#map deviations

[townpostin]

Shops in Mangal Tower Basement Repurposed for Parking

Basement of Mangal Tower in Kadma Converted to Parking Lot Following Court Directive Jamshedpur witnessed a significant change as the basement of Mangal Tower in Kadma, previously filled with shops and warehouses, was converted into a parking lot per a Jharkhand High Court directive. JAMSHEDPUR – The basement of Mangal Tower in Kadma has been converted into a parking lot as per the directive of…

[happyk44]

To me, children of Zeus are natural strategists in the same way children of Athena are. But the difference is that Zeus and his kids have multiple plans and contingencies if a plan fails at a certain point and needs to shift gears. So like they employ Plan A and get all the way to stage four of the plan when suddenly there's a deviation from expectations for whatever reason. So they shift gears from Plan A1 to Plan A2, which accounted for this deviation and continue on.

Athena and her kids, however, come up with one solid, somewhat broader plan and refuse to deviate from it at all unless there is literally no other choice, in which case they will improvise quickly and efficiently to accomodate the change and get back on track to the original plan.

[mayra-quijotescx]

so I went to my neurologist and good news! There is definitely still a brain in there.

(I will stop making this joke when I stop having to cough up a specialist copay. Which might be soon, as there's seemingly nothing wrong with me in the Spicy Headaches Department that isn't also wrong with a goodly swath of the adult USian population, my symptoms just presented weird originally.)

and afterwards I had to run an errand in a different part of town, so after a decent amount of suburban hiking, I actually got to take the 84.

As a public transit extremist, I fully believe that there's no such thing as a boring bus route. But the 84 seemingly pops up everywhere. I've seen it at Northwest Transit Center, near one of the more cursed places I've lived, along stretches of road I used to have to walk to get groceries in a completely different part of town, and at Texas Medical Center TC. It gets around, and does a zigzag that takes it at one point through a tunnel of traffic cones at two different spots on the beleaguered yet expensive University Blvd (Rest in Peace to the Half Price Books that used to be there.) It was very cool to see the city from the perspective of the 84, however briefly, after years of encountering it and being like, 'you go here, too?'

[pedrospatch]

safe and sound

Jackson! Joel Miller x Female Reader

summary: Your daughter has a nightmare—her daddy makes it all better.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. slight canon age deviations (Joel is 56, Ellie is 17) READER’S AGE IS NOT SPECIFIED. she’s a child bearing adult woman so do with that information what you will. established relationship, reader and Joel have a toddler (her age is not specified in fic but she’s 3 ish years old), reader has NO PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION and neither does their child except she has Joel’s eyes and his dark curls, no mentions of her skintone. Joel and Ellie are fine bc he deserves it, Joel’s an overprotective girl dad, reader is the chill parent. implications of a toddler being told about clickers, bad dreams, almost smut, Joel and reader get cockblocked, SOFT Joel who comforts his babygirl, mention of Sarah towards the end. very minimal editing.

word count: 2.3k

a/n: listen, i love me some daddy joel but tonight i needed a bit of actual daddy joel. this was whipped up last minute bc i haven’t had the best weekend and needed some comfort. also i didn’t have the mental capacity or energy to come up with a moodboard, so gif it is.

Joel looks down at the old, worn book in his hand.

Winnie the Pooh.

He never would have imagined it. This.

Reading a bedtime story to a toddler. His toddler.

He’s in his fifties—he shouldn’t have a toddler.

He shouldn’t have a teenager, either.

Yet, he has both.

The toddler has his blood, the teenager doesn’t.

But that doesn’t matter to him.

Joel still considers her to be his own kid.

Only, she’s not a kid anymore, not really.

She’s seventeen now. She doesn’t need him much anymore, not the way that his toddler needs him.

“Ellie’s not coming home tonight,” you’d said from where you stood at the stove, stirring in chunks of potato and chopped carrots into the pot of stew in front of you. “There’s a birthday party down at the bar. She’s going with Dina and Jesse.” You can feel the look of disapproval on his face and add, “I said she could go, Joel. She asked me permission.”

“She didn’t ask me,” he’d gruffed. He looked down at the little girl sitting in his lap, scribbling away on an old state map. He had given it to her along with the pack of crayons he’d found during patrol when his group stumbled across a schoolhouse. Though crumbling on the outside, the inside had remained untouched throughout the last two decades—little coats hanging over the back of little chairs, papers scattered all over little desks, little lunch boxes still stored in their cubbies at the back of the room. He instructed the group to search for anything useful, anything that Jackson’s teachers could use for the children in their classrooms. Joel knew that taking without trading was against the rules, but that did nothing to stop him from secretly slipping the box of crayons into his jacket pocket when no one had been looking.

His daughter’s squeals of delight when he’d gifted them to her had been well worth the theft.

“Because she knew you’d say no to her.”

“I would have. Kid’s got no business going to a bar at her age. She’s fuckin’ seventeen years ol—”

The little girl had gasped and stopped coloring.

“Daddy said a bad word.”

You’d turned around and glared at him. “He did.”

She looked up at him with her wide, brown eyes.

Those she’d gotten from him. His dark curls too.

Everything else?

Her smile, her nose, her softness?

That was all you.

“M’sorry, babygirl,” he apologized, sheepishly.

“S’okay, daddy.”

And back to coloring she went.

“Joel, let’s face it. Ellie’s growing up. She’s turning eighteen in a few months and truth is, she has one foot out the door.” Crossing your arms, you leaned back against the counter. “She was telling me how she wants to turn the garage into her own space.”

“There a reason she ain’t talkin’ to me ‘bout this?”

You’d smiled wistfully at him.

“Because she knows this is hard for you, Joel.”

It is hard. Because even though she isn’t his, she’s his and he’s afraid to lose her somehow.

Joel manages to snap himself out of his thoughts.

Rosemary’s now fast asleep, her well loved stuffed bunny rabbit wrapped in her arms. She’s a handful for him during bedtime—she has too much energy and most nights, you have to step in and help him. But tonight, after her bath, he had warmed a glass of milk for her to drink and it seemed to have done the trick because within minutes of him reading to her, her eyes fluttered closed.

Joel sets the book down and leans over to brush a kiss onto her cheek, quietly whispering goodnight. “Sweet dreams, babygirl.”

He switches off the lamp on the bedside table and steps out of his child’s bedroom, being careful not to wake her as he closes the door behind him.

“I still can’t believe she fell asleep within minutes,” you say, staring at him in utter disbelief. “How?”

“Gave her a glass of warm milk before I tucked her into bed,” Joel explains, tugging on a pair of faded black sweatpants. He peels off his shirt and tosses it onto the floor before climbing into bed. “Worked like a fuckin’ charm. She’s out like a damn light.”

You set your book down and raise an eyebrow.

“Joel, I brushed her teeth before her bath.”

“I brushed them again after she drank it, darlin’.”

He outstretches his arm, beckoning for you.

Grinning, you scoot closer to him, draping an arm over his bare chest. “It’s only nine,” you tell him. “I have no idea what we’re going to do with all of this free time we have. Rosemary’s asleep, Ellie’s gone for the night.” You slowly drag your hand down his chest and over his stomach, a finger skimming the waistband of his sweatpants. You hear the way his breath catches in his throat and tease, “I guess we can actually get some good sleep for once, huh?”

Groaning, Joel rolls over and pins you down to the bed as he positions himself on top of you, his eyes glazed over with lust. “We can sleep,” he murmurs as his mouth hovers over yours. He reaches for the buttons of his flannel you’re wearing and begins to single-handedly pop them open only to find you’re not wearing anything underneath. He groans once more. “Or I can make you feel good. S’your choice, baby.”

You gasp as he nips at your chin and starts trailing his lips lower, peppering kisses down the length of your body. Heat blossoms in your lower belly as he settles himself between your thighs. Hooking both arms around them, he nibbles at the soft spot that is right below your navel, the spot you hate, but he adores. Having a child had changed your body and while you two seldom had time to yourselves to do anything of this nature, when you did find time, he never failed to make you feel like you were still just as beautiful to him, if not a thousand times more.

“Fuck,” you whimper. “Please, Joel.”

“Please what, sweetheart? What do you want?”

His voice is low, husky.

Your hands reach down and tangle in his curls.

“Your mouth, Joel. Please. I need your—”

The sound of a teeny knock at the door makes you both freeze on the spot.

“You heard that, right?” you ask him breathlessly.

There’s a second teeny knock.

It’s then followed by an even teenier voice.

“Mommy? Daddy?”

“Fuck,” Joel hisses, scrambling off the bed. “What the hell is she doin’ out of bed?” Picking his t-shirt up from the floor, he quickly throws it on, ignoring that he’d put it on inside out. Watching you as you fumble to button his flannel, he calls, “Just give us one second babygirl, alright? We’ll be right there.”

“I’m decent,” you tell him, getting the last button.

Nodding, Joel opens the bedroom door. His knees protest when he squats down, lowering himself so that he can meet Rosemary’s tearful gaze.

“S’matter, Rosie Posie?” he asks her in a soft voice that he reserves for his girls. “What happened?”

She sniffles. “I—I had a bad dream, daddy.”

You sit on the side of bed and wait patiently.

Joel has it handled. He always has it handled.

He never stopped knowing how to be a father.

“You had a bad dream?” he repeats, frowning.

Rosemary nods, clutching her rabbit to her chest.

A single tear slips down the side of her little face.

Joel reaches out, gingerly wiping it with his finger.

“M’sorry it scared you, babygirl. Tell you what, just for tonight, how about you sleep with me and your mama in our bed? That sound good?” With a small labored grunt, he scoops her into his arms. She is getting heavier and you often tell him it’s not good for his back—he can’t care less. He’ll keep picking her up until the moment his little girl decides she’s a big girl and doesn’t want him to pick her up. Joel carries her over to the bed and sits her on your lap and reminds her, “But this is just for tonight, Rosie Posie. Tomorrow night you’re back in your own big girl bed, alright?”

“Okay,” she nods again and leans against you, tiny shoulders slumping.

“Rosie? What was your dream about?” you ask her gently, wrapping your arms around her. She hardly ever has nightmares—she’s too young to know the world outside the commune’s walls, smart but still too little to understand why she cannot go outside the gates. “What did you dream about, honey?”

She hesitates, then answers, “Monsters.”

“Monsters?” Perplexed, you glance at Joel.

He seems to be just as confused as you are.

“Who did you hear that word from, babygirl?”

“Robbie.”

Your neighbor’s unruly, troublemaker son.

Joel’s jaw clenches slightly. “Thought I told you he ain’t allowed to be around her. The kid is nine, ain’t got no business bein’ around Rosemary. Little brat ain’t nothin’ but a bad influence. He’s always up to no good.” He shakes his head at you. “Said I didn’t want that boy anywhere near our daughter.”

“The kids were out playing in the snow today,” you remember. “He must have been there too. It’s kind of hard to tell who is who when they’re all bundled up and flinging snowballs at each other, Joel.” You shoot him an apologetic look. “Rosie was having a blast playing with everybody—I’m sorry. I suppose I should’ve paid more attention to who was around her.”

He bites back a sigh. He knows it’s not your fault.

Rosie’s too good of a girl, too pure and innocent to know that not everybody is her friend.

“Rosie, what did Robbie say to you?”

Again, the child hesitates.

“He said—he said monsters live outside. They bite people and turn them into monsters too. He said it happened to his daddy.” Rosemary’s eyes flit from you to Joel. “He said it would happen to you, too.”

Your eyes widen in shock. “He said that to you?”

Hands curling into fists, Joel reminds himself now isn’t the time to let his anger take over. “S’not true at all, babygirl.” He reaches over and slides her out of your lap and onto his. Like you, he wants to lie—tell her those monsters she was told about are not real, that they don’t exist. But they do exist and as much as he wishes he could keep her from finding out about all that lies beyond Jackson’s walls, Joel knows that one day, she will. “Listen to me. M’real sorry to hear ‘bout Robbie’s daddy, baby. But I can promise you, that ain’t gonna happen to me.”

She points a chubby finger at you.

“What about mommy?”

“Ain’t gonna happen to her either.”

Rosemary drops her hand, fear clear in her tone as she asks the both of you, “What about me?”

“Of course not,” you say, smoothing back her dark curls. “You’re safe here, honey. As safe as can be.”

Joel nods. “Your mama’s right, darlin’. You’re safe,” he reassured her. “You’re safe and sound.”

“I am?”

He gives her body a warm, gentle squeeze. “Mhm. Always will be. Y’know how I know that, babygirl?”

“How?”

“‘Cause. As long as daddy’s around, he will always protect you,” he promises her. “He’ll never, ever let anythin’ bad happen to you, Rosie. I swear it.” Joel kisses the top of her head, his gaze meeting yours. He murmurs his oath quietly, “On my life.”

Flashing him a small, grateful smile, you reach out and touch his forearm and he places his hand over your own.

“And mommy too?” Rosemary questions him.

“And mommy too.”

“And Ellie?”

“And Ellie,” he nods, firmly. “M’always gonna keep my girls safe. S’long as I’m around, you’re all safe.”

Rosie tiredly snuggles into his chest, yawning.

“What about you, daddy?”

“Huh?”

You squeeze his arm. “Think she’s asking you who is supposed to keep you safe, Joel.”

The little girl nods sleepily. “Yeah. Who?”

“Well.” Joel’s throat bobs nervously. He knows the moment he says what he’s about to say, there’s no going back. Not that he never planned to tell Rosie about her sister, but he’d always imagined doing it when she was older and understood death. “I—uh, I have an angel in the clouds who looks out for me. She watches over me, keeps me safe and sound.”

Rosemary’s curiosity is all that is keeping her from completely passing out in his arms.

“Really? You have an angel?”

Your heart squeezes tightly in your chest. “Joel—”

He lightly shakes his head.

“S’fine sweetheart. I don’t mind tellin’ her.”

Rosie’s fighting to stay awake just a little longer.

“Daddy? What’s your angel’s name?”

Joel answers in the steadiest voice he can muster.

“Her name was—her name is Sarah.”

“Sarah,” she mumbles, her eyes closing. “S’pretty. Your angel has a really pretty name.”

“The prettiest name,” you agree, softly.

Rosie yawns again. “Daddy?”

“What is it, babygirl?”

“Will you tell me stories about Sarah? Please?”

Joel chuckles, rubbing her back. “I sure will. I have plenty of them to tell, Rosie Posie. But not tonight. I’ll save them for tomorrow ni—”

You cut him off. “Joel?”

“Yeah?”

“She’s out cold.”

He glances down and sure enough, she’s asleep.

Moments later, the three of you are in bed. Rosie’s in the middle, curled up against Joel’s chest—your chest is pressed against her back but you’re being careful not to sandwich her in too tight in between your bodies.

In a beam of silvery moonlight shining through the bedroom window, you meet Joel’s gaze.

“Thank you,” you whisper.

He chuckles. “For what? Doin’ my job and soothin’ our daughter after a bad dream?”

You smile at him.

“For being so good to her. To me and Ellie.” Lifting a hand, you reach over and cup the side of his face in your palm. “You’re so good to all three of us and I can’t even imagine what we’d do without you.”

Joel turns his face, brushing a kiss into your hand.

“I mean it,” he says, quietly. “S’long as I’m around, you girls will always be safe and sound.”

credit divider @saradika-graphics

[edenesth]

ATEEZ as Disney Princes

Pairing(s): disney prince!ateez x disney princess!reader

Word Count: 14.4k

A/N: The title says it all. I thought it'd be fun to do something like this for the first time, deviating from my usual one member per story format teehee. Special thanks to my one and only, my pookie, @itstheghostofmypast, for helping me decide which Disney princes San, Mingi, and Wooyoung should be💘

ATEEZ MASTERLIST

Hongjoong ↠ Li Shang (Mulan)

• Leadership • Discipline • Protector •

"The Huns have struck here, here, and here," the senior General Kim pointed to the map, his voice steady and commanding. "I will lead the main troops to the Tung Shao Pass and stop Shan-Yu before he destroys this village. You will stay behind and train the new recruits. When Chi Fu believes you're ready, you will join us, Captain."

"Captain?" Hongjoong repeated, his voice filled with disbelief. This was the moment he had been dreaming of for as long as he could remember. He had trained the hardest and longest among his batch, fighting tirelessly to prove his worth to his commanding officer. It was finally his time to shine and demonstrate his capabilities.

"I believe you will do an excellent job," General Kim affirmed.

"Oh, I will. I won't let you down, sir," the younger man replied with determination.

It was during the Imperial dynasty in China that, as the Huns attempted to invade, the nation plunged into war. Yet, not all hope was lost. The young and fiery Captain Hongjoong was assigned to take charge of the new recruits. He would motivate them and push them to reach their full potential. His ability to inspire and lead by example would soon become evident as he transformed a group of untrained soldiers into a disciplined unit.

⁞

Throughout the training, Hongjoong enforces strict discipline among his soldiers. He sets high standards and expectations, ensuring that the recruits develop the necessary skills and physical conditioning through rigorous exercises. His disciplined approach is crucial in preparing them for the challenges ahead.

You would know this firsthand. Despite your best efforts, you had lost hope, feeling out of place because, at the end of the day, you were not a man. But Hongjoong didn't know that. No one in the camp knew.

"You're unsuited for the rage of war. So pack up and go home," he had said, shaking his head in disappointment as he stalked off.

There was something about him that made you want to fight harder, to prove that you could do what the other soldiers could. To his pleasant surprise, he emerged from his tent the following morning to see your fellow soldiers applauding you for successfully completing the toughest task in the camp.

This was exactly what he wanted to see.

You used to fear him for his harsh and uncompromising behaviour, but now you understand. In the face of war, no one would show you kindness or consideration. Captain Hongjoong was doing exactly what he needed to prepare everyone for that reality.

⁞

"You think your troops are ready to fight?" Chi Fu scoffed. "They wouldn't last a minute against the Huns!"

Hongjoong scowled, clenching his fists. "They completed their training."

"Those boys are no more fit to be soldiers than you are to be a captain. Once the general reads my report, your troops will never see battle," Chi Fu sneered, gesturing for the younger man to leave.

"We're not finished!" Hongjoong called out, grabbing the man's arm.

"Be careful, Captain. The general may be your father, but I am the Emperor's counsel. And I got that job on my own. You're dismissed," Chi Fu said snarkily, pulling open the flap of his tent.

There it was—the comment Hongjoong hated most. Being called the son of General Kim. He had heard enough whispers of nepotism, undermining his hard-earned success. He didn't want to be seen as just the general's son; he had worked tirelessly to earn his position.

He stormed out of the tent, surprised to see you standing there. "Hey, I'll hold him, and you punch," you joked nervously, but he frowned and continued walking. "Or not." You bit your lip as he walked away. "For what it's worth, I think you're a great captain."

His steps faltered for a moment, and he turned to meet your eyes briefly. In that fleeting glance, his eyes seemed to show what looked like a hint of appreciation before he continued on his way.

At least someone still believed in him.

⁞

And that someone was… a girl.

Hongjoong discovered this during the mountain battle when the Huns ambushed and you saved him. You had lied, fooling everyone, even him. How dare you? How dare you… try to save your father's life by volunteering to fight in the war? After the initial feelings of disappointment and betrayal, he realised just how brave you were—a quality that put cowardly men to shame.

Not only that, your perseverance had ended up saving China, something he couldn't have done without you.

Guilt overwhelmed him after leaving you behind, injured and alone on the snowy mountain, after you had risked your life to save his. The image of you lying vulnerable and exposed in the small tent haunted him—your hair finally let down, revealing your true identity; your petite frame contrasting with the fabric tightly wrapped around your chest to hide your gender. In his emotional turmoil at the time, he had abandoned you. But if he could do it over, he knew he would have done everything differently to protect you.

That's why he was determined to make up for his mistake by protecting you now, even though he knew deep down that he would have protected you regardless.

"Where is she?! Now she's done it! What a mess! Stand aside! That creature's not worth protecting," the Emperor's counsel screeched, trying to push past Hongjoong, who was shielding you. He gestured toward the destroyed portion of the palace from your earlier battle with Shan-Yu and his men.

The captain stood his ground. "She's a hero."

"She's a woman. She'll never be worth anything."

"Listen, you pompous..." Hongjoong growled, grabbing Chi Fu by the collar.

"That's enough!" the Emperor roared, breaking the two apart. The focus shifted to what was truly important: the fact that the war was finally over, thanks to a certain female warrior.

⁞

While Hongjoong possessed exceptional leadership skills, discipline, and a protective nature, he still had moments of foolishness.

"You, uhh... you fight good."

Was that all he could muster? After everything you had been through together, perhaps you were overthinking it. Maybe he didn't see you in that way at all. Maybe you were just another good soldier to him.

"Oh. Thank you."

Like an idiot, he watched you depart, a sense of longing tugging at his heart. Unbeknownst to him, the Emperor appeared beside him, clearing his throat before speaking, "The flower that blooms in adversity is the rarest and most beautiful of all."

"Sir?" Hongjoong blinked in confusion.

"You don't meet a girl like that in every dynasty," the Emperor remarked, indirectly calling the captain a fool, shaking his head in disbelief before returning to the palace.

Finally grasping the meaning behind His Excellency's words, Captain Hongjoong hastily mounted the nearest horse and rode swiftly to your family estate. He should have recognised the affection he felt for you sooner. Gosh, he truly had been clueless.

He arrived just in time to interrupt your tearful reunion with your father. "Uhh… you forgot your helmet!" he stuttered, turning awkwardly to the elderly man beside you, the one you had gone to war for. "W-well, actually, it's your helmet, isn't it? I mean…"

You suppressed a smile, feeling your heart flutter as you understood his obvious reason for visiting. Stepping closer to him, you reached out to accept the helmet. "Would you like to stay for dinner?"

He blushed. "Dinner would be great."

Seonghwa ↠ Prince Charming (Cinderella)

• Gentlemanly • Graceful • Loyal •

"Miss! Are you alright?" the prince called out after helping you rein in your horse, which had been racing out of control. You huffed in frustration. "I'm fine, but you nearly scared the life out of him."

He frowned, confused. "Who?"

"The stag," you replied incredulously. How could he act so innocent when he and his group had been hunting down a poor creature? "What did he ever do to you to deserve being chased like that?"

His Highness struggled to suppress the smile tugging at his lips. The way you spoke of the animal as if it were a dear friend was endearing, and he could see that you genuinely cared for the animal. Not many girls your age, at least those he had met, would show such compassion. "Miss, what do they call you?"

Your smile faltered, memories of the cruel names your stepmother and stepsisters used flashing in your mind. "It doesn't matter what they call me."

"You shouldn't be this deep in the forest alone," he pointed out.

"I'm not alone. I'm with you, Mister...?" you said lightly, before pausing and glancing at him curiously. "What do they call you?"

Realising you had no clue who he was, he chuckled. "You don't know who I am?" His expression softened when he saw that you truly didn't recognise him. "Well... they call me Seonghwa. At least, my father does when he's in a good mood."

There was something refreshing about meeting someone who didn't know his royal identity, and he felt strangely free at this moment. Determined to keep it that way, he quickly came up with white lies to conceal the truth. Just then, you noticed the group of men who had been hunting with him gallop by, and you swallowed nervously. "You'll leave the stag alone, won't you?"

He paused, captivated by your sincerity and beauty—both inside and out—before nodding slowly. "I will."

⁞

"If I must marry, why not a good, honest country girl?" Seonghwa slyly suggested, posing for his portrait as part of the preparations for the royal ball, where he was expected to find a bride. Ever since meeting you that day in the woods, you hadn't left his thoughts.

The Grand Duke barely held back a chuckle. "And how many strong alliances will this 'good, honest country girl' provide us? How will she strengthen the kingdom? We are a small nation surrounded by powerful states, Your Royal Highness, and it's a dangerous world."

His Majesty sighed at the man's sarcastic tone and approached his son. "Listen, boy. I want to see you safe—and the kingdom secure."

Seonghwa's expression darkened at the gentle rejection. "Alright, Father, but on one condition. Let the invitations go to everyone, not just the nobility. The wars have brought grief to all of us."

That was all it took to set things in motion. "A ball for the people, a princess for the prince," the advisor muttered, unaware of how determined His Highness truly was. His plan to see you again was falling into place.

Days later, as you wandered through the town market, you heard the town crier make the announcement. "Know that in two weeks, a Royal Ball will be held at the palace. At said ball, in accordance with ancient custom, the prince shall choose a bride. Furthermore, by the prince's request, it is hereby declared that every maiden in the kingdom, be she noble or commoner, is invited to attend. Such is the command of our most noble king."

Eager to see the apprentice—at least, that's what he claimed to be—whom you'd met in the forest just the other day, you rushed home to share the news with your stepmother and stepsisters, brimming with excitement. But, of course, things were not going to unfold the way you had hoped.

⁞

"You shall not go to the ball!" were your stepmother's cruel words after she ripped apart your mother's old gown.

Yet here you stood, in front of everyone in the grand hall, now adorned in a magical gown and sparkling glass slippers, thanks to your fairy godmother. The prince's face lit up the moment he saw you, gazing at you like you were the most beautiful girl in the world—and to him, you were. No one could ever compare.

"Mr. Seonghwa," you called softly as the crowd parted, allowing you to approach him. His heart melted at the sound of his name on your lips. "It's you, isn't it?" he asked, smiling. "It is," you replied with a smile of your own.

Gathering his courage, he swallowed nervously. "If I may—it would be the greatest honour if you'd allow me to lead you in this first dance."

Your heart fluttered, and you nodded. With your permission, he wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you close. The proximity made your breath hitch as your hand rested on his shoulder. He spun you around, and for a moment, you caught the eyes of the crowd. "They're all looking at you," you whispered, turning to face him again.

He smiled softly, shaking his head. "Trust me, they're all looking at you." In that moment, nothing else mattered to him but you. Holding you close, he couldn't tear his eyes away, not even for a second. He could stay like this forever.

⁞

"So, you're the prince!" you exclaimed as he led you away from the crowd into a secluded room, offering you both a moment of peace and quiet.

"Not the prince, exactly," he replied with a playful grin. "There are plenty of princes in the world. I'm just a prince."

You chuckled softly. "But your name's not really Seonghwa, is it?"

He laughed. "Oh, it is. My father still calls me that—especially when he's not too irritated with me."

As you both shared a laugh, your eyes landed on a portrait hanging on the wall. "Is that you?" you asked curiously, moving toward it.

He sighed. "Ugh, I hate how I look in paintings. Don't you?"

You shrugged. "No one's ever painted my portrait."

He paused, his gaze softening as he looked at you. "No? Well, they should."

For a brief moment, time seemed to stand still as you stared at one another, neither wanting the moment to end. Reluctant to part from you, Seonghwa led you out into the palace garden.

"What's bothering you?" you asked, noticing the flicker of concern in his eyes as you strolled down the grassy paths.

He forced a smile. "When I go back, they'll try to marry me off to a lady of their choosing. I'm expected to marry for political advantage."

You gave him a gentle smile. "But surely you have a right to follow your own heart."

He sighed, wishing that were true. Not wanting the evening to end just yet, he guided you to a hidden spot. "A secret garden," you murmured in awe, stepping into the beautiful, secluded space. In the centre stood a swing, and at his insistence, he pushed you gently, laughing together until one of your glass slippers slipped off.

Like the gentleman he was, Seonghwa immediately knelt down to help you put it back on. Once it was secure, you found yourself sitting close to him, your breaths catching as he remained on his knees, gazing up at you.

"Won't you tell me who you really are?" he asked softly, a hint of desperation in his voice.

You swallowed nervously. "If I do, everything might change."

His expression tugged at your heart. "I don't understand... Can you at least tell me your name?"

You hesitated, then whispered, "My name is—"

The loud chime of the clock rang out, striking midnight. Panic surged through you. "I have to go! It's... hard to explain. Thank you for a wonderful evening. I've loved every moment!" were your final words as you hurried away.

⁞

"Miss, you are requested and required to present yourself before your king," said the captain of the royal guard, as your cruel stepmother finally unlocked the door to your attic room.

The king...?

That could only mean Seonghwa, with his father having recently passed. Despite your stepmother's desperate attempts to stop you, she could no longer keep you from meeting him. With nervous breaths, you made your way down to the living hall where he waited. Would you be enough? There was no magic to help you now.

"Who are you?" he asked, holding the single glass slipper in his hand.

With a deep breath, you finally spoke your truth. "Your Majesty, I'm no princess. I have no carriage, no parents, and no dowry. I don't even know if that beautiful slipper will fit. But if it does, will you take me as I am? An honest country girl who loves you."

A soft smile spread across his face. His loyalty has only ever been to you and only you from the very beginning. "Of course I will. But only if you will take me as I am."

In that final moment of truth, you sat before him just like that night, and without hesitation, Seonghwa gently slipped the shoe onto your foot. It fit perfectly. After searching the entire kingdom to find you, you were finally here, his at last.

A few days later, you stood beside him in a wedding gown, facing the people as their queen. "My Queen," he whispered, cupping your face amidst the cheers of the crowd.

"My Hwa," you murmured, just before he pressed his lips firmly against yours.

Yunho ↠ Prince Phillip (Sleeping Beauty)

• Brave • Romantic • Strong-willed •

"We want you to go pick some berries! Lots of berries! But take your time, dear. Don't wander too far, and remember—no talking to strangers! Goodbye, dear," your three godmothers chimed in unison as you waved them off. They were so charmingly silly, and though you knew they were up to something for your 16th birthday, you played along and agreed to leave the cosy little cottage you'd grown up in.

What you didn't know was that your godmothers were feeling bittersweet. After the celebration, they would be returning you to your true parents—the king and queen. They had kept you hidden all these years from Maleficent's curse, and now, believing it was finally safe, they prepared to send you home. Or so they thought.

Completely unaware of this, you happily made your way to the forest where you often spent your days, swinging the empty basket in your hand and singing a familiar tune.

Not far off, Yunho caught the sound of your voice—the most beautiful sound he had ever heard. He pulled his horse to a stop, biting his lip in wonder. "What is that? It's... beautiful." Turning toward the source of the melody, he couldn't resist. "Come on, let's go find out."

In his haste to reach you, his horse galloped ahead, easily leaping over a low log—unfortunately, not quite low enough for the prince. Yunho yelped as he was thrown into a shallow pond, landing with a splash. He groaned, unamused, as his horse sheepishly returned, having noticed his rider was no longer on board.

So much for chasing the magical voice. Now he was stuck with wet clothes, needing to dry off before he could continue his search.

⁞

"Why do they still treat me like a child? They never let me meet anyone..." you sighed, speaking to the animals gathered around you. "But guess what? I tricked them. I have met someone—a prince. He's tall, handsome, and... so romantic. We walk together, talk together, and just before we say goodbye, he takes me in his arms, and then..." you teased with a playful smile. "I wake up."

"Yes, it's only in my dreams."

Pushing aside your wistful thoughts, you continued to sing softly while gathering berries. But to your surprise, another voice joined in—a deep, masculine voice. Before you knew it, a pair of arms gently mirrored the way yours had been swaying in your daydream.

"Oh. Oh!" you gasped, pulling away as you realised this wasn't a dream. A man was standing before you, real and not imagined. Not wanting to frighten you, he kept his distance and bowed politely. "I'm terribly sorry. I didn't mean to startle you."

You blinked, trying to calm your racing heart as you took in his features—he looked exactly like the man you had seen in your dreams. "Oh, it's not that... it's just that you're a..."

As you instinctively stepped back, he gently reached for your hand. "A stranger?" he finished for you, and you nodded. Before you could pull away, he smiled and held on softly. "But don't you remember? We've met before."

"We... have?" you whispered, your voice faltering.

He nodded, a cheeky grin spreading across his face. "Of course. You said so yourself. Once upon a dream."

You couldn't help the smile tugging at your lips as you turned away, amused by how he cleverly quoted your song. At first, you resisted, but soon you found yourself in his arms, dancing to the tune you had been singing. Except this time, you were no longer alone—you were dancing with him.

As if caught in a dream, you eventually leaned into him, resting your head on his shoulder as the two of you stood beneath a tree, gazing out at the beautiful view. His voice was soft when he asked, "Who are you? What's your name?"

"My name..." you started, staring up into his eyes, momentarily mesmerised by them. You almost gave him your name, but then reality hit you—you didn't even know him. With a gasp, you pulled away from his hold. "No, no, I can't. I—I have to go! Goodbye!"

Yunho panicked, not ready to let you slip away. Call it love at first sight, but he knew, deep down, you were the one. "But when will I see you again?" he called out, his eyes filled with longing as he watched you retreat into the forest.

"Tonight! At the cottage in the glen!" you blurted out, against your better judgement. Deep down, you couldn't bear the thought of leaving and never seeing him again either.

⁞

"This is the happiest day of my life!" you exclaimed, admiring the beautiful dress and the delicious cake your godmothers had made for you. "Everything is so perfect. Just wait until you meet him!"

"Him? Y-you've met a stranger?" one of the fairies asked, concerned.

You smiled dreamily. "Oh, he's not a stranger. We've met before—once upon a dream."

The fairies exchanged worried glances, their hearts breaking as they realised... you were in love. "Oh no, this is terrible. You're already betrothed."

"Betrothed?" Your heart sank.

"Since the day you were born, dear. To Prince Yunho."

You frowned in disbelief. "But that's impossible! How could I marry a prince? I'd have to be..."

"A princess," they finished for you. "And you are, dear. Tonight, we're taking you back to your father, King Stefan."

Shaking your head, you struggled to process the sudden revelation. "But... I can't! He's coming here tonight. I promised to meet him."

"We're sorry, child, but you must never see that young man again," one of them said softly.

It felt like a cruel joke. Just when you had finally met the man of your dreams, it all crumbled. That night, you cried yourself to sleep, your 16th birthday turning into something far from the magical day you had hoped for. And it was only going to get worse.

With a curse of eternal sleep.

⁞

"Oh, come now, Prince Yunho. Why so melancholy?" Maleficent's sinister voice echoed through the dungeon as he lifted his head, his hands shackled in heavy chains. She had trapped him during his visit to your vacant cottage and now kept him imprisoned on her Forbidden Mountain. "A wondrous future lies before you," she mocked, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "You, the destined hero of a charming fairy tale come true."

With a wave of her hand over the glowing crystal ball atop her staff, she smirked. "Behold, King Stefan's castle." A vision slowly materialised in the crystal, and his heart sank.

"In the highest tower, dreaming of her true love, lies the princess," Maleficent sneered. "But in a cruel twist of fate, this sleeping beauty is none other than the peasant girl who won your heart just yesterday." Her grin widened as the image shifted. "In an ageless sleep, she rests, untouched by time. A hundred years will pass in the blink of an eye for a steadfast heart."

The crystal revealed an older, wearier version of His Highness. "And now, the gates of the dungeon open, and our valiant prince rides forth, tall and noble, to wake his love with a kiss—proving that true love conquers all!"

Her wicked laughter filled the air as the prince surged to his feet, straining against the chains. The revelation hit him hard—you were his betrothed all along. His heart shattered at the sight of you, cursed to an endless sleep. But he refused to wait idly for a century. No matter the cost, even if it took his life, nothing would stop him from reaching you and breaking the spell.

⁞

Through trials that nearly cost him his life more than once, Yunho pressed on, driven by a love that burned stronger than fear. Every step, every swing of his sword, had been for you. Now, as he climbed the winding staircase of the tower where you lay, his heart pounded louder than it ever had. Strangely, facing you was far more terrifying than battling a dragon or plummeting from a cliff.

What if his kiss didn't wake you? What if he wasn't the one you dreamed of all this time? His mind raced with doubts, but all of them vanished the moment he laid eyes on you.

There you were, peacefully resting, untouched by the passage of time. His breath caught in his throat as he knelt beside you, his hands trembling slightly, almost afraid that if he reached out, you might disappear like a fading dream. Gently, he lifted a hand to brush your hair away from your face, his fingers lingering as they drifted down to caress your cheek. The softness of your skin beneath his touch made his heart clench. God, you were beautiful. Even in this endless sleep, you were breathtaking, and the thought that you were his—the one his heart had longed for—was almost too much to believe.

Ignoring the wild rhythm of his heartbeat, he leaned in closer. He hesitated, his lips hovering above yours, terrified and hopeful. Slowly, he closed the distance, pressing his lips tenderly against yours, his touch as gentle as a whisper. Time seemed to stand still. His entire world narrowed down to that single, precious moment.

Then, something incredible happened. He felt you stir, your lips moving ever so softly in response to his. Tears welled up in his eyes as he pulled back slightly, his gaze searching your face, desperate to see the miracle of your awakening. "Please," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion, "come back to me."

A soft smile played on your lips as your eyes fluttered open. "I'm here, stranger," you murmured. Yunho let out a tearful laugh, pure joy flooding his heart as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him in for another kiss. Nothing had ever felt so perfect.

Yeosang ↠ Hercules (Hercules)

• Strength • Determination • Humility •

A scream pierced the air, and without a second thought, Yeosang urged Pegasus to dive down past the clouds toward the waterfall, where a damsel was clearly in distress. This was it—his first real chance to prove himself as a true hero. Soon enough, he'd restore his godhood and join his parents back in Olympus.

"I swear, Nessus, put me down or I'll—" you growled, struggling in the grasp of the River Guardian, a centaur who was supposed to be an ally on your mission for Hades, but he was proving to be more trouble than he was worth.

"Ooh, I like 'em fiery," the creature sneered, pulling you closer as you tried in vain to wriggle free.

The hero-in-training gasped, his blood boiling at the sight of you being manhandled. Not on his watch. Ignoring his trainer's advice to assess the situation, he charged forward recklessly. Phil groaned. "This kid is losing hero points fast!"

"Halt!" Yeosang called out, though his voice wavered when Nessus towered over him. "Excuse me, sir," he continued, much to the centaur's surprise. Who was this polite little pest? "I'll have to ask you to release that young la—"

You shot him a frustrated look. "Keep walking, junior."

He blinked, confused. "But... aren't you a damsel in distress?"

"I'm a damsel, I'm in distress," you snapped. "I can handle it. Have a nice day." Despite your sarcastic smile, you were still stuck in the centaur's grip, struggling to break free.

Yeosang, however, wasn't one to give up so easily. A bit flustered by your brush-off, he unsheathed his sword. "Ma'am, I think you might be too close to the situation to—" Before he could finish, Nessus sent him flying across the field.

After several clumsy attempts and a lot of trial and error, he finally managed to free you from the River Guardian's hold, though you both ended up soaked in the river. Quickly, he lifted you out of the water as if you weighed nothing and set you gently on a nearby log. "Oh, gosh, miss, I'm really sorry. That was... kind of dumb."

"Yeah," you replied with a crooked smile, wringing out your hair. Before you could say anything more, he dashed back into the fray. You smirked, amused by his naive determination and innocent sense of righteousness. It had been a while since you'd seen such a genuine do-gooder. "Is Wonderboy here for real?"

⁞

"So, did they give you a name to go with all those rippling pectorals?" you teased, bending over to adjust the skirt of your dress.

The hero's mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water as he stared at you, now bathed in the golden light of the sunset. You were a sight for sore eyes—more beautiful than Aphrodite herself, he dared to think.

He chuckled nervously, stammering like a shy schoolboy. "Uh, I'm—I… uh…"

You smirked, standing back up and retrieving the shoes he had been awkwardly holding for you. "Are you always this articulate?"

"Yeosang!" he blurted out, watching you walk away. "My... my name's Yeosang!"

Making your way to a nearby log to sit down, you glanced up at him with a playful grin. "Yeosang, huh? I think I prefer Wonderboy."

He bit his lip, completely unaware of how poorly he was hiding his emotions. It was obvious to anyone that he was completely mesmerised by you. "So, how'd you get tangled up with that..."

"Pinhead with hooves? Oh, you know how men are. They think 'no' means 'yes' and 'get lost' means 'take me, I'm yours,'" you quipped, your voice dripping with sarcasm. He blinked, clearly confused by your response. You rolled your eyes and gestured toward his trainer. "Don't worry, shorty here will explain it to you later."

Phil shot you an irritated glare, but you just waved him off. "Well, thanks for everything, Yeo. It's been a real slice."

You had barely taken a few steps when the hero called after you again, his voice full of determination. "Wait! Can we give you a ride?"

You glanced at Pegasus and Phil, both clearly unimpressed with you, and smirked. "Nah, I'll be fine. I'm a big, tough girl. I tie my own sandals and everything."

Leaning in, you gave him a quick boop on the nose, chuckling as he stood there with that dreamy smile still plastered on his face. "Bye-bye, Wonderboy."

⁞

You hadn't expected to see him again so soon, but there he was, and you had to act fast. Running up to him, you let out a false cry. "Please! Help! There's been a terrible accident!" You hated dragging him into this, but with Hades holding your freedom hostage, you had no choice. You had to lure him into the trap.

The hero's face brightened the moment he saw you, your name escaping his lips with excitement. After his earlier failure in Thebes, seeing you lifted his spirits. He needed this—he needed you.

"Wonderboy! Yeosang! Thank goodness!" you exclaimed, stumbling into his arms with an air of desperation. His grip on you tightened protectively, his eyes wide with concern. "What's wrong?" he asked, his voice full of worry.

Sniffling, you wiped your fake tears away. "Outside of town... two little boys. They were playing in the gorge. There was a terrible rockslide. They're trapped!"

"Kids? Trapped? This is my chance! Come on!" Before you could object, he had already hoisted you onto Pegasus despite your protests. "No, wait! I... I have a terrible fear of heights!" But it was too late—you were already in the sky, holding on tightly as the wind whipped past.

When you finally arrived, he noticed how shaken you seemed. His brow furrowed in concern. "Are you okay?"

You nodded weakly. "I'll be fine." But even then, he gently pulled you close, helping you down. The flutter in your chest was unwelcome—you shouldn't feel this way. You stayed back, watching as he rushed forward, unaware of the Hydra waiting to destroy him. Hades had set it up perfectly, and this was Yeosang's end. You should have focused on your own survival, but you couldn't help whispering under your breath, "Get out of here while you still can..."

Despite everything, he wasn't deterred. Time and again, he fought against what seemed like a certain defeat, his determination unshakable. Even after facing near death, he refused to give up, ultimately defeating the monster.

As much as you hated to admit it, seeing him fight with such bravery and resolve stirred something inside you. His courage, his power—it only deepened your admiration for him.

⁞

"Wow, what a day," Yeosang said with a wide grin, descending the stairs into the picturesque garden. "First, that restaurant by the bay, and then the play!" His voice was animated, clearly still buzzing from the events of your date. Meanwhile, you struggled to maintain your smile, Hades' voice echoing in your mind with his latest demand. His patience was thinning after so many failed attempts. Now, he wanted you to find the hero's weakness.

When he turned to you, thanking you for such a wonderful time, you winced inwardly. "Don't thank me just yet," you muttered, setting your plan into motion. You deliberately tripped on the stairs, conveniently falling into his strong arms.

"Oops! Weak ankles," you murmured, biting your lip as you savoured the feeling of being so close to him. His grip was firm yet gentle.

"Yeah? Maybe you should sit down for a bit," he suggested like the gentleman he always was, carrying you over to a bench and setting you down with care. But how long would he stay a gentleman?

You shrugged, letting one of your dress straps slide down your shoulder, flashing him a seductive smile. "So, do you have any problems like this?" you asked, testing the waters as you slowly lifted one leg onto his lap. "Weak ankles, I mean."

His eyes widened, and he cleared his throat, gently but firmly pushing your leg back down. "Oh, no. Not really..." he stammered, inching away while you leaned in closer.

"No weaknesses at all?" you teased, pressing against his chest. "No trick knee? Ruptured discs?"

Yeosang just chuckled nervously, his face reddening. Instead of falling for your flirtation, he reached over and pulled your strap back over your shoulder. "Nope. I'm... fit as a fiddle," he said, quickly moving away toward the fountain, where he clumsily tossed a coin and knocked over a statue.

You sighed, walking over to him. "Wonderboy, you're perfect," you muttered with a teasing laugh. Time seemed to freeze as your eyes met his, a flicker of something different passing between you. Biting your lip, you quickly looked away. Maybe, just maybe, he really was different from the men who had hurt you before.

⁞

"You know, when I was a kid, I would've given anything to be just like everyone else," Yeosang said softly, his eyes tracing the path of a shooting star across the night sky.

You scoffed, crossing your arms as you moved away to sit by the water, staring at your reflection with a bitter frown. "You wanted to be petty and dishonest?" You knew what people were like—you were one of them.

His smile faltered. "Not everyone's like that."

"Yes, they are," you whispered, more to yourself than to him.

"You're not like that," he said gently, appearing behind you. You smirked, feeling a tightness in your throat as you tried to keep your emotions in check. "How do you know what I'm like?" you croaked, wishing he'd stop making it so hard for you.

"All I know is you're the most amazing person with weak ankles I've ever met," he teased, his voice full of warmth. You chuckled until he continued, "When I'm with you, I don't feel so alone."

You avoided his gaze, your heart aching. "Sometimes it's better to be alone."

His smile faltered again. "What do you mean?"

You swallowed hard, your voice barely a whisper. "Nobody can hurt you."

He sat down beside you, reaching out to take your hands in his. "I would never, ever hurt you."

If only he knew...

Before you could say anything, he was already leaning in. Against your better judgement, your eyes fluttered closed, anticipation hanging between you. But just as your lips were about to meet, Pegasus and Phil appeared, breaking the moment and pulling Yeosang back to his training.

"I'm sorry for getting you in trouble," you murmured, feeling conflicted.

He just smiled, shaking his head, and handed you a small flower, gently pressing a kiss to your cheek. As he walked away, you were left behind—completely a mess.

⁞

"Wonderboy, why did you…?" you croaked, your voice weak after returning from death—literally. Yeosang had been crushed when he learned of your betrayal, discovering you had been working for Hades all along. But as you sacrificed yourself to save him, he realised none of that mattered anymore. Why hadn't he thought deeper about your reasons? If only he had understood that maybe you didn't have a choice.

In his selfless determination to exchange his life for yours, he had finally become a true hero. Tears welled up in his eyes as he helped you to your feet, pulling you gently back into his loving arms. "People always do crazy things when they're in love," he whispered—the same words you had said to him before your death.

So, he had felt the same all along.

"Now, at last, my son, you can come home," Zeus said, resting a proud hand on Yeosang's shoulder as he gestured to the now-open gates of Mount Olympus. The hero, now a god, beamed as the other gods swarmed him, celebrating his return.

From afar, you watched with a fading smile. Of course, he belonged to a different world. You were foolish to think you could ever truly be with him. "Congratulations, Wonderboy. You'll make one heck of a god," you whispered to yourself, turning to walk away.

But while the heavens rejoiced, Yeosang only had eyes for one person. His heart sank when he saw you leaving. "Father, this is the moment I've dreamed of my whole life, but…" He trailed off, racing after you and catching your hand. "A life without her, even an immortal life, would be empty. I… I wish to stay on Earth with her. I finally know where I belong."

And with that, he pulled you into his arms, the divine glow fading as he leaned in, his lips meeting yours at last.

San ↠ Kristoff (Frozen)

• Down-to-earth • Hardworking • Quirky •

"I was just wondering... has another young woman, maybe the queen, passed through here?" you asked, trying to sound casual, even though the bitter cold from Elsa's winter had you shivering uncontrollably. You were gathering what supplies you could from Wandering Oaken's Trading Post on your journey to find your sister. You needed to fix this, and to do that, she had to return to Arendelle.

"The only one crazy enough to be out in this storm is you, dear," the store owner chuckled, and you offered him an awkward smile. Before you could respond, the door suddenly swung open and slammed shut just as quickly. A man, completely covered in snow—literally—stepped in with a weary sigh, shaking off the frost by the entrance.

"You and this fellow," Oaken added, gesturing to the newcomer.

Without a word, the man walked straight to the counter, forcing you to step aside awkwardly. "Carrots," he muttered, stepping closer.

"Huh?" you blinked, confused by how close he was.

"Behind you," he clarified, and you realised you were blocking the carrots he was reaching for. Feeling a bit foolish, you quickly moved aside. "Oh! Right, sorry."

Through his conversation with the store owner, you caught a crucial piece of information. "The North Mountain..." you murmured to yourself, eyes narrowing in thought. That must be where Elsa had gone. At least now you had a lead—north it was.

"That'll be forty," Oaken said, ringing up the man's items.

"Forty? No, ten," the man countered, clearly unimpressed.

Deep in thought, you barely registered the tense negotiation between the two, both stubborn and unwilling to compromise. You only snapped back when you heard the man explain his dilemma—he sold ice for a living, and in this weather, he wasn't making any money. "Look, ten is all I've got. Help me out."

Before Oaken could respond, you jumped in. "Wait, just tell me one thing. What's happening on the North Mountain? Did it seem… magical?" There was desperation in your voice.

With an exasperated sigh, the man pulled down his scarf, revealing, to your surprise, a strikingly handsome face. For a second, you had thought him a brute. "Yes! Now back off while I deal with this crook."

Big mistake. The store owner stood up from his seat, towering over the both of you like a giant. "What did you call me?" And before the man knew it, he was tossed out of the shop—minus his carrots.

⁞

"Nice duet," you quipped, pushing open the door to the shack where you heard the man from earlier, now singing and impersonating his reindeer, Sven.

Startled, San jumped up defensively, only to relax with a sigh when he saw it was just you. "It's you again. What do you want?"

Taking a deep breath, you stepped forward with determination. "I want you to take me up the North Mountain."

He remained unimpressed, sinking back down to resume his sleep. "I don't take people places."

You should've known it wouldn't be that easy. "Let me rephrase," you said, tossing a bag at him. He jolted up, wheezing from the impact. "Take me up the North Mountain," you repeated more firmly, though you softened a little as he raised a brow. "Please?"

Sven started sniffing the bag, drawing his attention. San opened it to find the tools he'd been after. You bit your lip. "Look, I know how to stop this winter."

With a sigh, he pulled his beanie over his face. "Ugh, we leave at dawn." Just as you were about to celebrate, he added, "And you forgot the carrots for Sven."

Frustrated but undeterred, you hurled another bag at him, this time hitting him square in the face. He grunted in pain, sitting up again. Your eyes widened in panic. "Oops! Sorry! I'm so sorry! I didn't mean—" you stammered before regaining your composure. Clearing your throat, you declared firmly, "We leave now. Right now." You turned and marched out, letting out a breath of relief the moment you were out of sight. He really was intimidating.

Unbeknownst to you, he watched you leave, eyebrows narrowed. Not out of anger, but something else—a mix of mild annoyance and, oddly enough, admiration. You were quite the character.

⁞

"So, uhh, tell me—what made the queen go all ice-crazy?" San asked, trying to pry some information as the two of you sat on his sled, the cold winter night biting at your skin.

You gulped, unsure where to begin. "Well... it was kinda my fault. I got engaged, and she freaked out because I'd just met him that day, you know? She refused to bless the marriage and..." You trailed off, noticing the way he was staring at you.

"Wait, hold on—you got engaged to someone you just met that day?" he asked, his face a mix of disbelief and judgement.

You nodded, waving it off like it was no big deal. "Yeah, anyway, I got mad, she got mad, she tried to leave, and I grabbed her glove..."

He blinked and turned fully towards you. "Hang on! You're telling me you got engaged to a guy you just met that day?"

"Yes," you sighed in frustration. "Pay attention. The point is, she always wore gloves, so I figured maybe she has a thing about dirt or something."

San couldn't believe what he was hearing. You'd agreed to marry someone you'd only met that very day? Even if that someone was a prince, at the end of the day, he was just another man. The idea of it baffled him to no end. He couldn't help the surge of protectiveness that welled up in him. Sure, you seemed a little silly and unhinged compared to the girls he'd met, but you were still an innocent young woman—too trusting for your own good. And that could get you in serious trouble.

If judgemental had a face, it was sitting right next to you. "Didn't your parents ever warn you about strangers?"

You paused, the comment sinking in, and shifted uncomfortably, inching away from him. "Yes, they did. But Hans isn't a stranger."

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. That led to a back-and-forth about how much you really knew the Prince of the Southern Isles. The more you talked, the more San found himself silently shaking his head at your naivety, though he couldn't help but feel a small, growing fondness for you, as crazy as your story was.

Suddenly, he stiffened. "Stop talking."

You scoffed, still mid-argument. "No, no—"

Before you could finish, he slapped a hand over your mouth. "No, I mean it," his voice tense, eyes scanning the dark forest ahead.

⁞

"Wolves?" you asked anxiously, your heart pounding so hard it felt like it might leap out of your chest. "What do we do?"

"I got this," he said, busy moving around like he knew exactly what he was doing. But your nerves wouldn’t let you sit still. "Just… don't fall off and don't get eaten."

You frowned, stepping up beside him. "But I want to help!"

"No!" he barked, pulling you back.

"Why not?!"

"Because I don't trust your judgement!"

Your jaw dropped. "Excuse me?"

"Who marries a guy she just met?!" he shouted as he pushed you behind him and kicked away a wolf that had nearly pounced on you.

"It's true love!" you yelled back, swinging his guitar wildly. Startling him, but you managed to knock another wolf away. "Woah!"

Slightly impressed, he froze for a second, but in that moment of distraction, a wolf sank its teeth into his jacket, pulling him off the sled. You gasped, screaming, "Santiago!"

He grunted, grabbing onto the sled's rope, and glaring up at you. "It's San!"

"Ow!" he yelped as the wolves bit into his back. Despite barely knowing him, your heart dropped, hoping he wasn't seriously hurt. In a burst of quick thinking, you grabbed a bundle of cloth, lit it on fire, and threw it at the wolves, scaring them off.

As you regained control, you realised the sled was speeding toward the edge of a mountain. Your breath caught in your throat—the only way to make it across was if the reindeer jumped. "Get ready to jump, Sven!"

San shot you a look. "You don't tell him what to do. I do!" He shoved a bag into your arms before tossing you onto Sven's back. As you neared the cliff's edge, he shouted and cut the rope tying the reindeer to the sled. "Jump, Sven!"

After landing dangerously close to the mountain's edge, San's sled lay in ruins below, and he muttered something about just having paid it off. The narrow escape from death weighed heavily on you, especially when you saw him lying on the ground, an arm thrown over his eyes in sheer exhaustion. He was so done.

"I-I'll replace your sled and everything in it," you mumbled, guilt creeping into your voice. "And... I get it if you don't want to help me anymore." With a heavy sigh, you turned and started walking away, your heart sinking. Of course, he wouldn't want to stick around now. You'd caused him nothing but trouble, and he hadn't even volunteered to come with you—it was all your fault.

San groaned in frustration, his reindeer nudging him persistently, nodding toward your retreating, disheartened figure. "Of course, I don't want to help her anymore," he grumbled, sitting up. "This whole mess has cured me of ever helping anyone again."

"She'll die out there on her own," Sven's eyes seemed to say.

"I can live with that," San muttered, though his voice lacked confidence.

"But no new sled if she's dead!" The silent reasoning gnawed at him.

He slumped, casting an irritated glare at Sven. "Sometimes, I really don't like you." But as he heard you stumbling and fumbling your way through the snow, likely still trying to reach your sister, he rolled his eyes in dramatic defeat before shouting, "Hold up! We're coming!"

You turned around, your face lighting up before playing it off coolly. "You are? I mean... sure, you can tag along."

He chuckled, shaking his head, though he couldn't quite hide the smile tugging at his lips. Maybe, just maybe, he found you... kind of adorable. In fact, you were probably the most adorable person he'd ever met, if he were being honest. Not that you needed to know that. Hans was a lucky guy... maybe.

⁞

As the journey dragged on, San found himself increasingly drawn to you in ways he hadn't anticipated. He had written you off as reckless, even naïve. But the more time he spent by your side, the more he found himself softening.

It began with the small things—your silly jokes, the way you smiled at him even in the direst of situations, and the surprising concern you showed for his struggling ice business, despite the weight of your own problems. A part of him tried to deny it, chalking up his protectiveness to simply being a decent person. Yet, as the days went on, the truth became harder to ignore, especially as you started to weaken.

The first time he truly noticed was when you faltered, clutching your chest as the icy curse gripped you. His heart clenched painfully at the sight of you, pale and fragile in a way that scared him. At first, he didn't understand what was happening—until he saw the streaks of white creeping into your hair. His stomach twisted in fear as he watched you shiver uncontrollably.

San tried to fight it at first, keeping his feelings hidden behind casual smiles and forced reassurances. He'd wrap you in his cloak, telling himself that he was just looking out for you like anyone else would. But inside, he was terrified. Each time you winced or stumbled, the protective instinct inside him flared, and it became harder to ignore. He wanted to hold you, to keep you safe, but he told himself that keeping his distance was for the best.

Until it wasn't.

After watching you grow weaker, he couldn't stand it any longer. You were so cold, so frail, barely able to keep yourself upright. Your hair had turned almost entirely white, and the violent shivering never stopped. When you could no longer walk on your own, San didn't care anymore. He scooped you into his arms without hesitation, cradling your fragile body against his chest. Your icy fingers clung weakly to his sleeve, barely able to hold on.

Perhaps the trolls had been right. Maybe what you needed was true love's kiss. The thought sent a wave of fear through him, not because he doubted it, but because he wanted it to be him. Holding you close, trembling as he tried to keep you warm, he swallowed hard, fighting back the lump in his throat.

"We've got to get you back to Hans," he whispered, though the name felt like a sharp blade twisting in his chest.

"A-are you g-gonna be okay?" you asked, voice weak and trembling as you struggled to stay conscious. Your eyes fluttered open, full of worry, and San's heart ached even more.

He forced a smile, though the pain in his chest was undeniable. "Don't worry about me," he said, though the crack in his voice betrayed him. He couldn't tell you the truth—that the very thought of giving you to Hans was tearing him apart.

⁞

As he left the castle gates, his arms now empty without your fragile form, the weight of his feelings bore down on him, suffocating. Even Sven could sense it. His reindeer nudged him softly, as if to say, you can't let her go.

San clenched his jaw, shaking his head at the reindeer's knowing gaze. "No, Sven! We're not going back! She's with her true love."

But none of that mattered the moment he noticed the fierce snowstorm suddenly engulfing Arendelle. His eyes widened with panic as he realised something was terribly wrong. Without a second thought, he sprinted back toward the castle, his heart racing, your name ripping from his throat as he shouted through the howling winds.

Snow and ice whipped through the air, blinding San as he fought against the wind, desperately searching for you. His heart pounded in his chest, each beat louder than the roar of the storm. Then, through the blizzard, he saw you—a frail figure swaying weakly amidst the violent storm.

His breath hitched, a strangled cry escaping him as he realised how dire your condition was. Your hair was completely white, and your skin had started to turn into a translucent blue, as if turning to ice. Panic surged through him, and without hesitation, he dashed toward you, every muscle in his body straining against the storm.

You took tiny, shaky steps towards him, your voice barely audible above the howling wind. "San..." The way you uttered his name sent a jolt through him, a painful reminder of just how close he was to losing you. He pushed himself harder, the distance between you seeming to stretch endlessly.

"Hold on!" he shouted, though he wasn't sure if you could hear him over the storm. He could see the effort it took for you to move, each step a struggle against the encroaching ice.

Just when he thought he might finally reach you, you changed direction abruptly. His heart stopped as he watched you rush towards your sister, trying to protect her from Hans. The realisation hit him like a thunderclap: in your attempt to shield your sister, you were sacrificing yourself.

He watched in horror as you turned completely into ice, your form crystallising before his eyes. The storm seemed to quiet for a moment, a heavy silence descending as you stood there, frozen.

Desperation clawed at him, and he fought through the storm to reach you. When you returned to your normal state, he was already there, cradling you in his arms. He refused to be a coward again, not after everything you had been through. The fear of losing you was unbearable, and he was determined not to let go.

Holding you close, he buried his face in your hair, breathing in your warmth, feeling your heartbeat against his chest. "I'm not letting you go," he whispered fiercely, his voice breaking with emotion. "Not now, not ever. If you'll let me, I'll hold you close forever."

His heart ached as he clung to you, the world around him fading into insignificance. The storm may have raged on, but in that moment, all that mattered was you.

Mingi ↠ Flynn Rider (Tangled)

• Charm • Wit • Adventurous •

"Is this… hair?" Mingi croaked in confusion as his eyes fluttered open to the unexpected realisation that he was tied up. The last thing he remembered was climbing up a tower hidden in the forest to escape from the royal guards and the Stabbington brothers.

"Struggling…" came a feminine voice from somewhere in the shadows. "Struggling is pointless."

He furrowed his brows. "Huh?"

"I know why you're here, and I'm not afraid of you," you said, gripping your frying pan tightly as you slowly emerged from your corner and finally stepped into the light.

Oh me, oh my. What do we have here?

The intruder looked genuinely confused as he took a moment to register your appearance. You were a sight to behold, that much was undeniable, but you were also threatening him with a kitchen tool, and truthfully, he wasn't very into that.

"Who are you and how did you find me?" you asked, glaring at him.

But man, were you beautiful.

"Uh huh…" was all he could muster.

Frustrated, you repeated yourself, raising your weapon higher. "Who are you and how did you find me?"

Clearing his throat, he began his rehearsed speech for situations like this. He had yet to meet any lady who wouldn't fall for his charms. As much as he would love to hang around, he had more important things to do. "I know not who you are nor how I came to find you, but may I just say…" He looked down momentarily, then met your gaze again with a rather... questionable expression. "Hi. How you doin'? The name's Flynn Rider. How's your day goin', huh?"

To his surprise, your hostility persisted. "Who else knows my location?" you demanded, aiming the pan at him.

Man, how did the smoulder not work?

⁞

Mingi let out a long sigh, staring ahead in exasperation as you ran circles around him with boundless enthusiasm. Lord, how did he get himself into this? He was stuck in this ridiculous situation because he needed the crown he had just stolen from the palace. The deal was simple: he would take you to see the lanterns and bring you back.

But he had no time for that.

Determined to avoid the whole ordeal, he hatched a foolproof plan. He would take you to the Snuggly Duckling, a tavern with a motley crew of thugs and ruffians. Surely that would scare you off.

As you twirled around, he muttered under his breath, "This is going to work. It has to work."

You paused mid-spin. "Did you say something?"

"Nothing!" he replied, forcing a smile. "Just… thinking about how much fun we're going to have."

He let out a sigh of relief as the Snuggly Duckling came into view. He couldn't help but grin at the look of horror that flashed across your face when you saw the rowdy tavern. This was going perfectly.

"You don't look so good, blondie. Maybe we should get you home, call it a day. This is a five-star joint, after all. If you can't handle this place, maybe you should be back in your tower," he said, trying to sound sympathetic while suppressing a smirk.

Just as he thought his plan was working, Mingi cursed under his breath as the main door slammed shut, and a burly man pressed a "Wanted" poster of him against it.

"Is this you?" the man growled, squinting at the poster.

Crap, crap, crap. This is not good.

The thief's eyes widened in dread as he moved the man's finger off the painting of his nose. His heart sank even further. They had gotten his nose wrong... again.

"Now they're just being mean," he muttered to himself, more upset about the artistic injustice than the actual danger he was in.

⁞

The last thing Mingi expected happened. As the thugs closed in, you suddenly began to sing a silly little song about having a dream. At first, he stared at you in disbelief, but then something miraculous happened. The roughest and toughest of the bunch started to join in, swayed by your infectious innocence and charm.

A reluctant smile soon spread across his face. As impractical as it seemed, your innocence had saved you both. "I can't believe that worked," he muttered, watching the formerly hostile crowd now swaying together harmoniously.

But the relief was short-lived.

The doors burst open, and royal guards flooded the tavern. "There he is!" one of the guards shouted.

"Time to go!" He grabbed your hand, pulling you towards a hidden exit. The chase led you to a dangerous cave, the sound of the guards echoing behind you.

The thief's adventurous spirit shone brightly as he led you through perilous situations, always thinking on his feet and embracing the thrill. He expertly navigated the cave, his confidence never wavering even as the path grew treacherous.

But things took a dire turn when the cave began to collapse. Rocks tumbled down, trapping you both under the debris. Water started to fill the cave, and panic set in. Despite his fear, he remained focused. He pulled you out of the water when you dipped back under, refusing to let you drown.

"Hey, there's no point. It's pitch-black down there," he said, gently moving some hair out of your face, his eyes filled with a rare vulnerability.

You felt a pang of guilt as you saw the hopelessness in his expression. "This is all my fault," you whimpered. "Mother was right. I never should have done this. I'm so sorry, Flynn," you cried.

He sighed, gazing at you sobbing pitifully before whispering, "Mingi."

"What?" you turned to look at him, confused.

"My real name is Song Mingi. Someone might as well know."

You smiled softly through your tears. "I have magical hair that glows when I sing."

His eyes widened in exasperation. "What?"

⁞

Just as he thought he couldn't possibly be more amazed, his admiration and affection for you only grew. He watched in awe as you healed his injury with your glowing hair, the pain ebbing away under your touch. Listening to your story, he saw the depth of your courage and determination, traits he deeply admired.

For the first time in his life, Mingi felt comfortable enough to open up about himself. He let down all the walls he had built over the years, sharing his dreams, fears, and the loneliness that had always shadowed him. Something had changed since then, and neither of you had been more certain about your feelings for each other than on the night of your birthday.

He had kept his promise and taken you to see the lanterns. As you both floated on the water, surrounded by the magical glow of thousands of lanterns, he realised that seeing you happy meant more to him than the riches he had dreamed about for so long. This moment, this connection, you—mattered more than anything.

The thief realised that none of the money or recognition would ever mean anything if it meant being without you. Perhaps Flynn Rider was so much more than just a witty and adventurous prince; he was also a romantic at heart. This truth became painfully clear as he prepared to sacrifice his own life to free you, the love of his life, from the clutches of your kidnapper.

On the verge of his own death, he made a heartbreaking decision. He would rather cut your hair, stripping it of its magical properties before you could save him, than allow Mother Gothel to use you any further. With a swift motion, he severed your once-blonde hair, watching as it returned to its original colour.

"Mingi!" you cried, watching in despair as the magic faded. You pulled him into your arms, cradling his face. "No, no, no. Mingi," you pleaded desperately. "Look at me. I'm right here. Don't go. Stay with me."

He smiled weakly, his strength fading. He cupped your face with a trembling hand. "You were my new dream."

Your heart shattered as tears streamed down your cheeks. His hand fell limp beside him, his eyes closing as his life slipped away.

"And you were mine," you whispered, your voice breaking as you held him close, the pain of losing him overwhelming.

⁞

But things took a miraculous turn. Your magic, which had always been tied to your hair, still remained in the essence of your tears. As you cried over him, a single tear fell onto his face, glowing brightly before seeping into his skin.

Suddenly, his breath hitched, and his eyes fluttered open. Life returned to him as the magic worked its way through his body. You gasped, pulling him closer, barely able to believe what was happening.

"Mingi!" you exclaimed, joy and relief flooding your heart.

He looked at you, his eyes filled with wonder and gratitude. "You're magic," he whispered, holding you tightly. Without another word, he pressed his lips firmly against yours, pouring all his love and thankfulness into the kiss.

As he held you close, he silently thanked the heavens for granting him a second chance at life. He vowed to start over and be a better person for his princess. At that moment, everything felt right, and he knew that his new life with you would be the greatest adventure of all.

Wooyoung ↠ Aladdin (Aladdin)

• Energetic • Street-smart • Charismatic •

"Hey! You there, stealing from my brother!" the merchant barked through the bustling market as you handed two starving children the bread you had taken.

You blinked, caught off guard. "Stealing? No, I—"

"You either pay, or I take the bracelet," he sneered, his hand reaching for your mother's bracelet clasped around your wrist. "Let go of me!" you cried, struggling in his grip.

Before the situation could escalate, someone swooped in and pulled you free, placing you protectively behind him. "Easy, Jamal," the young man said calmly, trying to diffuse the situation. But the merchant only glared at you. "Kalil turns his back for a moment, and this one," he jabbed a finger toward you, "steals the bread!"

You huffed in frustration. "Those children were starving!"

The young man sighed, turning to you and lowering his voice. "Do you have any money?" You shook your head. He smiled softly, then gripped your bracelet. "Okay, trust me." Something in his gaze made you feel secure, so you did—against all odds, you trusted him.

You watched in disbelief as he removed your bracelet and handed it over to the merchant. "Here, this is what you wanted, right?"

The merchant grinned, satisfied. "Yeah, thank you!"

"And here's an apple, for your troubles," the young man added with a grin, tossing the merchant a fruit before quickly pulling you away, ignoring your protests. "Hey! I'm not leaving without my bracelet!"

He pulled you closer as you hurried through the market. "You mean this bracelet?" he murmured, revealing the very same bracelet in his hand. Instantly, your worry melted. "Come on."

As you both moved, you suddenly heard the merchant shout behind you, "Wooyoung! Jung Wooyoung! Thief!"

You turned, your breath catching. "Are we in trouble?" you asked. He smirked, his confidence unwavering.

"Only if we get caught."

⁞

"I can't believe..." you trailed off, staring at the breathtaking view from his balcony. "I can't believe we actually did that. That I did that. That we made it out alive!" you exclaimed, still reeling from the intense chase that had led you here. You couldn't shake the memory of him holding your hands, guiding you to safety.

"Thank you... for getting me out of there. Wooyoung, right?" you smiled bashfully, and he rubbed the back of his neck, a little shy. "You're welcome..." he gestured toward you, waiting for your name.

You froze for a split second. "I... I'm Dalia," you blurted out, using your handmaid's name as a cover. No one could know your true identity—not even him.

"Dalia... from the palace," he said, his tone more knowing than surprised. You stayed silent, your back to him. How did he— "Only someone from the palace could afford a bracelet like that," he continued. "And that silk? It's imported, comes straight to the palace from the merchant ships. But not for most servants, which means... you're the handmaid to the princess."

You sighed, finally turning to meet his eyes, a small smile on your lips. "Impressive."

"If you think that's impressive, you should see the city from up there," he said, pointing to the second floor of his humble home. You didn't need to be told twice and eagerly headed up. "Agrabah... it's beautiful. I really should get out more."

He chuckled. "You should tell the princess that." Your smile faded slowly. "The people haven't seen her in years."

Your fists clenched slightly. "They won't let her. Ever since... the queen was killed, the sultan's been terrified. She's kept locked away."

He looked down, a touch of sadness in his voice. "Seems like everyone's been living in fear since then. But the people of Agrabah loved her. The queen."

Your heart warmed at his words. "They did, didn't they?"

As the conversation shifted to his past, you were saddened to learn of the hardships he had endured. He sighed deeply. "Every day I hope things will change, but it never seems to. Sometimes, I feel like I'm just..."

"Trapped," you finished for him, your voice soft. "Like you can't escape what you were born into?" He nodded, meeting your gaze. For a moment, you thought you could trust him. But that hope wavered when he struggled to return your bracelet at your departure.

"So you are a thief," you said, your voice tinged with disappointment. "I'm so naive."

⁞

"But Dalia, I was born for more than just marrying some useless prince!" you argued after meeting yet another potential suitor from Skanland that afternoon.

Your handmaid sighed. "If you had to marry a useless prince, you could certainly do worse than this one. He's tall, handsome, and yes, a bit dim, but it's just a marriage. Although, I suspect you'd rather marry that boy from the market," she finished, and you scoffed.

As she went off to prepare your bath, there was a knock at your door. With a frown, you opened it. "Can I help you?" you asked, and the person turned around. Your eyes widened in shock. "You? You! What are you doing here? Get in here!"

Wooyoung smirked. "I came to return your bracelet."

"My bracelet? Where is it?"

"On your wrist," he replied, and you gasped, glancing down to see it securely in place. "Wait, how did you get past the guards?" you asked in disbelief.

He grinned mischievously. "That was tricky, but I have my ways. While the princess is out, how about a stroll? We can chat."

You crossed your arms, half-irritated, half-amused. "You are unbelievable," you muttered, annoyed at his audacity but even more so at how attractive he was. "You can't just break into the palace and act like you own the place!"

"If you don't have anything, you've got to act like you own everything," he shrugged, flashing a grin. You stared at him, realising you'd never met anyone like him—because no one was like him. "So, what do you say?"

"No! You need to leave, now!" you insisted, pushing him toward the door.

"Fine, but I'm coming back tomorrow," he said confidently. "Meet me in the courtyard by the fountain when the moon is above the minaret." He gestured behind him, and before you could react, he removed your hair clip, waving it teasingly. "To return this."

Your breath caught when he leaned closer, gently tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. His voice was a whisper. "I promise." Perhaps you were a fool; you should have known better than to believe him.

⁞

The next time you saw him, you barely recognised him, thanks to the Genie's magic. He was now Prince Young of Wonderland—a clumsy prince who seemed to be trying to "buy" you with his riches, or at least that was what he said, as he awkwardly stumbled over his words. His first impression was far from impressive, and despite his best efforts, nothing he did seemed to win you over.

After countless failed attempts, he finally realised what he needed to do: just be himself. "There's a whole world beyond these books and maps. You should see it."

"How? Every door is guarded," you replied, a bit wistful.

"Who said anything about a door? Sometimes, princess, you just have to take a risk," he said with a grin before climbing over your balcony and leaping off. You gasped, your hands flying to your mouth, heart in your throat. "What just happened?"

Moments later, he reappeared on a floating carpet. You sighed in relief. "Is this…?"

"A magic carpet? Yes," he smirked, offering his hand. "Do you trust me?" Your heart skipped a beat as those words echoed something familiar. "What did you say?" you croaked. He repeated, his eyes steady on yours. "Do you trust me?"

You hesitated before nodding and placing your hand in his. "Yes."

As the carpet soared over a village, you watched the people below celebrating around a fire. You smiled as the prince draped his coat around your shoulders. "Of all the places you've shown me, this is the most beautiful."

"Sometimes, you just have to see it from a different perspective," he replied. You shook your head gently. "No, it's them—the people. They make it beautiful. And they deserve a leader who understands that. I don't know why I think it could be me."

He turned to you, his expression sincere. "Because it should be you."

"Do you really think so?" you asked softly. He reached out, gently tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, and for a moment, you froze. Only one other person had done that before—

"Does it matter what I think?" he asked, breaking the spell.

By the end of the night, you learned he was who you had suspected all along, though you were now convinced he had been a prince from the start. Wooyoung, caught up in the joy of the moment, kissed you goodnight, only to later drown in constant guilt and worry that the lie he was still hiding could ruin everything.

⁞

But none of that mattered when you discovered it had all been a lie. Even caught up in the battle against Jafar, Wooyoung was still the one you trusted most. And you knew you were right to trust him because, despite the difficult situation, he chose to return to your side and protect you. His actions proved his genuine care for you.

Your feelings for him deepened when he made his third and final wish. Instead of using it to abolish the law that required the princess to marry royalty, he selflessly used it to free the Genie.

"You shall be the next sultan," your father said. "As sultan, you can change the law." He gestured to where Wooyoung had stood moments earlier, but now he was gone. Your heart sank, and your father gently nudged you. "Go after him before it's too late."

And you did just that.

Breathless, you found him only a few steps outside the palace, your hair clip still in his hands. "Stop, thief! Your sultan commands it!" you called after him, your tone teasing.

He turned, biting his lip and holding up the clip. "Sultan? Does that mean I'm in trouble?"

Your heart fluttered at those familiar words. With a smile, you approached him. "Only because you got caught," you whispered before kissing him. The crowd around you erupted in cheers as he pulled you close, returning your kiss with equal passion. At that moment, he realised his wish had come true after all.

Jongho ↠ Prince Eric (Little Mermaid)

• Kind-hearted • Brave • Dependable •

"Max! Come here, boy," the man on board called out to his dog, who had momentarily been distracted by your presence near the side of the ship. Your eyes widened as you took in his striking features—he was human. You'd never seen one this closely before.

Carefully staying hidden, you continued to watch as an elderly man stepped forward to quiet the crew. "Silence, silence. It is now my honour and privilege to present our esteemed Prince Jongho with a very special, very expensive, and very large birthday present," he announced, gesturing toward a massive object draped in cloth at the center of the ship.

"Ah, Grimsby, you old beanpole, you shouldn't have," said the handsome man, whose name you now know to be Jongho and that he was... a prince.

The old man smiled bashfully. "I know. Happy birthday, Jongho." With that, the cloth was pulled away to reveal a heroic statue of the prince. Instead of reacting as Grimsby had likely hoped, the prince grimaced slightly. "Uh, gee, Grim..." he cleared his throat awkwardly. "It's, uh... really something..."

"Yes, I commissioned it myself. I had hoped it would be a wedding gift." Grimsby's tone was hopeful, but Jongho just chuckled. "Come on, Grim. Don't start. You're not still upset that I didn't fall for the Princess of Glowerhaven, are you?"

"Oh my, it's not just me. The entire kingdom wants to see you happily settled down with the right girl."

Jongho smiled, leaning against the railing. "Well, she's out there somewhere. I just... haven't found her yet. But trust me, Grim, when I do, I'll know. It'll hit me, like lightning—no question about it."

Your heart fluttered as you listened from just below. You'd never felt this way about any merman, but you wanted to be that girl for him. He seemed so near, yet impossibly far at the same time.

⁞

Perhaps he shouldn't have said those words—maybe he jinxed it. What started as a cheerful celebration turned into chaos within seconds, as lightning struck and set the ship ablaze.

You watched anxiously from the sidelines, praying he'd be alright. But your heart sank when you saw him dive back into the ocean from a lifeboat, only to return to the ship to save his dog. Though he managed to rescue the pet, he put himself in grave danger, trapped as the ship exploded. Gasping, you swam toward him, just in time to see him weakly cling to a plank before slipping into the water.

Without hesitation, you dove in, gripping his larger frame and fighting through the waves to bring him to the surface. With sheer determination, you swam to shore, finally laying him on the sand as the sun began to rise.

"Thank goodness, he's still breathing. He's... beautiful," you whispered, gently brushing his wet hair and caressing his cheek. As you sang softly, a familiar tune you'd often hum when dreaming of life on land and now... of him, you saw his eyes flutter open. He smiled at you, placing his hand over yours.

Before you could say a word, you heard Grimsby's voice echo along the beach. In a flash, you were gone before Jongho could fully grasp what had happened.

"Jongho! Oh, Jongho! You really enjoy testing my poor heart, don't you?" the old man grumbled, helping him up.

"A girl... she saved me. She was singing... with the most beautiful voice," the prince murmured dreamily, his eyes still scanning the horizon. Grimsby chuckled. "Ah, Jongho, I believe you've swallowed a bit too much seawater."

You watched from afar, your heart aching as they walked away. Did he feel the same way you did? Was this... love? Because you missed him already.

⁞

Humming the melody that had lingered in his mind ever since you rescued him, Jongho was interrupted by the sudden arrival of his dog. Max sprinted across the sandy beach, barking and leaping excitedly at his owner. "What's up, boy?"

The dog darted forward, and without hesitation, he chased after him. You gasped when Max ran up to you, quickly scooting back onto a rock to keep your distance from the unfamiliar animal.

"Max? What's gotten into you?" the prince's voice called out as he appeared, just in time to see his dog circling you. His breath caught when his eyes landed on you. "Oh... I see."

"Are you alright, miss?" he asked softly, stepping closer. "I'm sorry if this troublemaker scared you. He's harmless, I swear..." His voice trailed off as he looked from his dog to meet your eyes. "You look... familiar. Have we met before?"

You nodded immediately, a beaming smile lighting up your face.

"It's you, isn't it? The one I've been searching for," he murmured, gently taking your hands in his. "What's your name?"

But when you opened your mouth to speak, no sound came out. That's when it hit you—you had given your voice to Ursula in exchange for legs, and now had only three days for Jongho to kiss you with true love's kiss, or else you'd belong to the sea witch for an eternity.

"What's wrong?" he asked, concerned. You pointed to your throat, shaking your head. "You can't speak? Oh..." His expression fell. "Then you can't be the girl I thought..."

Frustrated, you frantically waved your hands, trying to show him that you were the one. In your desperate movements, you lost your balance and stumbled forward—right into his strong arms.

"Woah, careful!" he said, holding you close to steady you.

For a moment, the world seemed to freeze as the two of you stood still, his arms wrapped securely around your waist while your hands clung to his shoulders. He gazed into your eyes, his expression softening. "You've been through something, haven't you? Don't worry—I'll help you."

⁞

Despite finding your quirks a bit odd, Jongho couldn't help but be charmed by your playful nature. On top of that, you were easily one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen. He had noticed it when he first met you, but after the maids had cleaned you up and dressed you like a princess, he could barely tear his eyes away. For a moment, he even forgot about the girl he had been searching for, now looking forward to spending the next day showing you around town.

Time flew by, and your second day on land seemed to pass in the blink of an eye. You wandered through the streets together, hands intertwined, sharing meals, dancing, and laughing. Each moment felt magical, filled with heart-fluttering closeness that made it feel like the two of you were already a couple. It was the best day of your life, a world apart from anything you’d ever known. It would've been perfect—if only he would just kiss you.

But there was still time, and you held on to hope. That evening, he took you on a romantic boat ride, and it felt like the moment was finally about to happen. He leaned in a few times, but each time, he hesitated, as if reminding himself you weren’t the one he thought he was looking for. Your heart sank with every pause. Still, after learning your name and feeling a deeper connection, he came so close...

Close enough for Ursula to interfere.

That night, he stood outside, looking melancholy as he hummed the same song that had haunted him since he was rescued. "Jongho, if I may," Grimsby said gently, approaching him. "Sometimes, the best match isn't a dream girl, but someone of flesh and blood—someone warm, caring, and right before your eyes," he suggested, gesturing toward your room, where you were absentmindedly brushing your hair with a fork once again.

Jongho chuckled softly, shaking his head at your antics. Perhaps Grimsby was right. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if you weren't the girl he had been searching for... after all, you made him happy. But before he could think further, a woman named Vanessa appeared, casting him under a spell that blinded him to everything—especially you.

⁞

Wiping away your tears, you knew you had to find a way to get to him. Your heart was shattered when you heard he was marrying another woman, but deep down, you should have known something was off. Of course, it was the sea witch and her wicked schemes.

Thankfully, Max, the loyal dog, seemed just as frustrated with Vanessa as you were. He aggressively tugged at her dress, refusing to leave her alone. In the chaos, her seashell necklace—the one that held your voice—fell to the ground and shattered. At last, the spell was broken, and you could speak again. The moment Jongho heard your voice, recognition filled his eyes. "You're the one. It was you... all along."

You nodded, your voice trembling with emotion. "Yes, Jongho. I've been trying to tell you."

"No! Stay away from her!" Vanessa screamed, but the prince ignored her, pulling you close and leaning in to kiss you. Before he could, you gasped, falling to the ground as your legs transformed back into a tail. Ursula's wicked laughter echoed as she returned to her true form, slithering towards you and grabbing hold. "So long, lover boy," she hissed.

His heart nearly stopped as he watched the witch drag you into the depths of the sea. But he wasn't about to lose you again. This time, he would fight with everything he had to save you.

And he did. The battle was fierce and exhausting, but he remained determined. Jongho cleverly commandeered a ship and steered it straight into Ursula, risking everything to put an end to her reign of terror.

Even in his exhaustion, he didn't rest until he found you. This time, you had legs—real, permanent ones—granted by your father after seeing the love you shared. And when he finally reached you, he pulled you close, refusing to let go. "I'm sorry I made you wait so long, but I'm yours now if you'll have me."

I'm aware the format for each story is kinda inconsistent HAHA but that's because this has been in the works for a while now, and the time taken to finish these one by one was long enough for me to develop a new style for nearly every story when I get to them.

Not sure if this was any good. While proofreading, I realised there's a chance this might not make much sense for readers who have not watched these movies. But y'all, let me know your thoughts! <3

General ATEEZ Tag list:

@aurasblue @marievllr-abg @itsvxlentine @minghaoslatina @huachengsbestie01 |

@evidive @weedforthoughtz @minkiflwr @cheolliehugs @ho3-for-yunho |

@the-kpop-simp @itstheghostofmypast @vantediary @green-agent @skzline |

@sharksandminhos @writingwieny @heyitsmetonid @tinyteezer @hollxe1 |

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@bunny4yungi

All Rights Reserved © edenesth // DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE OR REPURPOSE.

[ninibeingdelulu]

How he kiss you ft. michael kaiser

A/N: had to do a longer version for my husband🙌🏽

Michael Kaiser's kisses start out slow and deliberate, projecting the same cold, calculated aura reflecting his narcissistic personality. There's no fumbling hesitation or warmth as those chiseled features remain stoically poised for the initial contact.

Instead when his lips finally meet yours the motions are precisely choreographed with dominating pressure laying an unmistakable possessive claim upon you. As if methodically mapping out every nuance of sensation and response elicited while subjugating you under his total control and singular focus without yielding an inch.

His hands remain strategically poised grasping your jaw to tilt viewing angles suiting his design rather than any reciprocation or mutual passion. Motives solely aligned towards extracting evidence affirming your complete desire and adoration of his perfected physique and techniques according to rigidly exacting standards allowing no deviations.

Because underneath that chiseled stoic exterior constantly striving to exemplify unattainable perfection - lurks the gnawing insecurities Michael projects through dehumanizing objectification of any partner into a disposable accessory validating his superiority complexes for temporary confidence boosts.

Only once systematically satiated that initial ego validation does any slight easing from the rigid disciplined technique allow more heated passion manifesting through rougher aggression. As if suddenly given permission to devolve from refined control into savagely claiming his entitlement with bruising intensity bordering violence.

Kisses rapidly shedding any semblance of artfulness degenerating into messy desperation propelled by raging inner daemons demanding continual affirmation that he remains the ultimate desired object of envy. Even if that means utterly dominating and devouring you into complete undoing while clinging onto falsehoods perpetuating those narcissistic fantasies of godhood.

Regardless of how many times repeated the ultimate conclusion remains confirming his dominion erasing any glimpses of underlying vulnerabilities Michael cannot allow unmasked no matter how transiently manifested. Until the next ego crash craving catalyzes reconstructing impenetrable facades renewed through these cold, calculated reclamations of grandiose validation once more.

[hayatheauthor]

Surviving the Wilderness: Writing Realistic 'Lost in the Woods' Scenarios

The wilderness, with its vastness and unpredictability, can turn from serene to menacing in an instant. For writers, depicting a character who is lost in the woods offers a rich tapestry of emotions, challenges, and survival instincts to explore. But to do so effectively requires a blend of authenticity, attention to detail, and understanding the real-world repercussions of such an event.

Whether your character is an experienced outdoorsman or a city dweller thrown into the wild, this guide will help you craft a realistic narrative that resonates with readers.

1. Setting Up the Scenario

A. Choosing the Right Wilderness Environment

The first step in creating a believable lost-in-the-woods scenario is choosing the appropriate setting. Different types of wilderness present different challenges, and the environment you choose will shape the narrative.

Type of Forest: Consider the differences between dense forests, temperate rainforests, boreal woods, and tropical jungles. A dense forest might offer limited visibility and a disorienting array of trees, while a tropical jungle could present humidity, dangerous wildlife, and thick undergrowth. Each environment comes with unique hazards and characteristics that will impact your character’s journey.

Seasonal Considerations: The time of year plays a significant role in the story. In winter, your character might face snow, freezing temperatures, and the challenge of finding food. In summer, they might struggle with dehydration, heat exhaustion, or the difficulty of navigating through thick foliage. The season will also affect the availability of resources, like water and shelter.

Location-Specific Details: Consider the unique features of the chosen location. Is it known for dangerous wildlife, such as bears or wolves? Does the terrain include steep cliffs, rivers, or swamps? Researching the specific area can add layers of realism to your story, providing challenges that are true to the environment.

B. Character Background

The character’s background is crucial in determining how they will respond to being lost. Their level of experience, purpose for being in the woods, and psychological state all influence their actions.

Experience Level: Are they an experienced hiker with survival skills, or are they a city dweller with little knowledge of the outdoors? An experienced character might know how to build a shelter and find water, while an inexperienced one might make dangerous mistakes. Balancing their skills with the challenges they face can create tension and interest.

Purpose of the Trip: Why is your character in the woods? Whether they’re on a leisurely hike, conducting research, or fleeing from danger, their purpose will affect their preparedness and mindset. A hiker might have a map and supplies, while someone fleeing might have nothing but the clothes on their back.

Psychological State: Consider the character’s mental condition before they get lost. Are they overconfident, stressed, or fearful? Their psychological state will influence their decisions—overconfidence might lead to risky choices, while fear could cause them to panic. Understanding their mindset will help you write a more nuanced and realistic portrayal.

C. The Catalyst: How They Get Lost

The moment when a character realizes they are lost is a critical point in the narrative. How this happens can be gradual or sudden, depending on the story you want to tell.

Common Triggers: Characters can become lost for various reasons, such as deviating from a marked trail, encountering sudden weather changes, sustaining an injury, or simply having poor navigation skills. Each trigger offers different narrative possibilities—an injury might limit their mobility, while poor navigation could lead them deeper into danger.

Pacing: Decide how quickly your character realizes they are lost. It could be a slow realization as they fail to find familiar landmarks, or it could be immediate, such as after an unexpected event like a storm or injury. The pacing of this moment will set the tone for the rest of the story.

2. Writing the Experience of Being Lost

A. The Initial Panic

When a character first realizes they are lost, their initial reactions are often driven by panic. This moment is crucial for establishing the tone of the story and the character’s mental state.

Physical Reactions: Describe the character’s immediate physical responses, such as an elevated heart rate, adrenaline rush, sweating, and shortness of breath. These physiological reactions are the body’s natural response to fear and uncertainty.

Mental Reactions: Mentally, the character might experience denial, anxiety, or confusion. They might try to convince themselves that they aren’t really lost or that they’ll find their way back soon. This denial can lead to irrational decisions, like wandering in circles or making impulsive choices.

Immediate Actions: The character’s first actions after realizing they’re lost are critical. They might attempt to retrace their steps, call for help if they have a phone signal, or check the time to gauge how long they’ve been lost. These actions are often driven by the hope of quickly resolving the situation.

B. The Descent into Survival Mode

Once the character accepts that they are truly lost, the story shifts from panic to survival. This is where the character’s skills, or lack thereof, come into play.

Acceptance of the Situation: The character moves from panic to a more rational state of mind. They begin to assess their situation and prioritize their needs. This shift marks the beginning of their survival journey.

Basic Needs: The character will need to address their most immediate survival needs: shelter, water, food, and fire. Describe their efforts to find or create shelter, locate water sources, forage for food, and start a fire. Each of these tasks presents its own challenges and dangers.

Navigational Challenges: As the character tries to find their way, they will face navigational challenges. Dense foliage, fog, and the lack of clear landmarks can make it difficult to maintain a sense of direction. The character might struggle with the disorientation that comes from being surrounded by identical trees or losing sight of the sun.

C. Emotional and Psychological Effects

The emotional and psychological toll of being lost is significant and should be explored in depth.

Isolation and Fear: The character’s sense of isolation can amplify their fear. The fear of predators, injuries, or never being found can become overwhelming. This fear might cause the character to make rash decisions, or it could paralyze them, preventing them from taking action.

Hope vs. Despair: The character’s emotional journey will likely fluctuate between moments of hope and despair. They might find something that gives them hope, such as a sign of civilization or a source of water, only to be crushed when they realize it was a false lead.

Hallucinations and Delusions: In extreme situations, such as severe dehydration or starvation, the character might experience hallucinations or delusions. These can add an element of psychological horror to the narrative and further illustrate the severity of their situation.

D. Interaction with Nature

The character’s interaction with the natural environment is a key aspect of their survival story.

Wildlife Encounters: Depending on the location, the character might encounter dangerous wildlife, such as bears, wolves, or snakes. Describe these encounters realistically, focusing on the character’s fear and the steps they take to avoid or confront these animals.

Environmental Hazards: The natural environment presents its own set of dangers, such as quicksand, poisonous plants, and unstable terrain. The character might have to navigate these hazards while dealing with their growing exhaustion and fear.

Natural Resources: The character can use nature to their advantage by finding water, edible plants, or materials for building a shelter. This not only adds realism to the story but also gives the character moments of small victories that can keep them going.

3. Survival Tactics: What Works and What Doesn't

A. Basic Survival Skills

Understanding and depicting basic survival skills is crucial for writing a realistic lost-in-the-woods scenario.

Finding Water: Water is the most critical resource for survival. Describe how the character identifies potential water sources, such as streams or dew on leaves, and how they purify water to make it safe to drink. If they can’t find water, their condition will deteriorate rapidly, leading to severe dehydration.

Building Shelter: The character needs shelter to protect themselves from the elements. Whether they find a natural shelter, like a cave, or build one from branches and leaves, this task is essential for their survival. The process of building shelter also gives the character a sense of purpose and control over their situation.

Starting a Fire: Fire is essential for warmth, cooking, and protection from predators. Describe the challenges of starting a fire in the wild, especially if the wood is wet or the character lacks the proper tools. The ability to start and maintain a fire can be a turning point in the character’s survival story.

Foraging for Food: Finding food in the wild is difficult and dangerous. The character might forage for berries, roots, or small animals. Describe the risks of eating unknown plants or the difficulty of catching and preparing small game.

B. Navigational Techniques

Navigation is a critical aspect of survival, and the character’s ability to orient themselves can mean the difference between life and death.

Reading the Environment: The character might use the sun, stars, or natural landmarks to navigate. Describe how they attempt to determine their direction, and the challenges they face if the sky is cloudy or if they’re in a dense forest where the canopy blocks out the sun. Their ability to read the environment will depend on their prior knowledge and experience.

Using Makeshift Tools: If the character has access to materials like sticks, rocks, or even a piece of reflective metal, they might create makeshift tools like a compass or use shadows to determine direction. These improvisational skills can add a layer of resourcefulness to the character’s survival tactics.

Trail Marking: If the character decides to explore the area in hopes of finding a way out, they might mark their trail to avoid walking in circles. They could use stones, branches, or even carve symbols into trees. This tactic not only helps with navigation but also adds to the tension if they realize they’ve returned to a previously marked spot, indicating they’ve been moving in circles.

C. Mistakes and Misconceptions

Realistic survival stories often include mistakes that characters make, especially if they are inexperienced.

Following Streams Incorrectly: A common misconception is that following a stream will always lead to civilization. While it can lead to water sources, it might also take the character deeper into the wilderness. Highlight the risks of relying on this tactic without proper knowledge.

Overestimating Stamina: Characters might push themselves too hard, assuming they can keep going without rest. Overestimating their stamina can lead to exhaustion, injuries, or even fatal mistakes. Describing the physical toll of these decisions can add realism and tension to the narrative.

Eating Dangerous Plants: Foraging for food can be deadly if the character lacks knowledge of the local flora. Describe how they might mistake poisonous plants for edible ones, leading to illness or hallucinations. This mistake can be a significant plot point, demonstrating the dangers of the wilderness.

4. Realistic Repercussions of Being Lost

A. Physical Consequences

Being lost in the wilderness for an extended period can have severe physical repercussions.

Dehydration and Starvation: The longer the character is lost, the more their body will deteriorate. Dehydration can set in within a few days, leading to confusion, dizziness, and eventually death. Starvation takes longer but will cause weakness, muscle loss, and an inability to think clearly.

Injuries: Describe any injuries the character sustains, such as sprains, cuts, or broken bones. These injuries will hinder their ability to move and survive. If left untreated, even minor injuries can become infected, leading to serious complications.

Exposure: Depending on the environment, the character might suffer from exposure to the elements. Hypothermia can occur in cold conditions, while heatstroke is a risk in hot climates. Both conditions are life-threatening and require immediate attention.

B. Psychological Consequences

The psychological toll of being lost is often as severe as the physical consequences.

Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD): Even after being rescued, the character might suffer from PTSD, experiencing flashbacks, nightmares, and severe anxiety. Describe how their ordeal has changed them, affecting their ability to return to normal life.

Survivor’s Guilt: If the character was lost with others who didn’t survive, they might experience survivor’s guilt. This emotional burden can be overwhelming, leading to depression and difficulty coping with their survival.

Long-Term Anxiety: The fear of being lost again can cause long-term anxiety and phobias. The character might avoid certain environments or experience panic attacks in similar situations.

C. Legal Consequences

There are also legal and financial repercussions to consider, especially if the character’s actions led to their getting lost.

Search and Rescue Costs: In many places, the cost of search and rescue operations can be billed to the person who was lost, especially if they were negligent or broke the law. This can be a significant financial burden and add a layer of realism to your story.

Negligence and Liability: If the character’s actions endangered others, such as leaving a marked trail or ignoring warnings, they might face legal consequences for negligence. This could include fines, community service, or even jail time, depending on the severity of their actions.

Impact on Relationships: The ordeal of getting lost can strain relationships with family and friends. Describe how their loved ones react—do they blame the character, or are they just relieved they’re safe? The legal and financial consequences can also impact these relationships, leading to tension and conflict.

5. Writing Tips: Making It Believable

Crafting a realistic and compelling lost-in-the-woods narrative requires attention to detail and an understanding of the human experience in such extreme situations. Here are some tips to make your story believable:

A. Research and Authenticity

Understand the Terrain: Before writing, research the specific environment where your character will be lost. Whether it's a dense forest, a mountainous region, or a desert, understanding the flora, fauna, and climate will help you create an authentic setting. Pay attention to details like the types of trees, animals, weather patterns, and geographical features.

Learn Basic Survival Techniques: Familiarize yourself with basic survival skills, such as building a shelter, finding water, and starting a fire. Even if your character is inexperienced, knowing the correct methods will allow you to portray their struggles accurately.

Incorporate Local Myths and Folklore: If your story is set in a particular region, consider integrating local myths or folklore about the wilderness. This can add depth to the narrative and give the environment a more ominous or mystical feel.

B. Character Realism

Establish Their Skills Early: If your character has any survival skills, establish them early in the story. This could be through flashbacks, previous experiences, or hints in their background. This will make their actions in the woods more believable.

Show Their Vulnerability: Even the most prepared individuals can make mistakes. Show your character’s vulnerability by having them face setbacks, make poor decisions, or struggle with their emotions. This makes them more relatable and human.

Reflect Their Mental State: The character's psychological state should evolve throughout the story. Show how their thoughts shift from initial panic to determination, despair, and finally, either acceptance or a desperate push for survival. Use internal monologue, dreams, or hallucinations to illustrate their mental state.

C. Plot and Pacing

Balance Action with Reflection: While the physical actions of survival are crucial, so is the internal journey of the character. Balance scenes of intense activity, like building a shelter or escaping a predator, with quieter moments of reflection or memory.

Use Sensory Details: Engage the reader’s senses by describing the environment through sights, sounds, smells, and even touch. The rustling of leaves, the scent of pine, or the rough bark of a tree can immerse readers in the setting and heighten the tension.

Avoid Convenient Resolutions: Survival stories are often about struggle and perseverance. Avoid giving your character an easy way out, such as a sudden rescue or finding a cabin with supplies. Instead, focus on their gradual adaptation and the hard choices they have to make.

D. Dialogue and Interactions

Internal Dialogue: In situations where the character is alone, internal dialogue becomes crucial. Use it to explore their fears, hopes, and regrets. This can also be a way to explain their thought process and decision-making.

Flashbacks and Memories: If your character is alone, use flashbacks or memories to develop their backstory and explain their motivations. These can also serve as a contrast to their current situation, highlighting how far they’ve come or what they’ve lost.

Interactions with the Environment: Treat the wilderness as a character in itself. The environment should interact with the character, creating obstacles, providing resources, and affecting their mood and decisions.

Looking For More Writing Tips And Tricks? 

Are you an author looking for writing tips and tricks to better your manuscript? Or do you want to learn about how to get a literary agent, get published and properly market your book? Consider checking out the rest of Quillology with Haya Sameer; a blog dedicated to writing and publishing tips for authors! While you’re at it, don’t forget to head over to my TikTok and Instagram profiles @hayatheauthor to learn more about my WIP and writing journey!

[wellofdean]

I read your post about Supernatural being queer somehow from season 1 and I have two questions.

1. Don't you think it straight-appropriates the word "queer" to say it just means "not normal"? That argument seems disingenuous to me, and a lot of us want representation, and to see that word applied to explicit depiction of queer sexuality, and it's a cheat that they don't. Queer studies did start as the study of queer sexualities and the experience of queer people.

2. Are you saying that the makers of Supernatural intended for it to be "flesh on queer bones"? Do you think they intentionally sat down to tell a queer story?

Those are good questions my anonymous friend. Thank you for asking. Here are my thoughts:

To answer your first question: no, I don't think it appropriates anything. Here's why: firstly, if we're talking about sexuality and gender, it's queer 101 that no one owes anyone a justification of their queerness, and not everyone who is queer is interested in labeling it or making it legible to you, and they have no obligation to do so, and not doing so doesn't make them any less queer. Furthermore, some people who are queer are not interested in sex, so what about them?

All of that together is why, for me, the entire queer project is much more deeply about non-compliance with hegemony, and specifically with hegemony around gender roles, sexuality and to put it under a big umbrella, patriarchy, than it is about who you fuck. Those things extend into so many other aspects of life that I think you can easily talk about "queering" a very wide range of topics, and possibly? ANY TOPIC.

You are responding to this post, I think, and in it, I made a choice to talk about family and hunting, and our heroes roles and characterizations in that, and did not talk about gender shenanigans or sexuality, because my point was that even before we get to anything to do with it, Sam and Dean are immersed in a queered world in a fundamental, structural way. That said, I assure you that if you go back into season 1 of Supernatural, you will find LOADS that could be said about gender and sexuality, too. As well as other things, and a particularly important area, as @ironworked pointed out in the tags, is blue collar/white collar class issues.

As I said, the depth of queerness in Supernatural is actually dizzying just in terms of the story's BONES to say nothing of how they flesh it out. Queerness is about deviation from the norm. It's about rebellion and disobedience against hegemonic systems for the sake of personal authenticity and love.

Think about Cas for a minute. Cas's whole story is that he rejects his role in a hegemonic heaven. He rebels for love, and that is pretty explicit as early as season 4 when he tells Dean "We're making it up as we go". Fellas, that is THE QUEEREST SHIT EVER even if he didn't do it for Dean, and like... HE DID IT FOR DEAN. Cas did not have to tell Dean he loved him for me to know it, and for Cas to be a deeply queered character. When he DID say it, I wasn't the least bit surprised he was in love with Dean, because seriously, we been knew. I was only surprised I got to have the immense pleasure of hearing him say it and looking at Dean's face while he took it in. Jesus. I will NEVER RECOVER.

This is my perspective on representation in Supernatural: It's excellent, and I relate to, and feel seen by it as a queer person. Nobody needs to get fucked on the maps table for me to do the math that this is a queer story. It is very, very, very thoroughgoingly canonically queer in so many ways, and not all of them are to do with sex. I think some fans will only allow it to be called queer if dudes make out in it. I am not one of those fans.

As to your second question, I think there is a wealth of evidence in the filmic oeuvre of Eric Kripke to suggest that as an artist and a writer, he is concerned or maybe even preoccupied with masculinity issues and issues around family, and around the way patriarchy fucks men up. So, yes. I think he knew what he was doing and he knew that queerness was part of the mix. For fucks sake, it's a family of men who hunt monsters. That is very fucking on the nose. Do I think he kicked off Supernatural in 2005 planning a 15 year operatic queer romance between Cas and Dean? No. I don't think anyone planned for it to go as long as it did, and it's a matter of record that some things were influenced by fan response, actors' chemistry, different writers and showrunners' preferences and etc. What I will say is that when they had a choice to "straighten shit out" or lean into the queerness, they fucking leaned in, nearly EVERY TIME. Like, it's pretty amazing how consistently they lean the fuck in.

I'll admit -- I wasn't watching it with those eyes the first time, and I didn't give it much real estate in my mind when I watched it as it aired from 2006 to the end, but the last three episodes reshaped it for me and made me angry, and also made me need to watch it all again, this time with an explicitly queer lens, and BOY HOWDY let me tell you this: the Supernatch rewatch journey is a wild and wonderful trip to Queertown. It is legit more difficult to argue that Dean is straight than it is to argue that he is queer. There is a full on CORNUCOPIA of story evidence to support that read and relatively little that convincingly counters it on the straight side, and that starts right at the beginning, when they bend pretty baby Dean over a police car in episode one, and he smirks insouciantly in his lip gloss. Do I think everyone involved knew how that looked? Sexy, submissive and a bit gay?

YES I DO.

[myspacebrat]

𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒍𝒔 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒇𝒊𝒍𝒕𝒉𝒚 𝒔𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒔

priest eddie munson x nun reader

♱ summary: after a life of chaos and sin, eddie finds comfort in the one thing he never thought he would, religion. But what happens once he gives his life to god and swears off all of his old vices before finding the one person that makes him question whether it was worth it.

♱ warnings: smut ahead, 18+ mdni, fem reader, no use of y/n, use of pet names, religious themes, slight religious trauma, reader was forced to become a nun, mentions of drugs, fingering, unprotected p in v, slight lil daddy kink, cream pie, fluffff, overuse of italics but what else is new? Pls do not read if any of the above sounds offensive to you, you are in control of your own media consumption.

♱ authors note: just a little something to feed my priest eddie brainrot, hope you like! A special thank you to my beautiful beta’s @take-everything-you-can , @xxhellfirebunnyxx & @corrodedcorpses <3

♱ wc: 3.7k

The first time Eddie had ever seen you, he thought it was a fluke. Of course he’d see the most beautiful girl, after he had taken a vow of chastity and was in the works to become a priest.

It felt as though God was taunting him for all of the sinning he had done as a teen and young adult. Dangling something he could now never have, right in front of his face. Oh, cruel world.

He should be used to this, the feelings of disappointment and utter longing. For most of high school and some time after, he was used. Used for the things he had that people wanted: sex, drugs, and the few rare instances girls dated him just to piss off their parents. But never has he been wanted, adored unconditionally. After living a life like that, filled with drug binges and meaningless sex, giving his life to God seemed like a no brainer, at the time.

Eddie was impulsive however and the things that felt clear as day in the moment, seemed to blur over time.

What Eddie didn’t know was that you had already planned your escape route. You had grudgingly been pressured by your late father to join the “family business”. He had become a priest when you were five and since then he’s had your life mapped out for you; become a nun, work in the monastery and give your life and soul to God until it was your time to eventually meet him.

That was not the life you wanted for yourself. You wanted to fall in love and get married, have children and move far away from this town that has brought you nothing but shame and guilt.

“Excuse me, uh I believe this belongs to you.” A voice echoes through the empty chapel, making your shoulders jolt at the startling interruption of your most sacred thoughts. Your veiless head snaps towards the voice in fear, as you were not to be in the church without your veil, it was a symbol of modesty that your convent took very seriously.

What you found was not an angry priest, deacon or catechist but a student priest. His kind eyes and gentle smile, long brown locks that were pulled back at the nape of his neck and his hands that were clutching at your head piece, had all simultaneously taken your breath away. There had never been anyone in the church that met his appearance. He had a bad boy turned good look that really set your insides ablaze. Whether it was a warning from God, not to stray from the path by allowing you to feel small licks of hellfire, or your subconscious begging for a reason to deviate from the life that was so carefully laid out for you, you didn't know but what you did know was this man would now become the catalyst of all your waking day dreams.

“Oh, yes my apologies, sir.” You softly smile before taking the veil and placing it securely on your head. You turn back to the big wooden cross hung above the altar you’re standing afront, before looking back into the strangers' doe pools of chocolate. “How uh, how are you enjoying your seminary studies?” You question, cheeks heating up at your terrible attempt at small talk.

“My seminary studies?” Eddie repeats with a low chuckle as his eyebrows shoot up, getting lost behind the fringe of his shaggy bangs. He cocks a wide smirk at your question, you really were as sweet and delicate as you looked. That made the future priests’ stomach flip in excitement. The need for corrupting such a cute little thing, vehemently returning. He hadn’t felt that utter desire in years. He would give this all up to watch you fall apart underneath him.

“Mmhm.” You giggle with a small nod of your head, fingers twisting together over your front from the frisson excitement bursting through your chest. You had never felt this way talking to any priests or priests in training, the rush was addicting.

“It’s going well.” The male murmurs with an unconvincing smile, his eyes glance down to your lips before snapping back up to your eyes in a fleeting moment. Your heart rate kicks up at the implication before you boldly turn towards him, your chest puffed out as the swell of your breasts are tightly hugged by the black fabric of your unflattering habit.

Eddie takes a step closer towards you, the toe of his boots brush against your black flats. His eyes roaming your fully clothed body as if he had x-ray vision and could see the black lace set you allow yourself to wear underneath, as an act of rebellion that only you were allowed a glimpse of.

His left hand slowly moves into your space, gently placing the cloth of your veil that had fallen over the front of your shoulder, back to its rightful place. The act was so tender and kind you couldn’t help but to lean closer into his touch.

The chapel was so still, all that could be heard was the heavy breathing of two very enamored people, as if they finally found what they had been looking for all along. A safe place to house their hearts.

In a matter of seconds you jerk back, as footsteps ring out from the corridor, startling you out of your love filled daze. Eddie thinks on his feet, the awfully close position being far too compromising, so he takes your hand and leads you into the confession box. He covers your mouth as the footsteps grow closer, two people chattering as they walk by before leaving out of the exit, letting the heavy wooden doors slam shut behind them.

Eddie quickly removes his hand, shooting you a sympathetic smile before the realization hits that you’re seated on his lap, half awakened cock digging into your backside causing a small gasp and unintentional clench of your thighs. A devious smile displays itself upon the brown eyed boy's lips, you wanted him just as bad as he wanted you. And he didn’t even know you. Oh he’s fucked.

His soft lips swiftly brush up against yours, making you quickly pull away in surprise. “I can’t kiss you, I don’t even know your name.” You whisper rather unconvincingly.

“It’s Eddie, what’s your name sweetheart?” He purrs into your ear, goosebumps alite your skin as you squirm in his lap from the low timber of his voice.

You meekly recite your name as your face grows hot from his attention. “Mmm, pretty name for an even prettier girl.” He huffs before he licks his lips in anticipation. His cock now fully hard and poking into your clothed skin.

Eddie gently grabs your chin, eyes meeting yours in a powerful standoff. “May I kiss you, angel? I really need to kiss you.” The desperation dripping from his voice is enough to convince you of anything.

“Yes.” You murmur before fully straddling him, his lips find yours in a passionate frenzy as you move together like a beautiful melody.

In all of your timidness and trepidation you’ve completely forgotten how it feels to be pressed up against another body, brain empty as you enjoy the moment as it comes, you giggle between kisses at the double entendre.

“What’s so funny, huh?” Eddie says playfully, grabbing at your sides and causing a shriek of loud laughter to roll off your tongue. How was it possible that this man made you feel like a kid again, a kid you didn’t even get to be? The fleeting nostalgia is quickly interrupted when Eddie puts a finger up to your lips, a gesture that asks “do you wanna get caught?” And it almost makes you giddy, nothing this exciting ever happens to you.

“You gotta be quiet, angel. Can you do that for me?” He asks in a dominating tone that has you shuttering and weak at the knees. He swipes a gentle finger across your lips, placing it in between the two before you quickly get the hint, wrapping your plush pink pillows around his index and lightly sucking. The action has Eddie’s eyes rolling back in his head, there was no way he’d be able to hold back, not with you grinding down on his painfully hard cock while sucking on his finger.

Without much thought left in your already fucked out brain, you remove the long black cloth that you’ve despised for years, yanking it off of your shoulders and over your head. Disposing of it over your shoulder without a care in the world, you had more pressing matters at hand.

“Oh fuck.” Eddie’s breath hitches as utter shock crosses his features, his mouth drops open while his eyes roam the expanse of your body that is scarcely covered by lacey black fabric. His cock twitches underneath you, causing you to squirm, unintentionally rubbing his throbbing pink tip over your warm heat and pulling a needy moan from between your lips.

He wastes no time, bringing his hands to rub over the see through fabric that is covering your now peaked nipples before slowly moving down in a gentle but callous glide over your sides, to your hips and finally landing on your plush thighs, giving them a tight squeeze as his lips curl up in satisfaction.

“Can I touch you, baby?” He whispers, rubbing the tip of his nose against yours as he desperately awaits your approval.

“Please.” You moan out into the expanse of the wooden box as you drag your slick cunt across his achingly hard cock in one more act of torment.

His fingers move before his brain, finding themselves between your legs, rubbing right over that button of pleasure that Eddie hasn’t been acquainted with, in what feels like years. He slips his hand past the black lace, digits sliding between your soaked lips and teasing at your tight little hole before he’s bringing the slick up to your swollen bud and drawing gentle circles, a loud moan erupts from your chest as the unknown pleasure consumes you.

You weren’t a virgin, despite what everyone thought of you or at least what you let them think. No one knew that you’d lost your virginity the summer of junior year. Maybe it was an act of rebellion against your strict parents or maybe just a sad attempt at being so starved for any kind of connection, you took the only one some high school boy had to offer; three minutes in the back of his beat up Pontiac.

The feelings being pulled from you by the long haired man, were unlike anything you’ve ever felt and you never wanted it to stop. You would beg and plead to him until the end of times to always make you feel this good, it’s the closest to God you’ve ever felt in all of your life, how is this a sin?

“Does that feel good, angel baby?” Eddie whispers into your ear, low and seductive as his finger finally breeches your entrance, it slips in easily and without pain but the pleasure makes your hands fly up to grip at his shoulders before throwing your head back and letting out the sexiest set of moans Eddie has ever had the delight of hearing.

He slips a second digit in alongside the first, pumping in and out at a slow pace but the depth is what had your toes curling into your little black flats that were being held on by a thread, threatening to fall off of your feet at just the slightest movement. Eddie began to scissor his fingers apart, stretching you open enough to take his girth. The moans that were beginning to fill the church were downright sinful.

“I-I think I’m gonna um…” you breathe out harshly as your cheeks heat up from the words that you just can’t bring yourself to utter.

“You’re gonna what, huh? You gotta talk to me, baby. Tell me what’s goin’ on?” Eddie asks in faux concern, it’s so mocking and arrogant but it causes you to clench tightly around his fingers, sucking him in like a fucking vice.

“I’m- ah ah, I’m gonna cum!” You sob into his chest as you grind down onto his digits, fucking them into you deeper with each thrust, until your incredible high starts to feel slightly painful and overstimulating.

“Such a good girl.” Eddie praises, slipping his two fingers out of your pussy before bringing them up to his mouth and sucking dramatically as a groan of delight reverberates from his chest.

“You think you can cum on daddy’s cock like that?” He questions, his lust filled eyes bore into yours as the filthy words drip from his tongue. You should be disgusted, it should turn your stomach…but it doesn’t, not even in the slightest. Instead it amplifies your arousal and now it’s you who is desperate, yanking his vestment off of his upper body in one swift and eager motion.

With Eddie’s full chest on display, you drag your nails gently down his torso, causing a whimper to slip past his lips. He has tattoos. The revelation causes your eyes to widen. You didn’t think priests were even allowed to have tattoos, they were a sin in your convent. Although you had been fed so much propaganda throughout the years, you really couldn’t see what made them so terrible.

And you had to admit they were very attractive, certainly adding to the whole former bad boy mystique he has going on.

“You like em’?” Eddie asks as if he knew exactly what you were thinking, a glint in his eyes as they lock with yours.

“I do, father Eddie.” You purr as your hand brushes over his hard erection still locked behind the confines of his black slacks.

“Fuck.” He hisses into your neck before leaving a trail of sloppy kisses, his hands reaching for your black lace thong as if he was going to slip it down and off of your body, but the sounds of fabric tearing alert you to his true intentions.

“I’ll replace those.” He says with a sinister chuckle, throwing the piece of fabric behind you to be lost in the sea of clothing beneath your feet.

“Holy shit!” The man gasps as his eyes meet your dripping center, the damp coils that sit above your mound and your little stretched hole that was done by his own hand. The view causes him to bite at his lip in animalistic hunger.

“Mmm, such a naughty boy using such foul language in a church.” You tut, having no idea where that came from but if his cheeks that have now grown a bright pink hue and the wild growl that slipped from his mouth were anything to go by, he was just as into it.

Eddie can’t take much more of your teasing so his hands slip down to the buckle keeping his slacks up, eagerly removing all of the obstacles that keep him from sheathing his cock deep into your tight little cunt.

Once he is fully released from his fabric confinement he wraps his hand around himself, giving it a few tugs before he’s smearing the large beads of precum around his tip and down his shaft, groaning from the attention he was so badly yearning for.

“You ready, baby?” He questions. Bringing his glistening, pink head to the seam of your sodden lips and rubbing the tip against your clit, before prodding it against your awaiting hole. The way your cunt sucks him in is heavenly. It was as if he was a virgin again, nothing or no one else mattered before you. The feelings settling in the young man's chest were overwhelming and terrifying but when he looked up from how his cock was coated in your wetness and into your eyes, he knew you felt it too.

You let out a breath of relief when he was finally buried to the hilt inside of you, throbbing and aching for release. Deciding to end the torment of your teasing, you begin using your knees that are roughly digging into the oak wood of the pew eddie is seated on as leverage to bounce and swirl your hips as you fuck him, so audaciously.

“Ah, ah, ah…” were the only noises leaving both of your mouths as you continuously sunk down onto Eddie’s cock. His big hands gripping the meat of your thighs as if you’d dissipate without his touch.

“Please.” You whine into the sweat slick skin of his neck, before reaching for the hair tie placed carelessly into a bun at his nape. You tug releasing his brown waves that fell just beneath his shoulders.

“Please what, my love?” That word made your head spin, you’d never been referred to as someone’s love. I mean you just met him and he probably says lots of endearing things while he’s getting laid, but it certainly made that fire in your belly kick up to blazing high levels.

“Please fuck me!” You sob, tears falling from your eyes as you get closer to your sweet release. But your legs were closer to finishing than you, as every bounce sent a searing pain from your knees up to your thighs.

“I’m sorry baby. I’m makin’ you do all the work, aren’t I?” Eddie teases with a condescending grin, making you pout and nod your head in agreement. “Here you are bein’ such a good girl, riding my cock like that and I don’t even have the decency to help you out.” He tuts, a wide smile splitting his face before the hands that were once resting on your thighs, come up and grab two rough handfuls of your ass.

He pulls your cheeks apart as he sinks down some, planting his heavy boot clad feet better onto the red carpet of the confessional box. He sends you a quick wink before he begins pounding into you with almost inhumanly, rapid thrusts making you cry out into the stuffy air.

Your hands dig into his scalp, grabbing fistfuls of hair as he fucks you like an animal, with complete carnal hunger. A chill runs down your spine all the way to your toes as the fire in your lower stomach begins to consume you. You don’t care who hears you now, you just care about you and Eddie and working each other's bodies to gratification.

“Your close baby, I can feel it. C’mon, let go for me and cum on my cock.” He demands as his length throbs with each clench of your walls around him. He’s too close, but he’d rather die than cum before you.

“Oh! Yes, Father Eddie.” You squeak before crashing your lips into his. The long haired man’s eyes roll back into his head and a growl escapes his chest at the use of his not so future title. If he can’t have this then being a priest just won’t do, not anymore.

Eddie breaks the passion fueled kiss to suck his thumb into his mouth, slicking it up before bringing it to your swollen clit. The first gentle circle makes you jump, causing your walls to tighten even harder around him. His toes curl in his boots, he was so close, so on the edge to stuffing you full of him.

“I’m gonna cum inside your pretty little pussy, do you want that?” He asks roughly, but his eyes are so soft and so full of adoration and you want whatever he’s willing to give you.

“Yes, please Father Eddie.” You plead as you meet his thrusts, aching legs be damned. You can feel that high that’s teetering so close, you’re so desperate to fall off the edge.

“Who’s the naughty one now, huh? Begging a church priest to cum inside you? You bad girl.” He tsks, with a faint chuckle. His words knock you over the edge, coming so hard on his cock you see a white blinding light as your eyes tightly shut.

“Mm, that’s it baby!” Eddie growls, his thrusts faltering as he cums inside of you, your walls now coated with his white, hot release.

Eddie scrubs his hands down his face, “oh my god!” He exasperates before wrapping his arms around your back and pulling you tightly into him, as his softening cock is still buried inside of you.

“Shh, you can’t use the lord's name in vain in a church!” You playfully reprimand, as if what you both have just done wasn’t grounds for going straight to hell.

“Hey, watch your mouth when you’re talkin’ to me, young lady! Or I’ll give you ten of these…” he scolds before bringing his palm down harshly onto the sensitive skin of your ass, making you gasp in surprise. He grabs your chin tightly before continuing, “and ten Hail Mary’s, I’ll make you say each one with my cock down your throat.” You clutch at your chest like you’d never been so offended, but the words caused you nothing but arousal as your cunt began to drip at the thought.

“You really are a naughty boy.” You purr, shaking your head as if in disappointment. You were both so deep in your own little world that you didn’t hear the footsteps outside the confessional door.

The handle was jiggled and quickly ripped open as a loud gasp rang out from behind you.

“Sister!” The nun hisses in absolute disbelief and disgust. The tone of her judgment awoke something deep inside of you that you thought had been buried. You hop off of Eddie’s lap, his spent cock plopping out and falling back onto his lower stomach. You quickly pull the habit over your head as Eddie stands up to inch himself back into his pants.

“Do you have anything to say for yourself?” The nun you now recognize as Sister Claudia, snarls with a look of revulsion.

Eddie swiftly takes your hand and pulls you away, abandoning your veil and his vestment. His now shirtless and tattooed chest on display for the judgmental nun.

Without another thought you throw her the middle finger as you and Eddie run down the row of pews and out the heavy doors.

You weren’t sure where you were headed, but as long as it was with him. You were ready for the new journey.

[mandosaur]

This Little Slice of Life (Mike Schmidt x Reader)

Fandom: Five Nights at Freddy's Film

Pairing: Mike Schmidt x Reader

Word Count: 1,025

Estimated Reading Time: 3:43

Summary:

A tiny little drabble that takes place before the film's events.

When you imagined what your life was going to be like as an adult, you didn’t imagine this.

In your dreams, you saw yourself as a world famous pop star. You imagined yourself in sequin dresses that would cost a fortune standing before a stage of wild fans all screaming your name. You saw yourself on every magazine cover, touring every country, and attending the Met Gala. Paparazzi would flash your photos in your day dreams all while you rode in a limo spending thousands on any little thing that caught your fancy. You had always imagined a life of luxury and wealth for yourself as an adult.

You never imagined your current life.

You never imagined that you’d be in your mid twenties still living in the same street you grew up in. Never imagined that the fancy little college degree you got to appease your parents would bring you nothing but student loans that kept piling on. You didn’t think you’d be working some dead end job for minimum wage at a company with a shitty boss and worse hours just barely scraping by.

However, despite the huge deviation from what your childhood dreams believed would be a good future for you, you find you can’t be happier.

There’s something warm and familiar in the way your life works. Like a puzzle piece clicking together, everything just seems to work. Your life isn’t glamorous or extravagant the way your elementary school dreams all mapped out, but you wouldn’t trade it for the world.

Hell, you wouldn’t trade Mike or Abby for the world either.

Mike and Abby were perhaps the greatest riches you had. Mike had been your childhood best friend. You’d met him in the first day of Pre-K. A little boy holding a metal, superhero lunch box while his mom and dad kissed him goodbye. You’d befriended him on the playground of that first day and formed a friendship that had lasted all your lives.

You’d known him forever. Been there for him when Garrett had been taken, when his parents had died, and when he’d become Abby’s guardian. You’d always been there at his side.

First as a friend, then as a lover.

When you both turned 16, you had started dating. A simple choice between you both. By then, you’d both loved each other and had been pining for years. It was only natural for the two of you to start dating. Both of your parents encouraged the shift and the two of you were very happy.

10 years later, and the two of you had been together for a long time. You’d moved into the little home he shared with Abby. You shared his bedroom and was there to take care of Abby when Max couldn’t. Abby too was a joy in your life.

She had been born when you two were older and you and Mike had become her guardians. Abby really only knew the two of you. She doted on Mike, treasured him deeply if her drawings with him center stage were anything to go by, but she adored you too. She talked to you more than other kids her age, liked you staying home with her when your work allowed it, and drew you in some of her drawings holding hands with her and Mike.

She was a little gift in the life you had just like Mike. You loved them both deeply to the point where nothing else mattered.

To you, it didn’t matter that both you and Mike didn’t have money. Between your student loans and both your minimum wage paychecks, you two weren’t raking in much. Neither of you could boast being wealthy, hell, sometimes you couldn’t even boast being comfortable either.

But that didn’t matter.

Every day that you woke up to that poster of Nebraska on the ceiling and Mike next to you, every day that you got home to Max and Abby in the kitchen table working on homework, and every day that you were able to kiss Mike when he got home from work from the mall covered in fast food stains and all, none of it mattered. Not the debt, not the hardships, and not the struggles.

This little slice of life you’d built with Mike and Abby were paradise. Even if Mike’s aunt threatened custody every once in a while, even if Mike sometimes came home flushed and upset with a new termination notice in hand from his current job, and even if Abby sometimes preferred to talk to her imaginary friends than join you and Mike for dinner. Despite it all, this little home the three of you shared was your personal heaven.

And when Mike came home one day and suggested the two of you marry after talking to Abby, your little paradise increased.

Your wedding wouldn’t be anything that would elicit chatter among your friends. At most, you two would just wear your nicest clothes in your closet and walk down to the court house with cheap rings from Amazon. At most, your honeymoon would be a day where Max took Abby to her house and you and Mike ordered some take out from that Italian place in the mall that was about as fancy as any other fast food place. At most, you’d probably have one weekend to celebrate being married before Mike went to work at the mall and you back to your shitty job.

But it didn’t matter.

You loved Mike and Abby enough to the point where all of that sounded like a luxury. It might not have been the fancy delusions child you had about your future, but it was home. Mike and Abby had always been your home and any moment spent with them was better than whatever money could buy.

So, smiling, you had accepted Mike’s proposal and enveloped him and Abby in a tight hug. Had laughed when you felt Mike’s grin against your cheek and heard Abby’s little giggle against your arms.

Your life might not have been much to someone else, but to you it was paradise. A treasure nothing could ever replace.

[canisxx]

Hey chat! I decided that I don't care if you care or not, I'll post it anyway. Because I'm a scientist nerd, and a TF2 fan.

So here you go, my theory on how the respawn machine actually works.

⚠️It'll be a lot of reading and you need half of a braincell to understand it.

The Respawn Machine can recreate a body within minutes, complete with all previous memories and personality, as if the person never died. We all know this, but I doubt many have thought about how it actually works.

Of course, such a thing is impossible in real life (at least for now), but we’re talking about a game where there’s magic and mutant bread, so it’s all good.

But being an autistic dork, I couldn’t help but start searching for logical and scientific explanations for how this machine might work. How the hell does it actually function? So, I spent hours of my life on yet another useless big brain time.

In the context of the Respawn Machine, the idea is that the technology can instantly create a new mercenary body, identical to the original. This body must be ready for use immediately after the previous one’s death. To achieve this, the cloning process, which in real life takes months or even years, would need to be significantly accelerated. This means the machine is probably powered by a freaking nuclear reactor, or maybe even Australium.

My theory is that this machine is essentially a massive 3D printer capable of printing biological tissues. But how? You see, even today, people can (or are trying to) recreate creatures that lived millions of years ago using DNA. By using the mercenary’s DNA, which was previously loaded into the system, the machine could recreate a perfect copy.

However, this method likely wouldn’t be able to perfectly recreate the exact personality and all the memories from the previous body. I believe the answer lies in neuroscience.

For the Respawn Machine to restore the mercenary’s consciousness and memories, it would need to be capable of recording and preserving the complete structure of the brain, including all neural connections, synapses, and activity that encode personality and memory. This process is known as brain mapping. After creating a brain map, this data could be stored digitally and then transferred to the new body.

“Okay, but how would you transfer memories that are dated right up until the moment of death? The mercenaries clearly remember everything about their previous death.”

Well, I have a theory about that too!

Neural interfaces! Inside each mercenary’s head could be an implant (a nanodevice) that reads brain activity before death and updates a digital copy of the memories. This system operates at the synaptic level, recording changes in the structure of neurons that occur as memories are formed. After death, this data could be instantly transferred to the new body via a quantum network.

Once the data is uploaded and the brain is synchronized with the new body, the mercenary’s consciousness "awakens." Ideally, the mercenary wouldn’t notice any break in consciousness and would remember everything that happened right up to the moment of death.

However… there are also questions regarding potential negative consequences.

Can the transfer of consciousness really preserve all aspects of personality, or is something inevitably lost in the process?

Unfortunately, nothing is perfect, and there’s a chance that some small memories might be lost—like those buried in the subconscious. Or the person’s personality might become distorted. Maybe that’s why they’re all crazy?

How far does the implant’s range extend? Does the distance between the mercenary and the machine affect the accuracy of data transfer?

My theory is that yes, it does. The greater the distance, the fewer memories are retained.

Could there be deviations in the creation of the body itself?

Yes, there could be. We saw this in "Emesis Blue," which led to a complete disaster. But let’s assume everything is fine, and the only deviations are at most an extra finger (or organ—not critical, Medic would only be happy about that).

Well, these are just my theories and nothing more. I’m not a scientist; I’m an amateur enthusiast with a lot of time on my hands. My theories have many holes that I can’t yet fill due to a lack of information.

[townpostin]

High Court Demands Action on Jamshedpur Building Violations

JNAC Ordered to Provide Comprehensive Report Within Two Weeks Jharkhand High Court reprimands JNAC for slow progress on building infractions, demands detailed report. Only 39% of high-rises compliant. Court seeks comprehensive data on violations. JAMSHEDPUR – The Jamshedpur Notified Area Committee has been criticized by the Jharkhand High Court for its insufficient response to the pervasive…

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

heyy, at first I wanted to say I love your works so much! You're so talented with your writing...

Anyway could you write something like G!PDonna x maid reader where y/n was a girl from the village who ran away but got lost and Donna saved her, y/n started working for her for free just to have a place to live and gradually they got closer until Donna realized that she was so in love with her And she starts to be very possessive, but she doesn't show it because they still are not dating and one day Some young vampire comes to visit to pick up something and starts flirting and Donna goes crazy.

They end up in a big fight and Donna ping y/n against a wall and feelings will be revealed....maybe some vanilla smut at the end...

Thanks! And also sorry for my English...i'm still learning<3

Yess!!!! Thank you for you kindness and for your request!!! I hope you like it and sorry about the language mistakes!!!! :))))))))

To be her maid

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem, Maid! Reader

Warnings: G!P Donna, smut, Minors DNI, slightly dark themes, possessive Donna

Word count: 8,793

Summary: To leave and die, to stay and love, what a decision...

N/A: Sorry about the language mistakes!!! Requests are open!!! I'm waiting yours!!! I love you all!!! :))

Your parents were right: no one could ever leave the village.

Wandering through the forest was always a risk, getting lost in that tangle of trees and snow would be easy even for the bravest of explorers.

But you were not brave, nor an explorer. You were just a villager, an ordinary girl who lost everything, who had no reason to stay in a place like that. Your family was gone, the Black Gods, who Mother Miranda defended, had abandoned you.

With nothing to fight for but your own life, with nothing to thank the Gods for, your only way out was the most risky: escape.

You didn't know what leaving that sinister village could bring you, what a girl like you could do in an unknown world. But, finding out, was much better than waiting for the darkness to consume you.

A small backpack and a desire to escape was your only luggage. Not even your old home had had mercy on you. The outside world offered itself to you as an alternative you couldn’t refuse, or rather, as your only alternative.

A few more hours of walking, and you would be free.

But your illusions outweighed reality, your desire to live outside that darkness eclipsed your situation. You couldn't escape, and deep down, you knew it. Turning around wasn't an option, guiding yourself by the dark lights of the village would only bring you more suffering, you had to continue.

Some growls behind the bushes made you stop and look around. It could be a dog, a forest vermin, something totally harmless. You swallowed as your eyes danced through the forest, looking for a different pattern in the movements of the branches, something that would tell you where those growls were coming from. Everything seemed so calm that it could only be that calm before the storm.

“Calm down, (Y/N), it's just the wind,” you whispered, forcing your legs to walk again. Your reassuring words wouldn’t take long to lose their effect.

One step, two, three... Footsteps in the snow that sounded closer and closer petrified your body again.

“Okay,” you whispered again, taking a map out of your pocket, one that indicated the path to freedom beyond the domain of the dark deities, of Mother Miranda, of the Lords...

The snow made it difficult for you to orient yourself, but your movements resumed automatically, moving away from the noise and deviating from the path. The faster you walked, the faster those footsteps in the snow seemed. Reality was stalking you, although you refused to believe it.

A furious roar diverted your gaze from the bushes. It was not a man, nor a wolf, it was a monster. One of those chosen by Mother Miranda to protect the village, to protect your insignificant lives, stood before you with a bloodthirsty gaze.

Lycan, that was its name, the name the Gods gave to that poor villager whose blind faith drove him to become a beast.

You breathed heavily, but fear made you back away. Those bloody eyes stared at you as the cold steam came out of its jaws. You didn't want to go back, but you had to find an alternative route.

Behind you, more monstrous creatures waited to devour you, to punish you for your audacity. They only growled, watching you, waiting for the best moment to attack you.

Your voice dried up and your body trembled with terror. You had nothing to fight for, but many reasons to live, to not let fear consume you, to flee, to escape, to earn that freedom.

With your eyes you looked for a corner, a gap in the bushes that you approached slowly. The growls of the beasts confirmed their displeasure, and they were the signal you needed to start running.

You fled without a destination, unable to look back.

Your strength weakened after a short time, they didn’t get tired of chasing you. You seemed safe, but you still heard their roars. After taking a breath, you continued running forward, until the path became rocky and then, nonexistent.

Your feet found no ground to support them and your body fell into the void. You rolled down a steep slope, covering your head. No, you couldn't end up like this.

With a thud, you fell to the ground. The creatures roared, but apparently, they couldn't see you.

“Oh...” you lamented, getting up from the penetrating cold of the snow, looking around. “I think I have lost them...” you whispered, scanning the clearing with your gaze. There was only an old tree surrounded by rock walls.

Not managing to recognize the place, you took out the map again, looking for something similar. You didn't find it, you were lost.

“What is this?” you asked, approaching an object hanging from the tree, something that looked like a hanged person. Of course, it wasn't, it was just an old doll. “A doll?”

 Before your reasoning could begin to draw conclusions, a cloud of snow came down the wall you fell down. You hadn't lost them. The lycans would never stop until they got their prey.

With no time to react, you ran again, the roars were getting closer. In front of you there was only one way out: an old wooden bridge. You couldn't even stop to take a look at the map, even though you were convinced you had seen that bridge somewhere.

It didn't matter anymore. The wolves were chasing you even through that unstable wood. The other side was anything but a safe place. Not even the heights or the instability seemed to those beasts to want to stop.

Your clumsiness caused you to stumble again, falling to the ground. You felt claws pulling at your leg, the satisfied growls of those beasts dragging you into their jaws. (Y/N) had met her end.

“No!” you screamed desperately, kicking that lycan in a last attempt to save yourself, one that you knew was useless. “No, no, no!”

You could already feel the breath of that monster, that anxious panting to devour your flesh but, suddenly, your leg was released with a gasp of pain.

You opened your eyes to check what had happened. The four creatures that were chasing you had moved away, looking at you with impossible, terrified eyes. Agonizing cries came from their jaws as they slowly retreated across the bridge.

“What…?” you asked in a sigh, crawling backwards through the snow, watching how suddenly the monsters seemed to fear you. Fear a villager? No, it couldn't be possible.

The beasts growled again, retreating faster, more frightened. At your side you saw a black shadow, one that passed by you without paying attention, that stood at the end of the bridge, looking at the lycans.

A black dress, a black veil, a stoic figure standing before you. It took your frightened head a while to understand, but not long enough to not be able to react.

There was only one person, one woman who could fit those characteristics. The lycans were not the most dangerous thing in that place. In front of you, with her back turned, was one of the Lords, the youngest, surely the most feared: the doll maker, Donna Beneviento.

The beasts retreated even further, fleeing in terror from that imposing presence. They feared her, those beasts feared her, and so did you.

Since it seemed that the lady in black had ignored your presence, you decided to take advantage of the opportunity to retrieve your backpack from the snow and back away slowly, without attracting attention.

“That's it, that's it! Get out of there, you rude mutts!” a shrill voice made you shrink in place, but you couldn't stop, you had to get out of there as soon as possible. “And don't come back! Donna, Donna, what are the lycans doing here?”

The lady simply shrugged, emitting what seemed like a sigh. Unintentionally, you had stopped in your attempt to run away and when you realized, it was too late.

“Hey, hey! You!”  The lady turned to your position and that sinister puppet pointed at you effusively.

You shook your head, finally reacting, standing up and running away again clumsily.

“Hey! Where do you think you're going, stupid?”  the doll shrieked while you looked at it terrified.

Fear made you do something stupid, made you look back, at that woman in black instead of at the path ahead of you. The worst mistake of your life.

Your body collided painfully with a tree, causing you to get seriously dizzy and fall to the ground.

“Ow…” you complained, looking at the cloudy sky, your head throbbing in pain and slow steps in the snow getting closer and closer.

That dark figure came closer, looking at you from above. She didn't say anything, she didn't do anything. She just watched you.

“Hey, stupid! Were you trying to go through the tree with that big head of yours?” the doll said, putting itself in your range of vision, harassing you with that sinister look.

You turned around scared, leaning your back against the tree, running as far away as possible from those two dark figures.

The doll, whose name was Angie, returned to the arms of its owner with a comical movement, looking at her curiously, and then at you, repeating that gesture several times.

“What are you doing in my territory?” the doll spoke again, but with a much deeper, much darker voice.

You were terrified, you couldn't move and the words didn't seem to want to come out of your mouth.

“What are you doing in my territory!?” the puppet shouted again, without losing that different darkness in its voice. It was the lady who spoke, you had no doubt.

“I... I...” you murmured, hurt and scared, raising your knees to your chest, like a protective shield that you knew didn't exist.

“Don't you know what happens to stupid little girls who dare to come here?” Angie said again, with that voice that wasn't Angie's, while the lady bent down to look at you more closely.

“Y-Yes I do, my lady,” you were able to say, looking away from that black veil, from that dark figure, the figure of death itself.

“Oh, so you know…” Angie murmured, as the woman stood up again. “Then you must be stupid.”

You shook your head, closing your eyes, awaiting a fate even worse than death.

“Do you know who I am?” she asked again, in a darker tone. “Answer!”

“Lady Beneviento,” you said in a small voice, lowering your head, burying it between your legs. “Please have mercy on me.”

“What are you doing here? Speak!” she shrieked, enraged by your lack of communication, one that it was due to the fear you felt.

“I didn't want to come here, my lady… I…” you sobbed, joining your hands to beg for forgiveness. “I, I, I was being chased by some lycans and I ran, I fell and… I didn't know I was in your territory, I swear.”

“Did you get lost?” she asked, in a confused tone. “Are you lost?”

“Y-yes…” you sighed. “I fell down a hill and ended up here… I didn't know where I was, I was just, I was just trying to escape and…”

“Why were the lycans chasing you?” she asked in a calmer tone, without letting the doll go from her arms.

“I-I don't know, my lady,” you said uncertainly, knowing that it was not possible to deceive her.

“Perché menti?” a different voice asked, hoarse, a whisper coming from that black veil. You opened your eyes and shook your head again, kneeling on the ground.

“I didn't understand you, my lady, but please. Don’t, don't kill me... Please...” you begged with a sob, clasping your hands tightly together.

“Mm,” the lady murmured, looking curiously at the doll. “What do you think, Angie?”

“That she's stupid!” the doll shrieked, this time, with her real voice. “She's lost because she's a fool.”

“Please...” you sobbed again, trying not to open your eyes.

“Get up,” the doll ordered you, again with that dark voice. “Get up!” she shrieked, when she saw that her words had no effect on you. “You're coming with me.”

Unwillingly, with your whole body shaking, you obeyed.

You followed the lady through the forest until you reached a small clearing, one where you were forced to go up in an elevator, in absolute silence. Once up there, the vision in front of you made you shudder. A beautiful waterfall gently ran down a cliff, guarding an old mansion, one you had seen before, the Beneviento House.

“Come in,” that dangerous woman whispered, not needing her doll to talk to you, pushing you roughly inside that dark house. “Come on, move,” she insisted, seeing how your body seemed to want to stick to the dusty wooden floor.

You were so scared that you didn’t even bother to scan the house with your gaze. You simply sat down on the indicated sofa while the lady did the same, in front of you.

“Now, silly girl, we’re going to have a conversation,” Angie explained, in that shrill tone. “My Donna is going to ask you some questions and you are going to answer them, is that clear?”

You shifted on the sofa, nodding cowardly, trying not to look up.

“And don't try to lie, stupid, stupid... We'll know,” the doll threatened, leaning on a small coffee table and pointing at you in an unpleasant manner.

“What will happen to me if I lie?” you asked nervously, looking for somewhere to hide, somewhere to escape.

Neither the lady nor the doll answered directly, but rather let the silence enhance the tension of that conversation.

“You don't want to know, fool,” Angie sang, getting down from the table when the lady gestured towards her, directing the doll to her lap.

You lowered your gaze again.

“First question: what were you doing in my territory?” the doll asked, with that strange distorted voice again.

You weren't sure whether to look at the doll, or on the contrary, look for the hidden eyes of Lady Beneviento. Either option seemed dangerous.

“I've already told you,” you said, knowing that at least in that, you could be honest. “I was being chased by lycans, I tripped over a cliff and fell.”

“Mm,” the murmur came from the black veil. “Why were the lycans chasing you?” she asked, again, through her doll.

“Because…” you stammered. That was a dangerous question, too dangerous. “Because…”

“Stop stammering and answer me,” the lady growled, in her own voice.

“It's okay,” you finally said. After all, there was nothing that could save you. “I tried to leave the village.”

“Leave the village? Perché?” the woman in black asked, not needing the doll. Maybe she was just as nervous as you, although it seemed unlikely.

“Per, Per…” you repeated confused, scratching the back of your neck. “Sorry?”

“Why, you fool? Oh, Donna, just kill her, she's even dumber than she seems,” the doll protested, moving from her lap and walking towards you.

“Because…” you said, letting your nerves go aside, preventing the lie from showing through your words. No, there was no need to lie anymore. You were in the house of death. “I had nothing left, my lady.”

“Explain yourself,” she murmured, crossing her arms, ignoring the tugs the doll was giving on her black dress.

“My, my parents died three years ago and…” you began to explain, somehow, a little more calmly. If you didn't lie, you would be safe. “They, they were devotees of the Black Gods, but they never listened to their prayers.”

“Continue,” Lady Beneviento insisted, with a clearer, more understandable tone.

“We lost our crops, the animals died of hunger, my mother got sick and... My, my father couldn't bear it,” you explained, feeling a shiver from those bad memories.

“But you're still here,” she corrected, with an impatient, melodic voice, just like those strange words.

You shook your head, sighing, looking at the grey sky through the window.

“A storm destroyed my house a week ago. I no longer have a family, a home, or anything,”  you said sighing, remembering out loud your miseries, what led you to risk yourself, and escape.

The lady nodded with disinterest. At the moment, nothing you said seemed like a lie to her.

“Is that all?” she asked, after another tense moment of silence.

“Is that all? I think that's enough reason to want to get out of here,” you answered, annoyed by that insinuation.

“Enough reason to want to die?” she asked again, with a haughty tone, leaning slightly towards you.

“I don't want to die, my lady, I just want to get out of this place,” you said with a softer voice, repressing any impulse to scream, to protest at that apparent incomprehension.

“Let me tell you something, you unfortunate girl...” Beneviento murmured, getting up from the chair with that same dark elegance. “Getting out of here only means dying.”

“What else could I do?” you asked with a frown, with anger beginning to run through your veins.

“I don't know. Maybe instead of complaining, you could have looked for a solution,” the woman in black rebuked you, with that same hoarse, cocky tone, one typical of what she was, a Lord.

“A solution? Excuse me, my lady, but I think you haven’t understood my situation,” you said nervously.

“Mm, a girl like you…” she sighed, getting closer, with a slow step. “Do you know how to clean?”

“Yes,” you answered confused, blinking rapidly.

“Cook?”

“Yes, more or less,” you said with your voice getting weaker and weaker.

“Mm, then… Why don't you look for work instead of throwing yourself to your death? The castle always needs maids,” the lady asked, with a tone that seemed to hide some contempt for your sorrows.

“I don't like the castle, my lady,” you said, lowering your gaze, moving your legs nervously.

No, you didn't want to end up there, you didn't want to end up serving that lady in white, you didn't want your fate to be the same as your friends, some who, once they entered that place, would never return.

A sound like laughter escaped from the lady in black as she shook her head.

“Oh… But the castle sure likes you,” Angie commented, absent until that moment.

“Mm, okay, silly girl…” the woman in black sighed. “I'm tired of hearing you talk…”

“Can I go, my lady?” you asked, standing up hastily, not believing that you could get out of that place alive.

“Yes, go away, but I warn you…” she hissed. “If you try to escape from the village, you will die. So I recommend that you return to your ruined cabin. This time I won’t be there to protect you.”

Those last words entered your mind, unlocking a truth that you were not yet aware of.

You were about to die, those beasts had already caught you. They were ready to devour you. But they didn’t, Donna Beneviento appeared and the monsters fled. You thought she had barely noticed your presence, but you were wrong. Whether you wanted to or not, that woman had saved you from dying in a horrible way, she had saved your life.

“My lady,” you said thoughtfully, already walking towards the door, turning around slowly. “I haven’t thanked you.”

“Mm? Cosa?” she asked, crossing her arms again, moving a leg impatiently.

“Thank you, my lady,” you stammered, relaxing your expression. “You saved my life.”

A mocking laugh came from the doll, who tilted her head to mock you. The lady didn’t move, she simply nodded almost imperceptibly.

“Well, anyone can make a mistake,” she murmured, looking away. You couldn’t help but smile at those words. “Go away, you are disturbing me.”

You nodded, biting your lip and turning around again. The doll maker's words bounced around in your mind.

Yes, she was right, she didn’t have to lie to you, dissuade you from your attempt to escape. She only warned you of the danger you would have by doing so, why would she bother to warn you? What did Lady Beneviento care about the life of a stupid villager like you? Maybe it was not as terrible as everyone said.

Escape and die, stay and live. Two options that traveled dangerously through your mind. Staying could mean death too, dying of cold, of hunger… Escaping was just the prelude to a quick, but more painful death.

The trembling of your body and the inevitable death you would suffer with either of those two options forced your brain to work hard, looking for a third, one you didn’t think about too much.

“My lady,” you said, before crossing the door, with a frown. “I could stay with you.”

“What do you mean, silly?” Angie asked, with an exaggerated gasp of surprise. “Stay here?”

“Yes, I…” you said hastily, leaving your small backpack on the floor. “I could, I could be your maid.”

“Maid? I thought you said you didn't like being a maid,” the lady asked, with a curious tone, not too startled by your proposal. You didn't know if that was a good sign.

“No, I... I said I didn't like the castle,” you corrected with a nervous smile, you didn't know why.

“Do you like this house?” she asked, with a voice that betrayed distrust.

“I don't know, but... I think, I think it would be a better option than dying,” you sighed tiredly, making use of your last resource, your last desperate option. “You don't even have to pay me.”

“Don't you want money?” the lady asked, tilting her head curiously. “What kind of stupid maid are you?”

“I'm not a maid, I'm just a desperate girl who needs a place to live,” you said confidently, sounding as sad as possible, thinking that, if inside that dress there was something resembling a heart, maybe it would soften.

“A desperate girl,” Lady Beneviento repeated, darkening her posture. “Idiota.”

“There's no need to insult, my lady,” you said in a small voice, risking yourself again.  

“Do you think your life is a disgrace, stupid?” she asked nervously, approaching you and grabbing the collar of your dress, making you gasp in fear. “Do you think you're the only one who has lost everything?” she rebuked you, with one hand tightly grabbing your clothes and the other traveling to her black veil, pushing it away with a brusque gesture. “Look at me... Look at me!”

“My, my lady,” you complained, finally discovering one of the biggest mysteries of the village, what was behind that black veil.

No matter how many times you looked at it, nowhere on that beautiful face could you see anything resembling a monster. Donna was a beautiful woman, really beautiful. You didn't even know why that was your first impression. You should be scared.

“I lost everything too, my family, my life! Don't think you're special, stupid girl…” the lady growled, letting you go in an unpleasant way. “Now get out of here, you don't want to work for a monster like me.”

“You're not a monster,” you said without thinking, letting your voice speak as it wanted, not how it should. “You, your face is fine, you have a very… beautiful eye…”

“Are you laughing at me?” she asked with a deranged look. You quickly shook your head.

“Um, Donna, Donna…” Angie interrupted, tugging hard at her dress, gesturing for Donna to pick her up from the floor. “Maybe it's not such a bad idea for this fool to work for us… Think about it, it's free…”

“Mm…” she murmured, fighting her own demons, some of which you had already heard about. “Va bene…”

“What?” you asked nervously, putting on your clothes, that were disheveled by her grip.

“What's your name?” she asked, breathing nervously, not bothering to cover her face again. You didn't know if it was because she was going to kill you, or because she liked your reaction. “Your name…” she hissed impatiently.

“(Y/N),” you said in a small voice.

 She turned her gaze, nodding nervously, pointing at you with her finger.

“Fine, (Y/N) you will work for me. But don't expect me to thank you, I'm the one doing you a favor and I warn you,” she hissed, darkening that beautiful look. “Try to play me and you'll wish the lycans would devour you.”

You smiled in relief, nodding profusely. At least you wouldn't have to escape anymore. At least your life would start to make a little more sense.

At first it was difficult for you to adapt to this new life. Your dreams of going out into the outside world were still very present in your mind. Little by little, as time went by, they were only faint memories.

Living with Donna Beneviento was complicated, but bearable. You were able to see her delicate mental health, her crises, her anger without reason… Miraculously, you began to stop them and comfort that lady in black even though she didn't ask you to.

You were nothing but a maid, for you there were no more words than a thank you from time to time, or a whisper that you couldn't understand. Little by little, you also began to relax, to get used to that language that you didn't understand, to feel the presence of the lady in black as something comfortable and not threatening.

You would always be grateful to her, even though you were afraid to show it, to tell her. To her you were just a nuisance, but at least a useful one. Fortunately or unfortunately, the Angie doll fulfilled the social needs of a human being, giving you the opportunity to talk to her, even if it was just nonsense, or mockery of you.

Donna's mysterious gaze was always on you, you could feel it when she thought you weren't aware. She was always vigilant, always attentive to your movements. What at first you considered as a slight uncomfortable harassment soon became routine, soon your head turned towards her, outlining an increasingly sincere smile.

A smile that was not difficult for you to emit, the same smile you slept with every night, under the shelter of those rickety walls, under the shelter and protection of a Lord, one increasingly present in your thoughts, in your feelings.

“Excuse me, my lady,” you said entering the workshop with a hurry, carrying a tray with a steaming cup of tea. The lady didn’t turn around, she simply gestured for you to come closer. You weren’t expecting a greeting either… “Your tea.”

“Grazie, (Y/N),” the brunette murmured, seeming to be concentrating on two small garments, surely for one of her hundreds of dolls.

“Is everything okay, my lady?” you asked curiously, looking, as for some time now, for an excuse to stay by her side, even if it was only a few more minutes.

She just nodded, comically scratching her head. She seemed distracted, more thoughtful than usual.

“Go away, you're disturbing me,” she whispered, without looking at your face. You sighed in defeat and obeyed, turning around with a soft bow. “Wait, wait, come here.”

Her voice sounded hurried, nervous, while her hand again indicated you to come closer. You avoided smiling shamelessly, but obeyed elegantly.

“Can I help you with something, my lady?” you asked kindly, with a calm face, hiding the strong beating of my heart.

“Um, sì…” she murmured, getting up from the work table and abruptly grabbing a chair, placing it next to her. “Sit down.”

You nodded and did as she asked, intrigued.

“Tell me, (Y/N), what do you think it is?” she asked with a frown, extending what looked like a porcelain body towards you. You took it nervously, examining it in detail.

“A, a doll, my lady,” you said in a low voice, returning the object to her. She smiled mockingly, shaking her head.

“Una bambola… No, (Y/N),” she said, with a tired sigh, rubbing her eye and leaving that porcelain body standing on the table. “Dolls have clothes. Do you see any clothes?” she asked somewhat nervously, as if she was frustrated in some way.

You shrugged, trying to keep that kind smile.

“I'm sorry, my lady,” you apologized in a low tone. She suddenly looked at you and then looked at that lifeless doll.

“I always try to sew a suitable outfit for each of my little dolls, but with this one… With this one it's more difficult to choose,” she explained with a calm voice, looking at that doll from all possible angles. “I can't decide.”

“What are the options, my lady?” you asked, looking at a pile of fabrics that the lady had on the table.

“What you see,” she commented, crossing her arms. “Tell me what do you think.”

“Mm…” you murmured, taking each of the fabrics, looking at that empty doll to compare it with them. “I think gray would suit it well, my lady.”

“Gray…” she sighed, taking the fabric from your hands and comparing it to the doll's red lips. “Yes, it will do.”

“I hope I've helped you, my lady,” you said in a friendly manner. “Do you need anything else, my lady?”

“I'd like to ask you some personal questions, if you don't mind. I want to get to know you better,” she said, thus revealing the only reason for you to stay there.

You couldn't help but blush and bite your lip nervously as you nodded.

“Of course, my lady.”

“Do you like to read?” Donna asked, placing the fabric in the old sewing machine.

“Yes, my lady, I did,” you said, watching mesmerized as the lady sewed. Your heart was telling you strange things, too strange.

“It's funny, I haven't seen you pick up a single book in all the time you've been here. You can read the books you want, (Y/N),” she said, without taking her gaze off the cloth. “You don't have to ask for permission.”

“Oh, well, thanks, I…  I didn't want to do anything without you… Well, nothing that could bother you…” you said nervously, moving your hands erratically.

“I don't mind if you read,” she whispered, barely paying attention to you. “I'd rather you do it than become one of those brainless maids at the castle.”

“Brainless?” you asked curiously, giving the woman in black the objects she pointed at with her gaze, without your presence being bothersome to her, something that made you smile more and more.

“Mm,” Donna nodded, cutting the cloth. “Unlike my sister, I value intelligence over pretty breasts.”

“Oh, um…” you said, laughing nervously. She looked at you with a serious face, as if she was surprised by your shock.

“Did I say something funny?” the lady asked, annoyed by your nervousness.

“Well, yes, my lady,” you said among laughs. She looked at you with her eyebrow raised, shaking her head.

“Although I don't know if you're really that intelligence... You wanted to get out of here...” she murmured cockily, with a haughty smile on her face.

“I had nothing to keep me here for,” you murmured a little more seriously.

She stopped, sighing.

“I feel you,” Donna whispered with a weak, different voice, as if her mood had suddenly changed, something that didn't surprise you. “I was also as stupid as you, you know?”

“My lady?”

“Before Mother Miranda adopted me, I thought the same as you, why stay in this horrible place? I had no family, no friends... I was completely alone,” she explained without you asking for explanations. You listened interested. “But I understood one thing, (Y/N), if you run away from your problems, they will follow you wherever you go.”

“That's very wise, my lady,” you commented, nodding slightly, agreeing with her.

“Donna,” she said in a brusque tone. “I can't stand you calling me that, I have a name, you know?”

“D-Donna, I'm sorry...” you apologized in a low voice, blushing. “I just mean to be polite.”

The lady stopped again in her work, looking at you with a sincere, almost embarrassing smile. That smile would give you a lot of trouble tonight.

“You were right, gray is the right color, (Y/N), maybe I need your good taste more often.”

“Oh, of course my la, Donna, you can count on me,” you said with an elated tone, one that you tried to calm down.

“I have to admit that it was not a bad idea to you to be my maid,” she commented with a lower tone, looking away from you strangely. “I don’t regret it.”

“Thank you,” you sighed, resting your elbow on the table.

“What about you, (Y/N)? Do you regret being with me?” she asked with a different tone, a more somber, looking at you out of the corner of her eye.

“No, of course I don’t, Donna.”

“Mm,” she murmured, sighing and returning to that gray dress that was slowly taking shape. “You can go.”

Before leaving the workshop, you turned your gaze towards the lady in black, who did the same, with a serious expression, looking at you briefly without saying anything before turning her head again.

A strange sigh came from your lips. Your legs trembled as you exited the elevator. You couldn't, you didn't want to feel those things, you wouldn't allow your heart to be wrong for the joy of having a place to live to mixed with those feelings that you shouldn't feel.

“Hey, maid!”  Angie shouted, startling you as always, interrupting the rambling of your mind, of your feelings. “Come here!”

“What do you want, Angie?” you asked in a more casual tone, one that you knew the doll tolerated, maybe too much.

“I'm bored,” the puppet complained. “Come, play with me.”

“Play? Angie… It's five in the afternoon, I'd like to rest before making dinner,” you said in a tired tone, but walking inevitably towards the doll.

“Evil, boring maid!” she protested in her shrill voice. At least those shrieks blurred the thoughts about the lady in black.

“Oh… Okay…” you sighed defeated, putting a hand on your forehead. “We'll play, but just for a while, okay?”

A while, how naive.

Time passed while the doll and you played cards. It hurt you to admit it, but spending time with the doll was quite entertaining, even if she always, always cheated.

“21, I won again,” the satisfied doll said, taking all the buttons you used as currency.

“You're so lucky,” you commented amused, shuffling the cards again.

“I'm the luck,” the doll joked. “Hey, you're very funny, maid.”

“Oh, really? Is it funny to see me lose?” you asked ironically, shaking your head.

“Oh, yes, very much so, but… I'm actually serious,” Angie commented, dealing the cards with a comical gesture. You raised your eyebrows with a curious smile. “My Donna and I used to play… But lately she's being a boring fool.”

“Donna has a lot of things to do,” you commented, coming to the brunette's defense.

“Nonsense, she's boring, she never wants to play cards. She's always with those stupid dolls that are much less cool than me,” she said amused.

You couldn't help but laugh at those comments, but your laughter died down as soon as you looked up.

“She’s always: leave me alone, Angie, I don't want to play, Angie, I'm a boring fool who only wants to be with her dolls and…” the doll continued mockingly while you, amused, gestured with your head towards the lady in black, who listened to the doll's complaints in silence.

“Boring, huh?” the lady in black murmured, crossing her arms and causing an amused gesture from the doll.

“Oh, Donna, I hadn't seen you,” the puppet said, fleeing subtly. “I was talking about… Another Donna, an uglier and dumber Donna, not about you…”

“Donna, I…” you said getting up from the floor and shaking off your dress. “I'm sorry, I forgot dinner time and I...”

“No, stay,” she said, stopping you with an arm on your wrist. “I think you should know something,” she commented in an unsettling tone, bending down to the white veil of her doll and taking out a card from it.

“Hey!” Angie protested when her owner revealed her cheat.

“Hey, what a cheater,” you joked, frowning, but not really upset.

“If you're going to cheat, at least try not to do the same thing,” the lady in black commented, sighing and handing you that card. “Besides, who are you calling boring?”

“You, silly Donna,” Angie whispered, in a threatening tone.

The lady laughed unexpectedly, shaking her head and getting down on the floor, gesturing for you to sit next to her.

“Silly? We'll see about that... (Y/N), give me cards too,” she said amused, thus starting a different time, completely different.

“Good, good! Donna plays too!” the doll celebrated.

After that fun afternoon of games, things in the mansion changed completely. They weren't just whispers, just words of gratitude. Questions began to come out of her lips, doubts about your tastes, your concerns. Lady Beneviento had changed, and you didn't know why.

Talking to her was easier for you, just as it was easier for her to talk to you. It was an unexpected connection, two souls that seemed predestined to meet each other. Considering her a friend was too bold, but the feelings in your heart were worse.

It could be her beauty, her voice, her lavender scent, her smile… It could be many things, but what was certain was that you were attracted to her, a lot. At first it just seemed like a silly thing, a feeling of gratitude to the brunette. But, after months, after a long time exchanging smiles, thoughts, interesting conversations, you realized that it wasn't like that.

You were in love with her, hopelessly in love.

You thought about her all the time, even doing the most boring tasks. The smile that formed on your face when you imagined her beauty, her words, accompanied you day after day, even in something as boring as sweeping the old porch.

“Mmmm…” you hummed while you cleaned, with those thoughts always sailing through your head. The impossibility of the reciprocity of her feelings was still far from your mind, too far to start breaking your heart.

“Shhh. The maid's going to hear you…” a voice interrupted your delirium, a voice that seemed to come from the old path to the mansion and that you didn’t recognize.

You frowned to try to discover its origin but, after failing, you continued with your tasks. That place was certainly perfect for you to confuse sounds with sinister voices.

“Hey, you!” Angie's shrill voice interrupted that sinister calm.

The lady in black, covered with her black veil, holding the puppet in her arms, left the house in a hurry, walking away from you, as if she had seen something dangerous.

“Donna?” you asked without being heard, seeing, to your surprise, two boys coming out behind some bushes.

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry!” one of them said, backing away as the lady approached.

“We just had to come here due to a stupid bet!” the other said, walking backwards.

“Get out of my property!” Angie shrieked, in that dark voice. “Porca puttana! Get out, get out!”

“Yes, yes we're leaving now,” one of the boys muttered, running towards the elevator, terrified.

“I'm sorry, my lady!” the other yelled, disappearing into the darkness.

You watched in astonishment at that scene, how the lady in black growled furiously, approaching where you were again.

“You, haven't you noticed that they were watching you?” Donna told you, freeing herself from the veil with a furious gasp.

You opened your eyes wide and shook your head, confused.

“Um, no, I... I was just, I was just... Sweeping,” you commented, nervous due to Donna's abrupt attitude, one that had become more frequent for some time now.

 “Sweeping…” she muttered mockingly, breathing heavily and looking you up and down, suddenly grabbing your arm. “What is this? What are you wearing?”

“A, a dress…” you said, blinking nervously. “I asked the Duke for it the other day, don't you like it?”

“Mm yes, I like it…” she whispered, nodding, seemingly calmer. “Do you know who likes it too? That pair of vermin who ran away, (Y/N). They couldn't take their eyes off you.”

“Oh, really?” you asked amused, blushing at the idea of ​​looking attractive to another person, something you weren't used to.

“Do you find it amusing?” Donna asked, with a stern tone again. “Cazzo, cover yourself up!”

“Should I cover myself up? I…” you said confused, looking at your cleavage. “Oh, well, it's a bit provocative, isn't it?”

“A bit?” the lady questioned with a frown and a dark look. “I don't tolerate anyone looking at you like that, understand? If you're going outside, cover yourself up.”

“Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know it bothered you,” you apologized, tying a button to be less… Provocative.

“It doesn't bother me as long as I can see you, understand? Only me,” she said nervously, playing with her hands.

“What do you mean?” you asked nervously at those words, ones she seemed to regret immediately.

“Ugh… Don't you have to sweep?”

You nodded with wide eyes.

“Then sweep, (Y/N),” she said, pulling you into the house. “But do it here, do you hear me? Where I can see you and…” she stammered, running away hastily, as if she had gotten into a mess of words. “Cazzo!”

“Well…” you sighed, scratching the back of your neck and looking at Angie. “What's wrong with her?”

“I don't know,” the puppet answered, leaving you with more questions than answers.

That attitude could seem like something isolated, but it wasn't. As time went by, those little meaningless outbursts began to be more frequent. It seemed like something in her head was telling her that she had to protect you, to keep you away from any danger, or at least that's how you saw it.

It seemed like a duality, an internal struggle with herself, a change of sad and dark looks, of smiles and threats that you couldn't understand, at least until that day.

The door rang, interrupting a quiet moment. Donna was reading and you next to her, in silence, exchanging the usual shy glances, ones that were always accompanied by a smile.

“I'm going,” you said, sighing, closing the book and walking towards the entrance. You weren't expecting the Duke, or anyone really, but still, you were the maid, although you seemed less and less like it.

“Hello... What do we have here?” a young woman, covered by a black cloak greeted you with a purr. You knew her, she was one of the three Dimitrescu sisters.

“Hello, Miss...”

“Daniela,” the girl said, interrupting your formal and elegant greeting. “Who are you?”

“Oh, I'm, (Y/N), Lady Beneviento's maid,” you explained with a fake smile.

You knew what they were capable of, but you didn't know she could leave the castle. Well, it was a nice day, the sun was shining, maybe that was why.

“Maid? Aunt Donna has a maid? What a surprise, she hadn't told us anything although... I understand why...” she whispered, looking you up and down uncomfortably, forcing you to step back.

“Well, here I am,” you said, faking another smile, without losing your composure. “Did you want something, Miss?”

“Oh, yes, I came because my mother had to pick something up...” the young vampire commented, entering the house as if it were hers. There, behind you, Donna was waiting for you, covered in her veil and in a nervous pose.

“Aunt Donna!” the girl exclaimed, putting her arm around the brunette, a gesture that Donna, of course, rejected. “Why didn't you tell me you had a maid?”

“It's none of your business, Daniela,” a nervous voice came out of the black veil as she pushed the fly girl away from her.

“Oh, please...” the young Dimitrescu joked.

“What do you want? I'm busy,” the lady in black asked, with an impatient tone. The girl smiled, winking at you.

“Of course you are...” Daniela mocked, circling you like a carrion bird. “I'm sure you're very busy...”

“What do you want?” Donna asked again, with a rougher tone, shaking every time the girl got too close to you.

“I've come for my mother's commission,” the vampire explained. “Although well... Surely if we put a bow on this beauty...”

“Don't touch her,” the lady said, roughly pushing the vampire, who laughed in amusement.

“Well, well... Calm down, Aunt Donna...” Daniela mocked. “Sharing is good manners...”

“Vaffanculo...” the brunette hissed, turning around to search for something in the drawers and hand it to the vampire roughly. “Your blanket, now get out.”

“Oh, why the rush? What's your name, sweetie?” Daniela asked, approaching you and putting her arms around your shoulders in the same way, with a sensual voice that made you shiver.

“(Y/N),” you said with a trembling voice. You could feel Donna's gaze staring into yours, and it wasn't a friendly one.

“(Y/N), how about we go for a walk? It's a beautiful day to enjoy good company...” the young Dimitrescu whispered.

You didn't even have time to answer.

Donna growled furiously, pushing the vampire out of the house.

“Hey, hey! Don't be selfish, Aunt Donna! Hey, at least let my mother…!” the girl protested, silenced by a loud slam of the door.

“Ugh, thanks, Donna, I was getting a bit nervous,” you sighed, with a relieved smile.

The lady in black turned around, furiously pushing the veil away from her face. There was anything but a smile in her face.

“Nervous, you say?” she asked in a dangerous whisper. “I didn't see you nervous.”

“Well, I…” you stammered. “I didn't really know how to act.”

“That's why you let that stupid girl touch you?” she asked, approaching you dangerously. She seemed out of her mind again, acting in a deranged way. “Hey, come here!” she shrieked, grabbing you by your dress when you decided that running away was the best solution to that strange behavior.

You, frightened by that look, tried to struggle with her, but you couldn't do it. With a growl, she pushed you against a wall, preventing you from running away.

“How long are you going to keep laughing at me?!” she asked, hitting the wall with a fist, making you shrink in fear, totally confused and scared.

“Donna… What are you talking about?” you asked with a trembling voice, with your eyes shining with terror.

“Don't play dumb… Cazzo… Are you interested in her?” she asked, pointing to the door. “Are you planning to flirt with all the girls and boys in this fucking village?”

“I don't know what you're talking about! I'm not interested in her, Donna,” you said in your defense, shaking your head. She laughed nervously, making the same gesture. “You're, you're very nervous… Calm down, please…”

“I don't want to!” she squealed, too close to you. “I've tried, I really have, (Y/N), but I can't, I can't stand it…”

“What are you talking about?” you asked in a small voice. “Donna, you're scaring me.”

“You’re scaring me, (Y/N)…” she hissed, with a dark look, putting a hand on your cheek, a shaky and warm hand. “Every night you appear in my dreams, I see you in the dark, in the light, even when you're not here… I see you…”

“Donna,” you sighed, seeing in those words something like a confession, one you didn't think possible.

“You… You're… You're mine… You're my maid… You can't leave me. I can't let anyone take you away from me…” Donna murmured, sobbing too, adding another hand to your face. “Don't you see how much I’m suffering for you?”

“Yours?” you asked confused.

“Yes… Mia!” she screamed furiously again. “No one has the right to touch you, not even look at you! You are mine, and only mine! I, I, I, I, I…”

“Donna…” you murmured again, ignoring the screams, keeping her words.

“I'm… I'm in love with you…” the doll maker finally confessed, making your eyes open in surprise and your words get stuck in your throat. “I don't care that you don't feel the same… You are mine and… No one… No one has the right to…”

Unable to do anything else, your body reacted in a desperate, risky way, bringing you closer to her lips, closing the distance with a messy kiss, one that would silence her complaints, her stupid paranoia.

 Yes, you were hers, but for a long time, and you knew it, you wanted it.

 “I'm yours…” you whispered on her lips, tasting the salty tear that ran down her cheek. Her breathing was still labored, but her screams stopped. “Donna, I'm in love with you too…”

“What?” she asked surprised, not being able to control the impulse to kiss you again, to pin you against the wall and run her hands through your hair. “But…”

“I don't want anyone else, I'm not interested in anyone else,” you said among increasingly wild kisses. “I love you, I love the wonderful woman who saved my life, your beautiful smile, you, Donna, only you, that wounded heart that reminds me so much of my own…”

“That… That's… Nice,” she said, with a calmer smile, with a subtle blush on her cheeks as she pushed the hair out of your face. “Do you feel that way about me?”

“Yes,” you said nodding, caressing the soft skin of her hands. “You don't have to be like that, darling... No one will take me away from you...”

“I'm like that because I love you, because I don't want to lose you,” Donna whispered, finally explaining that strange behavior, that latent possessiveness that was slowly becoming evident.

“You won't lose me, I promise,” you said lovingly, comforting the lady with your sincere words.

Donna smiled, but it only lasted a moment. Suddenly, her gaze darkened, pushing you back against the wall, filling your mouth with wild, out-of-control kisses. You couldn't do anything else but accept them, enjoy her lips on your skin, on your neck, feel her hot hands moving down your dress.

“It's not enough...” she whispered on your lips, her breathing as agitated as yours, running her nails down your legs, her gaze getting darker and darker, with a spark of lust shining in her eye. “You have to be mine, now…”

“Donna… What…?” you asked, when the onslaught of kisses resumed, when her body stuck to yours irremediably, when her hips began to dance with yours. You couldn’t complain, you didn’t want to.

The gasps came out of your mouth, your hands traveled over the black dress, caressing, scratching everything in your path. You couldn't and didn't want to refuse, not even when her slender fingers pulled at your underwear, when she lifted your leg and her gaze was locked on you again.

“I won't be able to bear you saying no to me, (Y/N),” the lady hissed in your ear, scratching your leg as she played with her dress, releasing her own arousal and rubbing it against your wet entrance, surprising you. “I disgust you…”

“No, no… I love the way you’re, I love your body…” you said immediately, starting to feel how her erection was getting closer to its destination as, in an improvised way, she entered you, stealing your innocence in an unexpected way. “Donna!”

“Taci…” she whispered, moving her hips abruptly, taking you wildly against the wall, without you being able or willing to do anything to stop it.

The pain only lasted an instant, the pleasure came soon after, a pleasure you had never dared to feel, the pleasure of seeing how your wet walls were conquered, how her shaft claimed you anxiously to the sound of hurried moans, just like her movements.

Clumsy kisses replaced the moans, those obscene sounds that echoed in the old hall. You were in paradise, right where you wanted, in her arms, with her inside of you, being part of her body, part of her, not wanting her to leave.

An unknown cramp tensed your body, forced you to scream, to hold on to the lady, to scratch her back, to lose control.

Well, it wasn't what you could define as something romantic but... When with an agonizing cry, her seed ran through your body, flooding it with a pleasurable heat, you didn't care at all.

“Mine… You are mine now…” Donna repeated over and over, pulling you down from the wall and kissing you erratically, pulling at your waist, at your shamefully wet body.

“Donna… I love you… I love you…”

[rosemarysage]

Hello everybody! I’m trying to compile all the information we got about Onyx storm so it's easier to find. So below I have written everything Rebecca has said at recent events that I think could be relevant to OS or the next books. I left out the stuff I didn’t think was relevant like the T.V. show and personal questions about Rebecca. The links are at the bottom. The first two are from an audio recording. Many thanks to Tumblr user Skyfallscotland for posting the audio. I haven’t been able to find recordings for the Perth show and some of the other dates from these so if you have any information from them please let me know and I can update the post. I intend to add the older interviews later but I wanted to get this one up because we got lots of juicy details from the panels.

Fourth wing and iron flame spoilers

Sydney panel 6/22/24 Saturday

She has deviated from the Synopsis she made for the series

She knows what the last scene of the series will be

We will see more of the world in OS and the following books. The map is representative of what Violet knows so it will expand as Violet learns more.

Jack Barlowe is around and serves a purpose. He likely won’t be a main character. Rebecca likes bad characters to have a reason for doing bad things. Jack has always wanted power.

The interviewer asked her not to do a redemption arc for Jack and Rebecca said “Noted”

Dain represents the love you thought you wanted when you were younger

When Dain says, “If you had just told me none of this would have happened” in the interrogation chamber he’s not just talking about the interrogation but also Liam’s death and everything else.

Violet is completely disconnected from her magic in the interrogation chamber. She can’t reach out to her dragons or Xaden. Rebecca said that Violet's mind summoned Liam because he was her protector.

The interrogation scene ending with Dain and Xaden was the driving point of the writing process. There is a scene in OS that elicits similar emotions and Rebecca said we aren’t going to like it

Q&A

Jack likely won’t have a romantic relationship. He’s also probably not “the real enemies to lovers arc”

Garrick's signet is in book three

A rider doesn’t necessarily have the same traits as their dragon's color, sometimes they have the opposite and need their dragon to counter them. Brennan is a tactician and needs unpredictably and Imogen is a wild card. The dragon rider bond is kind of like a marriage.

Her editor got her to add Andarna. She is there to balance Tairns' massive power.

Someone asked if we would hear more about the first six and Andarna and she said “Maybe” is a funny voice

Violet’s dad is not Malek.

Sgaeyl is pissed at Xaden and is not speaking to him at the moment. She also mentioned the bond between them.

Someone accidentally asked if Xaden dated the prince instead of Violet. After they figured that out she said, “I think you should read the third book”

Sydney panel 6/24/24 Monday

She deviated from the plan for OS concerning a character's death.

Jack is an example of the hunger for power and what happens when you aren’t selected for the power you think you deserve

She expected us to figure out the second signet. Her editor asked her if it needed another line to make it clear and she said no they would get it.

The Taylor songs that describe OS are Who’s Afraid of Little Old Me and So It Goes.

Someone asked,” Have you considered doing a prequel on the first six or how the empyrean came about or will this be revealed in further books?” and she skipped it

Melbourne 6/25/24

The interviewer asked, “Do we already have a reference to Onyx that will reveal the title's meaning to us” Rebecca passed

The interviewer asked if we would get another POV from Xaden or anyone else and Rebecca said that she has established a record of showing a little bit of what Xaden is thinking.

She that we have already learned Violet's second signet

The interview asked if Garrick would realize Imogen is into him and Rebecca asked what makes us think he doesn’t know

When asked if we would learn more about Father Sorrengails research about feathertails she said “Maybe” again in a funny voice

Onyx Storm is very Rep coded. She listened to So it Goes a lot while writing OS.

In the interrogation scene, she is cut off from her magic so her mind “pulls” someone who protected her

The interviewer asked if Xaden and Sgaeyl were still bonded and she said, “Next time on fourth wing”

She was asked if Xaden and Violet are endgame and she passed and then said “I write romances”

Her favorite thing about Violet in OS is that she has one goal and she doesn’t care what stands in her way.

Seattle March

Sgaeyl is pissed and not speaking to Xaden

Xaden won’t get more POVs until he quits keeping secrets. His problems with Sgaeyl will be explored externally. The interviewer said that Xaden keeps secrets about things other an Aretia and Rebecca said, “Naturally”. Violet is way better at keeping secrets in OS. She’s in her reputation era.

A lot of things were set up in Fourth Wing that didn’t come into effect in Iron Flame that will in the upcoming books.

We should expect about the same amount of Xaden’s POVs in future books, namely end chapters and bonus chapters.

Rebecca said, “There is a correlation between less and less dragons bonding  and more and more dragons saying what we are doing is wrong”

We will learn Violet’s father's name and more about him.

Xaden’s mom’s story will come up in later books.

The other three quadrants can drop out or change quadrants. Only the riders don’t allow this.

Miscellaneous

Rebecca said in an Instagram comment that she wrote a line referencing Xaden and the boys moving Violet’s armoire in OS.

Links

Sydney

https://www.tumblr.com/skyfallscotland/754271162361577472/it-took-me-far-too-long-to-realise-i-could-just

Melbourne 6/25

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=8FrFupBTVgY&pp=ygUOcmViZWNjYSB5YXJyb3M%3D

Seattle March

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=v0yTEZBtpVQ&t=6s&pp=ygUOcmViZWNjYSB5YXJyb3M%3D

[improvapocalyps]

"Okay, yeah. If you kill a red name, killed a red name-" "I'll give you a life for that. That's the deal." "We'll be back together like buddies again, Bdubs."

In participation of Extreme Timed Challenge Gift Exchange hosted by @extremetimedchallengeexchange!

[gifs, full storyboard, behind-the-scene rambles under cut]

past 48h animatics: MCYTETC2023, ETC2023

[Red Lives-Suspicion; Prayer-Determination; Fireworks]

Fiddled with gradient maps this time for some additional colors :D I would have colored in the eyes as well, but I didn't have enough energy left when the event hit the 47th hour xD

Also played around with camera movements. Respect to people who do fan edits and other forms of video/ assets editing 'cause keyframes are so 😭

13 hours to draft storyboard this time! Last year I used 16 but with waaay more frames idk how I accomplished that. Probably bc this year I'm drawing more than three(3) characters lmao

Progress Timeline:

[13th hour] finished storyboard/ draft (plany off time...) [25th hour] lineart for the first 10 seconds (wuh oh) [36th hour] lineart for the first 25 seconds (oh shit oh fuck gotta shorten it) [45th hour] finished Bdubs' part (NOOO I DONT HAVE TIME FOR ETHO)

ngl kinda glad i cut it in half rn 'cause i'd have to spend time figuring out shadowDog's design /lh

Designs I used for Lizzie and Joel (old art from 2022 and 2021 respectively) (holy shit i've been here for 3 years???)

Joel *shakes fist* i hate u and ur stupid beard

[Lyrics vibe/scene planning; hours before disaster]

I think most of the drawn parts didn't deviate from the initial idea. Mostly timing adjustments and building upon the vibes. The parts that were changed the most was the "And you caused it (×3 combo)".

Went from "vague flashbacks" to "following Etho and co. out of the cave and back to Scott's base while implying who Etho blames with single character focus shots".

The first one is Scott because he suggested the idea. Like, obviously he's to blame. It's not like Etho went along and cemented the deal himself. Scott totally peer-pressured him into it.

The second one is Etho because... well the scene ends up kind of being like. The sight of the Snow Fortress triggering a flashback. (EthosLab the content creator deliberately turned his camera towards the Snow Fortress and holds it there for a second instead of looking at the huge lava pillar right in front of him. What is WRONG with him.)

But also like. Clocks are kind of special to Bdubs right. Whoever gave him a clock basically has his (temporary) loyalty or at the least earned a favor from him. So like. If he hadn't gifted Bdubs the clock, which signifies a closer(?) bond, maybe Bdubs wouldn't be so devoted to him (wrong). Also serves as a call-back/ reference to the "Prayer-Determination" shot ("pray with clock" in the scene planning screenshot). I like to think that Bdubs weighted his options and thought about "if he will kill/ who to kill" a lot while following the other Red Names. And in that scene he's like, convincing/ motivating himself. Remembering who/ what he's doing this for.

(It is also meant to be part of my giftee's other prompt: "an exploration of the doubt one or both of them felt during the heart transfer that didn’t happen after Bdubs killed Lizzie, and the following guilt Etho felt." The Etho section starting from "we're setting fire to our inside for fun" til the end of the animatic is based on that prompt.)

After a brief period of self-blame, it's time to shift it onto someone else! Because you're in denial! If Bdubs hadn't gone red, then Etho wouldn't have to offer the deal. If Bdubs hadn't want to stay as teammates, then he wouldn't agree to the deal. If Bdubs wasn't so devoted to Etho, then he wouldn't have attacked Lizzie and gotten himself killed.

Then the animatic ends with the end of the session :D

...That's longer than I expected but also not that long. If you read through all that, tysm :] Tell me your thoughts! Have a good day/ evening/ night :D

[earthnashes]

Melon slows his gallop to a halt once he reached the break through the trees, and feels a strange sense of Déjà vu; he stood on this particular cliff edge of the island in what feels like ages, but familiarity settles in all the same. He looks out over the horizon into the vast open expanse, down at his map. Up, down, then up again.

As marked, the little human village is merely a day's trip away. Unlike the first time he searched for it on his favorite cliff-- with the jungles and valleys and caves and foes as obstacles-- the only thing between them and the end of their long journey is nothing but the calm sea.

Melon takes in a deep breath. This is it. All of the danger and hardship, finally coming to a close. He feels a sense of relief in it, but as he gives a playful trot in place--and hears the familiar squeal of laughter from Mario as the boy hugs his neck, just like the day they started this adventure-- Melon suddenly feels a sense of sadness.

Despite everything, something in the yoshi doesn't want it to end. Not if it means being separated from Mario forever.

He's come to care for the human cub as if he were his own, and the thought of parting ways with him hurts the yoshi in a way he didn't expect. He needed his new family; he needed to be around his own kind. But Melon knows he's gonna miss him terribly.

The yoshi's breath releases in a heavy, bittersweet sigh, and he allows himself to get lost in the memories of their journey, staring blankly ahead. So preoccupied with reminiscing, Melon fails to notice Mario's laughter suddenly stop. He doesn't notice the patting against his shoulder, growing more insistent the longer he remains still.

He doesn't notice how the light of the sinking sun is suddenly blotted out by incoming silhouettes. Not until it's too late.

-------------------

Part 9 of Melon's Adventure, donezo! Only one more part left before this ark of the story comes to a close!

I'm pretty sure I mentioned this a while ago, but this is where the story ultimately takes a turn to deviate from the canon plot of the game. This is specifically because Kamek and Bowser are not responsible for Mario and Luigi's kidnapping in this version. It's someone else! Can you guess who? The lil critters in the last two parts are hints. ;)

At any rate, giving ya'll this update early! Last part will take a little while because I got ambitious, so there’s likely no update for this lil story next Monday. I’ll instead post something else! Until then, thank ya’ll for taking a peek! ^.^