#none of it will feature welcome home tho

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

nervously holding out & rattling a Little Tip Jar

[todayimfour]

BARNABY B. BEAGLE BOARD

More info under the cut! Please reblog if you save!! :3

This is to go with the Wally Darling Agere Board I made a while back (I'll link it here)

This is not an Agere Board in itself tho, I just don't get those same vibes with Barnaby

Made with Pixart- free on the app store!

None of the art is mine, they were all available via the stickers feature

-- except for the hotdog, that was a screenshot from the welcome home website. I used remove.bg to remove the background/edit the image slightly

Characters belong to @/partycoffin (they don't like being tagged in fanworks but look them up :D)

Please send me requests! I love making these, please read the green portion of my pinned post for details :3

[making-my-wey-down-town]

The Famous Introduction Pinned Post

Hi, Hola! You have found the way!

Not any way tho. Me, Wey. You found me! Hola! Que pedo? Pásale a lo barrido 🧹

(2024 note: I need to update this)

That hooman that you see there. Si ese! That’s my sona. A pleasure to meet you. (Outfits change often lol) (Also! The formal clothes supposedly gives the hint that I work as a security guard on the game :v)

More about me: I’m a lazy simp artist. *bows with no shame* Yeah, that’s all of my self presentation :3

As you can see, I’m very much currently hyped with The Daycare Attendants. The scrunckly bois ❤️ I don’t have a specific way to draw the bot bois tho.

So in my blog you will find mostly reblogs of them than my own art. But I will try to share more of my doodles and ideas in the future. (Cuz can’t be considered an artist if I don’t do or share shid right? :v)

Besides being on the FNAF SB fandom I’m also interested in Welcome Home, The Arcana, MHA.

All my art is under #wey draws

My main OC’s are under #wiggles and giggles the clown twins (watch their very first Halloween experience #quick doodle , they are cosplaying as Skid and Pump!)

Here their reference sheet: (old reference btw, their shoes are bigger now etc)

Gremlins dressed up as clowns basically. My babies 💜 (they were born after i got hooked on the game of FNAF SB)

Facts about them:

Both of them are boys. So he/him pronouns to each

3’6ft

Small animatronics that love to entertain families with their clown acts in the Pizzaplex

Their pants have hidden pockets, stuffed with materials and items for their clown acts. Mostly balloons. (Their hats have stuff too)

On birthday parties they always end up covered in cake

Free to roam around where the public is. Need employee permission or escort to go to restricted areas

Often seen in the daycare where there is a lot of kids to play with. Sun doesn’t always enjoy their visit (such troublemakers sometimes)

At night, when the Pizzaplex closes they immediately go to the daycare. To play with Sun and accompany Moon in his patrols (Moon will never admit he appreciates the company)

They can’t be separated. It causes an extreme anxiety for both, especially if it’s forced

Twin telepathy. Normally knowing what the other thinks. Often saying stuff at the same time and finishing each other sentences

They rarely fight with each other

Both love the attention

None of them knows personal space

They either help or create chaos (Both? Excellent partners in crime)

Press their nose, it does honk noises. They also have a feature to make their shoes do funny sounds

Fart jokes (noises) are hilarious for them

They are indeed high intelligent AI’s but they have the knowledge of a child. Teach and treat them like a kid

Can handle a limited amount of water if they get wet. Preferably to avoid it

Their white eyes can turn black with red pupils when turned in security mode. It is only to intimidate intruders and potentially dangerous people. (Can act scary if their target doesn’t normalize)

They have no virus! But that doesn’t mean they can’t obtain it 👁️👁️

Facts of each clown:

Giggles (Gig):

Likes the color blue and sharks

Normally the one who makes troubles (nothing serious, just mischievous child behavior)

Loves to make people smile and laugh but also get in their nerves (depending the person and situation)

Wiggles (Wig):

Likes the color pink and bunnies

The more responsible one of the two but still gets involved in troubles

Loves to make people have fun (specially if it’s done by his clown acts)

In the future I would like to share some ideas of AU’s I have in mind (idk if they are good enough lol) but for now my goal is to finish art projects that are meant for many friends and awesome artists.

—————————————————

AU’S Que Hice!

Ahoy! Mateys (AU mermay) - The journey of a high spirit kid named Y/N!

Dreaming of becoming a pirate one day!

Sailing the ocean in search of grand treasures and fun adventures with the unbelievable help of two sirens, their best friends!

Who and which said sea creatures seem conflicted with their actions and feelings when it comes to Y/N.

(non-romance just to clarify)

As it’s very known that these two species can never get along.

Will their friendship overcome the stereotypes?

Jump aboard and find out!

—————————————————

My social skills are terrible very good. I have a messed up social battery, it comes and goes. So is very common to find me active some days and then gone for some weeks (months). But frens, moots feel free to reach me anytime. Bother me. Tag me. Be random. Quick chat or a question. I’m okay with all that. I also like it, feels like I’m not forgotten (I’m not the greatest to initiate the conversation but I will totally respond to whatever I get included on 🫂💞)

As for strangers, people who follows me. (Actual real people and not bots lol) Feel free to send asks. Just don’t expect a genius answer from my part heh. Remain respectful, and yup :)

Thank you for your time and attention until the end if you got this far. *hugs ya and gifts ya a real Mexican taco 🌮* Have a nice day/night! Te quiero güey ❤️

[ayathescorpion]

ASTROLOGY OBSERVATIONS n.2

1. Let's start with scorpio and jealousy, its not necessary all scorpio placements feel jealous toward one thing, scorpio suns tend to get jealous when someone else outshines them and they kinda get more "competitive" over jealous, i observed that scorpio moons tend to feel jealous abt their moms tho

+8h moons tend to feel "responsible" for things that happen with their siblings

+ their mothers tend to project some kind of jealousy toward them which is toxic (i noticed this w lot of 8h moons including my sister its concerning :(. )

2. Cancer placements arent necessarily the "motherly" type it's more 4th house concept than cancer itself, ngl i noticed cancer placements having rly feminine features (big eyes, smaller nose n rounder faces) which makes them really desirable by men/masuline people

3. Pisces placements are so sexually appealing they are so sensual tho example. Maddison Beer (pisces sun), Billie Eilish (pisces rising)

4. Venus/pluto aspects can be really possessive toward everything n everyone that feels like "home" to them, they need to slow down their possessive side n be more careful cause they're more likely to create a toxic being out of this

5. None talk enough abt mercury risings beauty, (mercury-ascendant, virgo/gemini chart ruler) they're so different its so attractive,, they tend to not try much yet look so appealing <3 one of indicators of beauty in astrology tbh

6. Dominants do effect appearance waaay too much!!!! Also planets conjunct the ascendant,, i ve a pisces rising but mars conjunct ascendant (mostly people think im an aries or scorpio rising)

7. Houses do matter too, if your moon is pisces but falls in 5th house u may have some leo traits added to your moon sign

9. The placements i ve noticed have the prettiest hands are gemini dominant/chart ruler/maybe ascendant too

10. The placements i ve noticed have the prettiest feet are pisces dominant/chart ruler/ascendant/suns

11. No matter what ascendant or sun placement is, leo moon will always be loud!!!

12. I kinda associate virgo moons with stomach problems out of stress :^)

13. Social butterflies placements are libras!!!! They always have the tea they always know people they always will make you feel welcomed sweethearts tbh but quite fake if underdeveloped

14. Jupiter dominance makes you a giant it just outshines other placements n dominance,, you can be 5'3 but look 5'6 or smth it just makes you look way taller way bigger we're talking abt jupiter after all <3

15. Leo venus tend to be obsessed with love and wont take rejection! If you reject them they will keep trying till they get your heart (can apply for all leo placements tbh, they love the chase)

16. I ve noticed people relating to their chart ruler more than their ascendants!!!

17. Scorpio placements and revenge, they really are the karma they just take revenge in a way none will ever think of (kinda reminds me of nanno from "girl from nowhere" series)

18. I find leo n virgo in big three indicators of beauty as well! (May be just my virgo descendant that i find every virgo placement so fineeee)

19. Pay attention to your tightest aspects, the tightest one i have is moon conjunct saturn and even the fact im a cancer moon i do feel like a capricorn moon way too often!

20. Sagittarius placements arent players they just are here for good time not long time n that what makes them special thats their role

21. This cliche but marina's oh no reminds me way too much of earth signs energy idk how to explain

(These are just my observations so if it doesnt apply to you dont come @ me thankss) <3

-ayathescorpion

[stopeatingwhales]

second chance x damon albarn

i'm surprised i haven't written anything about dilf damon yet bc i've been so obsessed with him recently wtf. anyways enjoy x

i might do a second part to this, idk yet tho

Pairing: dilf damon x reader

Warnings: none :)

Word count: 2.786

Requested by anon <3

༉‧₊˚✧

“Do you want to come over?” I abruptly asked, the silence pouring through the line deafening my ears as my fingers toyed with the hem of my shirt. The desperation and moment that led to me ringing my ex-boyfriend at what was nearing eight in the evening seemed as though it was a fever dream, the words rolling off my tongue so delicately out of apprehension only a fragment of that trance. In all honesty, I had no idea as to why I rang Damon, or to what extent the string of thoughts guided me towards the action of calling - we had been broken up for around a year, and it came as a much larger shock that I was able to muster the amount of courage to tap his contact on my phone and attentively listen to the thunderous rings as the landlines attempted to connect, instead of quickly shutting the phone off before he was able to receive a missed call alert.

“Uh, um - are you sure?” he questioned, the stutter escaping his mouth insinuated that he was just as dazed at my sudden offer as me, the demeanour of his voice accentuating the idea that he was entirely finished with the ephemeral chapter of his life which had me intertwined inside as his partner; that he had gotten over me quicker than the momentary period our relationship lasted. My heart sank, realising how indigent I sounded, as if I had never gotten over him throughout our time apart - which I did, learning to live with myself was easier than I had thought it was going to be; the weeks leading up to the breakup stemming from the distance we shared apart due to Damon consistently being on tour and never providing enough time for me, for us, to consider one another as more than romantically acquainted, though that didn’t mean the gap in my heart had been sealed shut, it was simply brimmed with other, unspecial fragments of things which could only distract the thought of him for so long, until I’d discover myself adventuring for something else to hyperfixate my thoughts upon, though he always returned.

“Yeah…” My voice trailed off, so quiet that I struggled to sustain the volume. Though we had only just spoken, the trance that he had obtained over me for all those months we were with one accord, returned in an instant, having the same rush that a recollection of memories, pastimes that were once forgotten, crumbled to dust, had been reborn; ignited into a new bloom in the height of a harvest, resulting in the scolding of yourself upon how you granted the ability to forget such a thing. It seemed as if all those thoughts, ideations convinced to the point that I had gotten over him, were myriads of masks attempting to say it enough to believe it. Without a doubt, I had never overcome the strains of the acquaintance we shared - and I could only hope he felt the same way.

I heard his throat clear itself before his voice echoed through the telephone speakers once again. “Alright… I’ll be there in a bit.” he mumbled, those words bringing a soft, yet apprehensive grin to my lips. I had no idea what I was doing, or why, but it felt right.

It felt as if only the sum of a few minutes passed when I heard a distinguishable knock on the door; one that had not rang through my ears for an interminable amount of time, one that was able to send me months back in time to a period where he had significantly been a figurehead dictating the story. As I jolted up to answer the door, it felt as if things were normal again, back to how they used to be so many nights previous; me waiting for him to come home after he spent a long day at the recording studio, crafting what could only be assumed was the pure essence of talent, unlocking the door to allow my arms to envelop into an embrace cherished with affection and warmth, proving he longed to have my presence just as much as I craved his. Once my eyes met the sight of him, my heart dropped at the overwhelming feeling of my reminiscing about what once was, the nostalgia for a moment so authentically shaped with what could only be described as true love, my body yearning to relish in the sensation of his arms protectively wrapped around my body, a feeling which could only fulfill one’s heart with all that it desires. "Hi..." I trailed off, stunned by how similar, yet different his appearance was from when we last saw one another. His hair had the same shape, though it seemed a little shorter, his eyebags still prominent on his features, though it seemed as if they had sagged down slightly, posing the idea of whether he had been sleeping alright. His torso still adorned shirts with dark colours, amplified with one of his leather jackets which only made me more attracted to him. Widening the door, he set foot into the apartment, nodding his head lightly as a greeting. Although I was very elated to the fact that he was in my apartment, it felt eerie having him back here after so long, stepping foot into the space that was once served merely as a homely and secure space where we both could simply live and enjoy our time together, no distractions included.

Once I had followed him into the living space, he took a seat onto the couch facing the television. I attempted to make my footsteps omit as little noise as possible, as if to avoid damaging the awkward silence that had been shared between the pair of us. It went without saying that neither of us knew how to break the ice, or where this was going to head. One could only hope that the outcome of this meeting was positive. “Do you want something to drink?” I asked, ushering over to the cabinet adjacent to the television, supplied with all sorts of alcoholic beverages in which I had not touched, simply there as a point of manners to offer when somebody had come over. “White?” I offered, pulling out an almost-full bottle of white wine. I knew he hated it.

"You know I’ve always hated white." he mumbled, a small smile playing upon his lips. Something about that little grin plastered on his lips made my stomach flip and turn, welcoming a swarm of butterflies to accentuate the nervous pit that had formed within myself. The intense feelings reminded me of the same bewilderment your body undergoes during the first date; there is such a raw attraction to somebody that you know far too little about, but you are so hypnotised by their presence it is as if they’re the only thing in the world that matters, to the point that they obnoxiously overtake your mind, every little thought occupied with their name, wondering whether they may like such and such, like an infection spreading without you knowing such cure for it. The atmosphere was intense, carrying the same ambience of two strangers meeting for the first time in an isolated space, though there was also a refreshing element of familiarity that neither of us wanted to admit that we appreciated so deeply.

"Red?" I asked, snatching the half empty bottle as I placed the other wine bottle back in its designated place, turning my head back to fix my gaze onto Damon, raising my eyebrows as a form of derise for the drink. Nodding his head in response, I quickly took two glasses from the cabinet, brimming them both with the alcoholic liquid before slowly making my way to sit next to him on the sofa, handing him one of the glasses as he thanked me in response. The same devilish silence echoed in the room once again as we granted the situation to truly sink in - thankfully alcohol was present. As I took a sip of the beverage, I tried to gulp down as much liquid as possible before I spoke once again. "So... how have you been?"

"Good... Just came off tour actually. Was a really successful one." he replied, his voice laced with a slight tone of doubt, edging the regret of so eagerly returning back into a place that was once so attached to his occupancy. He carried on talking about how the tour had been, my head subconsciously nodding, attentive to what he was talking about. Each time he had told me about something new they had added, or something they had changed surrounding the live performance set-up, it never failed to blow me away. Him and Jamie together, working on such a creative idea and putting it to life on stage was truly something out of rare virtuosity, disregarding the lengthy old ramblings from Damon almost every night he had returned home about how much Jamie had pissed him off, having a petty argument as if it was a be or end all in their friendship. It was actually a good form of entertainment, seeing how riled up Damon had gotten simply because of something that Jamie joked in an interview.

Once he had finished talking, our eyes connected, uncertainty clouded in his eyes as he searched for the reason behind him needing to come over. "Y/N, why did you ask me to come over?" He said, abrupt, almost as if those words had been lingering at the back of his mind the entire time we had been in one another’s acquaintance; the ease of the sting of words rolling off his tongue softly implied that, perhaps a try to prevent the harshness of the asking from offending me in the slightest. "We haven't seen each other for a year, why now?"

Both gazes never dared to break contact as if we had attempted to communicate telepathically - the ideation of instigating a conversation as awkward as how this had become, the two of us simply wanting the ground to swallow us whole. His gaze had the ability to put me into a trance upon which I wouldn’t be able to think of anything else except for the utter magnificence that was birthed into his loving eyes. Inhaling sharply, I tried to collect the thoughts in my brain that had been travelling in all directions, searching for all sorts of different possibilities that the conversation could reach. "Can we give it a second chance?" I asked absentmindedly, the realisation of what had just rolled off my tongue not settling in my mind until his eyes widened, speechless and shocked at my sudden questioning.

Sighing, he cocked his head to the side. “Love, we didn't work out the first time..." he began, my heart dropping to my stomach as the thought of him breaking my heart again entered my mind. His expression quickly softened once he saw my face drain colour, explaining all that he needed to know about how I had coped since he had left the picture. "I don't want to hurt you again."

Breaking away from the stare, I gawked at the dark shades of red that had adorned the transparent glass clasped in my palm. Holding in my emotions wasn’t going to do me any justice, and since he was here, it would not make sense for me to stupidly avoid the whole reasoning behind me needing him inside my apartment after so long. “It’s been so hard trying to get over you,” I mumbled, my voice almost inaudible out of embarrassment, though I knew he could hear me. “I need you.”

What I didn’t see from my shameful gaze at the ground, was the miniscule beam that broke out across Damon’s features. What I was unaware of, my body encompassed in such a impotent state of pure isolation, was that Damon had been as dependent on hearing those words escaping my mouth before he could admit the same to himself. Though it had all been answered to me as he softly brought his arm to caress my arm, gently squeezing the skin as a form of reassurance, implying the notion that he understood, that he felt the same way, after all this time. We broke up not because we lost feelings, but because the emotions we carried for one another were too strong to handle, too intense to progress with, that when he was gone for those long hours it had left me in such a stupor of helplessness and melancholy that it was unbearable to handle without it tarnishing my health. Unsurprisingly, at this point we knew where the conversation was headed; my desires to be swathed in his arms once again that I had tried so hard to banish to the back of my mind, to the depths of my distant memories in which by reliving such a hug came flooding back, my body leaned into his touch almost instantaneously, a subconscious reflex that I had craved, such an embrace that no other person could give, the mere side hug from him was able to banish all the pain that I had tried so diligently to mask away for the past few months.

We sat there for a short while, taking in the moment as it had played throughout, our breathing syncing together as comfort relished in the atmosphere, our minds now finally at peace while all the conflict that had battled our minds over the time we weren’t together. "Let me come on tour with you." I said, my head resting against his shoulder.

A chuckle erupted out of his throat. “It’s not that easy love.”

"Why can't it be? You're literally the frontman!" I exclaimed, lifting my head off his shoulder to connect eyes with him. "Damon, it would be so fun!" I exclaimed, attempting to encourage him.

It was as if things had mended back together, all the cracks in the pavements had been glued together to mend the time lost, as if it had never occurred. Through all the hardship I had faced trying to find the remedy to my heartache, I was dumbfounded to realise that it had been sitting in front of me, at the top of my phone’s contact list, right in front of my eyes this entire time. His eyes were calling out to me, enveloping my heart in comfort and warmth, the hunger radiating out eager to the ideation of starting anew and preserving the time in which we had lost, building new memories, unfastening the lock on the clock dictating the length of the relationship, allowing it to elongate, carry on as long as we could. My heart brimmed with homeliness - the house I was inside finally feeling normal to me once again.

"I'll see what I can do," he grins, the beautiful sight causing a small smile to erupt on my face as my body melted back into his arms once again. "No promises though."

It felt nice to wake up next to someone again the next morning, on the mattress that once was a carcass of many tears of sadness and melancholy, authentically conveyed by the essence of nihilism embodied from isolation, the kind of philosophical beliefs one could only develop an understanding towards subsequent to irrational thinking as the hours fell still, leaving you sat there, reliving the last moments from your memory bank with the significant other you had soiled ends with, a person who had supported you from the very beginning, even when things formed a bitter congestion to the relationship devoured by both participants, perhaps from the acceleration of argumentation shared, or the distance that had started to weave its way between, leaving you both stranded to conclude, as if you were both on separate, desolate islands fighting against the starvation of progressing through your lives and starting anew, departing from the old knots and attachments formed once epitomising pure adoration and love, though over time spawning to be the offspring of the devil. A person whom you knew would make your bed every morning, cradle you in his arms at the darkest hours to baptise the negativity coiled in your brain, whispering what seems like sweet nothings, merely sounding like soft raspy groans due to them being exhausted out of their mind, but you knew they were saying something to you, you could hear it, acknowledge it in a language that nobody else was able to understand. I relished in concession that he who lay beside me was the one that bestowed and epitomised all the things that I once lacked a night before. A lover.

[alice-angel12x]

🌩 Prince Elf! Shoto x Reader

Long ago in a land far away, was a small town that rested near a great forest. This was no ordinary forest, this forest was said to house all sorts of magical creatures, from the frail pixies to the lustrous Unicorns. All under the protection of the proud Elf people, the residents, and protectors of the forest and all its creatures. Many humans aren't allowed deep in the forest, not that they could find the great kingdom anyways. Any human with a wicked heart that entered the forest, were meet with terroirs and monsters. So many adults stayed away from the deepest parts of the woods, yet children would not report such things. Many saying they've seen all sorts of magical things, even some elves.

So the saying goes, the forest will only show its wonders to those clean of heart.

A young child named Y/n, wandered into those forests to see the creatures herself. As she went deeper into the forest, she soon came across a beautiful waterfall.

Y/n stared in awe as she approached the waterfall. As she approached Y/n noticed a small figure sitting in the middle f the lake. The closer she got Y/n could see it was a young elf dressed in fine clothing, he looked like a young prince. The young elf seemed to notice the girl too, as he slightly glared at her.

Y/n getting the memo, stayed on her side of the forest, and the Elf boy minding his own business. So Y/n sat down by the lake's edge and weaved a bunch of flower looms into her basket. As the two sat quietly, some small woodland creatures slowly started to approach the young girl. From rabbits to the ever-shy unicorn, slowly approached the young human. Y/n smiled brightly as she offered a bright red apple to the pure white unicorn.

Shoto couldn't help but feel a little envious, not even the "bravest" by unicorn standards want to approach him. So he slowly got closer to the girl and the critters, only for the creatures to notice his presence and quickly scatter.

Y/n looked up at the young elf boy, now that he was close she could see more unique features to him. How his hair is half red and half white, along with the most beautiful heterochromatic eyes. "Umm, Good day to you," Y/n greeted with a smile.

Shoto surprised by her warm greeting didn't really know how to respond. Most human youths ran away from him at the mere presence of him. "Umm, hi," was all he could utter.

"Umm, it must be pretty nice. Living with all the unicorns and other creatures," Y/n smiled bashfully.

"I guess, though most of the time they run away from me," Shoto said plainly.

"Why is that?" Y/n asked curiously.

"Cause my aura, it too much like my father's," Shoto said with a hint of hate in his voice.

"Your Father must be scary and powerful," Y/n commented.

"Is the king of the elves for a reason," Shoto said nonchalantly.

"So you're a prince then? So what's it like?" Y/n asked.

"None of your business," Shoto answered.

"Oh, sorry. Umm, I work at a baker, to earn money for my friends and me in the orphanage. You should try out berry muffins sometimes... Oh, that's why I'm here," Y/n gasped with wide eyes. " I forget I came here to collect fruits and berries."

"Well umm... There is one place you could go," Shoto said slowly.

"Oh, where?" Y/n asked.

"I... I'll show you," Shoto said as he dragged Y/n into the forest.

Shoto soon leads her to an opening in the forest, filled with bushes with alerts of berries and trees that bore loads of fruits. Y/n's eyes widened in awe at the many fruits and berries all in one place. She happily pulled Shoto with her as they started collecting berries left and right.

Shoto not used to peasant work got cut on the thrones; making his hands look like they were attacked by an angry cat. His sleeves didn't fare well either. Y/n gasped in shock as she looked at Shoto's cut-up hands. The girl quickly pulled out her handkerchief and wrapped his bloodied hands.

Shoto's heart pounded in his chest at this human girl's kindness. Her hands were so warm and gentle, a feeling he hasn't received in a very long time.

"There, all better. Umm, you probably still need to clean it, tho," Y/n smiled as she kissed his knuckle.

"W-why did you do that?!" Shoto gasped as he pulled his hands away.

"I'm kissing them better. That's what my mommy does when I get hurt," Y/n explained.

Shoto's ears and cheeks were a bright red as his heart fluttered in his chest. Yet soon the two noticed that the sun was reaching the horizon, so with a heavy heart, Shoto led Y/n to the edge of the forest. As Y/n turned to leave she felt Shoto's hand still gripped onto her wrist.

"Shoto?" Y/n asked.

"Will you come back soon?" Shoto asked as he looked at his feet.

"Sure, if my Caretaker lets me," Y/n smiled.

Shoto hesitantly released her as Y/n quickly ran off to her family home and bakery. From that day on Y/n would visit the forest and shout every week or so. Just to explore the forest with all different parts of the forest, and spend time together. As the two grew, Shoto's feelings for this human also grew.

But one day, on Y/n's 13th birthday, she fell horribly sick. In desperation, her orphanage brothers and sisters worked harder than ever to earn the money to cure there, friend and sister at heart. Even if it meant sending her to the faraway capital. While Shoto waited and waited for his beloved Human to return to him, yet she never came. Their once lush and lively secret waterfall becomes a snowy wasteland. The trees had long perished, the water had completely frozen over, and the animals had long fleed that small section of the forest.

The other elves grew worried, yet fearful of the young prince. His ice powers were out of control and harming the woods around him, not even his father could reverse the ice magic. Shoto sat at the snowy waste of the waterfall, his heart hardened in disappear.

"Why have you abandoned me Y/n," He sobbed quietly to himself.

As he grew, so did his power and his curse. The once beautiful and mysterious forest was consumed by eternal snow and winter.

-----------------

After a few years, Y/n slowly recovered and returned to her home in the orphanage, where her family at heart welcomed her back with open arms. She was slightly surprised by the sudden change of the once magical forest, but sadly she could risk getting sick again. So with a heavy heart avoided the snowy forest.

Though she would wonder the edge, in hopes that Maybe her elf friend would appear. Yet he never did, at least from what she saw. She was completely unaware of the heterochromatic eyes watching her every movement.

"You've finally returned, Y/n," He sighed with lovesick awe. " It's finally time to claim my queen."

---------------

"Are you sure you don't need anything Y/n?" Deku asked. Y/n's long-time friend in the orphanage.

"I'm fine Deku, thanks to you and the others I was able to get the care I needed," Y/n smiled.

Deku's heart fluttered in his chest. The two grew up together in the orphanage, worked together in the same barkery, and was the one who worked the hardest to earn money for Y/n. Seeing his long-time crush happy and well was enough for him.

"Wow, it's really snowing out there isn't it," Y/n said as she stares out at the blizzard outside.

"Yeah, one could almost forget it's supposed to be summer," Deku said with slight concern.

"What happened during the time I was gone?' Y/n wondered to herself.

As night fell everyone in the orphanage was preparing for bed, as Izuku helped Y/n to bed for she was still weak in recovery.  The snowy wind howled against the old orphanage building as Izuku tried to keep the fire going.

Then suddenly the windows and doors slammed open as the snow and wind rushed through the building. The fire was quickly blown out and the room was cast in darkness. Deku began to panic as he knew the chill could kill Y/n, but as he turned to Y/n; there stood a tall figure holding her sleeping form gently. The boy and two different colored hair and eyes, and wore expensive attire. Izuku noticed the boy's pointed ears and Crown made of gold and silver, it was the Elf king.

Shoto held his beloved delicately as he wielded his ice magic to form a beautiful tiara of ice on her head. With a soft kiss on her forehead, the two vanished in the gust of snow.

" Y/N!!" Izuku gasped as he quickly stood and ran the window, and saw that the snow had stopped suddenly

___

[serenafainx]

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧      NEXT GEN FACTSHEET         ( created: sept 2022 )

featuring : DOROTHEA JONES ( aged 25 ), adopted daughter of serena jones (née fain) & freddy jones.

Dorothea was born in Hallow Falls, unfortunately into the family of the Clown With a Tearaway Face. Raised to perform in her family's circus, she always felt like a black sheep — though just as talented as everyone else, she was unhappy in her life and felt more like 'clown no.5' than a daughter. She loved to read, and she loved to watch other types of performing arts ; she wanted to perform in a way that made people smile or cry, not to terrify or trick them. She began running away from home. When Serena Jones visited Hallow Falls to take care of her deceased father's estate, she found Dorothea squatting in her old family home. After a bit of time and patience, and a growing love for the young girl who loved to dance, Serena offered to adopt her and the Clown family couldn't care less. And so, Dorothea became Dorothea Jones. Today, she still continues a passion for performing and while she stays away from trickery, she still has a streak of mischief and excessive nonchalance. So beware.

inspiration : matilda ( matilda ) , harley quinn ( harley quinn tv series ) , kate sharma ( bridgerton ), sally albright ( when harry met sally ), fiona ( shrek / shrek the musical ), holly golightly ( breakfast at tiffany’s 1961 ), ty lee ( avatar : the last airbender )

GENERAL

full name. dorothea jones. nicknames. thea  date of birth. 1 january age. 25 years old. gender. female. pronouns. she/her abilities. advanced acrobatics, martial arts, exceptional athletic agility & strength sexuality. queer.  place of birth. hallow falls.      current residence.  elias.        occupation.  chorus member / dancer.        

APPEARANCE

height.   5' 8½" (1.74 m)   build. lean, athletic. hair colour/style. dark hair, reaches just below shoulders. always tied in a bun or pulled back somehow off her face.      eye colour. dark-brown piercings. ear piercings.          tattoos. none.        notable markings. scars on her back and ribs from childhood accidents.        glasses/contacts? n/a       faceclaim. simone ashley <3  

PERSONALITY

tropes. the ace, berserk button, crazy-prepared (usually), she-fu, hidden depths, damsel out of distress positive traits. sympathetic, intelligent, honest negative traits. reticent, short-tempered, cynical usual mood. sociable and talkative  likes. musicals, technology, food, the outdoors, trivia dislikes. bullies, people who take advantage of others, halloween, clowns, COMMITMENT bad habits. nail-biter, indecisive when it comes to her own life (used to be so decisive before she turned 20 though), distracting herself instead of dealing with the issues

RELATIONSHIPS

mother. serena jones. father. freddy jones. siblings. talia jones, fox jones significant others. ?? 

friends. ( more detailed gdoc available on discord! )

katrina “kaxative” skellington : close friends 

betty utonium : close friends 

alessi paguro-scorfano : friends / exes 

rosalie charmont : close friends 

ada teague : friends 

flynnigan fitzherbert : close friends 

binna "tokki" munk : good friends

seraphina mcqueen : good friends / exes 

cthulhu “carrie” skellington : friends 

abaddon : friends 

caesar reyes : friends

thea’s definitive list of exes/hook-ups starting from the first to most recent lmao.

alessi paguro-scorfano

seraphina mcqueen

???? this could be you !!

TESTS

zodiac sign. capricorn hogwarts house. slytherin.

SKILLS & STATS

languages spoken.  english, spanish, tamil,  drive? yes. jump start a car? no. (but could learn quickly if needed)  change a flat tire?  no.  (but could learn quickly if needed)        ride a bicycle? yes. swim? yes. play an instrument? violin, vaguely. (will not hesitate to play badly to make life miserable)     play chess?  yes. braid hair? yes.         tie a tie? yes. pick a lock?  no. (will smash in instead)        sew? YES OF COURSE

[ WANTED CONNECTIONS ]

> friends. she has no inhibitions, likes to have fun, flex her skills, and tries to be like an agony aunt for everyone. beware though because she can get tired real quickly and want to disassociate or just laze about. company is sometimes welcome during the lazy times.

agony aunt: she would love to be the person people go to advice to. she thinks she gives good advice ...... probs not always tho lmao

performer friends: her focus is dance (ballet), but she has dabbled in theatre and musicals of course

party/clubbing friends: !! she loves to party !!

bad sunshine influence: she does not take most things seriously, so she would be a great friend for serious kids 

personal bodyguard: she is ready to square up, she will be there with a knife 

trivia night friends: beware she gets competitive, if you’re on her trivia team she will ALWAYS win.

> exes/lovers: very down for hook-ups, also for friends with benefits. everything is quite short-term, because either she realises they’re better as friends or she gets bored unfortunately lmao. 

jilted lovers: pls she’s probably scorned ppl before, she’s kinda .... not very careful with people’s hearts ://

> enemies/frenemies/rivals: she talks back and can be brutal. so. yes. and she is also very protective of her family, she will NOT let anyone mess with the joneses.

dance rivalries: both want to be the lead performer? better be ready to fight to the death (bonus round if it’s enemies to lovers hehe).

[periminkle]

blazes of deceit

this fic is a part of the disney collab hosted by @btswritingcafe​!! please go check out all the other talented writers and their works 💕

+ summary. When the opportunity to finally venture past the stone walls you’ve grown up in presents itself, you jump at the chance to discover the origin of those mysterious lights—even if the trip comes with a harsh truth and a suspicious, yet undoubtedly attractive, tour guide.

+ pairing. jungkook x reader

+ genre. fluff, angst. tangled!au.

+ word count. 26.052

+ rating. 18+

+ warnings. threats against a baby’s life, unwarranted death, mom problems, trespassing, pan violence, hiding a (not dead) body, tying people up with hair, curse words, drinking, thievery, deadly chase, sword/pan fight, recklessly jumping from a great height, graphic descriptions of wounds and blood, general violence, dark family matters (it’s pretty twisted!), orchestrated infidelity.

+ author’s note. happy early birthday to golden baby jungkook!! this fic took me wAY too long to write but she’s finally here! HUGE thank you to my big brain frenemy @guklvr​ for beta reading and hyping me up by boosting my confidence level +2000 even tho she’s on vacation and should be relaxing LMAO i would’ve postponed this until next year if u didn’t push me so TY ILY LOADS CARL 💘 i also wanted to shoutout #1 jk ryder supporter @dewykth​ and wofe @yeojaa​ for encouraging me every step along the way, y’all are the best n ily both to pieces 💝💕

You are positively ravenous.

Flurries of people scurry past the towering bars of your crib, yet none spare a glance in your direction despite your boisterous wailing. Like moths to a flame, they’re all huddled in one corner, surrounding a panting woman that clutches her rotund abdomen in one hand while tightly clasping onto a bejewelled crown in the other.

“What are you waiting for?” she spits out, hardened orbs narrowed in on your pathetic form.

“Your Royal Majesty, it’s only been an hour since you have given birth, please reconsider—”

Her glower is redirected onto the younger woman’s trembling form. “Are you questioning your Queen? Shall we reconsider your life as well?”

“No,” she begs, her tone quivering with anguish, “please spare my ignorant self.”

Your facial muscles begin to cramp and the walls of your throat feel like sandpaper, which only serves to exacerbate your violent sobs. The insistent suckling on your thumb is doing nothing to quell your raging stomach.

Her lips peel back to reveal two rows of pearly white, dazzling teeth framed by a nasty snarl. “Somebody slit that brat’s throat!”

Another midwife adorned in the bloody rags of childbirth darts across the cramped space with a weeping bundle of rough canvas in her arms. As she scrambles to deliver the shuddering newborn into his counterfeit mother’s arms, the clumsy woman trips over thin air, flying across her enraged Queen’s lap. Without a second thought, her backside is pierced by a shiny steel sword, sullied in a crimson liquid when it reappears.

The introduction of another babe deters your cries for attention. Instead, you distract yourself with a dull glimmer that you catch in your peripheral. Your chubby fingers hopelessly extend toward the dingy stars dangling above your head, just out of reach, reflecting the bright orange tiger lily printed onto the high ceiling of your cage.

“Not a soul shall speak of today's treachery.”

You’re well aware that your short arms could never stretch the distance required to satiate your unending curiosity; but they stay aloft, searching for the reassuring warmth of your mother’s embrace.

“Our blood will remain on the throne.”

Screams of agony overwhelm your developing eardrums as your tiny hands come to cradle your head, willing the pain to end.

Every inch of your walls is covered with abstract paintings, doodles of twisting branches snaking around the edges, dainty birds in every colour under the sun, and a joyous little girl dancing in her own brilliant freedom. No matter where you look, bespeckled tiger lilies are buried within the intricate linework like easter eggs, waiting to be found.

Your favourite by far is the uncanny depiction of the image stashed deep inside the crevices of your memory, a sight your heart desires to view most from up close. The miniature illustration captures your longing gaze pinned on the multitudinous lights ascending from a foreign location, golden hair streaming down your back and flowing over the fireplace in your determination to capture its vast length.

You attempt to steel your nerves for the umpteenth time, but you can’t help your nervous pacing across the minuscule length of your room. The entire tower is spotless as a result of your mindless cleaning—floors scrubbed twice, nonexistent dust wiped away, and trinkets set at the perfect angle to encourage your mother to comply with your outrageous request.

Today is the day, after all. The day that you’ll finally convince the stubborn woman to bring you out to watch the masses of floating lanterns disappear into the night sky.

The pitter-patter of your bare feet scuttling against the concrete floors nearly drown out the melodic appellations from outside your window.

“—down your hair!”

You dash over to the aperture, hastily gathering the ends of your mane to fling down while fixing the bulk of it onto the hook above your head. When the figure enshrouded in a black cloak snatches up your tresses, looping it around to create a foothold and carefully wedges one leg inside, you haul them up through the makeshift pulley.

By the time both of their feet are safely planted on the ground next to yours, sweat is beginning to form by your temples and the perpetual ache in your arms flares from consistently being forced to heave another grown adult up the stretch of the colossal tower.

“Welcome home, Mother.” You pull the rest of your hair inside and turn to face the stunning woman who lowers her excessively long hood, the extra length of fabric intentionally stitched on to keep her identity obscure as she travels.

Your mother sweeps you up into her comforting embrace and you allow yourself to relax in her arms, resting your cheek on her chest while your digits tightly clasp on to one another around her middle. Her chin settles onto the crown of your head.

“You would think that lifting me up all these years would give you some more upper body strength,” she says, her disappointment practically tangible. Placing both manicured hands upon each of your shoulders with a light squeeze, she pushes you back to examine your body from head to toe. “But look at you! My poor, delicate, little flower.”

Your forehead creases from your raised brows as a tense smile completes your agitated countenance.

“Oh, darling, what’s wrong? Come, come with Mother.” The adamant woman latches onto your forearm, dragging you over to the rustic fireplace and pressing down on your shoulders. Ever the obedient child, you kneel down onto the thick rug below.

Your mother delicately takes a seat on the antique chair beside you, a weary sigh slipping past her lips before she starts sweeping a brush through your golden strands. As per tradition, you sing the incantation that’s essentially engraved in the back of your mind at this point.

“Flower, gleam and glow Let your power shine Make the clock reverse Bring back what once was mine,”

A gleaming shimmer races across your tresses at the verse and from the corner of your vision you watch the light creases marring your mother’s features fade in rapt attention. She hums along to the tune with a detached, distant look in her eyes.

“Heal what has been hurt Change the Fates' design Save what has been lost Bring back what once was mine,”

You allow your lids to slide closed, gathering all the courage you can muster for the following conversation.

“What once was mine.”

Once the last note fades and a deafening silence reigns, she gently urges, “Tell Mother everything.”

This is it, it’s now or never.

“Uh, well, as you know,” you mumble, clearing your throat, “my eighteenth birthday is tomorrow.”

“Mhm, and I’ve already gotten your present as well,” she hums, steadily working her way down your mass of hair.

You falter at the information she casually reveals, guilt eating away at your conscience for preparing to ruin her good mood. “Yes, I know you’re always thinking of me, but, uh, well—”

“You can tell me, darling.” You register your mother’s heavy palm stroking your head, coaxing the words to tumble out of your mouth.

So you lay it on her. “I was just wondering if you would take me to see the lanterns this year.”

“What was that?” she questions, rightfully so when the garbled words blurt out quicker than you can process.

Before you can second guess yourself, you stammer, “C-can we please go see the lanterns?”

The brush suddenly halts in its path, suspended within the waves and dips of your many strands. Although you can’t see her, you know your mother well enough to feel her stiffen up, peeved at the topic you’ve brought up many times before.

“Petal—”

You interrupt, desperate to plead your case, “Mother, please, I’ve been waiting for—”

“Zip it.” You instantly clamp up at her hissing.

Your mother takes her time to stand, stalking over to halt directly in front of your hunched form. Her daunting figure looms above you, fierce orbs evoking a filthy shame that sinks its claws into your spine, and you lower your stare to her ankles from its intense weight. “Enough. I don’t understand why you keep asking this idiotic question when you already know what my answer is going to be.”

Her spontaneous refusal dampens your spirit, but you press on. “I just, uh, thought that I could see them once for my birthday a-and then I’d never ask to leave the tower again.”  

With a scowl as cold as an executioner’s axe, her arms come to cross beneath her bust. “I’ve already told you time and time again that they’re to celebrate the healthy birth of the Prince, any special ‘connection’ you feel to these lights is simply misguided and naive.”

You scramble to gather the scraps of bravery she shredded in order to sputter out, “But it’s my b-birthday too. Even if it’s just a coincidence, I wanna see them with my own two eyes.”

“How many times do I have to explain to you how dangerous the world is outside these walls? Do you know how many people are jumping at the chance to use your magic for themselves?” She rolls her eyes, chiding at you as if you’re a petulant child who disobeyed their elders one too many times. “If your little heart wants some adventure, you can go downstairs and explore the living room, besides darling, you should be thankful that nothing has happened all these years.”

“How am I supposed to be thankful for anything when you keep coddling me like this!” you lash out, frustration bubbling over at her usual response and refusing to toe the line any longer. Any notion of gently swaying her judgement or prompting her to consider your point of view is thrown out the window.

But your mother is nothing if not resolute.

“What?” Her words turn to ice—syllables forming razor-sharp blades that figuratively line your throat, poised to strike the second you step out of place. “Do you want to repeat that?”

Your breaths quicken, deathly afraid of the repercussions that will follow if you decide to continue your rebellious act. It wouldn’t be the first time that she punished you for begging to leave the tower.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize, head hanging low and voice laced with resignation, “I didn’t mean that. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

“Aw, my precious petal,” she coos, her mood drastically flipping one hundred and eighty degrees as the edges of her lips subtly point upwards at your obedience. “That’s why Mother is here, to guide you in the right direction. You know that I’m only looking out for you, right?”

“Of course, Mother.”

Evidently content with the outcome of the conversation, she turns back to continue brushing through your tresses.

By the time her ebony cloak rests upon her thin shoulders, hood draping over her face, your hair is already hanging by the hook above the window and she hops through the opening to lower herself to the ground below. You watch as her figure shrinks with the increasing distance, only turning back once to give a short wave before disappearing through the lush greenery.

And then you’re alone once again.

In the hours that pass after your mother’s departure, you become well acquainted with the five stages of grief. Of course, your requests to leave have been denied more times than you can count on both hands, but you foolishly believed that mentioning the eighteen years you spent cooped up in one place, fending off boredom, would hit a soft spot.

You forgot that your mother doesn’t have any of those.

Obviously, she anticipated your attempt to convince her by throwing yourself a pity party, as she deliberately mentioned purchasing a gift in advance. Out of all your celebrations, you couldn’t recall a single time where she prepared—much less remembered—your birthday.

Utterly absorbed within your final stage of acceptance, you lose yourself within your thoughts. That’s why the steady, rhythmic tapping on the cobblestone metres below makes you jump, mind wiped clean of everything except questioning the origin of the sound. Goosebumps manifest across the length of your arms, already slick with cold sweat.

Initially, you believe that your mother may have misplaced something, but your doubt accumulates when you don’t hear her usual jingle follow the rapping. You wonder if she is harbouring acrimony at your earlier outburst—even though she seemed quite pleased as she left.

Thus, like the loving daughter you are, you gather the ends of your hair, about to throw the lump over the aperture when you take notice of the stranger’s bulky frame and lack of disguise. Last time you checked, Mother certainly hadn’t chopped all her curls off either.

You can feel your heart thumping in your head, chest rising and falling expeditiously to compensate for the sudden rush of adrenaline surging through your veins. In your distress, her words come back to bite you, echoing within your mind that he must be after your magic.

Mother knows best, after all.

Discreetly glancing back down, you spot the man scaling the wall using two arrows, a feat which you’re sure he wouldn’t be capable of performing without those well-defined muscles, attractively outlined through his thin clothing. Realizing that you’re wasting time ogling at the intruder, you spin back to survey your room, scanning the area for any weapons you can use to defend yourself.

You disregard any prospect of overpowering him and decide to approach the confrontation by taking advantage of your ability to startle him. Before long, the sounds of the rigid arrowheads wedging into the spaces between the stones are no more than a couple of metres away, and you grab the nearest object in a blind panic.

All too soon, his large hands are gripping the window sill, and you scurry to press your body against the wall directly next to the opening. You grip the handle of metal tighter, struggling to keep your heavy breaths silent as you watch his fit form effortlessly raise himself up past the open window.

When he lands inside, you’re transfixed by the way his shirt hangs on his brawny body, the veins in his arms enlarged from the physical exertion of carrying his weight up the tower. Just for that moment, you let your eyes roam his lean figure in unadulterated fascination.

“Hah! Stupid guards, thinking they could catch me after—”

And then that moment ends.

A loud clang resounds throughout the cramped space as a result of the pan in your hand bashing into the back of his head. For a split second, you worry if the force behind your swing is enough to knock him out cold, but then he meets the floor headfirst. You wince for him.

With the substitute weapon in hand, you circle around his seemingly unconscious form up to his head, which is turned away from your prying stare. In order to decipher his level of cognizance, you crouch down and bow over him to get a better look at his face.

Long, dark locks that were perfectly mussed before his fall now cover nearly half his countenance, so you push them to the side to reveal his closed lids and strong brows. Following the curve of his cheekbones, you pass his cupid’s bow to gaze upon his thin lips, a tiny beauty mark laying directly underneath—an intimate detail that you feel uncomfortable knowing.

A faint blush colours your cheeks as you comprehend how utterly breathtaking the stranger is, drastically disparate to the stories your mother told you as a child, where men resembled ogres that lived under bridges, grotesque and unkempt.

He is nothing like that. Not at all.

He reminds you of the princes you read about in picture books—dashing and strong, willing to go to extreme lengths to find their Princess, their one true love. You know you’re taking it too far when you begin to fantasize about his personality purely based on his, admittedly, strikingly handsome appearance. With a vigorous shake of your head, you force yourself out of your reverie and get back to your task.

You stretch two fingers out to rest just beneath his nostrils, feeling the warm air that leaves his body at constant intervals, a good sign that he was not only alive but knocked out cold.

You prod at his shoulder, whispering, “Are you awake?”

No reaction.

With this confirmation, you take hold of one of his wrists with both hands and clench your jaw while leaning back, trying to use your body weight to help drag him. He proves to be much heavier than you initially believed, though you feel him moving inch by inch. Rather than another human being, you simply think of him as a heavy sack of potatoes for the sake of your conscience as you shuffle backwards, heading for the wardrobe on the other side of the room.

By the time you reach said armoire, you collapse on the ground next to him, gulping in as much air as you can. Now, there was simply the problem of shoving him inside. You turn your head to face the stranger, pouting at the prospect of having to lift his bulky self.

After much pushing and rearranging, the doors finally close behind him, although, as you predicted, stuffing him in there took much longer than you would like to admit. You aren’t sure how comfortable he is in the disfigured pretzel position you left him in, but his contentment is not at the top of your list of priorities right now.

Rubbing your palms together, you go to pick up the frying pan that lay discarded on the floor near the window when you take notice of the brown satchel that sat next to it. You have no use for any kind of travelling equipment, obviously, what with your whole life existing in this tall building, and your mother only carries a quaint, woven basket around. She is insistent on living as modestly as possible, and that includes whatever goodies she brings back from her adventures.

That rules out everyone but the stranger. The bag does look more masculine, anyway. Grabbing the strap, you raise the object in question up to have a closer inspection and find the leather to be heavier than expected. There are odd bumps protruding from its exterior, filling you with a tenuous curiosity.

Carefully, you lift the flap open to expose a heavily jewelled crown. Perplexity is written within the creases of your brows as you reach to grab the item within and drop the empty satchel. From your inexperienced eyes, the thing is as real as it gets, a shimmering gold decorated with the finest jewels in the kingdom. The different colours of each gem catch the light, reflecting the brilliant rays onto the walls of your room.

Your impromptu analysis concludes with an inexplicable pull towards the diadem, which you’re uncertain how to act upon until you involuntarily place the crown on your head. You turn to face the mirror leaning against the wall and it feels so right, as though two matching puzzle pieces have finally been brought together. The reflection staring back at you seems complete in ways you have never been before.

Yet, you can’t begin to fathom the reasoning behind all these strange epiphanies, unfamiliar with the tranquillity that quiets the constant buzzing in your head. Overwhelmed, you remove the crown and not a moment too soon, for a familiar, shrill shriek meets your ears.

“Petal!”

Your stomach lurches. Eyes darting to the wardrobe, you’re reminded of the man inside. You know if Mother saw him, she would definitely freak out, maybe even refuse to visit for the next week to drive you insane with solitude. But, then again, you could use him as an example to show that you could handle yourself out in that dangerous world she was always going on and on about.

“Let down your hair!”

You stuff the diadem back in the bag and stow it in an empty flower pot.

Giddy at the prospect of having a legitimate argument to reinforce your reasoning to leave the tower, you dash to the window sill and fling your hair over without a second glance outside. The rush of excitement blinds you from the sensitivity of your sore muscles as you haul her up.

“Petal,” your mother grits out, staggering inside due to your rushed actions, “what did I tell you about checking who’s calling before letting your hair down?”

“Hello, Mother!” you brush off her question, practically bouncing on the balls of your feet. “I have something really important to show you!”

“Don’t change the subject.” She squints her eyes at you, lips pursed with frustration. “You're getting more and more reckless. One of these days, a crook will make their way up here and you’ll be foolish enough to invite them inside, maybe pour them a cup of tea while you’re at it?”

“I’m truly sorry.” You decide to humour her to prevent her temperament from flaring, throwing out a meaningless apology—one you’re used to blurting out left and right.

“Now that’s what I like to hear,” she says, as smug and haughty as always. Your mother removes her coat, handing it off to you. “But today’s your lucky day! Just as I was about to visit, I remembered to bring your present!”

Your heart warms at your mother’s unusual thoughtfulness, although you’re much too eager to prove your strength first. “Ah, thank you, Mother. But I really want to show you—”

“Something more important than your mother’s present?”

“Of course not! I just wanted to get it out of the way so that I could enjoy your present later.” She seems unconvinced, so you add, “Y’know how they always say to leave the best for last?”

The older woman heaves an exasperated sigh, shoving you out of the way as she heads for the armchair in the corner. She slumps her tired form on the rickety seat as it creaks its refusal, then waves her hand, gesticulating that you get on with whatever it is you have up your sleeves.

Perspiration gathers within your palms and you fight to ward off the minuscule smile that plays on your lips while you gradually make your way back to the wooden armoire, “So, you’re always going on about how weak and fragile I am…”

“Yes.” She rests her chin in her hand, scrutinizing every hair on your head as though the answers to your ridiculous behaviour are buried within the multitudinous strands. “And what of it?”

“Well, I just thought that I should show you,” you start as your back hits the old furniture and your fingertips graze its rough texture. “That I’m more than capable of handling myself when we go out to—”

“When we go out?” she interrupts, irritation hardening her sharp features as she fixes you with an enraged scowl. “And where do you suppose we’re going exactly?”

You hesitate as your earlier confidence slips and you scramble to correct your word choice before she completely blows you off. “Uh, I just meant that this will show you how strong I am, and, uh…”

An eerie silence occupies the room when you find yourself at a loss for words. You know that your blabbering will get you absolutely nowhere, so you tighten your grip on the handles of the wardrobe, counting on your actions to speak louder than your words ever could.

“How old are you turning again, Y/N? It was eighteen, was it not?”

You shrink under her abrupt question, choosing to play along to pacify the shreds of annoyance flickering in her orbs. “Yes, Mother.”

“And for how long are we going to play this game?” she asks, standing with her basket in tow. Your mother rounds closer to you and your gaze automatically flies to the floor.

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

“What’re you hiding this time? Did you find another mouse? A rat?” she mocks, resting one hand on her hip. “Ooh, did a raccoon find its way inside?” Once her face is a mere couple of inches from your nose, you allow your eyes to meet her own, dreadfully empty ones. The sight sends a chill down your spine.

You release your hold on the furniture, dejection seeping from your tone. “Two mice this time.”

Her boisterous cackle echoes off the stone walls and she clutches her stomach in an attempt to quell the onslaught of laughter. The gesture reminds you of the countless other times you tried to ‘prove yourself’ through similar methods when you were younger, catching rodents that occasionally found their way into the nooks and crannies of the tower.

The first time you caught a mouse, you’d been ecstatic, rushing to show it off to the only person you knew. Although at that age, rather than a ticket to freedom, you were simply seeking your mother’s approval and perhaps a few praises here and there. You wanted to prove that despite your lonely upbringing—with your mother lounging around the tower for only a few hours every other day—you could handle yourself. She wouldn’t have to worry.

Evidently, you were too young to understand your mother’s rash nature, and she immediately assumed the worst—that you had somehow managed to sneak outside and wanted to prove your calibre by hunting down a nearby animal. The harsh scolding you received that day still lingers as a scar on your wrist, a painful reminder to never cross your mother.

“The outside world is not a simple matter of ‘two mice’ darling. You should know better than to think I’ll ever be impressed by these foolish displays of strength.” She swoops you up into her arms and you automatically bring your hands to circle her lithe waist. “That’s why you’ll always need Mother to protect you.”

Your chin rests on her shoulder, stare unfocused as you dismally state, “Yes, Mother.”

“Now, onto more exciting matters.” A couple of light, successive pats strike your back and you’re released from her hold. She is quick to open her wooden basket and rummage through the contents, reaching inside for what you assume to be your birthday present. The vegetables in her hand don’t excite you, but you put on a fake grin for her anyway. “I’m making your favourite soup!”

She scurries away from your static form to head past the doorway, but you stop her in her tracks with a low voice. “I’m not really feeling up for soup today.”

“You know how far the journey is to get some of these vegetables, let alone how expensive each one is!” she exclaims, waving said produce in her hand as she spins to face you.

“I’m really sorry, Mother,” you mumble, flashing her your best puppy-dog eyes. “But I ran out of paint recently and I’m feeling kind of down about it.”

She tuts. “That’s a three-day journey, Petal.”

“I know, it’s just that when I can’t distract myself with painting, I get these horrible thoughts of leaving the tower.” Doing your best to reason with her, you shift your weight to the other foot and fiddle around with your fingernails, attempting to appear as innocent as possible. “And I think those paints are a much better idea than going out to see the lights.”

A few seconds pass before a groan escapes your mother’s lips. “You’re lucky Mother loves you dearly.”

You stumble into her torso, grateful that she is unintentionally following along with your plan—a tedious scheme that you were saving as a last resort. She strokes the crown of your head, allowing you to nuzzle your cheek into the comfort of your mother’s embrace before her immediate departure.

Goodbyes are exchanged with some more reprimands sprinkled into the conversation, then she scales down the building and is no longer in your line of sight. You rub the nape of your neck, inching towards the armoire as you ponder whether a trip to indulge in your greatest desires is worth it when weighed against the lifelong bond you have with your own blood.

While navigating through your moral dilemma, you twist open the knob and watch as the scruffy man’s body slumps down to the floor without the support of the door to hold him upright. You refrain from cringing at his reddened nose.

Prioritizing your safety first, you retrieve your trusty pan and manhandle his body onto a chair, the seat still warm from your mother’s presence. This time around, you won’t be able to attain the upper hand by catching him off guard, so you settle on tying him up.

The question is: with what? You have no reason to keep ropes casually lying around the tower and one glance at his bulging biceps assures you that sewing thread will not be enough either.

As you’re thinking about stuffing him back into the wardrobe until you come up with a better idea, the blond strands at the edge of your peripheral catch your eye. For the first time in your life, your excessively long hair proves to be of use.

When he is tightly restrained to the armchair, your tresses acting like a straitjacket around his torso and snaking around his legs, you step back to appreciate your work. Your eyes drift over his corded muscles and roam over his face once again.

Before you let yourself get lost in his model-like features, your free hand reaches out, palm outstretched, to slap him across the face.

You nurse the stinging pain ebbing atop your outermost layer of skin, cradling the appendage to your chest as you hiss out a low whine, although the sound is masked by the low timbre of a groan. Your body stiffens while you gawk at the stranger, watching him gather his surroundings, whipping his head back and forth before his chestnut orbs land on you.

Your grip on the handle of the pot tightens.

“Wha—”

“No! Uh, I mean, hush!” you exclaim, deepening your voice for a rather weak, intimidating effect. “I’m doing the talking here.”

Your breath gets caught in your throat before you can utter another word. His doe eyes bore into yours and you step back, instantly feeling threatened by the intensity of his gaze. He wriggles around in his restraints, testing his extremely limited range of motion.

A prolonged, slightly awkward, silence stretches in the air as you attempt to recall the interrogation questions you practiced while tying him up. Regrettably, you come up blank.

He rolls his eyes at your lack of speech, raising a single brow.

“Well?” he questions, seemingly accepting his lack of free movement and slouching comfortably against the back of the chair. “I thought you said you were gonna do the talking?”

You grit your teeth at his impertinence, shaking off the nerves of talking to another human being that was not your mother as you adorn a superficial, bold facade. Striving to exude the same persuading tone that all those mystery books depicted, you mimic the slow strides you’ve read detectives take around their suspects.

“How did you find me?” You round the corner to escape his unimpressed glare, circling around him.

In turn, he cranes his neck to peer over at you, bewilderment written in the slack of his jaw. “Find you? Who says I was looking for you?” He whistles lowly catching sight of your mane, “That’s some hair you got there. Is that what’ve you tied me up with?”

A scoff escapes your lips, unconvinced at his act.

“Oh yeah?” you challenge, marching back to the front of the chair to dramatically slam your hands down onto his bound wrists, effectively halting his faint wriggling. “Then why did you come all the way up here, huh?”

The dashingly handsome stranger’s tongue prods at his cheek, serving to rile you up further. Taking his sweet time, he inspects the space around him before his focus comes back to you, and he leans in, smirking devilishly. “Sure as hell wasn’t for you, Princess.”

At the odd nickname combined with the close proximity, a flush tints your cheeks and you take a few steps back. He chuckles at his small victory—a deep, melodic sound that sends your flustered state into a muddled craze of butterflies, threatening to burst from within. You purse your lips and narrow your eyes at the man, more so to collect yourself than to unnerve him.

“Got something in your eye?”

You tilt your head back and grumble, exasperated at his lack of cooperation followed by his audacity to tease you further. “For your information, my eyes are working perfectly fine.”

“Good for you. Now, if you’ll just untangle me and give me back my bag, I’ll be out of your hair. Literally.” He grins at his joke, which you don’t find quite as funny.

“Like I’ll believe that.” You roll your eyes and cross your arms over your chest. “I’ll ask you again. How exactly did you find me?”

“As I said, Princess,” he jeers, his impatience made visible by the bulging veins lining his neck, “why would anybody be after your poor ass? I mean, just looking at the place, doesn’t look like you’ve got much else other than a bunch of hidden property and a shitty old tower.”

“Shitty?” You repeat, accosted at the stranger’s portrayal of the place you grew up.

He takes another look around the place as if to confirm his accusations before curtly nodding his head.

You glower at his blunt words, taking personal offence for the many hours you spent decorating, cleaning and doting over the building. “Well, I didn’t know we were expecting a rude guest. Then again, guests are invited inside, aren’t they?”

“Listen, you seem like the ditzy type, so I’ll keep this short and sweet. I got into a bit of a scuffle with some scoundrels and before I knew it, I was outnumbered!” he recounts slowly and melodramatically as if he is presenting a bedtime story to a child. “Then I stumble through some vines and find this gigantic tower!

“And to my surprise, rather than hidden treasure, this place has some naive, pan-wielding maniac at the top,” he concludes with a sigh, soundlessly implying that you should pity the unfortunate situation he stumbled upon—the unfortunate bit caused by your interference. All you feel is a burning itch to sock him across the face again, although that wouldn’t be too helpful in discovering his real objective.

His whole story sounds like pure bologna to you, but you feed into his obvious lies with a hum of acknowledgement. “Must’ve been so hard for you.”

“Like you wouldn’t believe,” he whines, a pout forming on his pink lips.

You flash a close-lipped smile and thrust the metal weapon centimetres from his nose with more force than intended, though it seems to do the job when you catch his eyes widen slightly before reverting to the same relaxed stare as before. His posture is evidently tenser than a few seconds ago, which builds your pliant determination.

“Either some truths are gonna come out of that smart mouth or you’re gonna take another nap,” You threaten, waving the pan back and forth.

“Okay, easy now.” The stranger bends his hands upwards by the wrists, waving his fingers down slowly, as though he were calming a raging bull. “There’s no violence needed in this okay? We can make a deal.”

The sound of his cooperation piques your interest, so you inquire, “What kind of deal?”

“First of all, can you lower that?” You comply with his request, although you keep the skillet in the air, ready to strike at a moment's notice if he tries anything funny. “Okay, Princess, how about you give me the satchel, let me go without any trouble and I won’t tell anyone about your little hideout here, hm?”

You shake your head. “No, I’m the one with the upper hand here.” If you two are to come to a compromise, you’re going to need more from the stranger than his word to keep quiet. “And I need you to take me to see the lanterns at the capital.”

A hacking cough morphs into a distorted chuckle in his throat. “Hm, you see, that would be a bit difficult considering the rocky relationship I have with the royals.”

You cock your head to the side, raising the metal menacingly.

His fists curl into balls as a strained grin stretches across his face. “But I guess we could make it work.”

Pleased with his compliance, you continue with your conditions, “You take me to see the lanterns tomorrow night, bring me back home in one piece and I’ll give your bag back. Then you can jump out of the window for all I care, just keep your mouth shut about this place.”

“Do I even have a choice in the matter?”

“Nope.” His lack of protest makes you giddy, and you allow yourself to credulously overestimate your influence over the man. It has to be that or your frightening frying pan, right?

“Then what’re we waiting for?”

A childlike wonder brightens your countenance as you speedily unravel your locks from around the stranger, whipping the bulk of it over the hook and out the window. With his newfound freedom, you catch him combing through miscellaneous trinkets and in fear of him identifying the location of his bag, you call out, “There’s no use, you could ransack the whole tower and never find your precious satchel. You’re better off fulfilling our agreement.”

Fitting your trusty skillet under your arm, you don’t spare him another glance and hope that your bluff is enough to deter his scouring. Thankfully, the clattering of objects ceases and he saunters past the vase with his dear bag inside. Your attention flits to the verdant scenery below.

You allow an exuberant screech to rip through your vocal cords while you effortlessly fly down, your body wrapped around your hair as though the strands have solidified into a firepole and land on the plush, vibrant grass with a bounce. The prickly sensation on your bare skin is not what you imagined the spindly plant to feel like, yet you revel in its oddities nonetheless.

Your companion follows along with less flair, steadily climbing down using the two arrows that were left between the stones. By the time he reaches the ground, you’re already feeling the consequences of sticking your bare feet in the mud by a river.

He rolls his eyes at your antics and darts off while you tread toward the water to wash off the muck between your toes. You swish your foot back and forth, watching the current run off with the dirt and avoiding the miniature fish that gather around you. Their bright orange bodies are stark against the rocks underneath, easy to spot due to the clear, crystalline stream that you’re splashing around in.

When one of them decides to start nipping at your ankles and the rest of his posse tag along, you wade deeper—searching for a grassy area to withdraw from their persistent suckling. As you’re scouring the landscape, enjoying the slight breeze blowing through your hair, you find yourself alone.

This doesn’t bother you at first, used to the notion of having only your own inner thoughts as company. You’re preoccupied with rinsing the brown stains that mark one section of your tresses and gather the clean, soaked mass into your arms before you realize that the tour guide you recruited has gone missing.

At first, you can’t believe he abandoned the precious crown that he appeared to cherish so greatly, but before you can think too deeply about it, a light smack meets the nape of your neck.

“Looking for me, Princess?”

“Stop calling me that,” you whip around, a glare directed at his triumphant smirk. “And where were you anyway? Not trying to run off already, are we?”

He raises his hands up as though he has been caught red-handed, although his digits are curled around what looks to be strips of tree bark and long strands of weeds. Just as you’re about to question him further, he crouches down and grabs one of your ankles, lifting your leg out of the water and closer to him. You yelp and shift your weight to rest on your other foot.

“What?” He secures a few layers of the rough wood to the sole of your foot, wrapping the flexible plants around the bark and expertly tying it at the top. “This is what I get for being considerate isn’t it?”

“Is considerate even part of your vocabulary?” you tease, the relief at his presence causing you to lower your guard.

He freezes halfway through fastening the second makeshift shoe onto your other foot when the orbs staring up at you light up with mischief. Changing position, he folds forwards then rocks back to stand up to his full height. “Ah, I see how it is. Then I would never do something so thoughtful, right?”

“I take it back! I take it back, just finish it up,” you beseech.

“That’s what I thought, Princess.” He bends over to complete the second knot then scampers off to the forest as soon as the job is complete.

As you test out the peculiar slippers—inwardly marvelling at the barrier they provide against the elements of nature—you vocalize your displeasure with the nickname he has taken to calling you, “I thought I told you not to call me that.”

His strides ease up from his hurried pace, shortening to compensate for your smaller steps. “Aw, does Princess dislike being reminded of who she is?”

“I’ve never heard of a Princess living outside of a castle before.”

He hums, tilting his head in wonder. “Is your tower not considered a castle?”

“Not when I’m the only one living there,” you mutter under your breath, although you’re not sure if he catches it or not based on his silence. Regardless, you change the subject before he has a chance to respond. “So are you gonna tell me your name or what?”

Sneaking a peek at his side profile, you catch the endearing crinkle that appears by his eyes when he grins. “What’s with the sudden interest? I mean, I understand the enthusiasm but—”

You strike his elbow with the bottom of the skillet and he whines like a kicked puppy.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself. I just thought we should be on a first-name basis if we’re going to be travelling all this way together.” You amuse yourself by twirling the skillet around in your grip, acting as though there’s a gigantic pancake that you professionally flip onto its other side. “I would prefer my name over ‘Princess.’”

“I kinda like the ring of it though.” He winks at you, but you’re too invested in your cooking charades to notice. “You can call me Geum.”

“Geum? Like ‘gold’? What kind of name is that?”

“Ooh, someone’s judgemental.” Snatching the pan, he brandishes it around like a deadly cutlass in a seasoned pirate’s hand, bounding around you. He ends his show with the tip aimed straight at your heart.

“Just saying. You’ve got to admit it’s a bit… unique.” You halfheartedly brush him off, fighting to keep your grin from showing. As a side note, you announce your name.

“Whatever you say, Princess.”

Before he can prance off, you pluck the skillet out of his grasp and tear through the dense bushes with your treasure. His war cry echoes throughout the expansive woodlands as he rushes after you, untangling your hair from lone branches as he goes.

To claim that your feet are about to fall off is a gross understatement.

You have been travelling alongside Geum for hours now without a single break. Despite the high spirits that you two kicked your trip off with, the elation from brushing against the silky plants, cooing at the wildlife that crossed your path, and inhaling the fresh scent of damp moss and wet tree trunks from yesterday’s showers wore off quickly.

You’re inclined to believe that your enthusiasm began to subside when Geum yanked you away from running your finger along one set of rich emerald leaves—narrowly avoiding what he explained to be poison ivy. Your curious hands have been cemented to your sides ever since that close encounter.

After your lively bickering dies down, rather than a peaceful, quiet walk, listening to the whispers of the wind and the pleasant chirping of the birds, the antsy man beside you puts you on edge. He can’t stop looking from side to side, trying to peer past the endless birches and elms that obscure your view.

Is Geum expecting someone?

Perhaps some parts of his story are true. Perhaps having a ruffian with other delinquents hunting him is not the best partner to accompany you on this journey—not that you have much of a choice in the matter, it’s either him or no one. You’re unsure which option is worse.

Any conversation you strike is met with teasing remarks, so you give up on prodding him for any substantial information. But with the sky darkening and the breeze turning brisk, you’re about to mention camping out somewhere when Geum says, “We should settle down for the night.”

“I never thought I would agree with something that came out of your mouth.”

“That’s why you’re wrong most of the time.” And there it was, another snotty retort that practically begs you to deck him with the pan you keep tucked in your underarm.

The quibble ignites a fire under your skin, the flames licking at your sides and providing some warmth amidst the chill in the air. “Most of the time? So you’re saying that you’re wrong sometimes?”

“Yeah, nobody can always be right.” He flashes a lazy smirk your way, adjusting the bundle of your locks in his arms. “Like when I said that your hair isn’t an inconvenience.”

You take a second to process his snarky words. With your mind occupied, stuck in a whirlwind of potential reprisals, you unintentionally head towards the distant outline of the castle when you approach a crossroad branching in two opposite directions.

Just as you’re about to let loose a nasty quip, his warm hand wraps itself around your wrist, dragging you away from the faraway mansion. You overheat at the source of the touch, thoughts going haywire.

“Hey, hey!” In hopes of snapping him out of his reverie, you raise your voice. “You can’t blow off our deal now, don’t you want your precious satchel back?”

When he offers no explanation for his cryptic actions, you attempt to pry off his fingers with your other hand—making sure not to trip over your own two feet while you’re at it. Your wriggling is all for nought because Geum’s iron grip is too durable to be outmatched by your fumbling digits.

“Geum, please just,” you plead, ceasing your struggle when the delicate skin in his grasp begins to sting from his strength, “let’s talk about this, okay?”

You’re so preoccupied with regaining your freedom that you don’t notice the dingy sign you two pass; a rubber duck with the words The Snuggly Duckling etched onto the wood. “Shut up and hurry.”

Your jaw drops at his insolent tone, astounded at his change in demeanour. There’s no playful spirit behind his words this time, only a sharp annoyance accompanied by his sudden haste that you feel all too strongly in your wrist. You stumble after him and duck your head through a small doorway, your mind caught up in formulating a coherent response that consists of sounds other than your outraged sputtering.

“Don’t tell me to—”

You’re cut off by the ruckus inside the establishment. Burly men surround the two of you, drinking, howling in laughter, practicing their aim with throwing knives—there’s even a large group of people fighting in one corner. The amount of blood streaked across the walls, their clothes, and pouring out of their open wounds is concerning. You can smell the metallic tang from the entrance.

When the hand around your wrist disappears, you find yourself yearning for the physical connection, serving as some kind of reassurance that he is not leaving you to the metaphorical, and sort of literal, wolves before you. In order not to lose Geum as he wades through the crowds, you latch on to the thin hem of his shirt. He pays you no mind and continues onward.

Skillfully slipping through the giants while you bumble behind him, you two arrive at a row of vacant barstools. You loosen your grip at the unexpectedly tranquil space, such a drastic contrast to the commotion in the background that it’s like you’ve been transported to another place altogether.

You’re brought back to reality from the loud grunt that booms throughout the joint, although you tune out again when you hear a punch being thrown, then a crack that you can only hope isn’t a bone. Or two.

“Uh, Geum?” you ask, although he pays your appellation no mind. His attention is focused on the intimidating, tattooed man behind the counter.

“Joon.” Your unofficial tour guide takes a seat. “A mead?”

Determined to stick close to the only familiar face in the building, you slide onto the seat next to Geum. The overwhelming scent of liquor hits you hard, causing you to crinkle your nose the exact moment that your narrowed eyes spot the bartender, Joon, awkwardly cough into his fist, trying to stifle his snickers for your sake.

“Just a water for her.”

While Joon confirms Geum’s order with a slight nod, you cast your head down to stare at your twiddling fingers. Your mind is still reeling from the abrupt change in scenery, unsure how to carry yourself in this new setting. It was no problem in the dense forest, with only Geum to judge you—but it isn’t like you’re trying to impress him anyway.

In here where hordes of broad men are gathered, drunk out of their minds with crimson staining their attire, you’re scared. Everything is too raucous, too rancid, too overwhelming. You’re uncertain whether the trip to the capital will play out as you’ve imagined and you turn towards Geum to tell him as much when—

“Was this from me?” You instinctively flinch at his tug on your elbow, although regret rushes down your back, clawing against your spine like ice-cold water when hurt flashes across his shadowed orbs. Before you can blink, it’s gone.

As a feeble apology, you offer a tightlipped smile. Referring back to his words, you examine your arm and grimace when you spot the blooming scarlet streaks encircling your wrist, taking the shape of Geum’s slender digits. “Oh, uh, don’t worry. It’ll fade.”

It’s not a lie since the marks will eventually fade. You hope it doesn’t turn black and blue before that though.

A clear glass is thrust your way, which you’re overjoyed to snatch from Joon’s hand, noting Geum’s copper liquor from the corner of your eye. Hours of travelling without any form of hydration definitely took its toll on you, evident by your severely chapped lips that you can’t help but swipe your tongue over every minute—not that the dried saliva is doing you any favours.

Before you have a chance to sip from heaven in liquid form, you’re halted by a gentle finger tracing the length of your forearm. Thankfully, you’re not as skittish this time around, remaining frozen until Geums pulls back; the pale, discoloured scar he was following having tapered off into your natural skin. “Where’s that one from?”

His strange inquiry confuses you with its unusually intrusive nature considering his inability to chat seriously five minutes ago. You pause for a second to debate on revealing the truth or constructing a comical narrative for the sake of avoiding a sombre turn to the light conversation. Despite your decision, your lips rebel, taking on a mind of their own. “A punishment.”

Bronze orbs snap up to yours, boring into the deepest parts of your soul and uncovering each of your secrets one by one as if they’re gems, buried within the layers of your lonely childhood. You’re transfixed. “Mother said it would remind me to never leave the tower.”

The condensation running down the side of the chilled cup meets the edge of your palm, sliding down your index finger and becoming a stark reminder of your parched mouth. You lift the glass to take a sip, but a taste renders your control inoperative as you guzzle down the rest, leaving not a single drop inside.

Your famished stomach makes itself known with a growl when your thirst is quenched. Attracting the attention of the bartender with a small wave, you ask, “Is there any chance you’ve got some food here?”

“We’ve got anything as long as you’ve got the coin for it, blondie.”

You shudder in alarm at the introduction of another patron in the bar. Leaning away from the repulsive drawl to your left, you shift over to position yourself as far away as possible. Seeing your discomfort, the stranger takes a few steps forward to invade your personal space once more and you recoil back with a jerk of your torso.

The abrupt motion messes with your centre of gravity, tipping you over the edge of the barstool. Just as you’re about to have an unpleasant meeting with the floor, a palm darts out to the small of your waist and steadies you. You follow the arm up to Geum’s clenched jaw.

“She’s not looking for anything that you guys can offer.”

Your throat tightens at your companion’s harsh answer, wary of how the other men will react. The burly man to your other side bursts out in obnoxious laughter and a glint of light reflecting off of his silver teeth catches your eye, which you recognize from earlier. He’s one of the goons that was involved in the fistfight near the entrance.

“As if you’re packing anything better.” He nudges his lackeys behind them and they chuckle along like they’re all in on one big joke.

“It’s not hard to top a baby carrot.”

Panicked at his provocation, you glimpse at the challenging smirk plastered across Geum’s lips. You aren’t sure why he’s trying to pick a fight or if there’s any logical reasoning behind his actions at all, but you tap on the arm still attached to your torso, conveying your opinion on his moronic pride with your widened eyes.

Of course, men will be men, and the little posse arranged behind the silver toothed boss riles their leader up, encouraging him with disgruntled yells and unintelligible speech to prove their dominance. With you in between the two blockheads, you’re sure that you’re not going to like how this plays out.

Dismissing your distress, Geum takes a sip of his drink. He seems unbothered by the commotion surrounding him and you envy his nonchalant demeanour.

“You got any bite behind your bark, pretty boy?” His lackeys change tactics, switching over to goading Geum on. You assume their greater numbers spark their courage, reassured that they could overpower one man. “Or are we just trying to impress this little miss right here?”

“I’m not sure if it’ll be very fair for you guys,” Geum says cockily, scrutinizing each member from head to toe then returning to his sweet mead. “I mean, just looking at you boys, doesn’t look too impressive if you ask me.”

If the atmosphere didn’t thicken with a fatal tension, you would have giggled at his smart mouth. But the other man’s nostrils flare in resentment, beginning to surge forward before he’s interrupted by a spindly boy who thrusts a paper below his nose. “Boss, you were right, it’s him.”

His unsightly features twist upwards in joy, displaying his horrendous set of chompers once more as he chuckles. That’s when you realize that a sinister smile can be much more frightening than any bellow of rage. “Looks like you’ve got quite the bounty on your head there, Geum.”

At the snarl of his name, your eyes dart to the wrinkled sheet in his hand which he graciously flips to face your direction. An uncanny depiction of Geum’s face is drawn, a sum containing many zeroes painted underneath his name. What appalls you the most is the red, bolded letters at the very top, distinctly spelling out wanted.

Geum is a wanted criminal.

While your mind is reeling, sight blurring and breath quickening from the influx of information, the man in question unabashedly finishes off the last of his alcoholic beverage and proceeds to slam the glass onto the counter. Through all of the clamour, you pick up Joon’s exasperated sigh in the background.

The door to the establishment flings open, hinges creaking as the wood bounces back from the sheer force of the blow. While everyone is distracted by the bustle, Geum stealthily hops off his seat, slipping an arm around your waist to soundlessly lead you to the other side of the counter. Although you’re reluctant to follow, you refrain from squabbling with him in order not to attract any unwanted attention.

“We’ve received a report that a well-known thief has been spotted in the premises—”

Geum kneels in front of the shelves lined with drinks of all shapes and colours, fiddling with something you can’t see from your position behind him. Following his lead, you crouch behind him, softly muttering in disbelief, “You really think they won’t find us hiding here?”

A click is heard as a few of the racks cave in on themselves, revealing a concealed passageway. Geum shakes his head towards the opening, silently directing you to enter first. You’re hesitant to accompany him any farther but you’re pushed forwards by Joon’s calf on your back and you understand that you don’t have much of a choice in the matter anymore.

If you’re caught now, you’ll be accused of being an accomplice to whatever crimes Geum committed.

You spare a thankful nod to Joon, stealing a glance at the guards blocking the entrance while you’re at it. Their white uniforms are decorated with accents of bright oranges and reds, a familiar flower fastened to the right side of their chest. One of them holds another copy of Geum’s wanted poster which you tear your gaze from, willing yourself to escape from this mess before thinking about anything else.

Geum shoves you through the opening, and you crawl through the underground passage as fast as you can in order to keep his pinching fingers away from your ankles. You two are far enough to safely whisper short phrases to one another, but he insists on being a nuisance as he urges you to pick up the pace.

It’s pitch black when the trapdoor shuts behind Geum, and you’re unable to make out your own hands in front of your face; with no other path in sight, you blindly head forward. As you continue, you pass torches burning with a bright fire that provide light, illuminating the stones around you and the shadows following you. You wonder how often this underground system is used to have fire running at all times.

Eventually, the tunnel’s height expands enough for the two of you to comfortably tread through on your feet. If you weren’t tired enough from walking for hours on end, the brutal jog which Geum sets is more than enough to tire you out within mere minutes.

“Geum,” you heave, unable to catch your breath with your chest fruitlessly rising and falling, never passing enough air for you to gather your senses. He’s too far to catch, effortlessly sprinting ahead, yet you still uselessly reach out to capture his attention. “Geum.”

You push yourself to the limit, another few minutes passing by before your powerless body can no longer handle the stress of the strenuous activity, and you slow down, coming to a full stop. One hand on the rocky wall steadies your dizzying sight as you hunch over, throat burning and stomach aching. Even though you try to remain standing, your legs involuntarily give out and you end up on the floor.

As you try to regain your breath, hands grasp your shoulders and gently shake you back to reality. Geum’s intense gaze is only centimetres away, torso bent to level with you. “You can do this, come on. We have to lose them.”

“I,” you huff, “I can’t… It’s… too much.”

Geum’s arms return to his sides, his brows furrowing as you watch the gears whirring in his head through your blurry vision. When he spins around to face the exit, you cry out in a hoarse voice, believing that he’s leaving your pathetic, crumpled form to fend for yourself—but instead of running off, he crouches to the ground with his backside to you. “Get on.”

In spite of your resolute will to arise from your folded position, your legs can’t seem to extend outwards in order to climb onto his back, which you convey by tapping his shoulder and pitifully shaking your head. Geum’s lips pry apart to respond, but his words are drowned out by the pounding footsteps that echo throughout the tunnel walls. He curses under his breath as he turns and scoops your fetal form into his arms.

All you can register is his natural woody scent enveloped in the sweaty musk that drenches his frame, your body clutched tightly to his torso as he races to the end of the tunnel. You grip his thin shirt in one fist, unfamiliar with the warmth fluttering in your chest, so you brush it off as another side effect from the arduous sprinting.

A bright light can be seen at the very end, but your eyes are locked on the well-defined jaw of the man carrying you as if you were as light as a feather, running as if your lives depended on it—which they kind of do.

You couldn’t differentiate the pounding of Geum’s shoes from the mob of guards pursuing you two. As you slowly recover from your exhausted state, the guilt of becoming a burden settles into the creases of your face, worrying lines etching onto your features from thinking about your impending fate.

Your thoughts wander to the reasoning behind this violent chase. By the fancier uniforms they sport, you suspect their position to be rather high, perhaps palace guards or ones belonging to the royal family. Reminded of the wanted poster clutched within one of their hands, the image stirs unease within the depths of your stomach that’s already stinging from the massive amounts of cardio you’ve done today.

Before you can connect any dots, you’re out in the wilderness again, although instead of the sun’s blazing rays on your face, the moon’s tender beams spill over your surroundings. The sort of serenity that accompanies the stillness of the later hours are interrupted by your rapidly beating heart, which is amplified by the pulse felt on your left side.

After a few more strides, Geum comes to a sudden halt.

“What’s wrong?” You tilt your neck to look at his face in curiosity. Although he doesn’t appear fatigued, his cheeks only slightly flushed from exertion and a few sweat droplets racing down his temples, you ask anyway, “Are you tired?”

The grip under your legs lower you to the ground and you stand in front of Geum, beginning to worry about losing your advantage over your pursuers. He doesn’t provide a verbal response to your questions, simply shaking his head and causing the tips of his hair to sway back and forth with the motion. The strands cover his eyes when he stops, but he doesn’t bother to brush them aside.

Geum’s shoulders slouch, heavy from the weight of defeat. You’re unnerved at his strange actions, turning to look ahead at the obstacle that’s forcing him to give up all hope.

You two are standing at the edge of a cliff.

Your knees buckle at the length of the drop, which seems never ending from your viewpoint. The tenebrous shadows of the night obscure the bottom, painting the jagged walls with uncertainty at any chance for survival. Your heart constricts as the despondency emanating off of Geum slithers its way into your rapidly diminishing resolution.

“When they get here,” he announces, bravery shining through his firm tone, “I need you to run as fast as you can. I’ll distract them, just focus on getting back to the bar. Tell Joon to take you somewhere safe and trust no one but him.”

You’re baffled at his complete change in attitude as well as his idiotic plan. There’s no trace of humour in his piercing orbs though, simply an obstinate determination that implores you to obey his orders. But you aren’t about to abandon the first friend you’ve ever made. “Are you insane? What do you think you can do against trained soldiers?”

“There’s no other choice.” He nudges your torso to position yourself behind him, both your backs to the cliff, watching the guards get closer and closer. Dread weighs ponderously on your limbs, the adrenaline pumping in your veins with every footstep marching to surround you two. You’re cornered.

The soldier closest to Geum unsheathes his sword and steadily approaches. You slip the rusty pan into his hand and he inconspicuously reaches back to pat your thigh, reminding you of his reckless scheme.

Seeing your defensive stance, the guard rushes forward, thrusting his sword forward to slice through layers of skin. Instead, the clang of metal against metal resounds throughout the empty cliff and your apprehension increases tenfold with your front row seat to Geum’s doomed duel, fending off a glinting sword with your rickety skillet.

Although he’s fighting well considering his enormous handicap, you spot more soldiers creeping their way into the skirmish, unable to stand and watch one of their own be bested in battle. Overall, the odds weren’t looking too great for your pan-wielding knight.

You have to do something. With Geum’s plan off the table, you can’t think of anything other than taking your chances with the cliff. You gather all your faith in the landscape, Geum, and yourself while taking a deep breath. Waiting for an opening within the clash, you cautiously inch towards Geum and when one particularly hard blow jolts both men back a few steps, you snatch up the opportunity.

Before another guard can take his ally’s place, you rush over to snake an arm around Geum’s lithe waist, tugging his back to meet your chest. During this process, he nearly elbows you in the face, writhing around in your tight hold until he recognizes your delicate hands on his stomach.

With the enemy frozen in confusion at your ostensibly desultory actions, you take advantage of their shock to stumble backwards, proving harder than necessary due to Geum’s long legs tangling with your own as you head towards the edge. You’re nearly there when one of the guards pick up on your plan to escape, jumping into action with his razor-sharp sword and waving it in a deadly arc that nearly slices both of your heads off clean.

Thankfully, you lose your footing on a slippery rock and tip over.

While airborne, any air is momentarily robbed from the heavy drop in your gut and a terrified shriek rips past your mouth as you lose your tight grip on Geum, utterly absorbed in your fear. The distance between you two grows, but because of his quick reflexes, Geum is able to fist a clump of your clothes in his hands and pull you into his chest with one hand resting on the nape of your neck.

You don’t have enough time to react to the new position before both your bodies are enveloped in gelid water. All of your nerves fire off, enraged at the sudden change in temperature. A violent shiver overtakes your limbs in a weak attempt to warm yourself up.

Although Geum’s palm on your neck withdraws to wade your bodies back up to surface, the grip around your middle only tightens.

The stream parts as you two float back up to meet the chilly air, greedily filling your lungs as you unravel from one another in order to paddle your way to shore. The current sweeps you along, aiding your furious efforts to reach the ground again.

Geum arrives at the muddy grass before you, swiftly lifting himself out and turning to fish for your soaked form. White puffs of your breath escape your mouths because of the low temperature, yet they dissipate as quickly as they’re formed.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.” You close your eyes and nod. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

The fire crackles alongside the chirping crickets, forming a peculiar orchestra with the breeze blowing through the rustling leaves. You extend your frigid digits as close to the flames as you dare, desperate for its warmth, yet recoiling from the sting of its heat all the same.

“Might as well stick your whole hand in there while you’re at it.” Geum emerges from the tenebrous thickets of the forest, making his way into the dull glow of the bonfire with a bundle of skinny twigs in his arms.

You’re drained from the day’s events, but you flash him a smile brimming with gratitude, appreciative that he’s intent on keeping the fire alive despite his inevitably numb appendages. You insisted on swapping turns, allowing his body to warm up a bit while you scavenged for wood, although he dismissed your offer multiple times, claiming that moving around was much more effective for him than any flames.

You’d have to disagree with him there. The burning fire feels incredible heating up your skin from the outside in.  

“If you take a second to come and enjoy the warmth, then maybe you wouldn’t be so moody,” You jest, rotating the fish skewers that Geum expertly caught in the river with a sharpened branch. By the slightly burnt edges, you suppose it’s ready. “C’mon, let’s eat before you head off again.”

He grunts his affirmation, depositing his findings on top of the ever-growing pile of wood and taking a seat on a fallen log located a couple of feet away from you. You allow the meat to cool down before separating the fish from the stick it’s impaled on and passing it to him.

“Is your hair dry yet?” He’s too preoccupied with forcibly ripping the fish in half to avoid scaling it, so he doesn’t catch your affectionate, lingering gaze.

You hum, grabbing a lock of your wet strands. “Not quite.”

He places his meal next to him on the log and leans over to take the bulk of your tresses in his grasp. You watch as he lays the blonde strands near the fire, quietly giggling at his strange logic.

“You think the heat is going to make it dry faster?” The appearance of his wide grin elicits the return of the bizarre tightening in your chest, a crushing pain that makes it difficult to breathe. You haven’t had a bite of the fish but nausea swirls in your stomach as your hands turn clammy and you rip your eyes away from Geum in hopes of collecting yourself.

Seeing your doubt towards his surely infallible rationale, his brows scrunch together and he pauses his movements in his perplexity, a distant look swirling in his eyes. He should be completely unaware of the turmoil raging within you, yet all your previous worries dissipate with the smoke of the fire as his face becomes increasingly wrinkled, flashing an expression more ludicrous than the last.

After you beg and plead with him to stop, cheeks aching from smiles and belly throbbing from laughter, he breaks out into his own set of snickers. More than satisfied, Geum grabs his fish again and begins to nibble on the meat inside. “You never considered getting a trim?” he asks between bites.

A few seconds pass as you calm yourself down from your hysterical state. “Never allowed to,” you answer, short and vague to keep the pleasant atmosphere.

“Allowed to?” His voice is laced with his astonishment. “Who’s telling you what to do at your age?”

Fidgeting with your own skewer, you ponder over an answer that’s precise enough to satisfy his curiosity, yet obscure enough to conceal your identity at the same time. Your eyes dart from side to side, following the light of the fire as it illuminates a wet, crimson stain on the sleeve of Geum’s jacket.

“What’s that?” you question, scuttling over to his log and sitting down next to him. To get a better look, you grab his elbow and pull it towards you.

“Nothing. Don’t change the subject.” He tries to shrug off both your concern and your hand that’s clutching onto his arm, which only makes you tighten your grip. At the increase in pressure, a low groan slips past his lips and you instantly release your hold at the sound.

“Does it hurt?” The memory of the guard wildly slashing his sword in the air comes to mind and you realize that although the blow didn’t cost either of your lives, his upper arm must have borne the brunt of the force instead.

“It’s fine.” He attempts to brush you off again, but you’re as clingy as a leech and refuse to budge from his side.

You latch on to the lapel of his jacket and tug. “Take it off.”

Despite your solemnity, his low chuckle sends an involuntary shiver down your spine. “Already asking me to strip? I’m not that easy, Princess. How about you take me on a date first and I’ll think about your offer?”

“You know what I mean,” you grumble, exasperated that he persists on maintaining his incessant teasing while injured.

When he finishes cleaning off one half of his meal, about to reach for the other, you move to stand in front of him. You dismiss the wild pounding of your heart to focus on slipping his jacket off of his opposite arm.

He puts forth no effort to stop you, although he’s definitely not helping much with his limp, bulky appendages that are a lot heavier than expected. Slowly but surely, you tenderly thread his injured arm out of his sleeve with careful hands.

The white, short-sleeved shirt he’s sporting underneath makes it easy to spot the splotches of crimson dyeing the hem of his sleeve through the dim, orange light. You approach his laceration delicately, treating him like a frightened animal. He snorts at your earnest actions.

Lifting the fabric covering the entirety of the gash, you gasp softly at the depth of the wound, grimacing as though it’s your own limb that’s been hurt. “You shouldn’t be moving around with this, you’re not letting it heal.”

“I’ll endure any pain to keep you close,” he whispers, sweet honey dripping from his words as he loops his other arm around your waist, effectively pulling you in between his open legs.

His chin is a mere few centimetres from your belly button, gazing up at you with a flirtatious wink as he perches his hand onto your lower back. You hold your breath, worried that he can hear the utter chaos erupting within your chest due to the close proximity.

Flustered, you push at his broad shoulders, desperate for some room to breathe. Geum flinches at your touch and you instantly regret your thoughtless behaviour. Your concern at the severity of his wound multiplies tenfold, feeding into a disquiet that nestles into every cell in your body. “I’m serious, it doesn’t look good.”

One hand falls into his lap while the other comes up to ruffle his damp locks. “Don’t get shy now, Princess.”

Taking in the defeated slouch to his back, the distant glaze that darkens his bronze orbs, you think about your hair. You think about how much younger your mother appears after she detangles each strand. You think about all the scars you’ve avoided throughout the years by singing a simple tune.

This man saved your life, and it’s time for you to repay the favour. You consider waiting until he’s asleep to heal his arm, plagued by the distress of being mistaken as a witch. Mother warned you about those kinds of people, who are ready to ruin your life in order to improve their own—anything ranging from taking advantage of your unworldly qualities to selling you for a pretty penny.

Mother always knows best. Right?

You peer into his expressionless eyes that stare holes into the dancing flames, the other uneaten half of the fish still laying untouched. From the limited time you’ve spent together, you shouldn’t feel this distraught at his pain, as though a chunk of your heart is bleeding out with him and leaving you in a puddle of your own misery.

But one look at Geum’s laceration and even a child could tell that the relentless stream would end his life before long. No matter how well he can conceal his shallow, rapid breathing, you begin to make sense of his sweaty, pallid countenance that shreds any remaining skepticism you hold against him—dismissing the wariness brought about by those wanted posters.

“Geum.”

His eyelids shut close at your grave tone. “I know. It’s fine.”

At your hesitant tone, he sluggishly spares you a placid, tame smile. You hate it.

The Geum you’ve come to know is exuberant, taking all his hardships in stride with a sly smirk to boot. He’s brilliant, craftier than any artist, and resourceful even in the face of despondency. He’s compassionate, extending his own neck to save yours, always sympathetic to your plight.

This Geum is hollow, a shell of the person you knew.

The crushed downturn of his doe eyes doesn’t belong to his captivating features. You yearn to watch that classic, mischievous glint sparkle in his irises as he taunts you endlessly, testing how high your pulse can spark when he invades your personal space yet again.

You take a seat next to him. “No, uh,” you stammer, “I got a solution. You just can’t scream or freak out or anything, okay? Most importantly, you can’t tell anyone. Not a single soul.”

Before he can react to your cryptic warnings, you separate a lock of your hair, wrapping it around his wounded bicep. He raises a single brow at your strange antics but provides no further opposition. You’re pleased with the amount of trust he’s placed in you.

You close your eyes, and then you sing.

“Flower, gleam and glow Let your power shine,”

Starting from your roots, a golden glimmer races across the tresses of your hair. Bewildered, Geum recoils in his state of shock but remains rooted in his spot nonetheless.

“Make the clock reverse Bring back what once was mine,”

He follows the scintillating shimmer in your strands until he reaches the portion wrapped around his bicep. You absentmindedly wonder if he can feel his flesh reconstructing, cells dividing at a rapid rate to close the smooth gash.

“Heal what has been hurt Change the Fates' design Save what has been lost Bring back what once was mine,”

Your lids slide open to stare at his wide eyes, his jaw hanging ever so slightly. You’re glad to see that his previously pale complexion has given way to his natural, lively undertone.

“What once was mine.”

When the last notes fade out, eventually overpowered by the lone hoot of an owl, you gingerly untangle your hair from the shell-shocked man. Geum slaps his other hand over the healed skin, his head rapidly darting between examining his arm and making absurd facial expressions that convey his amazement. From his naturally cool composure, you treasure this rare moment of awe.

“Wha—”

Your stressed squeak halts him in his speech. “Please don’t freak out.”

“I’m not freaking out.” He looks like he’s trying to convince himself more so than you when he continues, “Not freaking out. What’s there to freak out about? I mean, magical healing hair? Completely normal.”

Your grin is filled with mirth at his nervous tone, and you lift his prodding digits from the site of the wound. Or at least where it used to be. “You feel okay?”

With all of your attention directed towards analyzing his healthy appendage, ensuring that your magic had not screwed up somewhere along the process, you miss Geum’s tender gaze roaming over every inch of your countenance. “Yeah, I guess I’m more than okay now.”

“I promise I’m not some kind of witch or anything like that. Just, uh, was just born with it,” you try to explain despite being in the dark about many of the nitty-gritty details yourself.

“Born with magical hair?”

You giggle at the absurdity of his question, although the validity remains true, it’s rather peculiar to hear it out loud. “Some of us are born with more talent than others. But that’s also why I can’t cut it,” you smile sheepishly, deciding to answer his earlier question now that your secret is out in the open.

“It turns brown and loses its magic.” You gather all your strands into one fist, pulling the mass to the side to expose the short, chestnut coloured strands underneath. You feel vulnerable and exposed with your neck out on display, sharing the fragility of your powers with a man you’ve known for less than twenty-four hours.

But it’s Geum, and he doesn’t feel like a stranger to you. “An overbearing mother is also part of the reason, but that’s a story for another time. Carrying it around can be heavy and the tangles can be brutal, but I guess it has its perks.”

He hums, stretching his torso to throw some twigs into the fire in hopes of enlarging the dwindling flames. “Yeah, I, uh…”

You stay silent, neither dismissing nor pressuring him into voicing his thoughts.

“My name isn’t actually Geum.”

A teasing smirk lifts the corner of your lips as you lean closer and nudge his arm. “You don’t say?”

He scoffs at your playful demeanour and pushes you back with one finger on your forehead. When your upper body is tilted away from him and your head is facing the starry night sky, he retracts his digit and speaks so softly that the noise is almost carried away by the wind. “It’s Jungkook.”

“Jungkook,” you test it out, matching the syllables to the face. It’s a bit strange after getting accustomed to associating him with the name ‘Geum,’ but in a way, it complements him better.

“Yeah.” He pauses and you shift your body to study him, memorizing the slopes and angles of his side profile. His orbs reflect the flickering fire, engulfing the newly added branches in its blaze. “I just thought somebody should know.”

“Is Geum your alias... for when you’re being a criminal?” Although you’re hesitant to delve into the subject, especially right after he’s begun to unveil his true identity, your curiosity outweighs reason and you can’t contain yourself. You can’t say that you’ve never questioned the diadem hidden in his satchel.

Crowns don’t belong to convicts who run from justice.

You wait for his answer with bated breath, unintentionally trapping your lower lip between your teeth in anticipation. Please, Jungkook.

“If you’re trying to ask what I did,” he hisses, knuckles turning white from his clenched fists, “Yeah, I stole it. Those assholes don’t deserve their riches.”

Jungkook’s jaw clenches, his anger radiating off him in waves. You wish you could eat your previous words because of how furious he’s become, but you’re committed to finishing the job. “Are you talking about the King and Queen?” Your brows pinch together in your discomfort. “Was that their crown?”

“This is your first time out of that tower, right?” You confirm his inquiry with a quick nod of your head. “How much do you know about the kingdom?”

“Jungkook—”

He tuts, fixing you with a strict glare. “Answer the question.”

“Well…” While recalling all the knowledge you picked up from your mother and the few historical books within your collection, you fiddle with a strand of your hair and organize your thoughts. “The castle is located in the middle of the capital, said to loom over the entire kingdom with its height. After it was rebuilt to accommodate more space for the Prince, everyone, from poets to milliners, cried over the beauty carved within those walls.”

He expels a deep sigh, causing you to question the legitimacy written in those pages you recited. “I asked about the kingdom, not the castle.”

His question leaves you dumbfounded. The information you collected over the years is limited to everything inside that grandiose, opulent building. There was nothing about the land, animals or even the common folk.

A gust blows the smoke of your little bonfire towards you, and you blink rapidly to avoid any soot from lodging itself into your eyes. Jungkook plucks a large leaf from one of the plants nearby, lazily fanning the fumes away. “That cozy castle and the royal family sitting on top of it all couldn’t care less about their people. They rake their luxuries from our hard work when even one jewel off that crown could feed hundreds.”

You process the cold truth in silence, a shiver overtaking your limbs in spite of the heat in front of you. “Is that why you stole it?”

“I don’t care if they want to plaster my face all over the kingdom and put a bounty on my head, I’m not going to stand around and watch people die from their greedy hands,” he states, proud and resolute.

You’re torn between the anguish nipping at your heels and the relief washing over your head. Living sheltered in that tower, you had no clue about the perils outside your own stone walls, is this what Mother was trying to protect you from?

However, discovering the true nature behind Jungkook’s crimes restores your faith in him, and your shoulders relax as you crane your neck to peer at the stars again. With your curiosity quenched, you move on to another question. “So, how many people get to call you Jungkook?”

He follows your example, leaning back and revelling in the breathtaking sight. “Nobody knows my real name, everyone calls me Geum.”

Your jaw drops a fraction from the admittance, feeling rather privileged that he chose to share it with you. “Your family calls you that too?”

“Don’t have any,” he brushes off your sympathetic gaze with a shrug.

“Why the name Geum?”

You catch his tiny, forlorn smile in your peripheral. “I grew up hearing all about the royal family’s massive parties, overflowing with family, friends—people. They were never lonely. And since they were parading their money around, I thought that was it, that was the secret.”

The dejected tone in his voice clogs your airways and makes it difficult to breathe, stunning your motionless form into remaining as still as a statue, the magnitude of his sorrow sweeping over you in fatal waves.

“And I hoped that maybe naming myself ‘gold’ might give me some luck with that.” With his shoulders downcast, his eyes flicker over to you, gauging your reaction.

You desperately wish you could turn back time to console the young boy whose heart was too big to fit inside his tiny body. Although he’s grown into it now, you strive to ease his suffering by even the slightest fraction. “I think ‘Jungkook’ is even better for making friends.”

The edges of his lips flip upwards as he navigates his face to halt directly right in front of your own, pressing one hand to the other side of your farthest thigh and caging you in. “Would you be my friend, Princess?”

All your blood rushes to your head, warming your cheeks. In a futile attempt to preserve any of your remaining dignity, you shrink back to maintain some distance. But his smirk grows at the sight of your shy response to his advances, his orbs flitting down to your pink lips before returning to your eyes. He looks absolutely ecstatic over your flustered state.

His hot breath fans over your lips and you gather any rational sense you have left inside your muddled brain to push him back, missing the split second his confident facade cracks and a sliver of insecurity shines through. It’s instantly replaced by a tight-lipped smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.

“No matter what you decide to call yourself, I’ll always be your friend.”

Seconds seem like hours as the two of you stare at each other, seeking to uncover the words left unsaid. Jungkook’s palms press against his knees, pushing off of them to come to a standing position and effectively ending your little moment. “I’m gonna go get some more wood.”

You nod, staring at his retreating backside that ventures into the adumbral forest once more. Even though the perpetrator of all these complex emotions is no longer within sight, you feel unsettled from the mere thought of him, yet your heart yearns for him all the same.

“Oh, Petal, I thought he would never leave!” A distinctly high-pitched cry rings out in the empty space, a voice which you didn’t expect to hear until at least tomorrow night.

Your head whips to the side to confirm your suspicions. “Mother?” Her dark figure emerges from the shadows and your heart drops to your stomach. You fumble for the right words, at a loss from her unexpected appearance. “How did you—”

“The better question is how could you, Petal?” she corrects, continuing to step into the light provided by the fire. The once comforting flames turn harsh, sharp pops bursting forth from the aggressive combustion. She lowers her hood to reveal the disappointment etched into her youthful features—and without fail, the sting of upsetting her burns through your conscience. “Really, how could you betray your own mother like this?”

You stand, determined to explain yourself, “Mother, he’s different from the monsters you told me about. If you get to know him, he’s sweet and caring and kind an-and he isn’t after my magic!”

“And that’s where you’re wrong, my naive, little Petal.” She tilts her chin up slightly, peering down at you. “Everyone is the same out here, all looking after themselves.”

You approach her within a few strides. “Mother, please listen to me, he’s different! Even though he puts on a tough front at times, he’s really considerate on the inside.” You fiddle with the tips of your fingers as you whisper the next part, “And I, uh, I think he might like me.”

The reaction you least expect is her startling outburst of laughter, powerful enough to fold her in half, and you wait for her giggles to quiet down before warily stepping forward. Your mother is acting awfully strange. “You think he likes you? And what makes you think that?”

You blanch at her ruthless words, wincing as though they assumed a physical form and punched you repeatedly in the gut.

Her maniacal snickers abruptly cease and a frown mars her lovely face once again, her expression one you recognized from previous reprimands, whether it was shattering a vase or begging to go outside. Your chin falls down to meet your chest, unable to muster up your faux bravery for any longer.

“I’m asking what gave you the idea that he would like some insolent, unsightly brat like you?”

You can’t open your mouth to respond, frozen in fear.

“Hm, what’s with the silence? You seemed so certain earlier, Petal. This is why you never should have left, look at this pitiful romance you’ve created,” she mocks, rounding your nervous form like a predator playing with their prey. “Let’s put him to the test then, shall we?”

Your head snaps up at her odd suggestion, eyes widening at the satchel she uncovers from behind her slim form. “You found it?”

She tosses the bag to you and you outstretch your arms—only to catch it a second too late. The bag drops to the floor and the flap flips open. You race to collect the sparkling crown that tumbles out, hastily shoving the diadem back inside before Jungkook wanders back, even turning towards the fire to ensure his continued absence.

“Why so scared?” your mother questions smugly, “I thought you said that he’s different from the rest of them?”

“He is!” you exclaim, rushing to defend him.

“Then give it to him, let’s see if he stays once he has the crown back in his hands. But don’t come crying back to Mother when he runs for the hills,” she snarls, lifting her hood over her short curls and withdrawing into the woods.

Your mind reels from your mother’s visit, but your concern lies with where to stash the leather satchel in your grasp. Dead leaves crunch under approaching footsteps and you examine your body, contemplating the best area for your idea.

Hiking the hem of your dress up to your stomach, you loop the strap of the bag through your left foot, twisting and repeating until it’s coiled around your ankle and the pouch snugly rests against your skin. You shimmy the satchel until the middle of your thigh where it refuses to go any higher.

Satisfied, you release your dress, smoothing the fabric down and confirming that nothing is suspiciously sticking out. You violently shake your leg back and forth to ensure there would be no future problems and sure enough, the straps tenaciously cling onto your thigh throughout all your testing.

“Hey, look what I found! He’ll definitely save us some travelling time tomorrow, but I don’t think he likes me much.”

Jungkook appears from the area your mother disappeared with an overwhelming pile of lumber in his arms. You stroll over to lessen the load, but he brushes you off and bypasses you to drop it beside the fire.

A white horse tromps along after him, trying to nip at the crown of his head while he shoos it away with a waving hand. The comical sight distracts you from the dreary thoughts of your mother, although the stiff strap wrapped around your leg forbids you from forgetting about it.

When you snap out of your reverie, Jungkook is cocking his head to the side at your unusually spacey behaviour.

You spare him a weak smile and shake your head.

Rather than sore feet, the next day your entire crotch is painfully numb from riding Maximus, the quirky horse who holds an obnoxious grudge against Jungkook for reasons unknown to you. While Max allows you to rub his cheeks, scratch his neck and run your fingers through his mane, he huffs if Jungkook so much as breathes too loudly.

Oddly enough, the stallion follows Jungkook around like a lost puppy despite his cold attitude. What is with males and their inability to show their appreciation for one another?

Jungkook insisted on being in front and taking hold of the reins even though Max refused to let him mount his back at first. After some caresses and loving words with the sweet animal, Max permitted you to hop on—which Jungkook was not pleased with. It was a nice change of pace to watch the ordinarily suave man lose his cool over a horse’s favouritism.

In the end, the only way Jungkook was allowed on was by sitting behind you, latching onto you for stability. The animosity growing between the two males adds to your amusement, so you remain unbothered by the hostile glares you can feel Jungkook throwing over your shoulder and the aggressive puffs of air that blow through Max’s nostrils every once in a while.

“Tell me how you found Max again?” Skepticism leaks into your tone, courtesy of Jungkook’s thieving habits.

You could practically feel his eyes roll back into his head as his arms tighten around your waist. His built torso is glued to your back, which repeatedly distracts you from the path ahead. “I told you that I was collecting some twigs off of the ground when this guy appeared out of nowhere! I was scared shitless.”

“You mean to say that someone accidentally lost their horse in the middle of the woods?” You glance sideways to peek at his chin, lodged into the crook of your neck. His face is merely a couple of millimetres from your own.

When he insisted on resting his head there, you had thoroughly embarrassed yourself with a flaming face, resembling a ripe tomato ready for the picking, coupled with your inability to enunciate any word properly. But after hours of his head smooshed against the side of your face or leaning against your upper back, you finally relax into his hold, finding comfort and safety in the appendages coiled tightly around you.

“Sounds plausible, doesn’t it?”

You scoff at the impish grin stretching across his cheeks at his own horrible excuse.

The castle comes into view in the ensuing half-hour, the imposing building no longer obstructed by the towering trees of the forest. Your spirits are dampened slightly by the cruel secrets Jungkook revealed yesterday night, although your giddiness at the prospect of living out your dreams makes you vibrate in excitement. You remind yourself that you’re here for the magical lights, not the castle.

The faint pounding against your back picks up speed for a reason drastically different to your own. He is essentially walking right into his own imprisonment—his wanted posters more than likely plastered across every flat surface inside the marketplace with soldiers littered around the premises. You gather the sturdy reins into one hand, freeing the other to hold Jungkook’s conjoined digits over your stomach.

Completely engrossed in Jungkook’s dilemma, neither of you notice Max racing into town until a screech pierces your ears. You apologize profusely for the spilled legumes that begin rolling away from the young woman, and you whip Max into trodding off before she curses you out.

Once you’re satisfied with the amount of space between yourselves and the unlucky woman, you tie Max’s reins to a nearby fence and race to join the festivities carrying on all around you. Spotting Jungkook’s unsure form lagging behind, you dart back to tug on his wrist, flashing him an encouraging smile before lugging him from one stall to another.

You don’t get far before you experience a sharp pain on your scalp. With the large amounts of people bustling around the tiny square, your hair is a tripping hazard that you try to quickly bunch up into your arms. Your hair is way too long to carry by yourself, so you turn to ask Jungkook for help, though he’s nowhere to be found.

Your mind races to the worst-case scenario. The guards must have caught sight of him, capturing him off guard while you were none the wiser and now he’s going to be hanged for his crimes all because you were too stupid to—

A couple of little girls with flowers decorating their braids physically yank you out of your trance, their tiny hands gathering your multitudinous strands and dragging you off to the side. You’re about to protest against their actions, more concerned over Jungkook’s whereabouts than anything, but after catching a glance of said man playfully waving at you from a few feet away, you allow yourself to be whisked away.

The three girls deftly move from left to right, taking locks of your hair with them as they knot it all into one humongous five strand braid. When you stand up to your full height, you’re amazed to see that none of your hair touches the ground. Considering the hefty weight that pulls at the back of your head, you know this solution can’t last too long.

They scatter various fresh flowers all over, the scent of the blossoms wafting around your figure. As you’re appreciating their handiwork, an arm wraps itself around the curve of your lower back, drawing you into a herculean chest while you blow air kisses filled with your gratitude to the snickering girls.

Jungkook maneuvers you into a narrow alleyway, and you get a chance to admire his glittering irises from up close.

“Guards?”

He only grins.

You’re certain to keep an eye out for any wandering soldiers from that point on, with you pulling Jungkook behind crowds or him dragging you into the gaps between small buildings. Despite the situation being rather stressful with your lives at stake, your escapade is thrilling nonetheless and you enjoy being pressed up against his lean frame, carelessly giggling to yourselves.

Although neither of you carries any silver, window shopping proves to be equally as amusing—browsing through homemade accessories, toys and masks that you play around with, flashing ridiculous faces at one another.

The delicious smell of baked goods drifts through the streets and prompts your mouths to fill with saliva. You appreciate the artistry behind their beautifully decorated exteriors, adorned with colourful frosting and sprinkles. One booth catches your attention and you latch onto Jungkook’s hand to drag him along.

Rows and rows of shiny green bottles are positioned in perfect rows on a table inside the booth and plushies hang from the sides, acting as bait to any passerby. You tug on the hem of Jungkook’s dark vest, gesticulating towards the game with awe.

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a few silver coins that glint in the sunlight. Your eyes widen into saucers at his mischievous grin and you smack his arm, chiding him for his wandering hands as he assures you that he found them on the ground. When he goes as far as to insist that he saved them from being trampled on, you can’t help your tinkling laughter from escaping.

Perhaps it’s karma that prevents your rings from landing on top of any bottle, but the exhilaration of watching the rings soar in midair with a flick of your wrist as Jungkook’s chants fill your ears is priceless. Certainly more precious than any stuffed animal.

You two amble about the streets again, side by side. Long fingers intertwine with your own and your heart flips in your chest, suppressing the raging flush that threatens to colour your cheeks whenever Jungkook is involved. You look around your surroundings, trying to conceal the cheeky grin on your face, resembling that of a toddler with their favourite candy.

Before long, your travelling gaze takes notice of the people hunched over on the ground, concentrated on the stones below them. With a closer look, you discover the sketches littered across the stone pathways—some spanning the entire street and some smaller than your palm.

You bolt over to join them with Jungkook in tow. This whole hand-holding business is proving to be more useful than you thought.

There are pieces of different coloured chalk dispersed throughout the streets, and you pick up an orange one, urging Jungkook to do the same. He searches around for a bit until he decides on a white coloured chalk.

By the time you’re finalizing the tiny drawing you sketched onto the uneven stones, the stub in your hand is half the size of your pinky. Your joints ache from kneeling for so long, but you’re more than satisfied with the bright tiger lily staring back at you.

You stand up, brushing off of any stray rocks that have embedded themselves onto the bare skin of your legs and nudge Jungkook’s arm with your foot. He grumbles under his breath that you ruined the white blob he claims to be a bunny, but you jest that it was doomed the moment he picked up the chalk.

The retort silences him and you stretch your hand out to help him stand, grinning sheepishly at the pout on his pink lips. He accepts your peace offering, although rather than using your aid to get up, he yanks you downwards and your unstable body lands right into his lap. You squeak at his retaliation and wriggle violently in his hold as he curls himself around you, his chin resting onto your shoulder and arms wrapping around your torso to quell your futile efforts of escape.

“You like the nation’s flower?” He questions, nuzzling his face into your upper back.

“Nation’s flower?”

He hums his confirmation and you feel the pleasant vibrations on your neck before he’s nodding towards the purple pennants that dangle off of thin strings, stretching between buildings. Now that you’re actively inspecting the marketplace for the flower, you notice the continuous motif of the orange lily sprouting everywhere from decorations to paintings.

Jungkook seems to have abandoned all hope on his own masterpiece, for he lifts you up by your underarms and leads you away.

As you venture through the rest of the market, grazing through the various stalls, you examine all the knick-knacks depicting the famous tiger lily. It soothes you slightly, recognizing the flower decorating your walls back at the tower.

Lost in your trance, you don’t catch Jungkook slinking away, disappearing into the crowds.

As you turn the corner to browse the next stall’s wares, a massive stained glass window depicting a family of three catches your eye. The man appears stern with his furrowed brows and deep-set frown, and the woman’s forced smile fits awkwardly onto her face. She’s holding a tight bundle of canvas, a tiny face peeking through the layers of fabric in her arms.

Rays of the setting sun pierce through the coloured, translucent material and surround the art piece with an ethereal glow. You’re transfixed by the woman, reminded of your own mother’s delicate features.

You shake off the unpleasant feeling of your last encounter with her and analyze the three squares dedicated to the child’s crumpled face. The only noticeable detail you can make out is his chubby cheeks.

“Interested in the Prince?” A warm breath whispers into your ear, “Am I not good enough for you anymore, Princess?”

You spin around to face Jungkook, barely able to contain your delight as you examine the playful glint in his eyes. “Bold of you to assume there was ever a point where you were good enough for me.”

He scoffs, hands automatically coming to loop around your middle. “I know you’re not suggesting that I’m anything less than stellar company.”

You hum aloud, feigning contemplation by rubbing at your chin and a wide grin breaks his irked performance. He tries to hide his little slip by burrowing his face into the crook of your neck.

His soft cheeks on your bare skin along with his large hands squeezing at your sides elicit all your muffled giggles to burst past your lips. Pure, unadulterated glee bounces around your stomach.

Some of the lilies lodged within your golden strands fall loose and flutter onto the ground with the movement. You intercept one that drops from near your temple, plucking it out of the air and slotting the stem just above Jungkook’s ear.

He pulls away from subjecting your clavicle with his tiny nips in order to rest his forehead against yours. Your head is cradled by one of his palms and you watch as his heated gaze roams down to your lips. Entranced by his overwhelming presence, your eyelids slide shut as he leans forward slightly, tilting his head to the side before a meaty hand encloses around the circumference of your upper arm, yanking you away from him.

Panic seizes your muscles. Your heart threatens to shatter your rib cage with its fierce pounding. The soldiers. You extend your other arm to reach out for Jungkook—the same alarm piercing your flesh is reflected in his blazing orbs. Before he has the chance to rush after you, a dainty woman clothed in a primrose dress sweeps him away as well.

Barely a whole day has passed since you began running away from the soldiers, yet you’re more than certain that the soldier’s attire solely consisted of their royal uniforms, which did not include any flowy, pink garments. You whip back to your own abductor; a stout, jolly man with a cheshire grin stretching from one ear to the other.

He releases you in the middle of a swarming mass of people, moving their bodies left and right to the beat being pounded out on tabors and the sweet melody spilling from a nearby flute.

The man spins you around, encouraging you to let loose and sway your hips to the upbeat song as you’re handed off from one partner to the next. Somewhere within the chaos, you spot Jungkook’s longing stare and you subconsciously inch closer to his side.

The second that you two are within reach of one another, you dart into his arms. Just as you’re about to slip into his comforting embrace, a scrawny boy takes your place while an older woman wraps her arms around your shoulders. She wastes no time before guiding you into a dip, her palms supporting your back.

Upside down, Jungkook’s annoyed countenance is an amusing sight that you gleefully chortle at. Knowing that he is similarly distraught at the prospect of being unable to dance together soothes your aching desire and you savour the thrilling experience of moving as one part of a greater whole.

You prance and twirl your heart out as if it’s your last time. And you’re sure that it will be.

Eventually, both of you are able to slither your way out of the dancing crowds, and the cheers die down the farther you get from the main square. The sun is rapidly falling past the horizon and the capital is shrouded in the deepening twilight. You assumed that he would lead you to see the lanterns about now, but you’re clueless as to why you two are heading away from the castle.

“Jungkook?”

He turns back to you with a breathtaking smile resting on his lips, the dwindling light casting an otherworldly radiance around him. Reaching for your hand, he intertwines your fingers with his own as he leans down to softly bump his forehead against yours. “You’ll see.”

Jungkook directs you towards the moat that surrounds the marketplace, ushering you into one of the many gondolas lined up against the dock. You narrow your eyes at him and he attempts to reassure you with a simple, “We’ll bring it back.”

This man will truly corrupt all your morals.

But you’re so entranced in his spell that you follow along without more than a tiny squeeze at your interlaced digits. You release his hands before he jumps into the boat, the wood swaying back and forth under his weight, worrying you instead of the unbothered man a few feet away. As you take a sharp inhale, about to follow in his footsteps, Jungkook grips the sides of your hips and lifts you into the gondola with him.

You fix him with a reproachful glare at his unexpected actions yet the silent scolding doesn’t last long, for you’re hopeless to the sight of his elation, sticking to him like a second skin. Powerless against his charms, you sit on the thin wooden seat on the other side of the boat and watch him grab an oar, dipping it into the water and propelling you two forward.

You want to admire the unobstructed view of the sparkling night sky, but nothing can beat the galaxies hidden within Jungkook’s eyes, thus you try to seem as inconspicuous as possible in ogling him from your peripheral. However, your futile efforts are rather pointless considering your position, facing the handsome thief rowing the boat at the other end.

You think the title is fitting since he’s stolen your heart without a problem as well.

Once he deems your spot satisfactory, Jungkook strolls over to your side, taking a seat on the bench across from you. His legs slot in between the spaces of your own.

“Now that I think about it, it’s the Prince’s eighteenth birthday too,” he states. “He must be pretty excited, taking over the throne and everything.”

You perk up at the news. “He’s succeeding the King?”

“Mm,” he affirms, wetting his lips with a swipe of his tongue. “King announced an early retirement or something because they’d already found the Prince’s betrothed. His coronation is today.”

You nod your understanding, thinking about the responsibilities bearing down on the poor boy. “It’s kind of weird to think about, y’know, being the same age and even sharing the same birthday but leading completely different lives. He’s about to get married, lead a country and me...” you falter, pausing to string your thoughts into a coherent sentence. “Well, this is my entire dream. Seeing these lights is everything to me.”

“And what’s wrong with that?” he asks, shrugging his shoulders. “You’re living your own life, on your own journey. Comparing yourself to others does nothing but rob yourself of your own happiness.”

You hum with a teasing lilt to your tone. “Suddenly the boy who named himself ‘gold’ in the hopes of attracting some friends is giving me advice?”

He breaks out into a chuckle, doubling over and laying his forehead on your shoulder. His hands reach out for the locks of hair resting on your lap, plucking one of the flowers swimming in your strands. Like Hansel and his bread crumbs, many of the blossoms that fell off throughout your time in the marketplace left tracks of your whereabouts. Only a few flowers remain with you.

With the delicate daisy between his thumb and index finger, he rolls the pads of his fingers against each other, spinning the white petals so fast that they blur together into a splotchy circle surrounding the yellow centre. Once he becomes bored with the flower, he lifts his head and stretches his arm out with a classic smirk that heightens his flirtatious nature. “For you, my lady.”

You huff at the offering. “You act as if it wasn’t already mine in the first place.” Despite your sharp words, you gingerly pluck the stem out of his grasp, fingers brushing against his own. When you raise the daisy up to your nose, the invigorating floral scent startles your senses once more.

With not much else to occupy your time, you decide that now is a better time than ever to dislodge the wilting buds from your tresses. You face the side of the gondola overlooking the water, grabbing onto the ledge and leaning forward.

You muster all the grace you have within your bones to place the ivory daisy onto the water’s surface. The flower drifts along the calm current, painting the atmosphere with a tranquil serenity.

Despite your best efforts to suppress them, your clumsy tendencies shine through when you tip your torso over a smidge too far, losing your balance and diving headfirst for the water. Jungkook is quick to latch on to your wrist, steadying you before you accidentally throw yourself overboard.

You’re sheepish in both your apology and thanks. To avoid any further mishaps, one of his hands remain on your lower back and the other collects the remaining blossoms in your tresses, handing them off to you.

A slow rhythm develops between you two and your raging thoughts come to a standstill, a red light halting the traffic within your mind. In front of you, a garden of assorted blossoms assembles, floating gently towards the ornate castle. One sprout catches your eye.

A tiger lily.

Directly below its long petals, a flash of bright red catches your eye in the reflection of the water. Jungkook’s deep voice cleaves through the soft sloshing of the water. “The lanterns.”

“It’s…” You struggle to piece together proper words to describe the sight before you. One lantern lightens the dark sky, drifting alone in the expansive space before a bunch of others race to join the first. Their warm, yellow glow overpowers that of the moon, painting the landscape in an orange tint that seems to welcome you into its embrace.

“Beautiful.”

You’re too distracted by the enchanting sight before you to notice his eyes trained on your profile, and so you soundlessly agree with a nod of your head. It’s as if time has ceased in its endless ticking, halting in its tracks for another world to open where only you and Jungkook exist.

You don’t mind the idea as much as you think you would.

“I have a surprise.”

You turn over to face him, head tilting in curiosity. He carries a paper lantern in his open palms and your brows furrow at his attentive, considerate behaviour. “Jungkook?”

“We should join in on all the fun, right?” A genuine smile illuminates his soft features instead of the usual smirks he casually throws your way. Oddly enough, despite your inability to operate in front of his flirty personality, you adore both sides equally.

“Kook, wait.”

He perks up at the nickname, reminding you of a dog with its tail violently wagging back and forth—you can’t help but be enamoured by him. You raise the hem of your dress up to the middle of your left thigh and he sputters, looking away. “Hey, hey! I know I’m pretty irresistible but this boat is not the place to—”

“No, you idiot.” You snicker at his unexpected timidity, shimmying the coiled strap down your leg and covering your decency once again with the fabric. “I have something for you too.”

He peeks at you, ensuring that you’re sufficiently clothed before turning to face you. A cold sweat settles over the outer layer of your skin as you watch his brows raise at his satchel in your hands. Keeping the lantern in one hand, and his steady gaze focused on your eyes, he gently pushes the bag down to the floor of the boat, the metal of the crown banging against the wood.

“All I need is you,” he whispers the words into the empty space of the night, the syllables getting lost somewhere within the mellow breeze blowing by. Your heart constricts at the reassurance that this time, Mother is wrong. You fight back the tears gathering at your waterline and grab the other edge of the lantern after he lights the candle inside.

“Ready?” he asks.

You nod and the two of you slowly lift your arms to release the lantern with the masses drifting above you. After a bit, you lose sight of your paper lantern and you glance back at Jungkook to ask whether he was able to keep track of its location, but your voice gets stuck in your throat when you become captivated with the childlike wonder buried within his orbs, roaming over the sky and examining every single lantern at once.

His scouring eventually leads him back to you. He catches you staring, but neither of you care enough to break the moment. His eyes soften and you two shuffle forward on your seats, being pulled toward one another like magnets. Your legs entangle with his in the cramped area and you lean forward until your lips are millimetres from one another.

From this close, you have a perfect view of your reflection within his brilliant irises, the shallow scar that runs along his cheek, the cute birthmark right under his mouth. His eyes are locked on your mouth and you take that as the go-ahead signal to close the gap and slot your lips against his soft ones.

With your evident lack of experience, Jungkook takes control immediately, a hand flying to the back of your head, threading through your hair to keep you in place as he sucks at your lower lip. His tongue swipes at the closed seam that blocks him from your mouth, and you instantly open up to clash tongues, although you shrink back soon after, letting him explore your hot cavern.

You sneak a peek at him every time you two separate for air, confirming that this is indeed reality and not some product of your wild imagination. He invades all your senses and keeps you locked to him like an addict desperate for their fix, his other palm searing through your clothing with its heat and burning a hole through the thin fabric of your dress.

When you finally pull away, you feel feverish and dizzy as a raging blush colours your cheeks. You can’t find it in yourself to look directly into his eyes, but he reaches for your chin and forces you to study the haze of passion in his gaze.

Every part of your body is lit aflame from his touch. Hooked on the feeling of his plush lips pressing against yours with your tongues swirling in tandem with one another, you’re about to lean in for more when his eyes dart off to the side and he abruptly jerks away as if you burned him with your embrace.

His startling jolt snaps you out of your dazed state. With your head out of the clouds, you notice that the lanterns have already moved onto the next town over, taking their warmth with them. The fire within you, kindled by Jungkook, dwindles with the uncertainty of your future together.

Without so much as another word, Jungkook snatches the oar from the bottom of the boat and jumps back to his position at the front of the gondola. He urgently paddles the two of you back to land and you fumble for words. “Jungkook, I—”

“It’s not you.” His statement is reassuring in writing, although his tone is detached, distant in a way that crushes the passages to your lungs. Lost in your dejection, you’re powerless to prod him for any more information than that.

Before the boat can hit the edge of the dock, Jungkook springs out with his leather satchel tucked under his arm, pausing to mutter, “I just—I have to take care of something. Please believe me when I say I’ll be back.” His anguish leaks into his voice and you will yourself to nod, a forced smile on your lips. “Wait for me.”

He dashes off with your heart in his hands. You steady your shaky breath and place your faith in him, the man you have come to trust with your life.

You spend the next half hour struggling to get out of the gondola, craving the flat land to ground yourself. By the time you manage to clamber out, there are a couple of discoloured blotches on the length of your dress that put your many failed attempts on full display. You fan one of the bigger spots to help it dry faster, but the fabric becomes chilly with the extra wind and a shiver slips down your spine from its icy temperature.

Languid footsteps approach your frigid frame and you brighten up, forgetting about the cold. “Took you long enough. Y’know, for a second there I was worried you’d actually lef—”

You pick up more than one pair of feet advancing on you and your eyes widen at the lanky, redheaded twins that stop in front of your path. Cursing your quivering limbs, you cringe at the tremor in your voice when you ask, “What did you do to him?”

They simultaneously snort at your question and the one on the left replies, “Sorry about this, lass, but you’re gonna have to come with us.”

The blood drains from your face and you repeat, louder, “What did you do to him?”

“Aw, don’t get all riled up now. But don’t worry your pretty little head, we’re going to take you right to him.” They corner you back to the dock and you scramble to locate a weapon to defend yourself with. At your wit’s end, you prepare to jump into the murky waters.

However, before you get the chance to move another muscle, an intense pain blooms at the back of your skull, wrapping around to your temples accompanied by a flash of light exploding behind your eyes. Then everything goes black.

Your head pounds as a dull ache nestles itself deep within your bones. Your vision is nothing but a blurry, indecipherable mess of colours, so you opt to keep your eyes closed instead. You’re kneeling on cold tiles that rub your knees raw when you subtly shift into a more comfortable position, discovering the existence of the shackles around your wrists and ankles.

“—nd the girl. We expect you to keep your end of the deal.” The rugged tone that speaks is one that you recognize from before your blackout—one of the redheads.

“Yes, yes, all the charges laid against you have been cleared,” a high-pitched voice meets your ears and you subconsciously grimace, physically recoiling from the sound. Thankfully, your sharp motions go unnoticed. “You’re free to go.”

“What?” You hear shuffling nearby, the rustling of clothes getting farther away from you. The distinct, metallic sheen of a couple of swords being unsheathed follow and the footsteps come to a sudden stop. “You promised us gold.”

The woman scoffs, “Now why would I give you crooked-nosed knaves anything more than a death sentence?”

Many polished boots clamber against the ground with such force that the vibrations can be felt through the flesh of your folded calves. The grunts and garbled screams that ensue are silenced within seconds and two hefty weights hit the floor with a limp, lifeless thud.

“A pleasure working with you boys.”

There’s more shuffling, then something is dragged past your crumpled form. The throbbing across your cranium worsens and you’re incapable of fending off the blissful oblivion of desolation any longer, thus you surrender to the darkness once more.

The next time you open your eyes a harsh light coats your surroundings and the blocks of colour are clearer, sharp enough to decipher the intricate detailing painted on the tiles beneath your knees. Someone chokes on a wet cough, and your eyelids snap shut once more. Your nose crinkles in disgust as well.

“Her tiny skull should have been rolling through these halls eighteen years ago.” The woman’s wretched tone fills your ears, words full of deadly poison.

You remain chained, kneeling against the ground with your head lowered. A numbing sensation lingers no matter how much you fidget in place, bearing down your limbs with the weight of your useless nerves that refuse to fire off.

Another, deeper, voice responds, “Tone it down. Her magic is powerful, the advantage we hold over the other kingdoms is colossal with this kind of sorcery on our side. If she falls, the whole empire will fall with her.”

Sorcery? Although you can count the number of people you met on one hand, you’ve studied heaps of books and drilled your mother with enough questions to know that your magic is unique and rare—a product of alchemy that occurs merely once every millennium.

“I see no point in keeping her around when we cannot access her magic at our will, she is as good as worthless to us. That halfwit of a sister was incapable of locking this churl in a tower for long enough, and look at her now, running around, wreaking havoc with a criminal.”

Your mind swirls with the sudden barrage of information, unsure as to why these two strangers hold deep insights into your life, as well as the knowledge about your unusual hair.

“There is nothing to worry about, Jimin is on the throne. We will simply send her away once again,” the gruff voice states, exasperation clear in his tone.

A deafening thud reverberates throughout the spacious room. Helpless to the dreadful fear swimming in your veins, your body shudders in response to the noise.

The woman shrieks, clearly at her wits’ end, “I want her dead! Guillotine, hang, drown, burn, I could care less. She poses a threat to Jimin’s throne with her existence, and we have gone through too much to have our plans foiled by this knave. We were merciful enough in having my imbecilic sister continue to meet with Jimin throughout the years.”

There’s a long, drawn-out sigh before the man answers, “Have some heart, darling, that is her son you speak of.”

“In the eyes of the people, he is my son and the King,” she seethes. Her enmity is strangely familiar, yet you fail to identify the woman through her voice. “Quit acting as if I am the only sinner here and remember how much we both sacrificed for our blood to inherit the King’s throne.”

“It is not your blood though, is it, dear wife?”

The tension within the room is thick, palpable in the dense air in the way that makes breathing difficult. “You must have enjoyed sleeping with my sister more than I believed. Do you want to call her back here? Play a good husband and wife for the counterfeit King?”

You couldn’t keep the tremours from breaking out over your body as your breaths quicken and an abundance of liquid races to your eyes. It was all beginning to come together, but you wait for the two to confirm your suspicions.

The man chuckles with hollow intent. “Do you fail to recall your own words, pleading with me to follow this foolish scheme of yours? I would have much rather preferred a foreigner rule the kingdom alongside our daughter.”

“Funny, that’s not what you said eighteen years ago.”

You let out a choked sob, unable to repress the sounds of anguish that tears at your skin to brutal shreds. Enraged rivulets stream down your cheeks, and you lift your torso to stare at your legitimate parents. They turn to you, the man distraught and the woman with pure disgust.

“How—” you stammer through your heavy wails, “how could you?”

“So the Princess found out.” Your biological mother raises from her royal seat, storming over the short distance to your trembling form. “Fine, we can strike an agreement.”

She reaches behind your head to grab a handful of your hair, yanking your head up to peer up at the exquisitely decorated ceiling. When you yelp in pain, she crouches down to your level, baring her pearly white teeth as she threatens, “Leave. Be a good little girl and go hole yourself back up in that tower. Don’t worry, Mommy will come get you if we ever need that magic of yours, hm?”

You desperately wriggle around to loosen her hold, but she only grips your strands tighter, pulling downwards to introduce more pain to your scalp. “That thief will stay right here to ensure you keep up your end of the deal, alright?”

At the mention of Jungkook, your heart stutters and your expression morphs to that of despair, momentarily forgetting about the strain to the sensitive skin of your head. “Where is he?”

She smirks and snaps her fingers. The door to the throne room is pulled open with a loud clack, and Jungkook’s weak, bloody form stumbles through the grand entrance, hanging upright with the help of two sturdy guards.

“Kook,” you achingly howl.

“Mopping all his blood off the floor would be terribly tiresome for the maids.” She jerks your head down to bear witness to the sneer stretching across her lips. “It’s all up to you, really.”

“Let me heal him!” you agonize, sobs ripping through your chest, burning through every tissue to the outermost layer of your skin. “Pl-please, please let me heal him. I’ll leave, I won’t say a word, I’ll do anything you want—I’m b-begging you, please.”

The wicked smirk playing on her lips grows wider at your pleading. She shoves your head away, the momentum of the push throwing your whole torso over to the side, bringing about a harsh meeting with the floor. With Jungkook occupying every crevice of your mind, there’s no space to register the pain pulsing through your groggy body.

“That’s what I like to hear.”

You scramble to your hands and knees, disregarding the scrapes and bruises littering your limbs. Despite your tunnel vision directed towards reaching Jungkook, your movements are sluggish from the extended period of time spent kneeling in one position.

The guards supporting him release their hold on his arms, and you scramble to catch his limp frame in your arms, but your depleted muscles can only manage to soften his fall with your body. You detangle yourself from him and hurriedly begin wrapping your hair around his torso.

Your jaw trembles at his damp locks, sodden with sweat and stuck to the side of his head dripping in crimson. The vicious colour oozes out of the deep gashes you locate across his back, peeking through the tears in his shirt and stains the bloody spit drooling from the corners of his cracked lips. Great purple welts fill the rest of his exposed skin, completing the heart-wrenching picture before you.

You pick up the weak croak of your name, and you hiccup from your fierce laments at his red-rimmed eyes. “Guess I was right all along, Princess.”

Your mother’s cruel words follow the nasty glower she shoots his way. “Shut up or we’ll end your pitiful life now, you filthy criminal.”

“Jungkook, I’m here,” you reassure him, beginning to wrap your excess strands around his arms before he stops you with a stained hand. “Jungkook let me—”

“Stop,” he mutters, gripping his side in pain.  

“No! I can’t—I can’t let you die.” You grit your teeth, disobeying his words and going to wrap your tresses around his broken body once more.

“If you go back there,” he coughs, an alarming amount of blood spurting out, “then you’ll—”

“It’s fine, everything will be alright, okay?” You press your palm over his hand and the icy bite that greets you hardens your resolve. “We’ll figure it out.”

You take a deep breath, readying yourself to sing the incantation engraved into the back of your mind when Jungkook’s fingers graze your cheek. You unconsciously lean into his touch, examining every crimson stain marring his delicate features.

His doe eyes soften at your orbs roaming his face and when your gaze settles on his thin lips, he snatches the chance to land a peck against your mouth. The fleeting kiss fills you with greed, and your eyes flutter shut despite your rationale as you dip towards him for another.

You halt, gasping at the gut-wrenching sound of your tresses being severed from the base of your neck, the noise snapping you back to reality. Your eyes widen at Jungkook’s relieved countenance as his torso reclines to the ground, the sharp dagger in his hand rattling onto the tiles beside him. When you reach back to assess the damage, your hand grips onto the short strands that reach no further than your shoulder.

You glance back at the heaps of dead, brown hair sprawled across the palace floor and your mind wipes clean of any coherent thought. Instead, your chest caves in on itself, breathing made impossible because of your collapsed airways and you choke out, “Jungkook, what did you—”

“What an absolute halfwit, does he think he did anyone a favour with that little stunt of his? Without your hair, we have no need for either of you.” Your biological mother laughs, the notes turning ominously maniacal towards the end. “Kill them.”

Guards immediately surround you two, and in a weak attempt to protect him from their pointed swords, you cradle Jungkook’s powerless form to your chest. You prepare yourself to bear the end of their piercing blades.

“What do you roaches think you’re doing?” she seethes, blazing orbs flashing with white-hot fury. “I said, kill them!”

The gigantic doors burst open again, but this time, a lean man strides forward. His blond strands are neatly styled away from his forehead and the regal red robe hanging upon his shoulders elegantly sway after him. The soldiers part ways to make room for the intimidating man and one of his retainers at the door announces, “The King is here!”

You struggle to even out your frantic breaths, thankful for the distraction that grants you a break to rack your brain for a method to escape the dreadful situation you two have found yourselves in. Debating whether you should fight back, sneak away or plead for forgiveness, your eyes dart wildly around the room. A woman donned in a black cloak lingers slightly behind the King, gazing at you with a murderous glare that sends pin needles into the thin lining of your stomach.

“That’s enough,” the King states.

“Jimin.” The former Queen races up to him but is stopped by the retainers that encircle the King.  “What business do you have here? There are more important matters for you to attend to.” Her eyes narrow at the sight of the woman behind him.

“No, I think this has gone on long enough.” He sweeps his gaze over to the two of you, Jungkook barely clinging onto life, nestled within your protective embrace. The woman latches onto his bicep, her head vigorously shaking back and forth, yet you’re uncertain whether her disagreement will relieve your anguish or worsen it.

Despite her insistence, his head nods in your direction and the woman that raised you begrudgingly marches up to you, barely acknowledging your presence in favour of pressing her palms against Jungkook’s open lacerations. He winces at the pressure and just as you’re about to tell her off, you discern the thick gauze that rests between her hand and Jungkook’s side, the sterile white shade expeditiously being replaced by a bloody crimson.

“What are you talking about, dear?” the former Queen asks, a hard edge to her tone. “These two are hedge-born lowlives, simply not worth your time.”

He crinkles his nose in disgust, flicking his hand towards the former King and Queen. “Lock them up in the dungeons.”

Both their eyes widen comically, jaws dropping to the floor. However, you can’t find joy within their despair when Jungkook’s survival is still up in the air.

The woman sputters, recklessly thrashing her body to escape the soldiers’ grip. The man simply lowers his head, seemingly having accepted his fate as he follows the guards without another word.

“Did you forget who put you in that throne, Park Jimin?” the woman screeches, the blood vessels lining her neck about to implode. “How dare you disrespect your pare—”

“How could I ever forget your treacherous actions?” he spits out, disgust lacing his voice, “How could I ever forget how many lives you’ve ruined, dear aunt.”

“We did it all for you!”

“You did it for yourselves,” he hisses. Relief trickles through the tips of your fingers, spreading across your body like wildfire from the King’s aid. “Get them out of my sight.”

“You worthless—” Her shrieks echo throughout the halls, though you’ve long lost focus in their conversation after watching the two wretched souls being punished and put in their rightful place.

Your aunt passes some thick bandages from inside the bell sleeve of her cloak. You gratefully accept the offering, pressing it against his lower back—wishing that it’s not too late, that Jungkook has not lost too much blood yet. The passive stare that your aunt fixes you with crams your head with doubt and you begin to panic, bringing one of your hands up to cradle his face.

Although you’re convinced that you wailed through an entire year’s worth of sobs, the tears sliding down your face refuse to stop, dripping down and landing onto the dirtied skin of Jungkook’s cheek. You press your forehead against his, hoping against hope that some magic remains within your body, that the tiniest bit will reveal itself like a bag trick and heal his wounds.

But your magical hair was extraordinary enough, and this is no fairytale.

“Get those two to the physician’s,” the King orders.

Guards scramble to action, ripping you apart from Jungkook as you unsuccessfully attempt to resist being separated again. You’re absolutely spent from the tiring events of the past couple of days and your weary legs give out as the soldiers lift your drained form into a standing position.

Jungkook is moved onto a sturdy sheet, then carried away past the double doors and out of sight. Your flimsy arms wrap around the shoulders of two guards as they assist you in following Jungkook to the physician, passing the King on your way.

His plush lips stretch into a sympathetic, tight-lipped smile, but the adrenaline from earlier wears off and the sting of your own wounds drains you of your manners, uncaring that you’re facing the King. Thankfully, he dismisses your discourtesy instead of beheading you, and you’re hauled away from the gracious man.

On the way, you’re close enough to overhear what he mutters under his breath. A garbled scream rips through your throat in protest, and you shoot the King the deadliest glare you can muster. He releases a deep sigh at your childish antics, waving as you turn the corner.

“Poor guy doesn’t look like he’s going to make it.”

You spend the next few, rather tedious, days in a luxurious bed, being fretted over by everyone from the maids to the chefs. It was difficult to indulge in the extravagance that the castle had to offer when you were anxiously awaiting news regarding Jungkook, which they refused to disclose until your own condition improved.

After all the pampering, you were permitted access past the confines of the expansive room you were forced to recover in. Your injuries were minor in comparison to Jungkook, thus you were granted freedom much earlier than him.

Not like he was capable of stepping outside of his room anyway.

Although his body is repairing his torn flesh incrementally, he shows no signs of consciousness—not the twitch of a finger, the flutter of an eyelash, nothing. Doubt claws a bit higher up your torso each day, waiting for the moment that the disquiet slithers up your esophagus and suffocates you.

Despite the crushing news of his coma-like state, you work diligently to ensure that neither you nor Jungkook becomes a burden to the castle by picking up various duties. Jimin continuously waves off your attempts to help, but you’re restless and desperate for a distraction from wondering about Jungkook’s condition all the time.

Jimin banned you from performing some of the maid’s tasks once, then sorely regretted it when he had to tend to your nervous breakdown in the afternoon. Since then he has kept his comments on your excessive working habits to himself.

Today you’re in Jungkook’s room, dusting off the spotless shelves that house the many herbs being grounded into powders and rubbed as a salve onto his injuries daily. You organize the rolled bandages for the second time in the past hour and mop every inch of the floor.

You can’t devote yourself to lingering by the unconscious man’s side for too long, otherwise your mind gradually begins to spiral into every possible worst-case scenario and you simply can’t handle the reality of a future without him. It sounds overly dramatic—many of the maids you have grown close to over the months claimed as much when you brought up your journey together.

But they didn’t hear his melodic laughter that followed his teasing smirks when he said something flirtatious, effectively making your heart skip a beat. They didn’t feel his hand always reaching out to make contact with you in some way, craving your touch to ground him to reality. They didn’t see his eyes softening when he gazed at you as though you were holding his entire world in your eyes.

They didn’t know Jungkook the way you did.

You strain the mop of its excess dirtied water before stowing the tool away in the storage room. When you return, a draft filters in through the open window and you race over to close it, worried that Jungkook may catch a bothersome cold that will delay his healing process.

You take a seat on the lavish mattress adjacent from his thighs as you stare out the window in front of you. The air remains stale in spite of the fresh breeze that blew into the room seconds prior, and the dull atmosphere persists due to the lifeless man inhabiting its space.

You’re uncertain how many more times you can handle walking into this room with his weak body lying motionless on these pristine sheets, but you will endure it all without complaint for him. A knock at the door catches your attention, and you twist around to meet Jimin’s friendly beam. “How is he?”

“Same as he always is,” you state, allowing yourself to take in Jungkook’s sunken cheeks and pale face. “Unresponsive.”

“You wanna join me in the gardens for some fresh air?” At your unsure raise of a brow, he convinces you with, “You’ve been cooped up in the castle the whole day.”

The both of you head out to view the lush scenery outside, seated amongst the blooming tulips, although your eyes are drawn to the lilies that border the lilac cosmos. You trace the familiar shape of the orange flower with your pupils, reminiscing on the doodles decorating your room’s walls back at the tower. That seems like forever ago now.

Other than his lack of consciousness, Jungkook’s condition remains relatively stable and yet you still find it burdensome to stray too far from his side. The staff is under orders to instantly notify you should he arise while you’re away, but that doesn’t ease the disquiet that rouses whenever you leave the castle walls.

You’re convinced that the second you wander off, he will wake up without you there; a thought too unbearable to consider. You crave to lose yourself within his molten ember orbs once more, exploring the undiscovered galaxies in his gaze.

“These past few months must seem unfathomable,” he starts, pressing his lips together to ponder over his next words before continuing. “I don’t know how my mom treated you in the tower but, knowing her, I’m guessing it wasn’t too great.”

His casual mention of the affectionate term you pleaded to call your mother for ages—the topic she despised almost as much as you begging to venture outside the tower—stung the slightest bit. From her actions, it was evident that she never cared for you as much as her own, biological son, but it was difficult to dismiss the joyful memories you shared with her, no matter how few and far between they were.

“She started visiting me a few years back, explaining all their horrendous crimes and insisting that she was the only one I could trust. She told me about you, too. Your mother ordered her to lock you away in that tower and ensure that nobody ever found out the truth in exchange for my seat on the throne. ”

Your head lowers at the information, brows furrowing as you contemplate your true relationship with the woman that raised you from birth.

“When my mom caught word of you travelling with the thief, she returned the crown in hopes that Jungkook would run for the hills, and you would be left to come back with her. Her goal was to overtake the kingdom from your mother.” His eyes gloss over with a distant sheen and you sympathize with him; the boy was used as a tool, just like you.

“It’s reassuring in a way.” His strange admittance prompts you to glance up at him, confusion swirling within your orbs. “At least we’re both suffering from our family’s despicable actions.”

Our family.

His optimistic viewpoint hits you like a wave crashing against the shore, sharing his vast fortitude and washing away a fraction of the sombre agony tormenting your heart. Although Jimin’s life was no doubt disparate from your own, you two are connected through the blood running through your veins. Even if those same bonds brought you to a tragic meeting with your own wicked parents, at least you could rely on one person within your family.

The edges of your lips curl into a tiny smile aimed at the blond man across from you, your own short, chestnut coloured hair providing a stark contrast. “I’m glad I can rely on you, Jimin.”

He readjusts his weight on the green, iron chair and leans forward to rest his elbows on the metal table between the two of you. “I think this is the first time you’ve called me by my name without me having to remind you.”

You quietly giggle at the memories flooding your mind, from the hostile attitude you first approached him with, then the days he comforted you over Jungkook’s motionless form, to Jimin demanding that you call him by his first name. You consider yourself extremely lucky to have someone as gracious and compassionate as Jimin to be your half-brother.

“I know we’ve already gone over this,” he starts with a serious edge to his tone, “but this is your last chance.”

You rip your gaze away from the plants to lay a couple of light pats to his hand. Despite the lack of context, the topic is familiar to you, as he has gone over this with you many times. “No, I don’t want the throne. You trained for this position your whole life, so I’m entrusting the kingdom to your capable hands. All I ask is for you to fulfill my request.”

Jimin releases a heavy sigh. “If you really want him free of all his crimes, there’s no way you two can live within the capital.”

“That’s fine with me.” You shrug your shoulders, unconcerned about the prospect of having to leave the busy city. “I don’t think I could live somewhere like this anyway.”

You don’t expand on your reasoning, and he doesn’t question you further, simply sparing you a solemn, understanding gaze. Supposedly, you aren’t supposed to pick favourites within your family, but Jimin is definitely golden in your eyes.

“Deeply sorry to intrude, Your Royal Majesty, but your betrothed is at the door and wishes to meet with you.” A guard inches his way towards your table with his head bowed, hands respectfully gathered behind his back.

Jimin looks to you with an apology on his tongue, but you wave him off before any explanations can spill from his plump lips. “Go get your girl.”

A bright smile enlightens his features as he springs up from his seat, dusting off his uniform before bounding after the guard. When he quirks his head back, you demonstrate your encouragement through a thumbs-up that you wave from side to side until he is satisfied, facing forward with a gleeful snicker.

You inhale the outdoor air, about to head inside yourself to rearrange Jungkook’s bandages again when your eyes wander back to the tiger lilies that caught your eye earlier. Within a few strides, you reach the vibrant buds, stretching your hand out to pluck a few stems. The sweet smell invades your senses.

With a tiny bouquet in hand, you make your way back inside, the metaphorical load on your shoulders a bit lighter than it was before. You expertly maneuver your way through the halls towards Jungkook’s room with the dwindling hope that today will be the day that his honey orbs reflect the sun’s light filtering in the window, filled with the mischief and tenderness that you remember.

When you’re met with his unmoving form instead, another sliver of that faith shatters into tiny shards.

You shake it off and head back to the windowsill, where an empty flower vase rests. The lilies within your grasp are carefully inserted inside and you place the bouquet back onto the tiny platform. Their floral scent wafts throughout the space as you take your place beside his legs.

As part of your usual routine, you use this time to relax. Just for a moment, you give yourself the room to breathe, giving your brain free rein to feel the emotions raging within you and fantasize about your future with Jungkook. You imagine yourself in a tiny cottage, craving a quaint place to live after the immense tower you were raised in.

The two of you would settle down there, adopting a pet to keep you company before you inevitably brought a few children into the world. Their genders didn’t matter, as long as you could raise them with Jungkook, forming a tight-knit family that shared all the love the both of you lacked growing up.

A warm hand wraps around your wrist. Your head snaps to follow the direction of his arm, curving into his broad shoulders, and past his sharp jaw with your heart in your throat. Tears gather at your waterline, spilling over onto your cheeks as you hiccup from the sudden sobs that overtake your body.

The doe eyes that stare back at you carry your whole world in their weight.

+ epilogue.

Tiny footsteps scuttle around the wooden floors, screaming in delight from being chased by a much larger, yet still very childlike, man. “Betchya can’t catch me, daddy!”

Your husband playfully roars at the taunt, speeding up his strides to snatch the little girl up into his arms. She shrieks at the hand that comes up to tickle her little torso.

“Okay, okay, enough playing you two,” you command, calming the baby boy in your arms that becomes far too excited from the chaotic energy erupting within your cottage. “It’s dinnertime!”

“Dinnertime!” your oldest repeats, violently wriggling around in her father’s grip to force him in lowering her back to the ground so that she can run to her spot at the table. She looks from side to side, doe eyes flitting back to you with a pout on her lips. “But where’s Pascal, Mommy?”

You pass the baby to Jungkook, freeing your hands in order to bring the steaming hot food from the stove to the table. The beige chameleon fades back into his natural emerald colour once you grab him by his scaly torso, dropping him into your daughter’s awaiting hands.

Her squeaky voice chides, “You can’t hide from Mommy.”

A boisterous, yet melodic neigh notifies you of Max’s presence in your backyard, and you shamble past the wooden door to hand the carrots you prepared for him. He snorts in delight as he lowers his head to the floor and begins chomping away. At the sight of his dirtied mane, you take a mental note to give him a thorough wash and brush later on.

Before you head inside, you catch sight of a blond man making his way towards you. “Jimin!”

His eyes reduce to two crescents from the wide grin that occupies his face. He swapped out his imposing robe for a commoner’s shirt and slacks, and they strangely suit his lithe form better than his bulky uniform.

“And where’s our lovely Queen?” You tease, elbowing him when he reaches out to ruffle the top of your head.

“Taking care of things that I don’t want to do.” You two snicker, ecstatic to see one another, and you step aside to let him coddle your children. The slight breeze in the air gingerly kisses your face, rustling the leaves on the trees surrounding your tiny house, and you close your lids to relish in the tranquillity of nature.

A pair of familiar arms curl around the shape of your waist and a smile creeps onto your lips as you open your eyes to examine Jungkook’s face, inches away from your own. He brushes your brown strands over your shoulder, leaning in for a quick peck as a loud chorus of disgust is vocalized behind you.

Both of you break out into giggles at your daughter’s behaviour and turn to face your family waiting for you inside. With your hand tangled with his, you walk to a brighter future together.

[masseffecthoe]

Forbidden starfruit

Wanted to write a little one shot, plotless porn... so here’s part 1/5 :)) Some plot wiggled itself in, oops. I just wanted the reader not to be a goody two shoes, couldn’t find any fanfics, so I wrote one. Classic story.  Y/N is not evil, but definitely on the morally grey, leaning dark side. Seduction to the grey side if you will.

Spam me any ‘seduction to the dark side’ stories with OC/reader tho, Poe, Kylo, anyone. I crave MORE!

Summary: Poe meets a stranger in a bar. They bang.

Warning: uum the no pants dance. sucking the oyster.

EDIT: AHAHAHA OMG the paragraphs didn’t paste in order!!! FFS... fixed it now >.<

Probably ooc, probably some wrong tech/lore. Wrote for fun.

I like mood boards.

The bar was packed, the music loud and energizing. People were either chatting on the margins, tables full of drinks, or enjoying themselves on the dance floor. Poe checked the time again, remembering to keep his expression relaxed. The informant was almost four hours late, something must have went wrong. Or he'd changed his mind, or perhaps he never existed. It was not everyday that they received intel about the First Order from a supposed deserter - the possibilities were endless and the factors unprecedented.

Everyone thought it might be a trap, but the chances for it were dwindling by the minute. Surely if this was some kind of ploy something would have already happened by then. He took another short sip of his drink - his second cup of ardees already - trying to stall for as long as possible. His eyes wandered over the crowd again, a small smile forming on Poe's lips. It was nice to see them having fun, aliens and humans alike, no worries of the oppressions of the First Order. Or the constant pressure for duty in the Resistance. He felt like he could be a part of that, in a simple pair of trousers and a white T-shirt he could pass as one of the party goers and pretend, for just a selfish moment, that he was carefree.

A flash of red caught his attention and he turned his head, dismissing the previous heavy thoughts. The source of the vibrant color was enticing, the silky fabric of her crimson dress hugging all the right curves as the woman made her way to the opposite side of the bar. Skin glistened in the brighter lights from behind the bar. Two drinks were placed before her and he noticed she was accompanied by another woman, the pair clinking the glasses and gingerly sipping on the neon colored liquid.

Her friend whispered something in her ear and she turned towards him, piercing eyes meeting his for a split second, landing straight on him as if guided by some unknown force. It lasted but a moment, the two women giggling between them the next.

"Something caught your eye, Black Leader?" Poe let out a small sigh and shook his head ever so lightly. He was not supposed to answer and in fact, they were not supposed to use the channel at all, except for an emergency if the whole operation had turned out to be a trap. Chatting about a stranger in a bar did not sound like an emergency. Still, a silly smile played on his lips. How long had it been since he'd done something so... mundane, like going out drinking and meeting a woman who was not also his colleague in the resistance. "Heads up, she's coming your way."

Poe panicked for a moment. He was on a mission! Even if the chances of the informant coming were close to none and at that point and they were about to call it a day, he was still on duty. For about another 15 minutes maybe. The woman could spook the mole, or worse, get caught in some twisted First Order plot that made him waste time and credits in a bar on some nondescript outer planet... Ok, there was probably no evil plot and a beautiful woman was drawing closer.

"Hi. Mind if I sit?" She gestured to the stool beside him. Her voice was smooth and pleasant and she seemed to strain a bit to be heard over the noise. She was pretty, but there was something more to it, something in the way she stood tall and proud, those sharp eyes, playful and wise at the same time.

"I'd be a fool to refuse." Her smile widened and she sat gracefully on the cushion, his eyes immediately drawn to her backside. He snapped them back to her face, but the all-knowing smirk on her plush lips told him he did not go unnoticed.

"I'm Y/N." He reached to shake the outstretched hand, her skin soft against him, but she had a good grip, not as delicate as he'd imagined. His name passed his lips before he could think of an alias, or a reason to use one.

"Poe." He could almost hear Temmin's scoff on the other end of the comms, even if they hadn't been turned them on.

"Nice to meet you, Poe." She almost purred his name and he had to remind himself that they were on a Resistance mission. Focus! "Now tell me, who had the audacity to stand up a guy like you?" He raised an eyebrow, but before he could ask she continued. "I saw you coming in a while ago. Was mustering my courage to come over, but you looked like you were waiting for someone. Didn't want to cause any trouble." Somehow he doubted the last part. He couldn't place the mischievous little glint in her eyes.

"Not used to being the one to make the first move?"

"On the contrary. I've learned in life you have to seize what you desire." Her eyes traveled slowly across him, right hand playing with the rim of her glass.

 "You risk someone else stealing it from right before your eyes. Like I'm doing right now, I suppose. Your date missed the chance, and here you are with me instead."

"Turned out in my favor I'd say." He let his own gaze wander, from the soft features o her face, down the curve of the neck and all the down her low cut of her dress, the valley between her breasts exposed to him.

"We shall see. We've barely met after all, but the night is young." It really wasn't that early anymore, midnight was just hours away. "Tell me about yourself, Poe."

"What would you like to know?"

"Are you a local? You don't look like it, though." There was that look in her eyes again, playful but observant, not letting anything escape her.

"I'm not, I'm from Yavin."

"Long way from home." He shrugged, sipping his drink to give himself time to find an excuse. He'd already given his real name, probably shouldn't follow with 'Resistance pilot' right after. 

"I'm a freighter pilot."

"Ah, hauling goods across the galaxy. You must have seen so many place!" He was not expecting her to be so enthusiastic about it, but he welcomed the attention. For once someone was interested in just him, not the star pilot of the Resistance.

"You wouldn't believe half of them." She scooted over, or maybe he just thought she did, wished it so, but she felt closer nonetheless, lashes fluttering as she fixed him again with her eyes. Her voice was low, like they were sharing a secret, despite the music still blasting around them in the bar.

"Well, what it the strangest place you've seen?" He tried to quickly excluded some of the more famous ex-Empire location and obviously Resistance related ones, but truth was he'd only ever traveled for his work. It was fighting the First Order here and looking thought jedi sites there, endlessly searching for a trace of the Luke Skywalker, one day after the next, it was always related to the conflict between light and dark.

"Probably Telos. The sheer determination to build up a chunk of a planet just to keep it together... it was an impressive sight, motivating." She hummed nodding her head.

"I've always wanted to travel and see everything. So many different ecosystems, cultures, creatures... I get a little sad when I think I'm never going to be able to discover them all."

"You travel a lot then?"

"When the job allows me." She paused and bit her lower lip, drawing Poe's eyes like a magnet. "I'm a glorified errand girl, but I get away with some little excursions." She leaned a little closer still, he could see a faint scar right below her eyebrow, easily missed with a trick of the light. He could feel the genuine excitement in her voice. "I strayed a bit off course once to this planet in the Belderon sector, Lola Sayu. Don't think 've seen anything quite like it... half of it is missing, blown up ages ago, but the atmosphere formed around the missing part, encapsulating it. It made this giant ball, yellow and purple mashed together.

"The Belderon sector? What were doing all the way there?"

"Ok, ok, I strayed a lot off course, like a week maybe, but I just had too see it."

"Seize what you desire..."

"Exactly! We only have one life and we never know when it might end. I plan to make the most of it." Poe stared at the woman for a long moment. She was bright and smart and oh, so beautiful - it was more intoxication than his long forgotten drink. A mouthful of fresh water after days in the desert, her view of the world, simple but joyful, gave him a surge or energy, of hope. Temmin's voce in his ear was low, but the words were exactly what Poe needed to hear.

"You deserve a break, Poe. Our contact ain't coming and we are to leave only in the morning. See you at the ship tomorrow. Black Two, out."

He wasn't sure who leaned in first, but one moment her hand was on his thigh and the next his own hands were cradling her closer, pulling her off her stool and onto his lap. His senses were assaulted all at once, the loud music, the sweet taste of her mouth and the flowery perfume he hadn't notice before. Her lips were soft but the kiss was relentless, both devouring one another, her body pressed so close to his.

She smiled, a little curve of her lips that stirred things in him, that promised passion and a reckless abandonment, and took his hand to pull him along. He craved for more, more kisses, more skin, so he followed without a second thought. She skipped across the street and they hastily made their way to her room on the first floor, stealing kisses in the doorway and on the stairs.

He pressed her against the door as she was locking it, her ass pushing back deliciously. His mouth fell on her shoulder, hands going up her sides, slightly pulling on the fabric of the dress, making her body shiver in anticipation. The damn thing had to come off. Her arms lifted as if thinking the same, so he backed up and pulled the dress over her head with ease. His fingers traced the expanse of her back and hooked on her lace thong pulling it slightly. With a small gasp she turned, eyes dark with lust, only in heels and the flimsy little piece of red lace. Poe couldn't remember a time he had been more turned on.

He kneeled and lifted her leg over his shoulder with little warning. She gasped as his fingers traced the lace, already seeping wet and ready. The thong was pulled aside and his mouth was on her, sucking and biting eagerly, his tongue circling her bud, lapping at her flowing juices. She moaned loudly, her fingers twisting in his hair.

"Not fair..." She panted from above, but her hips bucked towards him. He smirked and pushes a finger inside her, then a second, lifting his head to look at her. She was gorgeous, ragged breaths and knees trembling as he pumped his fingers vigorously, thumb stroking her clit. The obscene sound of her moans and dripping pussy filled the small room, tantalizing. He got up, mouth clasping over a nipple and she arched her back pressing to him, head rolling back against the door as the walls clamped over his digits. Poe backed up barely an inch to look her in the eyes as he brought his fingers to his mouth, needing to taste her one more time. She let out a straggled breath, half sigh half moan and roughly pulled on his T-shirt. "Clothes off. Now."

"Yes ma'am." He was happy to oblige, his dick straining in his boxers, already damp with precum. His clothes flew off unceremoniously, their hands bumping as they both pulled on the fabric, rushed to unzip his pants and pull down his boxers. Hand on his chest, she backtracked him until his legs hit the bed then pushed him on it. Her hands traced up his legs, crawling in between them, eyes never leaving her prize as she laid kisses up his thighs, nails scraping at his skin, closer to where he needed her the most. He took hold of her upper arms and spun them around so she was caged beneath him.

"Not fair." She breathed out a moan as his dick rubbed against her folds. He wanted her, needed her like air.

"Next time."

"Deal." He pushed inside her in one swift move, rougher than he intended, but she let out the most erotic sound he's ever heard, a loud and lewd groan, ringing in his ears as her body purred. Her words slurred from her pretty little mouths in short breaths.

"Shit, Poe, you're driving me, insane." She had no idea what she was doing to him. His mouth was on hers again, drowning her moans as he rocked his hips, plummeting in her core. Her shaking arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer like her life depended on it. He hooked one arm beneath her knee and pulled her leg up, spreading even more, going even deeper. It was raw and desperate, passion in its purest form. Her nails dug at the skin on his back, his name chanted from her lips like a prayer as his rhythm turned merciless. Thank the gods he'd told her his real name. He buried his head in the crook of her neck, nipping and sucking at he tender flesh.

Her eyes rolled in back of her head and his entire body shook above her as her pussy milked his dick with greed, clamping around him like a vice. Their breaths mingled, their skin sleek with sweat, but tingling still. With the last sliver or power he had, Poe rolled on his back and pulled her with him, her leg slipping over his, her hand on his chest. He was still in a daze, but looking at her she was not better, eyes half closed and unfocused, her fingers drawing lazy patters on his chest. He remember bringing her hand to his lips before falling asleep.

He woke up first, Y/N still curled over him, hair sprawled on the pillow behind her. She had pulled a silky sheet over them some time after he passed out. He smiled, lips pressing gently on the top of head. He pulled her closer, almost not believing she was real. She stirred, letting out a contents little sigh, but didn't wake up.

Poe enjoyed the feeling of her in his arms a moment longer, his brows more furrowed by the second, his lips pressed in a thin line. He had to go soon and he didn't know when he would see her again. His hand trailed the smooth skin on her back, not wanting to leave the bed, taking in every detail of her beautiful face. When the sun had finally fully risen there was no more time left.

He went to collect his scattered clothes, his mind running a mile a minute, thinking of how to tell her he was actually in the Resistance, wondering his she will react to him lying about his work, about his identity, but most importantly if she would want to see him again. Gods, he hasn't even left her room yet and he was already dreaming of when he'd hold her in his arms next. Poe smiled, he felt like a teen again, the only care in the world the affection of his lover.

But the world was cruel and he was not a silly boy back on Yavin. He found his T-shirt thrown all the way near her side of the bed and as he bend down to retrieve it, the holopad on the nightstand beeped loudly three times before a robotic voice boomed in the small chamber, the dark figure projecting from it chilling his blood.

"Y/N, I assume the traitor has been dealt with already. You better be on the Supremacy when I arriver to continue our training. You have an hour." Poe's breath caught in his throat, his mind so overwhelmed it first went blank then exploded with the possibilities and implications. The idea that he'd spent the night with one of the First Order's top assets... Did he steal something off him? Had it been a trap? 

His eyes fell on the holopad again, the blinking light showing she had a message. From fucking Kylo Ren! She was training with Leia's kid, she was dark side.

She was evil.

But she couldn't be, could she? 

Poe was so lost in thought he didn't even hear her as she stretched in bed behind him, the yellow glint in her eyes catching in the morning sun as her gaze fell on him.

Chapter 2 >

[nextwarden]

Webtoons are good for the soul PART II - ECLECTIC BOOGALOO

A continuation of this.

Sea Salt and Sand by neggut [ongoing]

In the autumn holidays 3 months ago, Brynn and Bailey shared a kiss. When Bailey left, Brynn tried to forget all about her and continue living an unremarkable life, only for Bailey to suddenly transfer to her school! What follows is a coming of age story full of pining, misunderstandings and confusion as Brynn and Bailey question the true nature of their relationship. 

It’s cute and a bit angsty but not too much. The art style often feels incomplete or rushed but in a good way, its flaws give character to the characters and the story. One of my all time favourites.

Apathy meets labrador/10

Dragonbourne by Gummy Shark [ongoing]

After a troubled past, Sir Ross Edmund Avery is somewhat content to lead a mundane existence, alone in his house. However, when he stumbles upon a child in the woods on Solstice Night who is anything but mundane, his simple life will be turned upside down.

A scar(r)ed man adopts a feral child, hijinks ensue. Once again, the art style is endearing, full of curves and long lines. Haven’t checked on that one in a while but the first twenty chapters were very promising.

Found family/10

The Last Human by Zack Jordan [ongoing]

She's the galaxy's worst nightmare: a Human. Fortunately, she's the last one. Now her adoptive (alien) mother is realizing that raising a young Human is no easy task.

Basically the badass and child duo trope but the truth may surprise you. Fun, cute, very wholesome, and surprisingly emotionnaly philosophical at times. Spidermom is best mom.

Recommend/10

Vampire Husband by Scragony [ongoing]

The life of Charles the Vampire an Cheryl the human after years of marriage.

What if tragic romance between human and vampire but they had their “happy-ever-after”? This is after. It’s funny and cute.

Relationship goals/10

Blood Stain by sigeel [ongoing]

A story about courage, growing up and finding friendships in most unlikely places... spiced with some MAD SCIENCE! 

Haven’t quite wrapped my head around this one yet, but it’s fun and drawn by sigeel (a.k.a. Linda Sejic) so of course it’s beautiful. Enjoyed it a lot, will have to keep reading.

Bloody merry/10

Punderworld by sigeel [ongoing - on hiatus]

Hades' and Persephone's love-struck misadventures.

Another take on Hades and Persephone’s love story. Once again, sigeel, so of course I love the art.

Bumbling idiots/10

The Queen and the Woodborn by Shiniez [ongoing]

Far away behind seven hills and seven forests, seven fields and seven rivers, there lived a Queen... welcome to the queen and the woodborn. a fairy tale romance for the mature readers about the unseen Queen and the Goddess in the woods. a tale of the two forgotten by the world around them who will make the world remember their names. expect gods and monsters and a romance for the ages.

Not many chapters yet but very long ones to compensate. This one is by Shiniez (a.k.a. Stjepan Sejic) so, once again, love the art. The story, the character designs and concepts, and the pace are all amazing.

Very wow/10

P.E.T.S. by Gyxks [ongoing]

Just when Tasha was about to start a new life, she was abducted by aliens. Fortunately, she and other humans were rescued by an interstellar general named Tourmaline. She soon discovered that her body was unfit to return home without endangering life on earth. Join her on her journey traversing this new world and these new feelings for an alien general. 

POV: You’re living your best life as a young adult, at the shopping mall at 2am in your pyjamas, when suddenly death aliens rain pain all around and you’re abducted only to be saved by tall buff alien commander lady. Romance ensues. Maybe, it’s slow burn but quite enjoyable to read.

Blush/10

Scoob and Shag by Misterie Krew [ongoing]

Scoob and his best pal Shag are up to their usual hi-jinks, but everything is not as it seems in their latest adventure. 

No relations to any character whatsoever. None. None at all. Also no relations to any kind of sense at all either. Can’t quite explain that one except that it’s genius. Just read it.

Is that a gun?/10

Bewitched by peachyytown [ongoing]

The witch who keeps "kidnapping" the princess is actually her girlfriend and they're just going on dates.

Short but cute alternative take on all that witch/monster/princess shenanigans. In the same vein as Our days in Lumain. Also the art is very nice.

Meetcute/10

When the Pink Trees Bear Fruit by neggut [completed]

A sweet love blooms between two women on an orchard in 1973.

A short story, five chapters only, but play devastatingly well with one’s heart. In the same vein as It Stems From Love by Soya S. Holm. neggut ist sehr gut.

Tears/10

Rooftops & Roommates by Zaanart [ongoing]

Jeb is an architecture major at university, rooming with his best friend Todd. There's just one problem... Jeb’s secretly a gargoyle! Between studying, partying, and a bad ghost problem, will Jeb be able to keep his true identity a secret?

Jeb is sweet, Jeb is fresh, but Jeb is decidedly not very good at keeping a secret. It’s funny, slice-of-life, roommate college shenanigans at its finest. With a magical twist.

Ship/10

Everything is Fine by Mike Birchall [ongoing]

Sam and Maggie are a normal couple, in a normal house, in a normal neighborhood. There is nothing strange about their heads, their neighbors or their sweet little dog. Everything is Fine.

I haven’t actually started this one yet, but the premise is very very very interesting. Perhaps not for thos who are faint of heart? Deceptively cute. Or is it?

It��s fine/10

Castle Swimmer by Wendy Lian Martin [ongoing]

What happens when your entire life is ruled by a prophecy – your future foretold by people you’ve never met, who died long before you were born.  Such is the story of two young sea creatures.  One believed to be a guiding light for his people, a Beacon who will lead them to a bright, prosperous future.  The other is a teenage prince for who’s destiny is to KILL the Beacon so that HIS own people might thrive.  When both reject the course set for them, it leads to a raucous adventure as big and unpredictable as the ocean itself – and a romance that nobody could have predicted.

It’s fish. It’s gay. It’s under da sea and ya gotta kiss the boy. I haven’t read it all yet but enough to vouch for it and to have some vested interest in the universe and its lore.

Enemies to lovers/10

Demon Highschool by Kiiyoko [ongoing]

After a compromise it was agreed that criminals would attend a "demons highschool" where they would work as slaves for demons And while it was all in good favor, things take a very dark and twisted turn at said, highschool.

There’s something, some kind of twist, about the MC which I haven’t gotten to yet, and which I am very interested to discover. I’m not quite sure how I feel about this one as of now, mostly curious I’d say.

Pet/10

Hooky by Miriam Bonastre Tur [completed]

Dani and Dorian have missed the bus of the school of magic. Now, they must find someone who teach them how to be a great and good witches... Or maybe not.​ 

This one is a strange one about witchery and family. Surprisingly deep and serious at times, very enjoyable. Unfinished on Webtoon but a good start to get into the story.

Siblings/10

Loving Reaper by Jenny Jinya [ongoing]

Animals struggle. Pets and Wildlife alike. The reaper cares for their stories and helps them with the crossover. Short stories about the "Loving Reaper" to raise awareness and collect funds. Breaking hearts for a good cause.

Beautiful bittersweet stories about animals, pets, life and death and love.

Tissues/10

Batman: Wayne Family Adventures by StarBite, CRC Payne, Kielamel Siba, Lan Ma, C.M. Cameron, and Camille Cruz [ongoing]

Batman needs a break. But with new vigilante Duke Thomas moving into Wayne Manor and an endless supply of adopted, fostered, and biological superhero children to manage, Bruce Wayne is going to have his hands full. Being a father can't be harder than being Batman, right? 

What if Bat-family but happy? Official comic, barely started, very fun.

Wholesome/10

The First Night With the Duke by MSG, Taeva, from an original work by Hwang DoTol [ongoing]

A handsome, selfish noble falls for a beautiful, kind commoner -- at least, that’s how the story’s supposed to go. When an average college student wakes up as Ripley, an extra in her favorite romance novel, she resolves to enjoy the luxuries of her character’s status while watching the novel's plot unfold from the sidelines. However, her plans are soon derailed when she finds herself in bed with no other than Duke Zeronis, the novel’s hero! Dodging the villainess’ schemes, the Duke’s advances, and her own feelings, can Ripley keep the story on track and survive beyond the first night? 

Haven’t read that one but a very dear (and respectable) friend (*cough*  @berigolote​  *cough*) of mine keeps pestering me to give it a try. So here it is, try it.

Do it before me and you get a cookie/10

HEART Anthology by Marvin.W, caw-chan and many other artists. [ongoing]

Featuring stories from the 2020 Short Story Contest!  From wholesome stories to tearjerkers, are you ready to catch these feelings?

A collection of beautiful stories on the shorter side, all about the many kinds of love in life, the many beauties of it, and the pains that make it worth living.

Tears that warm the heart/10

In My Heart by Redfield42 [ongong]

Sasaki Mari is a typical delinquent troublemaker whose only goal is to get a boyfriend, but due to her reputation as bully and low grades, all the boys reject her. Then she decides to change her style, and asks for help from the student with the best grades in the class.

It starts off light and fund and progressively seems to delve a little bit more into the seriousness of life. Not a tragedy, however, and very much worth a read still.

I think I have a trope I like/10

My awkward princess by LazyArts [ongoing]

This love story is about a girl named Luna charlotte, and the student council president Alice Evelyn. Luna is a delinquent whom often gets in trouble, as Luna reaches the end of the line she almost gets expelled, now luna has to become a model student with the help of Alice. Will Luna be expelled or will she succeed, read to find out.

Along the lines of Not So Shoujo Love Story, In My Heart, and Susuhara is a Demon. Delinquent/Good Student meetcute, romantinc hijincks ensue.

Seduction/10

RAINBOW! by Rue & Sunny Gloom [ongoing]

This is the story of a girl named Boo. She has pink hair and a vivid imagination and she is about to discover a side of herself that she never considered before. 

Okay, so yes, this one is also also a delinquent meets cute nice girl, but - BUT! - there’s an element of story telling that I love about it: the way we see Boo’s anxiety incorporated visually into the story. Just for that it is one of my favourite recent discoveries!

Protecc/10

-----------------------

Okay, that’s all for part II. Hope you enjoy those as much as I do. Thanks for your attention, sorry for the length and, please, do keep on reading, they all deserve it! As do you.

PART I

[broken-hearts-lives-among-us]

Pretending (Part 4) Jughead J. x Reader

Hi~ Long time no read haha, I honestly drop this story because my life became busier with college, and then I stopped watching the show as the plot lose my interest. Yet, as I was reliving my Tumblr I came across with Part 3 and Part 2, which I really enjoyed, so I thought I might just give the story an end, since I’m fond to the characters of the show and my own OCs, Not really sure if anyone is gonna read it, specially since I won’t be following the exact plot and timeline as the original show, but, I kinda feel that’s what an imagine is about, so ooopsie

—

Summary: Drama in Riverdale seems to never end, your home-life was a mess, your past was still hunting you, yet, breaking up with your boyfriend was the last straw that broke the camel’s back. How are you supposed to go through all the chaos that was coming? Are you going to keep pretending to be the normal nice girl? Or his your heart willing to reveal it’s true skin?

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Pairing: Jughead Jones x reader

Words: 4583

Note: English isn’t my first language, I deeply apologize for any mistake.

Disclaimer: Since I’m writing this as someone who doesn’t follow the current plot of the show, I’m unaware of the fandom’s situation, so I just want to clarify that this fic is only meant to entertain, it doesn’t hate or trash in any character, I still love the cast of the show so I’m not here with any negative vibes, pls keep it like this, I’ll try my best to write the most human, imperfect, mistake makers characters, you’re welcome not to read if you don’t like it, thanks y’all!

“Easy there, Hot Dog.” you said calming down the little dog that seemed overwhelmed by the presence of the beanie-less Jughead Jones III. “He’s family.” You added smirking at him, quite pleasant by the shock in his features.

Tall Boy started talking, dragging his attention from you to the man. “We heard your dad could have named names, but he didn’t.”

His eyes were on you just as he heard that, you just winked an eye to him.

“We wanted you to know, no matter what happens to him, however long he's gone, we've got your back.”

The serpents were all looking at him, some with decision and compromise, some with thankful welcoming eyes.

“This is yours… If you want it.” You mentioned, giving him a leather jacket with the Southside Serpents’ logo.

Your heart flattered as you saw him putting on the jack.

Good Lord, he’s hot.

No one could deny how good Jughead looked in that jacket, it suited him perfectly, he belonged to them. You looked at him, smiling as you with that quirky sparkle in his eyes, and he smiled to you slightly.

Like it was meant to be.

“Juggy?”

Snap.

That’s how you felt your world while you and the Jones kid both turn around to see a pretty blonde girl hiding her body behind the wall, confusion marked all over her face. It didn’t take you long to notice the state of her clothes.

His clothes too.

Oh.

Noticing the sudden mood in the air, Jughead spun around seeing at your figure with horror in his eyes.

“I think we might have interrupted something, gentlemen.” You said towards the group without looking at him. “We should leave.” You got down the stairs as you suggest the departure.

“Dismiss.” Ordered Tall Boy, everyone following you, as you became smaller and smaller with the distance.

You collapse in your homemade bed as you arrived at the Whyte Wrym, you’re staying in a little room at the second floor thanks to the fact that the manager owned FP a favor. You felt Hot Dog jumping by your side.

“Can you believe it Hot Dog?” you said looking at him incredulous. “I mean, yeah we waited because when we started to date we were too young to make that kind of things, but even tho, hell they have just been some months together.” You covered your face with your hands, memories of Jughead’s touch filling your mind.

He was so fucking good and lovely at bed.

And now all of that was in hands of the Cooper girl.

“Here comes the green-eye monster Hottie.” You announced looking at the puppy. “How he dares forgetting me so easily? I’m glad we ruined their night.” You huffed crossing your arms.

As your head started to hurt you decided it was better to sleep than overthink. You cuddle as you could, embracing Hot Dog between your arms, closing your eyes hoping that the next day you would be blessed to avoid the beanie boy.

Successfully, you hadn’t see your ex for a week or so, apparently, he kept dumping classes to go to the northside, but who could blame him? With all this Archie’s father being shot and The Black Hood thing going on, it was pretty normal for him to be there.

If not, he was shut in the Red&Black newspaper office. It was kind of funny, yet kind of sad how you two would remain like strangers under the same roof, even if not so along you were soulmates.

With that being said, today was an odd day, you entered your class as normal, your presence shutting down everyone as usual, walked to your destined seat, in front of Toni, diagonal to Sweet Pea and beside Jughead. What?

You faced at your left being welcomed by those intense blue-greenish eyes that could make everyone in the room faint with a stare. You looked sights for a second, broke apart when the professor entered the room.

He started to talk, the class started to become noisier, making the teacher fight for the attention, it made you grew impatient at the idiotic attitude of your classmates. You harshly kicked the desk at your right startling everyone, the room fall in silence just a second later.

“Thank you, Miss Y/L/N.” said the professor continuing with the lecture, you nodded absently as you tried to focus on his words rather than the handsome boy next-desk that couldn’t keep look away from you.

The class kept the same pace you had managed to achieve, your mind spaced out as the clock’s tic-tac rhythm filled the room, making everyone count the seconds unconsciously. Distracting you from the pass of the time a little paper ball was throw to you from your left.

You opened cautiously, no bothering in turning around to see the paper’s owner.

“What was that?” was written in a small quick handwriting.

You furrowed your eyebrows crumpling the paper and throwing it away.

Just a few seconds later another paper ball landed in your desk. You sighed no bothering open it, you just set it aside.

A minute later it wasn’t a ball what arrived, it was a full paper plane with the words ‘Stop ignoring me’ written at a wing.

You opened it tired of the little game.

‘What was that?’

You rolled your eyes taking a pen answering. ‘What was what?’ you threw the paper at his direction not even looking, you could hear Toni chuckling behind you, well at least she was having fun.

The paper was with you a minute later, his plane form was built again.

‘Earlier you hit a desk, and everyone shut up.’

‘Yeah, you’re welcomed.’

You extended your arm to pass him the paper this time, your hands touched as he took it.

‘I owe you my life ;P but my question was why did they shut up because of you, they looked afraid.’

You couldn’t help but smile a little at the little face he drew in the paper. ‘Oh no, they weren’t afraid. Well, not at all, they just respect me. And lets just keep it like that.’

You looked at him finally, leaving the paper at his desk. “End of the conversation.” You said quietly, the bell ringing just a second later, you took your stuff and stormed out of the class before anyone else.

Jughead’s PoV

I sat at the canteen with the other serpents, my eyes instantly scanning the place to see a certain Y/H with Y/H/C.

“Where’s Y/N?” I asked as she was nowhere near to be seen.

“She doesn’t sit with us.” Said Sweet Pea bluntly.

I just throw a confused look to Toni.

“She just sits there.” She said calmly pointing out at her in a desk a little far away, all alone.

“What the hell?!” I felt by heart sinking in fear at her sight “You just let her sit alone?! The Ghoullies are gonna eat her alive!” as sudden as I said that the table broke in laughs.

Noticing my unbelieved face Toni faced me. “I kind of think she sits there to protect us.”

“How?” I asked as her answer didn’t make any sense.

“Well, she used to sit with us, but the Ghoullies did come to bother her even if we were with her, after that she started sitting alone.”

“The Ghoullies stopped coming, just focused on her.” Continued Fangs.

“Why?”

“Because she was Southside’s bookworm.” Answered Sweet Pea making me glared at him because of the nickname he has given to her.

“And even if we tried to help her she stopped us.” Fangs sighed as everyone else nodded.

“But now none of the Ghoullies has the guts to face her.” I looked up at Sweet Pea who was smirking at Y/N’s direction.

I arched a brow confused. “Are you kidding me?”

“No” said Toni smiling. “It’s true, it was awesome Jones. One day an idiotic asshole Ghoullie mentioned her family and threated her about hurting her cousin.”

“She exploded.” Fangs concluded with a glint of joy in his eyes.

“What do you mean?” I said gulping the anxiety out of my voice.

“She beat the hell out of him and his friends.” Sweet Pea nodded fondly at the memory.

“Sweet Pea had to stop her when she took the fire extinguisher.”

He nodded again. “I’m still curious about what she would have done with it.”

“That’s how she finished earning the respect of all the gang and the school.” Toni finished, all looking at Y/N’s desk where she ate an apple reading a little book in her other hand. “She looked so hot. The serpent’s loner wolf.”

“Riverdale’s Sweetheart.” Argued Fangs earning a glare from Toni.

“Southside’s bookworm.” Said SP taking part of the argument.

I felt my blood boiling at their comments. “That’s enough.” I scold them loudly dragging their attention to me. “Stop tagging her for God’s sake. She hates that. You can’t just classify her in a category you know? Y/N is just too unique to fit in one of those mundane descriptions.” I ranted taking my tray.

I leaved the serpent’s safe zone and proceeded to walk towards the girl with the serpent jacket and the book.

“Mind if I sit?” I said taking the seat in front of her.

“I actually mind, yes. But as always you’re just gonna do whatever you want.” She said not even looking at me.

I took a moment to appreciate her, with all the shit that has been going on the town, I hadn’t notice her subtle change, her makeup was just a smidge more notorious and rebellious, her hair was more wild, her soft face was now contrasted by her hard expression, her Serpent jacket embraced her body in all the right places, she emitted this new sensation of power and sassiness, even with the sweet glimpse that was still in her eyes.

“You know Jones? That look you’re strolling all over my body can be consider sexual harassment, jail won’t be seen good at your curriculum.” She said quietly, yet cold enough to freeze my train of thought.

I blushed furiously as she noticed it. “Sorry, it’s just… You look different.”

“I guess.” She muttered bluntly.

“It suits you.” I smirk at her slightly.

She looked at me for the first time in all the conversation. “Thanks.” Her eyes sunk down at her book again, I didn’t feel her blush, her voice didn’t stutter neither, her eyes didn’t look at mine with warm, unlike every time I used to compliment her, and it hurt me, the fact that she treated me like a stranger was slowly killing me.

“Y/N… Listen, I’m being honest. I don’t like our current status.” I said snatching her book to have her full attention.

“Oh, you mean ex-boyfriend and ex-girlfriend? Well I’m sorry it bothers you, but it wasn’t my decision.” She took the book away from me.

“I know… I know I hurt you and I’m sorry for that, I didn’t mean to screw up the things between us, but, can’t we just be friends? Please…”

She locked eyes at me, thinking quietly, she slowly began to open her book, ready to ignore me again. Being as fast as I could I took the book again this time my other hand has gripping her wrist.

She sighed. “I guess I could pretend to.” I could her the bluntness in her voice.

“Pretend?” I repeat quietly amused. “I was expecting something more real… Like a true friend, I need you here Y/N.”

“Well I’m sorry it’s disappointing to you but is the best I can offer you.”

“Why can’t we just be friends, like when we were kids… Come on, don’t you miss me…?” I hold her hand between mine, craving to feel her warming soft skin.

“No. We can’t.” She removed her hand from mine.

I silently cursed, her rejection hurting me down my soul.

“Why not?” I asked bitterly.

“Because friends don’t love each other like I love you. Because friends don’t crave for the touch and the kisses of the other. Because friends can be okay to see you with your girlfriend. But I can’t, I can’t be your friend because I’m in love with you, you idiot, I want to be your girl, I want to be your best friend, your confident, your person. But I’m not, so don’t ask me to be okay and be your friend. Because I can’t, I just can pretend to.”

I saw her eyes growing watery, but I didn’t say anything, I couldn’t react I didn’t know how, she has never talked to me so harshly. She blinked, stopping the tears from falling, she avoided my eyes and stood up, walking trough the door, leaving me there, with her book between my hands, in the cold lonely bench, in a cold lonely mess.

I saw the book’s cover, it was a little antique poem book we stole from the library some years ago, I flip the pages until end, there in the back face of the book, was a little photo attached with some tape, it was an old polaroid photo of us, with Tobias, the baby was in her arms giggling, I had my hands in her waist as I embraced her, she between my legs, her back leaning against my torso, I was looking at the camera with a faint smile, and she was…

She was looking at me…

I tighten my grip on the book as I exanimated her face, her pupils were slightly bigger, and her smile was little, but warmly breathtaking, her eyes were soft, I knew that expression, it was the same she put whenever she admire something, like an art piece, or when Tobias said his first word, I loved that expression, yet, I never knew…

She saw me like that.

My heart sunk as the realization that maybe, maybe all this time I never took a moment to realize those little things about her, and our relationship, and now it was too late to think of them, maybe…

Maybe I got too used to have her around, that I looked at her, but I didn’t see her.

Life has mastered the irony, as the loner boy was now the one to say hi, when he was the first to say bye, and the sweet girl refused to answer back as she tried hard not to fall apart.

I went to the Red&Black office to clear my mind, I took the local newspaper and my heart pound as a read the headline, a cryptograph from the Black Hood to solve? Sounds like a case for Sherlock Jones, I sat starting to analyze it when the creaking sound of the door caught my attention.

There she was, Y/N herself entering the office with Toni, some boxes in their hands.

“Oh, you’re here.” Toni said putting her box in the desk.

“Yeah… Hey have you seen the news?” I said looking at both.

Y/N just left her box next to Toni´s and stormed out of the room.

Toni looked at me with a scold on her face. “Did you do something to her?”

“W-What? No, she’s just… We’re in the middle of the ex’s war zone.”

“Ex?” She said widening her eyes.

“You didn’t know? I thought you knew her!” I replied mimicking her expression.

“And I do, but she never talked about her love life, I didn’t get to ask her neither.”

I sighed covering my face with my hands. “Don’t tell anyone.” I asked sternly.

“May I ask what happen?” She said raising a brow. “Like bro, who dumps a girl like Y/N? or what did she did for you to leave her. No wait, did she dumped you? That makes more sense.”

I looked at her, too tired to explain myself or to discuss, I just told her everything vaguely.

“So, Mrs. Pony Tail and you started to grow closer, you both develop feelings and she convinced you to try a relationship even tho she knew that you were Y/N’s everything.”

“No!” I yelled angry. “When you say it like that it sounds cruel.”

“And you really just left an almost three years, relationship like that. You’re easier than I thought Jones.”

I growled. “Thanks Toni.” I give her the newspaper changing the subject. “Wanna solved it together?”

She sighted looking at me, smirking faintly. “Hell yeah.”

Y/N’s PoV.

There was an awkward silence in the room, just the sound of the pencils on the paper or the flipping of the pages filling the mood.

I can’t really tell how I ended up in this situation, I just know that I gave up at Toni’s begging for me to join she and Jug to decipher the Black Hood’s code, but she never mentioned it was going to be at Jug’s trailer, neither she told me that Betty was coming too, although the pissed expression in her face makes me believe she had no idea.

The bright side of this was that Kevin had come too, I was so happy to see him that I just jumped into his arms when he noticed me, he was currently resting my back against mine as we helped each other to reach a comfort

“These symbols look so familiar to me.” Said Betty breaking the silence, catching all our attention. “It's like I've seen them before and it's driving me crazy I can't figure out where.” She added sounding frustrated.

“Maybe if you loosened your ponytail.” Said Toni bluntly. I facepalmed internally as I saw the offended faces of the Northsiders. “What? That was a joke, guys.” she cleared, yet it was already too late, I sight hearing Kevin’s indignation.

“Betty's ponytail is iconic and beyond reproach.”

“Kev. It's fine. And at this point, I'm willing to try anything.” Betty said loosening her ponytail as Toni said, being free from it.

I looked at her for a moment as the other returned to discuss the important matter of the night. Betty wasn’t a bad girl, not even close, yet I couldn’t help but be mad, she knew all my story with Jughead, every single fucking detail, and yet she didn’t even think about it when they started dating… But then again, I didn’t have any right in the Jones boy… He was free to fall in love and leave, so was Betty.

I heard vaguely part of their conversation as I started to feel dizzy, getting even sicker as I notice the tension in their voices, there was a war getting near, I could feel it.

“No, I mean like why, why is he killing people? Or at least, why now? We know the Hood's obsessed with cleansing the town of sinners and hypocrites, right? And he seems to be attacking anyone with ties to the Northside.” I tried to focus in Betty’s analysis as my head spun around.

“Here we go with the fake news again.” Said Toni getting in a defensive attitude, I slapped myself mentally finally waking up as I knew this wasn’t going to end well.

“Toni.” I said calmly looking at her. “Breath.”

“No! This Northsiders and their privilege. All you do is demonize the Southside so of course you think the Black Hood's from there.”

“It's not demonizing, Toni. It's stating facts.” Betty excused herself not helping Toni to calm down. “There's way more drugs and gangs.” The little Cooper continued, yet it didn’t take long for Toni to interpose.

“And the drugs you mean which were sold primarily to Northside crackheads? And what about the Northside Neo-Nazis?” Perfect, Archie´s little gang was now on the discussion. I looked at Kevin’s awkwardness, sharing the feeling, as we were the ones in the middle watching all the drama.

“The Red Circle?”

“The Red Psychos, you mean. Hell, Betty, I'm surprised you haven't just come out and said it yet.”

“Said what?”

“That you think the Black Hood's a Serpent. We all know how much you hate us.”

“Okay, Toni. I don't hate the Serpents.”

“Oh, yeah? Says the girl who stole a good friend’s boyfriend, mostly just as a whim than for love. Then, tell me why is it that your boyfriend here lies about the fact that he sits with us at lunch?” She ranted her breath getting heavy, I took her arm as I stood up.

“That’s enough Toni, we should go okay?” she scoffed taking her arm back from my grip but starting to gather her things.

“Yeah I’m gonna go too.” Said Kevin looking away from the situation. “Maybe I can walk you home.” He added looking at us, Toni just glared at him. “Or you can walk me home.” He muttered as we exit the trailer, making me chuckle a little.

I took a last glance at the quirky couple we had left behind, being slightly worried for the fight I knew we had caused.

I sighed shaking the thoughts from my head and I looked at Kevin. “Do you want me to take you home?”

“I don’t know, then you’re gonna be all alone walking in the middle of the night when you return.”

“Who said we were going to walk?” I smiled at him passing him a helmet.

He gasped at the sight of it and looked at me in disbelieve. “No way.”

I just laughed. “This way.” I said guiding him to where I had parked my motorcycle. “Beautiful right?” I said caressing the seat.

“Who would imagine little sweet Y/N in a beast like this?” He said amazed. “Boys most be head over heels for your bad girl version, right?”

“Just a smidge” I winked at him jokingly “Wanna do a bad boy version yourself?” I said sit think in the motorcycle “Come on lazy turtle, hop on.”

After dropping Kevin at his house, winning a worried glance from our local sheriff by the way -I guess laying to him didn’t help our relationship- I returned to the White Wrym ready to shut everything down and gain a good night of sleep.

-

Since the day after the “solve coding party” was Saturday you decided to help serving at the White Wrym thing you usually did whenever you got the time as a way to show gratitude for your little room and your food. Life was just easier like this, not worrying about anything or anyone, your only problem now was, ironically, Forsythe Pendleton Jughead Jones III. Screw him for interrupting your peace.

“What are you thinking about?” The voice of the pink haired serpent girl woke you up from your thoughts.

You looked at her for a straight second without saying anything as if you were still on a trance.

“Um.. . There’s a murderer on the loose, I have to finish my report before Monday and Hog Eye is running out of tequila” you listed as you cleaned some glasses from the place “There’s a lot to think about Toni”

She raised an eyebrow skeptical “Yeah… Sure… That includes Jughead Jones, am I right?”

“Not quite actually, but it does include the little war that was throw yesterday at his trailer” You looked at her putting a glass down and sighed “They’re not bad Toni, Betty is not just a basic mean girl… She’s nice”

“Are you really defending that white Northside girl? And after she stole your boyfriend?” She asked indignated.

You took a heavy breathe “Northsider or not, that doesn’t matter at all, she’s not bad, and I still appreciate her as a friend. Am I hurt? Yes. Am I angry? Yeah, a little bit. But Betty didn’t put a gun in Jones’ head, he could have said no, yet he didn’t, and is his right, and is her right to fall in love with whoever she wants… I believe in sorority and I can’t just judge her and shame her or hate her because of this… This things… They just happens sometimes. She’s not the bitch you think she is.”

Toni looked at the floor taking your words in, thoughtfully, maybe even a little ashame.

“But” you continued, smiling at her truthfully “I highly appreciate the fact that you like me enough to acknowledge and worry about my feelings, thank you Toni, for real, you’re a great friend” You took her hand squeezing it a little bit, she looked at you slightly surprised at this new face you had never show to her.

You didn’t saw, or heard about anyone from the other side of the own in the whole, it was just as usual as before everything in Riverdale started falling down.

And even if you felt comfortable with the mood, you couldn’t help but think it was a bit strange too, as you saw the moonlight walking down the rain, an uneasy feeling started forming on your gut. Maybe it had something to do with the serial killer on the loose, maybe.

You heard a spray paint can, the unique sound of the paint being ejected against the wall caught your attention, yet you didn’t look for the source, since that wasn’t unusual in this part of the town, you decided it was better to ignored it, but after hearing Archie’s voice you couldn’t help but turn around.

“You can’t just come here and tag our turf.” Said Sweet Pea with anger in his voice. “So why don’t you get your ass back to the Northside before someone gets hurt?” He snapped at Archie threatening.

“Get my way, or someone will be hurt” said Archie without a glimpse of fear in his voice.

“You just made a terrible mistake” you saw Sweet Pea taking his knife out of his pocket, your blood turned cold and you ran as fast ass you could.

“Sweet Pea! NO! Stop!” You yelled, your words trying to reach him. Yet your steps stopped abruptly as you saw with fear the gun Archie had in front of you three, as you heard his heartbroken, heavy, tired and paranoid voice screaming “Who made a mistake?!”

“What the hell?!” Was the last thing you heard from the pair of serpent that was there before they ran off, yet you didn’t run, looking straight into Archie’s eyes.

You watched him carefully as he put the weapon down, breathing heavily squeezing his knees.

You contemplated the big red circle on the wall for a minute “I’ll guess you need a ride” He looked at you saying nothing, still in shock.

“It’s been a long time” You commented as you stopped in front of Archie’s house “The last time I was here Jughead broke my heart” a bittersweet laugh scape from your lips but you shut it as you saw Archie’s uncomfortable expression.

“Sorry, that was something dumb to say” the blush in your face creeped as you apologized.

Archie nooded, not knowing what to say “Do you want to come in and dry yourself?” He asked with concerned seeing your wet dripping because of the rain.

You smiled at him feeling that little nostalgic warmth “Yes, yes please” he opened the door as you followed him, both of you oblivious of the worried blonde her next door.

“Veronica? I think you better come here, quick!” Said Betty, concerned following her trembling voice.

“Archie might cheat on you!” Was the last thing Veronica Lodge heard before hung up her phone.

~

Hi again~ if you read everything till here and you liked it, thanks for the support! I’ll do my best to not disappear again oopsie

Tag list:

@somethingweird168 @evanpeters3826 @trumpettay @oxoxo0 @superhalsteads @the-mad-girl-with-a-book @beforethebraces @agusdoti @zarinnaaaa @unaveragewriterfreak @k-n-e @letsdosciencekids  @immanuelreblogs @prettyylamee @honeyveeeee @sineadgereal @buttercups145

[skittlewaffle]

Heartstrings

Chapter Two: A Sign

☆*:.｡.⭐️.｡.:*☆

A glint of orange light from the sun hit against my closed eyes. Morning had come, its rays flooding the atmosphere. With a sigh, I pushed myself off the concave wall of glass, looking down to spot the layered cliffs below. Thinking about my plan for today’s expedition, I wearily started to pick myself up. But suddenly, as I looked beyond my dull reflection in the glass, something not too far away caught my attention, sending a shock through me. It was a faint glimmer coming from a mountain slightly shorter than mine. I rubbed my eyes, not believing what they were showing me. I went through the facts in my mind. Firstly, I know that it’s not nighttime; there can’t be any stars out. Secondly, I might not be fully awake. Maybe my dreams were trying to make its way into my perception of reality? But thirdly, this has never happened to me before. Could it be…

“Good morning, Ametrine.”

Her voice startled me into a standing position. “Stratus, what’s going on out there?” I said, pointing to a large platform of pinkish rock. From the middle of that point stood one of those small pedestals. Right above it rested a floating octahedron. But what was normally a dormant white was now a mixture of colors joining into one blinking light.

“I am detecting signals from the Diamonds’ palace. The communicators still appear to be functional and are receiving these signals as well.”

Without another word, I nodded and dashed off to the elevator.

I knew in my head that whatever was going on with the communicators had nothing to do with me. The Lilac Plateaus had no place on any living being’s map; by extension, there was no reason to be contacting anyone who lived here. Whatever they have to say to me will probably mean nothing. But there was still that desire in me to see something more than rocks and flowers. One current event going on somewhere in the universe, many of which I’ve missed out on until this very moment. The chance to see something actively unfolding elsewhere the barren mountains in which I’ve been isolated.

I ran across bridges, climbed some rocks, and jumped between cliffs. Hundreds of years of living here provided me extensive knowledge of this place, like every feature was part of a map built into my brain. Not only that, but I was very skilled in traversing terrain as difficult as this.

It wasn’t too long before I finally made it to the communicator. The message had long since stopped playing, but the light was still blinking. Up this close, I could see the exact colors the device was made of: the colors of every Diamond. With every flash of light, the device made an electronic beep. For the first time in my life, I took the communicator into my own hands. I simply let the light flood me… I don’t know how to work these things.

But with just one light tap, the octahedron became two pyramids, drawing away from each other to pull out a screen. It expanded slowly, letting out short glitches before blurry images on the screen began to take a sharper form. My eyes widened.

“Once upon a time, the Gem Homeworld was ruled by Diamonds: White, Yellow, Blue, and the littlest Diamond, Pink.”

…Was?

“While the other Diamonds conquered many worlds across the galaxy, Pink had only one — the planet Earth. One day, Pink fled the comforts of Homeworld. On Earth, she made a new home, new friends, and finally, new life, giving up her form to bequeath her gem to her half-human son.”

Majorly confusing, but… intriguing.

“Without Pink, gemkind entered an era of despair. But when Steven Universe learned of his heritage, he reunited with his fellow Diamonds and championed a new era of peace and freedom across the furthest reaches of space.”

The view shifted to reveal the face of the very owner of my home colony, White Diamond. I eagerly leaned forward, taking in every single word.

“And now, dear gems everywhere, I’m pleased to announce that Steven is finally ready to take his rightful place on Pink Diamond’s throne!”

I tilted my head as the screen showing White Diamond’s face went down to a strange new gem called Steven.

“How’s it going, everybody? I know you all might be thinking of me as the new Pink Diamond, but you don't have to put me on a throne.”

...?

“I already have a rightful place, and it's on Earth. It's a beach house where I live with my friends, Garnet, Amethyst, and Pearl. As much as I loved dismantling the empire and saving all your planets, I can't wait to get home and spend some quality time with my friends.”

She- I mean.. he... had a friendly sparkle in his eyes as the broadcast ended, shortly after a few murmurs were exchanged by a couple other gems in the background. I was honestly so full of questions. This is a feeling I haven’t had in a while.. curiosity. The kind that really makes you think. Somehow, this one short message was enough to power on my imagination again. How long ago was this? What all happened during this supposed previous era? Who exactly were Pink’s friends? ...Where was Pink?

The communicator immediately shut itself closed. I looked up at the morning sky and pondered these unanswered questions in my head. When stumped, I replayed the message from Steven and the Diamonds, trying to pick up missed clues.

All the buzzing thoughts were hard to keep track of. From out of my glowing gem I pulled out a device visually similar to the communicator. This is a projector, a tool invented exclusively for Ametrines to take notes on and write their thoughts. I compiled my questions and possible answers on organized slides. I kept the communicator and brought it back to my Cloud, knowing I’d have a lot of thinking to do.

☆*:.｡.⭐️.｡.:*☆

This new occurrence actually brought me and Stratus something worthy of discussion. I exchanged my own theories to her about the history of the eras I have missed. She replied with approval of my creativity, as well as with a bit of knowledge about the roles of higher ranked gem authorities. For the rest of the day, instead of exploring again, I remained on my own mountain, pondering the message from this Steven.

On my own, after writing down everything I thought about the message as it applied to history, I began to wonder how this applied to me.

The main point of the message I picked up was that, for some reason, Pink was no longer part of the Diamond Authority; and the empire was dismantled, rendering the conquered worlds independent. This was the doing of Steven, after he took her place.

I don’t know Steven. I don’t even know the Diamonds. I don’t know a society or friends. If I’m being real, I hardly know myself.

But if there’s something I do know, it’s that none of these people had any effect on me. I was never obligated to answer to anyone, or even to follow the Diamonds’ established laws. As a result of Steven’s newfound authority, the colonies were set free; but this one never mattered. I had always been free to do as I pleased in the plateaus.

So… The new event was fun while it lasted. It brought about exciting development, even if only for a moment.

But I think I’m happy where I am now.

☆*:.｡.⭐️.｡.:*☆

(A/N: Surprise, fools >:D New chapter is out!! uwu I need advice tho.. at some point should I switch to third person omniscient? If possible, please reply / reblog and lemme know ur opinion! Feedback on the fic overall is also welcome~ I hope u enjoy 💖 Have another Ametrine you’ve already seen cuz I still don’t have a cover-)

[awesomelephuoclocblog-blog]

https://lephuocloc.com/cloudfunnels-review/

CloudFunnels Review – Introduction

It is certain that business channels expect a critical activity in finding, taking care of, and building up your ideal customer base. With the help of a business pipe, you can extend bargains tremendously.

A business channel fundamentally imitates the impact method to change over purchasing potential into purchasing movement. The further down the channel, the higher the purchase potential.

According to estimations, 80% of salary starts from 20% of customers. The more customers you fill the most noteworthy purpose of your channel, the more courses of action you'll have at the base.

As such, in case you can satisfy the prerequisites of customers to the most extraordinary, not solely would you have the option to sell a lot of things, yet you moreover have relentless customers who can endorse your things to their sidekicks.

Thusly, to grow arrangements and advantages, amassing a business channel is a convincing smoothing out technique. In any case, how? Keep examining my CloudFunnels Review to find more.

CloudFunnels Review – Overview

Vendor: Cyril Jeet

Product: CloudFunnels

Dispatch Date: 2020-May-22

Dispatch Time: 11:00 EDT

Front-End Price: $47

Recommendation: Highly Recommend

Home Page http://getcloudfunnels.in

Refund: 30 Days Money Back Guarantee

Niche: Software

CloudFunnels Review – What Is CloudFunnels?

CloudFunnels is a free no matter how you look at it progressed advancing stage that empowers you manufacture a business channel, which causes you build up your online business. With CloudFunnels, building a business pipe has never been so common.

Using CloudFunnels, you won't need to buy extra encouraging. In like manner, you can make destinations, welcoming pages, site cooperation site to sell your things.

Gotten together with many sharp applications and instruments, I acknowledge that CloudFunnels will be your best right hand.

Taking everything in account, okay prefer to build an online business structure with various imaginative publicizing circumstances to attract target customers and convert progressively target customers into buyers? Keep examining to know-how!

How Does CloudFunnels Work?

CloudFunnels doesn't require any specific capacities consequently, in order to make a business pipe without any planning, you essentially need to follow these 3 phases

Stage 1: Log in

Stage 2: Create your business pipe reliant on the organizations

Stage 3: Publish and get paid

CLOUDFUNNELS RATING

Easy TO USE PRICE FEATURE QUALITY SUPPORT BONUS

Overview

CloudFunnels is a free in all cases progressed advancing stage that energizes you build a business pipe, which causes you build up your online business. With CloudFunnels, building a business pipe has never been so normal.

Using CloudFunnels, you won't need to buy extra encouraging. In like manner, you can make locales, introduction pages, site cooperation site to sell your things.

Gotten together with many clever applications and gadgets, I acknowledge that CloudFunnels will be your best associate.

All things considered, okay prefer to manufacture an online business structure with various inventive exhibiting circumstances to pull in target customers and convert increasingly target customers into buyers? Keep scrutinizing to know-how!

All things considered

4.9

Stars

Make a divert in minutes

Unimaginable WYSIWYG organizer

Successfully make things

Make investments fast

Make records and get leads

Pivotal email computerization

Valuable examination

GDPR great

A/B testing

Cons

Up to now, there is none

CloudFunnels Review – About the maker

0.1

Cyril Jeet is a prominent name in the web exhibiting field. He has filled in as a thing merchant for more than 20 years. During this time, various publicists have trusted and picked him to be their guide.

These are a segment of his eminent things that I have to make reference to, for instance, Memester Video Edition, Mobiflux, Livecaster 3, Pinflux 2, CoreSEO, consequently some more.

Given his success, okay say you are intrigued about what CloudFunnels can bring you? On the off chance that it's not all that much difficulty continue ahead tho the accompanying part.

CloudFunnels Review – Features And Benefits

Gather bargains pipe for you

A sensible arrangements channel can help you with expanding your advantage hugely. In addition, with CloudFunnels, a business funnel can be worked by pulling, and dropping.

For example, you sell visits. Likewise, various people examine for a particular journey through you on Google and you can start to manufacture a situating for the watchword "visit ABC". By and by there will be:

100 people see your page on recorded records.

40 people click on your site. Here, they see a 20% markdown, yet to get them they ought to enter their email into the selection box.

20 people decided to get this headway.

10 people decided to buy and recoup this exceptional code.

What's more at each stage, there is reliably a particular degree of explorers that drop out of the channel.

Consequently, a business channel expect a huge activity in business works out. It looks like a guide that empowers you track customers, by then make or modify elevating procedures to be feasible in unequivocal stages.

Building customer data

It will in general be said that the summary of significant worth customers is one of the most significant resources of a business. It will help a lot in publicizing and customer care.

With a displaying pipe, you can without a very remarkable stretch draw in and contact the perfect people of interest, along these lines extending purchase change rates and customer participation.

Astute arrangements and leads assessment

CloudFunnels will give you significant examination reports, which can improve your substance. Also, this data from customer assessment can help you with improving publicizing endeavors.

Notwithstanding the way that it encourages you limited the accentuation on the most significant customer parcel, yet it furthermore speaks with them on the channels they love. A

s a result, content is scattered helpful and once in a while extends the chances of selling upsell or deliberately pitching.

Likewise, with cunning business assessment, you can fabricate the accuracy of customer regard desire. Through this, associations can pull in more brand-unfaltering customers.

The absolutely versatile investment system

One of the most recognizable points of interest of the cooperation structure is the reasonable customer upkeep, growing the amount of ardent customers for the business.

Furthermore, with CloudFunnels, you can make free interest or paid enlistment and keep full order over access.

From this time forward, through progressions, centers, you can exhibit your gratefulness to customers and fortify long stretch relationship with them.

CloudFunnels Review – My association with using it and How achieves it work?

I used this thing as a beta analyzer and today I'm going to make this real review for you.

So you can trust in everything from my review.

Hello there I'm inside the CloudFunnels dashboard as underneath:

1

From here we have these following sections: Install in solitude encouraging, present on google cloud, your foundations, make license, achieved for you game plan, and instructional activities.

1/Tutorials

CloudFunnels video getting ready gives you everything a little bit at a time, so make sure to take a gander at all these 18 accounts as underneath:

1.1

The arrangement accounts will disclose to you the most ideal approach to present CloudFunnels isolated encouraging, make pipes in CloudFunnels, make pipes in Google cloud, etc… It joins all the thing you need to know before using this item.

2/Install isolated encouraging

You can acquaint CloudFunnels with any server that supports PHP. The foundation is lively and basic and if you have ever genuinely presented substance like WordPress you should have the choice to do it with no issue.

2

You need to finish 3 phases:

Stage 1: Download CloudFunnels content.

Stage 2: Upload the substance into a coordinator on your server using FTP or Cpanel, separate the pack, plan database and produce a grant to establish CloudFunnels

Stage 3: All set. Go to the coordinator url in your program.

There's also an instructional exercise video here to give you how.

3/Install on Google Cloud

3

That is such a great amount of greate considering the way that we can present CloudFunnels on Google Cloud. It's both invaluable and humble. To do that, you need to enter adventure ID, and client ID as well.

All associations zone at the base grants you track all the exercises you have.

4/Your foundation

5

You can review your foundations around there, it licenses you follow up what are the place you have presented cloudfunnels.

You can see things like the region, the grant key and you realize some various experiences with respect to it whether your grant is slipped by or not.

5/Done for you course of action

6

Need to save your time and vi

https://lephuocloc.com/cloudfunnels-review/

https://lephuocloc.com/

[writingissues]

prompt: the first time gajeel comes home to his newly-wedded wife or the first time his kids speak/call him "dad" ♡

I picked gajeel coming back to his newly wedded Wife tho I’m not sure its obvious or whatever lmao. Anyway thank you and I hope you enjoy this and I’m sorry for taking so long!! @asamino

Wrote this while listening to this song 

Gajeel was used to being alone for most of his life. Even when he was with Metalicana he would spend most days by himself when he wasn’t supposed to be training. So, coming home to an empty room at night was something the iron dragon slayer never thought about as strange, even when Lily began living with him nothing seemed to really change nor should he ever thought it would be.  

Until she started staying over.  

It was when that room he lived in seemed to become something like a ‘home’ or a place he actually wanted to be and anticipated coming too when before he would do almost anything to not go back to a dark half empty house. But that all seemed to change when Levy came into his life, even before their relationship had changed. when she first saw his room the look of pity that crossed her face was hard to ignore since she made it painfully obvious how pathetic his living situation was.  

But when things changed between them, he was thankful that he let her redo his soon to something actually livable, especially the bed. It always seemed that because of her he began thinking of things he never thought of before, it was strange and scary at times and Gajeel hated to admit that at times he wanted to push her away. It was so strange that he never did but brought her closer to himself especially when they started to live with each other after the guild broke up.  

It was then it seemed like the most unnatural thing to be away from her. To not see her reading on the sofa or the bed, or feel her warmth beside him in bed as she snuggled up against him or stole the blankets while lightly snoring. Gajeel could feel himself smiling to himself when he would wake up cold and see her sleeping curled up.  

All before grabbing the blanket from her and unwinding her to his amusement and her half-awake yelling and sleepy hits on his arm that ran out of steam and ended with Levy spooning him asleep making Gajeel feel more content than ever.  

So, none of it should be strange when he arrived back to their home from a long mission seeing Levy there sitting on her knees at the coffee table looking through a huge book. Her features soft with a tiny smile on her lips as she leaned her head against her hand looking the most satisfied, he thinks he’s ever seen her. Though it seemed not to last long when she blinked her large brown eyes and looked up her soft smile turning bigger her face flushing.  

“You’re home! Welcome home!” she laughed as she started to get up but Gajeel shook his head a pleased grin arriving on his face.  

“Nah I’ll come to ya ya need to rest ya know.” Levy rolled her eyes and he could see her move her hand up to her small belly and then his eyes focusing on the gold band on her ring finger. They always did things a little backwards it seemed. Gajeel then moved and sat on the couch next to where she was on the floor Levy just smiled up at him before leaning her head onto his knee not saying anything. Gajeel lifted his hand then and placing it on her wavy blue hair and rubbing it back.  

“I’m home.” he finally said.  

Levy nodded looking up at him then her brown eyes shining bright, “Welcome home, Gajeel.”

Gajeel just leaned down then kissing the top of her head enjoying the laughter that came from Levy as she leaned against him and started to talk about her day and asking about his day the conversation was light and airy, something Gajeel enjoyed between them. It was not always serious or about whatever drama the guild was in at that moment, not thrown together because of situations forcing it on them. But there together enjoying even the most mundane of conversations but it always feeling like the first.  

Since it wasn’t just his room that was empty until she came into his life.  

[tmvoldemort]

Beautiful Bride~

Nagini/Tom Au Roalty drabble @corda-comminuta okay I won't tag you no more lol

The House of Slytherin was insensed with the chose of bride. He was sure a few had lost deals on their Lord from marrying such and such daughter. Their problem not his.

Around the large hall deck for the wedding they paced and complaint. "Poor, unknown, and foreign no less!" Morfin cried. He looked more ragged even with his wedding finery on.

His nephew the Lord did not need to explain himself. Already he was oozing with pleasure. His will done.

Their guests inching towards the double doors. Hearing the wedding party arrive as they were coming into the courtyard. Lord Voldemort had kept Nagini in Godric's Hallows knowing she'd not be safe from others wraith till after he married her. Her gaurds not far from her person.

A hush came over them. Nagini walked alone up into the Great Hall. Looking from face to face finding nothing familiur or freindly there. Their features and clothing alien to her. While her train shifting over the marble floor, the only sound she made.

Lord Voldemort reach out his hand towards her, "Welcome, my Lady, to my anceint and ancestral house. Your home and hearth now."

He turn to his household who begrudgingly bow before her. The ceremony was brief. He was not strictly reiligous. Their Master held no superstitions. The feast carried out most of the event.

The bride and her groom sat above and apart while their guest enjoy themselves. He lean over to Nagini to comment on certain customs and who was who. He spoke softly but otherwise politely. More so he refuse to touch her beyond the helping hand up from her seat or down from the steps. None could say he was nothing but refined.

The night came and he rose. The party stilled. Thanking them for coming but duty and sleep called them. Alecto took Nagini away, changed her in to a billowy white shift. Shown to her wedding bed.

A few choices guests and his family followed up. Last well wishes were given before he sent them off. Finally alone he turn to Nagini.

"I am to take you now." Sure she knew well enough what would be expected of her now. "Has your family told you about this part?"

He disrobe never taking his eyes off of her, "I've no need for children. I shall out live the stars..in time. Tho I shall honor you alone. I'll take no lovers and you'll have no Master above me."

He crawled over to her pulling down the bed clothing she hide under. "Come...."

[podible]

Podcast Recommendations

I figured I should keep a list of the podcasts I listen to, as a podcast blog, in addition to my reccomendations.

These are in no particular order, but bolder titles are ones that I super recommend you try if you try no others on this list. Tho not being bolded doesn’t mean they’re not great!! I love all of these so much.

I’ve also supplied links and tagged the podcasts’ blog if they have one.

Audio Dramas

Lesser Gods, An Audio Drama || @lessergodspodcast || Link

The Control Group || Link

Hello From The Magic Tavern || @hellofromthemagictavern || Link

King Falls AM || @kingfallsam || Link

Wolf 359 || @wolf359radio (finished) || Link

ars PARADOXICA || @arsparadoxica (finished) || Link

The Bright Sessions || @thebrightsessions (finished) || Link

Welcome to Night Vale || Link

LifeAfter/The Message (finished) || Link

The Penumbra Podcast || @thepenumbrapodcast || Link

Girl In Space | A Sci-Fi Mystery Audio Drama || @girlinspacepodcast || Link

MarsCorp || Link

EOS 10 || @eos10radio || Link

Bubble || Link

Inkwyrm || @inkwyrmpodcast (tumblr is their home site)

bomBARDed - A Musical Dungeons & Dragons Adventure || Link

The Adventure Zone || @theadventurezone || Link

Sandra || Link

“Real Talk” Podcasts

These are podcasts that are people talking to each other, usually on a specific topic, but not trying to craft a specific kind of story.

Same rules as above apply. Bolded are personal faves, no particular order, I still love the not-bolded podcasts.

I’ve also given these teensy little descriptions and their links next to them.

Can I Pet Your Dog? || Link — Renee, Allegra, and Alexis talk about d o g s 🐶

Stuff They Don't Want You To Know — Conspiracy theories!

Sawbones: A Marital Tour of Misguided Medicine || Link — A doctor and her husband talk about the ways that it was fucked up we used to treat people in medicine.

Science Vs || Link — “What do scientists and reasearchers say about [insert thing]?”

Positiviteeny! || Link — messages of hope, joy, and inspiration 3x/week in ten minutes or less

Beautiful Stories From Anonymous People || Link — Chris takes one hour long phone conversation with a random stranger. No names, no holds barred.

Wonderful! || Link — weekly podcast of enthusiasm and good vibes

Still Buffering || Link — the Doctor from Sawbones and her two sisters (one of whom is still a teen) discuss growing up and life

Couples Therapy || Link — Comedy skits featuring two people of various relationships (married, dating, friends, siblings, etc.) discuss things on stage at a comedy club. Hosted by Andy and Naomi who talk about their own relationship (engaged) between the two sets they play for the listener

Throwing Shade || Link — Feminasty Erin Gibson and Homosexual Brian Safi discuss women’s issues, lgbt issues, and other pop culture events. Can you handle it?

Judge John Hodgman || Link— Fake Internet Judge hears two sides of an argument and makes ruling

Trends Like These || Link — weekly news podcast on what’s trending with Travis McElroy, Brent Black, and Courtney Enlow

Shmanners || Link — Travis from above and his wife Teresa discuss etiquette and the history of the ‘rules’

The Daily Show With Trevor Noah: Ears Edition || Link — The Daily Show but with no video

Reply All || Link — reporting team with fascinating human interest stories

My Brother, My Brother And Me || Link — Travis, Justin, and Griffin give great advice you should never follow don’t mind me this isn’t my special interest or anything hahahahahaaaaaaa

The Daily || Link — (week)daily news from New York Times

Stuff You Should Know || Link— you should know about this stuff so you’re gonna her told about it.

Behind the Bastards || Link — Stories you don’t know about the very worst people. For example, did you know that Sadam Hussein was really into YA Lit?

The Good Boys Girls || Link — McElroy Brothers Fancast of two lovely ladies who are also girlfriends.

Badvertising || Link — “None of us have studied advertising. In fact, we don't know anything about business at all. The one thing we do know is how to make your product a viral failure. This is Badvertising. Where your dissatisfaction is guaranteed.”

Nerdificent || Link — “In Nerdificent, comedians Ify Nwadiwe and Dani Fernandez break down all that is nerdy. Whether you’ve spent years rolling dice in a friend’s basement or got hooked after seeing a comic book movie, they’ve got something for you. Each episode Dani and Ify deep dive into a nerdy subject or subculture and break down the history, culture, and future of it; all while making you laugh.”

Guilty Treasures || Link — “A podcast about everything you ever loved but were afraid to talk about. Hosted by Anne Kirn and Emily Kardamis, featuring a new guest every episode.”

Honorable Mentions

These are podcasts I like enough to stay subscribed to/finish but not enough to get on the above lists but I wanted to put on here so people know what I’ve listened to. Also just because it’s here doesn’t mean it’s bad. It just didn’t tickle my fancy as much as the others. I still like ‘em alright. Links provided bc hey maybe they tickle your fancy!

You Are Here SciFi Audio Drama || Link

Dead Pilots Society || Link

H3 Podcast || Link

The Leviathan Chronicles || Link

Comedy Bang Bang: The Podcast || Link

Beef And Dairy Network || Link

Go Fact Yourself || Link

Culture Kings || Link

Getting Curious with Jonathan Van Ness || Link

We’re Alive: A Story of Survival || Link

Ask a Manager || Link

TechStuff || Link

Story Break || Link

Heavyweight || Link

Hidden Brain || Link

The Far Meridian || Link || @thefarmeridian

All Systems Goku || Link

Critical Role || Link

Dungeon Master's Block || Link

Conversations with People Who Hate Me || Link

Alice Isn't Dead || Link

Within the Wires || Link

Still Processing || Link

Stuff To Blow Your Mind || Link