had rows of mostly root vegetables before him. A couple of free roaming cattle walked about along with some hogs and wayward chickens.

He stepped over a plot of dirt and rushed around until he found a few rows of bushes. Finally there were some people in sight.

Two women—one quite a bit older than the other—stood side by side and picked berries from the shrubs. Their hair and skin was dark and the sun reflected a red undertone in their hair.

Neither of them had noticed him yet so Pangu carefully got their attention. “Excuse me.”

His sudden appearance still made the older woman jolt upward and the younger woman dropped her basket.

“Sorry, I did not mean to startle you,” he immediately apologized, “My friends and I are a little lost and one of my friends has also fallen ill. Is there any chance we could rest here or get some medicinal herbs to help him?”

“Oh dear,” the older woman placed a hand to her chest. Her eyes were a dark color—either brown or a deep red. “Our doors are always open to those in need.”

“Do you know what he is sick with?” The younger woman asked. Similarly, she had dark eyes but they were more noticeably red. Pangu wasn’t positive but the two looked very much like mother and daughter.

“He has a fever and has lost consciousness due to a mixture of the illness and exhaustion. That is all we know right now.”

“We can make a medicine for the fever at least,” the older woman said.

“I will go and get them,” Pangu stated, gesturing backward.

“I will come with you and help you into the house,” the young woman offered and walked toward him. She fixed her hair, ensuring that it was securely tied up in the bun on top of her head.

She followed behind him as he ran back to the road. Hopefully, he would meet Kira closer to the farm so the trip for Raine was as short as possible.

Near the middle of the path in the wheat, Pangu saw Kira with Raine’s body propped up against him. He had the man’s arm around his shoulder while his legs dragged slightly behind him. Pangu moved to Raine’s other side, hoisting him the rest of the way up to ease Kira’s burden.

“Follow me now,” the young woman said with more concern on her face now that she had seen Raine’s condition. “My mother will have probably prepared my brother’s room. She is no doubt making some medicine as well.”

“Thank you so much,” Pangu responded.

“Yes, we could not carry on for much longer like this,” Kira seconded.

“He does look to be in terrible shape,” she said, glancing over her shoulder for a second.

They came upon the large wooden house and Pangu was surprised at how roomy it was on the inside as well. A long table greeted them and they had to walk through a shared living area where a few more people were sitting around. Pangu didn’t have time to really take notice or say hello to anyone though.

In the back hallway, they were led into a room where the older woman was already waiting with a cup of medicine, a bucket of water, and a few towels.

“You will need to take off his armor,” she said as they sat him down on the bed.

Kira silently went to work on removing the metal plates while Pangu tried to wake him. A few soft pats to the side of his face led to a slightly more forceful slap.

“Raine,” he called out, “You need to wake up for a second, okay?”

Thankfully, the man’s brow started to furrow. His eyes fluttered open and confusion was clear on his face. “Where…?”

“Relax,” Kira said as he moved on to his boots. “Drink the medicine this nice lady made for you.”

Raine glanced over to her and reached out, wearily, to take the cup of red liquid. He slowly took a sip and closed his eyes again.

“He needs rest too, of course,” the older woman said and placed the cup of medicine on the bedside table.

Kira finished removing his armor and helped him lay down on the bed. Almost as soon as Raine’s head hit the pillow, he fell asleep. “This would never have happened if he had just rested on the road,” Kira said with a frown.

“Well we can’t do anything about that now,” Pangu reminded him. “…Kira, will you stay here and watch over him?”

After a long sigh, his disciple nodded. “Yes. I will take care of him.” He sat on the side of the bed and rested his hand on the man’s warm forehead.

“Good, I need to talk to the family here. See what we can do to repay them.” Pangu looked to the two women who were still in the room.

“We shall go to the other room,” the older woman said and pointed behind her, “Your friend needs to be undisturbed.”

He nodded and left Kira with Raine while he followed the women into the larger room where a man and two children were waiting. A young girl helped the older man sort through baskets of vegetables while the small boy ran around and played by with a toy. When Pangu and the women walked in, everyone stopped what they were doing and looked over.

“Hello everyone.” Pangu smiled a little and bowed. “My name is Shu Pangu Min and I am in your service. My company is short of material funds but if I can, I will help out in any way around your home to thank you for your help.”

“You are welcome in our home, Pangu,” the man said with a smile. He repositioned himself in his chair and Pangu noticed, because of the movement, that he was missing one of his legs. “Let us introduce ourselves. I am Chi Duobu Su, the husband of that lovely woman to your left, Yang Daiji Fa.”

“My name is Kin Loa Yang Chi,” the young woman bowed slightly. “Those other two are my younger siblings: Kin Jaimas Yang Chi is my sister and Chi Feiman Yang is my brother.”

“I have an eldest son as well,” the older woman, Daiji, said, “He is in the military so he is not here as often.”

“So you and your daughter manage the farm on your own?” Pangu asked, looking between her and the oldest daughter. Daiji’s husband could not help out in the field with his disability and the other children were too young to be much use.

“We do,” Loa answered with a smile.

“I help sometimes,” Jaimas argued and poked out her lip.

“Sometimes but you’re still learning,” her older sister responded and patted her on the top of her head—between her neatly tied buns.

“I will help out while my companion heals,” Pangu stated, getting everyone to look over at him again. “It is the least I can do.”

Loa grinned. “You can come and help me finish the harvest.”

“I will stay inside and keep an eye on your friends. But before you go, I do have a question,” Daiji added before giving him a look, “Pangu, was it?”

He nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Your friend was wearing Kyrie armor…” She wrung her hand together, giving the impression she might have been nervous to bring it up.

“He is a soldier from Kyrie,” Pangu confirmed with another nod.

“What in the world is a soldier from Kyrie doing over here?” he husband, Duobu asked with a scrunched brow.

“Maybe he’s visiting,” Feiman, the little boy, suggested before he went back to playing with his toy.

“Well,” Pangu started and then cleared his throat, “I suppose it would be best if I was upfront.”

Both husband and wife stared at him and waited for the potentially tumultuous reveal.

“I am the Xiang. Those two men are my disciples.”

A long moment of silence passed before the little girl, Jaimas spoke up, “Really? You’re the Xiang, mister Pangu? Can you prove it?”

They didn’t seem too put out or bothered by the information so he relaxed some. Perhaps all of the accounts that his mentors had told him about the current culture of Agni was not entirely true. Or maybe it just so happened that he found a religious family by happy coincidence.

Pangu smiled a little and reached his hand out to the basket of vegetables and lifted some of them into the air. He floated them above Feiman’s head, causing the small boy to disregard his toy and jump up to try to grab them. With a laugh, he lurched them out of his reach before finally putting the vegetable back into the basket.

“Wow!” Jaimas exclaimed and clapped her hands together. “It’s just like the stories!”

“That is incredible…” Loa’s jaw was dropped and she turned to Pangu with astonishment. “We had not even heard that one was born…”

“There were rumors,” her mother responded but still shook her head. “Regardless, Xiang, it is an honor to have you in our home. Please…you owe us nothing. Relax and use our home as your own.”

Pangu rejected the offer. “I’m afraid I can’t. While your support is greatly appreciated, I must repay my debt for your hospitality.”

“Then at least allow us to prepare you and your disciples an excellent meal,” Duobu replied with a grin. “It is not every day that the Xiang comes into the home of a humble farmer.”

“That I can handle,” he said and smiled back.

Loa then led him outside of the house while her father got to work on dinner and her mother returned to check on Raine again.

The young woman kept stealing glances at Pangu and, after a few moments, he had to address it. “What?” he asked and chuckled softly.

“I am just surprised,” she responded and turned around to face him. She walked backward as she continued to lead him to the fields.

“About the Xiang thing?” he guessed.

She tucked some stray hair behind her ear and laughed. “Yes, obviously.”

“I wasn’t sure it would be wise to open with that fact,” Pangu said honestly. He grabbed a basket from the ground after the young woman had done so. He looked to her for cues on what to do since he’d never done farm work before. “I have heard that some people in Agni are atheist.”

“That is true,” Loa replied, “Honestly, I am unsure if I believe in Tiandi myself but you are clearly the Xiang, right? And you have been clearing miasma?”

“Yes.” Pangu kneeled down next to her and watched how she plucked the green pods from the small bushes before them. He could only hope he would be able to keep up with her. “My entire purpose is to rid the land of miasma. And defeat the Chaaya—assuming there is one.”

Even if he and his disciples both felt that there was a Chaaya in Agni somewhere, that didn’t mean he needed to spread panic by telling Loa. Not that he believed she would go around telling everyone but it was better to play things safely.

“You know,” she started after a moment, keeping her eyes on the work in front of her, “I’ve grown up hearing stories about the past Xiangs and I had always imagined they were older men...”

“Some were women,” Pangu pointed out with a laugh.

“…True but I always imagined them in a certain way, I suppose,” Loa tried to explain and chuckled. She met Pangu’s eyes and continued, “What I mean to say is that I did not expect the Xiang to be such a cute young man.”

His brow raised in surprise. He certainly hadn’t expected her to say that.

As he struggled for some way to respond to that, her gaze shifted from him to somewhere past him. It was so sudden that he glanced over his shoulder to see what she was staring at.

Approaching them was a man in light armor with a bag slung over his shoulder.

“Baiya!” Loa called out and jumped to her feet. She looked down at Pangu and told him, “My brother.”

“Oh.” He also stood up, ready to greet the last member of the family.