#the assignment was to make an author portrait

[homoqueerjewhobbit]

Still heartbroken about the demise of The Toast. Here are the articles mentioned above:

Portraits Of “The Wrath Of Achilles” That Just Make Me Wanna Cuddle Him

Paintings Of The Torture Of Prometheus Where It Actually Looks Like The Eagle Assigned To Tear Out His Liver Is His New Boyfriend

PS the author of these as articles is a trans man who is now named Daniel Lavery, if you want to read more of his work!

[wings-of-dc]

some art made for class, based on tui t. sutherland.

[docgold13]

Heroes & Villains The DC Animated Universe - Paper Cut-Out Portraits and Profiles

Inque

Not much is known of the origins of the shapeshifting mercenary and saboteur known as Inque.  How she came to possess her metahuman abilities remains unknown.  Her form is composed of a dark, ink-like substance that is entirely malleable.  This allowed her to alter her shape at will, forms her limbs into sharpened weapons, slip easily through cracks and slide across surfaces at great speeds.  Her one vulnerability appeared to be water, which caused her to become defuse and lose her ability to maintain structural integrity.  Although water was not lethal for Inque and she has been able to re-manifest her form once dried.

Inque was hired by Derrick Powers during a time in which Wayne/Powers was competing with Foxteca over a highly lucrative governmental contract.  Powers tasked Inque with sabotaging Foxteca facilities so to ensure his company landed the contract.  Bruce Wayne investigated the matter and assigned Batman (Terry McGinnis) to stand guard over the additional Foxteca plants in the case that the saboteur were to strike again.  This indeed occurred yet Batman was unprepared for an altercation with someone as formidable as Inque and she easily evaded capture in their initial altercation.   

Learning that Batman was once more meddling in his affairs, Derrick Powers tasked Inque with assassinating him and any accomplice he might be working with.  Sneaking into the Batmobile, Inque accompanied Batman back to the Batcave before attacking him.  Transforming into a torrent of ink, she nearly succeeded in suffocating Batman but was stopped by Bruce Wayne (who used an old Gray Ghost costume to hide his identity).  Bruce ultimately utilized Mr. Freeze’s freeze gun to incapacitate Inque whereupon she was delivered to the authorities.  Without the services of his saboteur, Powers lost out on the contract to Foxteca.  

Inque would return on subsequent occasions to battle Batman.  Some time thereafter, the mutagenic substance that bestowed Inque her abilities began to break down making it difficult to maintain a physical form.  She turned to her estranged daughter, Deanna Clay, for aid.  She had Deanna steal a mutagenic compound from Gotham Genetics that could stabilize her condition.  Deanna went through with this, but cut the compound with a solvent as part of a plan to kill her mother and pilfer her savings.  Inque discovered her daughter’s betrayal too late. Starting to dissolve, she attacked Deanna yet Batman arrived in time to save her. Together they watched Inque seemingly melt into nothingness. 

Actress Shannon Kenny provided the voice for the villain with Inque first appearing in the third episode of the first season of Batman Beyond, ‘Black Out.’ 

[teenidlegirl]

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ౨౿  ׅ ۟   ֪ 𝓐cross 𝓣he 𝓢tars ۪ ׂ   𓈒 ୭

ઇ ˚ ݂ ֹ ꒰ knight!miguel 𝓍 queen!reader ꒱ ! ۟ ׅ ♡

ׄ   ׅ ྀ 𝓢𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘. after an assassination attempt, a personal bodyguard is assigned to you by the court. an old childhood friend. as time goes on, you two rekindle your friendship but it blossoms into something more that risks both your occupations.

ׄ   ׅ ྀ 𝓒𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓. royal!au, anidala coded, sorta futuristic setting (like star wars), forbidden love, slow burn, tension, fluff, angst, smut (mild and fluffy), pet names, mention of assassination attempts, secret pregnancy, hispanic/latina!reader ( mdni )

ׄ   ׅ ྀ 𝓛𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝓝𝐎𝐓𝐄. for my fellow anidala stans, this one is for you. even tho star wars day already passed, imma still post this. ngl one of my favorite fics i’ve ever written! enjoy, mis amores! ♡

an assassination attempt.

fear plague the streets. citizens remain locked in their homes. whispers of fear and concern for their queen throughout the city.

the court was in pure chaos. members shouting at one another, demanding answers for this troubling incident, questioning who dares attack their queen. the room was consumed with fear and anger. an authorized investigation is underway, handled by authorities and military officials. in the meantime, a collective proposal was constructed.

a personal bodyguard.

you aren’t opposed to it, since it was your final say on the proposal. it was logical, protection against the opposer. nueva york looks up to you, their queen. they love and worship you. admire your devotion and dedication to them, the selfless spirit you carry. always putting your people’s needs as your top priority. serving what’s best for them.

to see their queen almost assassinated breaks their hearts. losing you is like heaven losing an angel. you are aware of their love for you. this assassination attempt is not going to pause your queen duties.

once the green light was given, a bodyguard was found in a manner of minutes.

general miguel o’hara.

an old childhood friend. a friend you haven’t seen in 10 years. a friend you were desperate to see again.

when he was brought in, your breath was stolen.

handsomest face on a man. chocolate curls with sprinkled gray streaks within, sharp cheekbones, and a incredible physique with of pure muscle. more than the average male. stands tall at 6’9 which makes him a tower compared to you. perhaps an intense growth spurt. he was already taller than you but now a tower. a faint scar on his right cheek, possibly from battle.

he grew up, from a shy young boy to a charming knight. he has changed so much.

“your majesty.”

oh his voice is so low yet charming. it sends shivers down your spine but in a pleasant way.

his height became more apparent when you have to crane your neck all the way up to simply meet his gaze. the height difference is quite amusing.

“general.”

your breath wasn’t the only one stolen. the minute he walked through those sliding glass doors, miguel was immediately captivated. it’s been years since he saw you personally. of course he had seen you before. the yearly ceremonies, festivals, and balls. your friendship may have ended but he observed you from afar, watch you blossomed into a beautiful, intelligent woman, his queen. beautiful couldn’t describe you best. ethereal is more accurate. his love for you never vanished from all those years.

with each step he took closer, he grew more anxious. by the time he stands before you, miguel is utterly enthralled. your beauty is truly beyond this world, this universe. those portraits of you don’t do you justice. how angelic you appear. white is your signature color, hence why the public refers you as the “angel queen.” god he truly believes an angel is gracing his presence right before him. it’s an honor to witness your beauty, the queen of his city.

the angel of his heart.

⠀⠀⠀⠀𓂃 ୨ ₊ 𓂃 ౨ৎ   𓂃 ₊ ୧   𓂃

it was simple protocols. miguel follows where you go, attached to the hip, eyes never leave your figure. stands beside your throne as you converse with the court or other officials during meetings. strolls alongside you with hands behind his back as you walk. offers a hand to assist you stepping in or out of vehicles. gently shields you with an arm from approaching individuals who wish to gain your attention. it’s a habit considering he’s a bodyguard and your life is currently at stake.

miguel is constantly on high alert for any potential threat. the crown is in his protection, your life is his responsibility. he vowed to not fail and keep you safe. he has to protect the angel he loves deeply.

in the beginning, it was a simple professional relationship between bodyguard and client. miguel remains at your side at all times and you continue with your duties as queen. your old friendship still lingers but you remain with a professional relationship with a small acquaintance.

however, those feelings of desire and admiration began tearing down that wall of professionalism.

it starts with innocent glances and soft smiles. acknowledging and appreciating each other. no one could suspect anything serious. just a queen showing her appreciation for her gentle knight.

then, those light touches.

passing large crowds, your breath hitches when you feel a large hand gently resting on your lower back as miguel guides you through the crowd. a tingly sensation invades your body. cheeks grow warm, heart fluttering, butterflies in your tummy.

that was a reoccurring hand placement. miguel’s hand resting either on your upper or lower back. most of the time on your lower back when in private.

both of you feel like a bashful mess. your heart fluttering at the intimate touch and miguel going insane at softness of your body, even through your dresses. he worries it’s an overstep of your boundaries but you kindly remind him it’s not.

the light touches grew more intimate.

during an private visit to your parents’ home, your foot missed a step which caused you to slip. but thanks to a pair of sturdy arms catching you just in time, you collide in your bodyguard’s chest.

“¿estas bien, mi reina?” miguel voiced his concern, looking down at you with worry in his eyes.

looking up at him with fluttering eyes, your heart skips a beat by the close proximity.

“y-yes, estoy bien.” you whisper, blushing.

you remain in his arms for a moment, staring into each other’s eyes. you feel his slightly nervous breathing gently hitting your face, yours hitting his chest. you can’t resist how comforting it feels being in his arms. a sense of comfort and safety. miguel relishes your soft body against his rough one. adores how tiny you appear, how perfect you fit in his hold. the fear of getting caught makes you pull away from his arms. blush creeping on both your faces.

he mumbles an apology but you kindly assure him and thank him for catching you. that moment replays in your minds for the reminder of the day.

⠀⠀⠀⠀𓂃 ୨ ₊ 𓂃 ౨ৎ   𓂃 ₊ ୧   𓂃

not only intimate touches but longing gazes at each other when one isn’t looking. private conversations began taking place, learning about one another. what occurred after your friendship ended. your journey to queenship, miguel’s training, changes in both your families. you rekindle your friendship.

the more time you spent together, feelings began forming. feelings that one should not feel, especially between a queen and her knight. you try burying those feelings. the last thing you want is ruining this relationship, make things awkward. it’s strictly a professional one yet those feelings prove otherwise.

you couldn’t allow these feelings to consume you, distract you from your duties. you shouldn’t feel these feelings towards miguel, your personal bodyguard. it’s forbidden, a queen can’t fall in love with her knight. it goes against royal morals. however, you can’t deny your heart. those feelings are something you’ve never experienced before with any man. miguel demonstrates what it’s like to long for someone. being around him, you feel safe and happy. he’s the only man to make your heart race and fill your belly with butterflies when he looks down at you or leaves gentle touches on your skin.

even after 10 years, he still has an effect on you.

miguel, on the other hand, is on the verge of insanity. he knows he shouldn’t feel those feelings for you, his queen. the woman he admires and cherishes since childhood. the same woman he vowed to protect with every fiber of his being. a queen and a knight don’t belong together, a forbidden relationship. of course he is aware of this issue. those feelings are forbidden but no matter how hard he fought against them, battling with his inner thoughts for days, his feelings for you only grew stronger.

during a private getaway at a reserved villa, you and miguel take a stroll among the lakeside. no one but you two, complete privacy. other guards remain at the villa. while you babble about childhood memories of the lake, miguel is admiring you the entire time. the lake dress you’re wearing makes his heart flutter, cheeks blushed. how could you look more beautiful? he swears he must be in heaven. walking alongside an angel by a lake sounds so dreamy. miguel mesmerized by your beauty once again.

you return to the balcony where it showcases the lake and mountains. leaning against the stone fence, you look outward towards the beautiful view of the lake. miguel stands beside you, briefly admiring the lake before turning his attention back at the true beautiful sight. the sweet, angelic tone of your voice smooths his workaholic mind. pure music to his ears. everything about you calms him.

those feelings began bubbling in his chest as he continues admiring you. he can’t help it you look so ethereal in the vibrant sunlight, the gentle breeze flowing in your hair. god he wants to give into the temptations but he knows he shouldn’t.

but all self-restraint flies out the window the moment you turn and look up at him with those gorgeous eyes he loves so dearly.

you two stare at each other, lost in one’s eyes. the doorway to the soul. both your hearts pounding your chests. the soft waves of the lake and birds chirping in the background. your heart flutters as you watch his gaze fall to your lips. those exact lips that have been taunting him for weeks in his sleep.

very slowly, miguel starts leaning towards your face. or more so, bending down a little due to the height difference. his back will hate him afterwards but miguel doesn’t care at this moment. he moves very slowly, hesitantly to give you space to move away.

but you don’t.

you feel frozen, utterly mesmerized by those soft brown eyes. your breathing grows heavy as you watch him lean closer towards you with fluttering lashes. your faces are only cemeteries apart, lips brushed against each other, eyes fluttering.

then finally, your lips collide.

the mark of your sin.

wow, his lips feel incredible. but yours, oh miguel is losing his mind. so soft and sweet. a divine taste that leaves a man yearning for more. your lips intertwined a passionate kiss. seeking for more, miguel changes the angle with a head tilt and applies a little pressure into the kiss. he holds back a groan when he hears a soft moan from you due to the pressure. unable to resist any longer, his tongue licks your lips for passage. you happily oblige and he doesn’t waste a moment to slip his tongue past your lips, eliciting another heavenly moan from you.

your lips intertwined in a dance. relishing the feeling of each others’s lips. his plump ones against your soft ones. the kiss is so passionate, you feel very floaty. he takes you away to cloud nine. the stress of being a queen and the assassination vanishes from your mind. his lips takes it away.

then, realization kills the moment.

no, you can’t do this. it’s an overstep of your relationship as bodyguard and client. queen and knight. but what you’re truly afraid is being caught, another pair of eyes lurking from afar.

much to yours and miguel’s disappointment, you break away from the kiss and avoid his gaze.

“no… i should never have done that.” you spoke barely above a whisper.

miguel is taken aback by the sudden change of heart. not even a minute has passed and he misses your lips against his. but he realizes what has happened and he has never been so disappointed in himself. he allowed those temptations to consume him and look at the result. you turn away from him and feel ashamed, the one feeling he never wants to make you feel about yourself. you mean so much to him.

“lo siento, mi reina…” hint of regret and shame in his tone, making your heart ache.

there no intimate touches or moments after that. however, those restrictions only lasted a day.

⠀⠀⠀⠀𓂃 ୨ ₊ 𓂃 ౨ৎ   𓂃 ₊ ୧   𓂃

during one night, after having internal battles with yourself about your feelings for miguel and the consequences, you finally accepted your heart.

for once, you allow your heart to speak.

during this past month under his protection, spending every minute with him, you fell in love with your gentle knight. you love miguel and only want him. he has stolen your heart.

slipping on your silky robe and walking down the hallway, you head to miguel’s bedroom. standing in front of the door, a few inches away from it opening by itself, you stare it as your heart races in both excitement and anxiety. you’re about to confess your love for your charming knight. the man who has been by your side, protecting and caring for you.

inhaling a deep breath, you take a step forward and the door slides open. upon hearing the door open, miguel quickly walks over to see who is visiting him at this hour but stops when he sees you.

“mi reina, ¿que pasa? are you unwell? is there something wrong?” he asks with each step he takes towards you. a huge concern look on his face.

his worries fade away when you shake your head but he’s still curious about your sudden arrival.

“i need to speak to you.”

now he grew more curious but also a bit anxious. stepping to the side, miguel allows you entry to his private quarters. flashing a small smile as a thanks, you pass by him and walk towards the bed.

“what is it you wish to speak to me about, mi reina?” miguel asks softly as he follows you, standing behind you since your back is to him.

it’s silent for a moment. the anticipation lingers in the air. if you had advanced hearing, you’d hear both of your racing hearts. pounding like a drum.

“té quiero.”

those three words linger in the air. miguel is speechless, eyes wide and lips slightly agape. heart fluttering at your confession. a confession he has been dreaming since the beginning. a confession he reciprocates, wanting to share his own.

slowly turning around, you nervously meet his gaze. “i know i shouldn’t have these feelings for you… but i don’t care, not one bit.”

miguel remains speechless also enthralled. you feel the same. you long for him just as he longs for you. however, the fear still lingers.

“pero… the consequences? the scandal? it would ruin your reign.” miguel does not want to jeopardize your legacy, your reign as queen simply because of him. you’ve been an incredible monarch, serving the people of nueva york. betraying their trust because of your love for him is something he can’t allow.

“i can’t deny my heart.” you say softly.

fuck. his heart did a summersault. his love for you blossoms more than ever before.

“mi reina, ever since i was a child, i’ve always loved and cared you.” miguel takes a step closer, closing the remaining space between you two. “you consume my thoughts everyday. i can’t hide my true feelings for you anymore.”

your heart flutters, a warm sensation flowing through your body. slowly raising your hands, you gently cup his face. “then let’s not hide them anymore.”

miguel leans closer and you stand on your tippy toes, your lips meet once again in a passionate kiss. his large held your smaller shoulders, holding them as if they’re delicate. his gently grips on your robe, a silent ask. he feels you nod and he slowly pulls of your robe, exposing your shoulders but taking it off completely. it quietly drops onto the floor, pooling at your feet. now you’re left in your silky white nightgown. his heart flutters at the feeling of your soft skin. his hands slowly move down your back, settling on your waist. you shiver at the sensation, goosebumps forming on your skin. wrapping your arms around his bulky shoulders, your fingers dig into his hair. that elicited a muffled groan from him.

giving into his desires, miguel sought to deepen the kiss, altering the angle. it becomes more heated, sneaking a bit of pressure which elicits a soft moan from you. his lips leaves yours, brushing kisses along your jawline then to your neck. your mouth hangs slightly open, soft sighs spilling from your lips at the sensation. broad hands roam over your back, gently groping your curves through your nightdress. you melt under his touch, growing putty in his hold.

“miguel…” you whisper breathlessly.

he softly grunts in response, mind hazy from how heavenly his name sounds from your lips. continuing leaving kisses on your delicate neck as his hands continue roaming over your soft body. miguel is practically going insane of finally touching you, having you in his arms after years of longing.

“make love to me.”

before you even know it, you find yourselves on the bed. you resting on the plush mattress and miguel hovering over you, positioned in between your legs. your fingers dig into his chocolate locks while his hands gently grope your curves as you continue your passionate makeout session. his lips kiss every inch of exposed skin. from your jawline, your neck, down to your chest. a soft moan escapes you as his lips suck where your nipples would be through your nightdress. with consent, miguel gingerly removes your silky nightdress, leaving you bare to his gaze. your white panties as the only source preventing you from being completely bare to his eyes.

miguel takes his time worshiping your soft delicate breasts. kissing, licking, kneading them with such tenderness. almost experimentally. his tongue swirling and flickering your perky sensitive nipple. his plump lips sucking on it. each action rewards him with those heavenly moans of yours. music to his ears. miguel shows same affection towards your soft tummy, adoring it with kisses and licks.

with your consent, your panties were removed and now completely bare to your handsome lover.

miguel doesn’t hesitate and dives into the fountain of youth in between your legs. the room is filled with your moans and whimpers, the sounds of pleasure miguel was providing you. his tongue ravishes your wet core so experimentally. reaching those spots you’ve never knew existed, making you arch your back. as you reach the pinnacle of ecstasy, miguel devours every drop of your sweet nectar, drinking as if it’s an oasis. this man made you feel things you never felt before, so revolutionary.

once he removes his clothes and is bare, he settles in between your legs once again. your mouth falls open as his thick length slowly sides through your tight, wet walls. there were a few pauses in between, allowing yourself to adjust to his larger than average size. once he’s completely settled inside, you couldn’t hold back a soft moan. the bulbous tip of his cock rests against that sweet spot inside.

with a slow rock of his hips, a soft moan erupts form your throat. pleasure consumes both your bodies, your minds dazed. your tight walls squeeze his cock, making the man groan in pleasure. your nails leaving marks and idents on his muscular back as miguel continuously thrusts into you slowly. his bulbous tip repeatedly hitting your cervix, making you arch your back off the sheets. the mixture of your moans and his grunts mingle in the air. the four walls of the bedroom concealing your love-making session.

miguel softly whispers words of praise to you that makes your mind floaty. how beautiful you look as you take him so well. he relishes your expressions of pleasure, gazing at the angel underneath him. god you look even more ethereal. he can finally worship you properly. ecstasy consumes you entirely that you can only respond with whimpers and moans. he leaves soft kisses on your neck as he continues thrusting. your hands interlocked together, gently pressed against the pillow beside your head as your love-making progresses.

as you reach the pinnacle of ecstasy for the second time, you coat miguel’s cock with your sweet nectar. he follows suit not long after, releasing his thick seed deep in your womb, painting your walls white. a shared moan echoes in the air as you both climaxed. you softly pant in unison as you both come down from the peak of pleasure.

you wake up the next morning in the arms of your handsome lover. the beginning of your love affair.

⠀⠀⠀⠀𓂃 ୨ ₊ 𓂃 ౨ৎ   𓂃 ₊ ୧   𓂃

a secret relationship.

you and miguel continue this forbidden love affair for a few months. holding hands when one wasn’t looking. sharing intimate moments when alone. passionate kisses here and there. reoccurring nights of love-making in your bedroom. it was pure love.

the love was so strong you two married in secret. at the lake house where you shared your first kiss. the only witnesses were your trusted handmaiden lyla and miguel’s younger brother gabriel.

you knew you wanted to spend the rest of your life with miguel and he wanted to spend it with you. even though the marriage is a secret, you’re forever together. once your reign is over and a new queen is elected, you and miguel will be able to live a free life.

the assassin was found but miguel remained as your permanent bodyguard, by your request. life in nueva york continued thriving until a conflict with another city ended it. the military was preparing for war, which included miguel since he was a general. you plead for him to not go, even thought about convincing captain stacy to not allow miguel to participate in the war but you know you can’t do that.

miguel eases your worries, holding you in his arms with a protective yet comforting grip. a hand gently stroking your hair as he calms you.

“i’ll return to you, mi reina. i promise you.”

with one final kiss, his eyes bore into yours, large hands cupping your tear stained cheeks. it pains him to leave you. to see tears trailing your angelic face. tears that he caused, it’s a stab to the heart. he can’t breathe without you. miguel doesn’t to go fight off in war but unfortunately it’s his duty, especially since he’s a general. but he promises to return to you.

“té amo.”

with that, you watch him walk away. tears trailing down your flushed cheeks. you want him to stay, by your side, but he has a duty to do and you have yours. all you can pray is for his safe return.

it’s been a week since miguel left for war. a week deprived of his love. during private moments, you speak to each other through holograms. he informs you with updates on the war. it’s still a long shot but there is progress. hopefully it’ll end soon.

one morning, you wake up with nausea. bolting to the restroom, you unleash that ugly feeling into the toilet. after cleaning up yourself, many thoughts invade your mind. what could possibly upset your stomach like that? was it the food you ate from last night’s dinner? no, dinner was delicious. are you ill? none of your handmaidens or staff members haven’t caught anything, at least what you know.

then, another scenario pops up.

you haven’t bled in a while. in fact, you might’ve passed the prediction date for your next cycle.

could you possible be…?

thankfully for the advanced technology you have, getting an answer would be easy. after doing a test with the help of your personal med droid, your eyes widen in shock at the results.

pregnant.

you’re pregnant, with miguel’s child.

part of you feels elastic about having a child with your secret husband. but the other part of you realizes how jeopardizing this would be.

a child with your personal bodyguard? that would cause the court to break out into chaos.

the scandal would threaten the crown.

you only have a year until your term is over and a new queen will be elected. however, that’s a year. it’ll only be a matter of time until your belly grows. hiding it is the only solution. from the court, handmaidens, staff and family members. the only person you would tell is lyla, your childhood best friend and loyal companion. she knows you like the back of her hand. you trust her completely with this shocking reveal.

unfortunately, you won’t be able to tell miguel until he returns from the war. and who knows how long that will be. you pray it ends soon and he returns.

until then, you have to keep another secret.

⠀⠀⠀⠀𓂃 ୨ ₊ 𓂃 ౨ৎ   𓂃 ₊ ୧   𓂃

four months has passed and the war has finally ended. the streets of nueva york cheer and celebrate now that peace has finally been restored.

it also means miguel is returning.

excitement flows through your veins. your husband finally returns home and you can’t wait to be in his arms after four months of deprivation. also, to share news of your unborn child. during these past four months, you’ve been wearing large gowns to conceal your swollen belly. luckily, no one has suspected.

dressed in a white silk cloak to hide you four month belly, you rush down the halls to greet your husband and father of your unborn child. oh how you missed him so much. it’s quite unbelievable how you managed to life without him for four months. without him by your side, without his touch, his comfort.

as you rush down the hall, you spot a figure tall figure dresses in black towards the end. your heart skips a beat, a smile forming on your face.

just as you reach him, your steps slow down and your enthusiasm dies down as you look up confusingly at the man in front of you. it’s miguel but he looks… different. normally when he’s with you, he has a gentle smile on his face. instead, it’s a scowl. furrowed thick brows and lips flat. he’s not even looking at you, instead the ground. he hasn’t even acknowledged your presence yet.

this confuses you. why is he behaving like this? cold, silent, angry. maybe the war has done some damage, it’s expected. but you expect him to overjoyed to see you as you are with him. those calls through holograms were prove. how badly he wanted to return to you and stay with you. seeked for your touch, longing to return to your arms.

now he has return and is the complete opposite.

“miguel…?”

taking a step closer, a soft gasp escapes your lips when his eyes finally meet yours. a horrified expression on your face.

his eyes are red. glowing and pierce.

you don’t recognize him. his eyes were brown like coco beans. sometimes stern but always soft when they meet yours. this time, red like blood and full of rage. the longer you stare, fear settles in. a feeling you never wished to feel when you look into his eyes.

his lips part open and your breath hitches. it’s unclear if you’re imagining things, but you saw a glimpse of fangs. pearly white fangs.

this can’t be your miguel. your husband. the father of your unborn child.

what happened to him?

who did this to him?

then, those red eyes soften. the scowl vanished, replaced with the old soft, loving expression he always had reserved for you.

“mi reina.”

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓. ♡ @lazyjellyfish300 ( just for you, queen ! )

© teenidlegirl. don’t steal, plagiarize, or translate my work. ♡

[techramonic]

A Comprehensive Analysis on Eric Harris, 4.

Disclaimer: This analysis/psychoanalysis is limited only to analysis as a means to reflect and understand the people involved. It is strictly informative. Just like all of my posts, I am detached from the media I write about and solely focus on the people to understand their psychology, for others to gain insight. There is no room for me to romanticize or glorify anything I write because I am only here to explain. I understand and research, but I do not condone. Thank you.

Childhood 1.1: The Impacts of Frequent Relocation During Primary Years

In a span of 12 years, Eric had moved to over 8 schools due to his father’s occupation. Wayne Harris, his father, was a U.S. Air Force Pilot with a job that had a nature which led him to move from state to state until their family decided to settle in Littleton, Colorado during the year 1993. The emotional and social development of a child may be significantly impacted by frequent relocation; in Eric's case, there’s a clear portrait of how the situation paints itself into a larger manifestation of challenge in a child’s life. 

“What are the impacts and manifestations of constant environmental relocation on a child?”

As children grow, they start to observe and engage with their surroundings. A stable environment provides the necessities needed to develop the comfort they should have in themself  - if this environment fosters positive growth, that is. However, an abrupt change can have harmful effects on their well-being if not managed with adequate care. Though some children experience positive effects from relocation, there is the presence of stress that can affect the child’s situation and ways of coping.

1 : Sense of Control and Security

According to an article under the Institute for Family Studies, a child’s sense of control can be stunted by the pressure of repetitive transitions. Parents may also feel the obligation to be stricter in imposing control over their children as a sense of security (Sutherland, 2014). This can be observed in Eric’s answer regarding his court hearing after being convicted for attempting to steal a vehicle with Dylan, where he mentions that his curfew is, “6 on the weekdays, and 10 on the weekends.” Furthermore, his father had kept a 60-page spiral journal titled, “Eric” which contains documentation of Eric’s troubles and neighborly allegations regarding his behavior. Toward the end of it, he writes that he had to impose additional rules over his son, specifically regarding his sleep and study routines. With this, he had restricted his limit to his devices.

Furthermore, in an assignment submitted by Eric on September 21, 1998, titled "When it was Bad to be Good," he wrote about having to surrender all of his stockpiled weapons to his parents. He explained, "It was bad not because I might use the weapons, but because I paid good money or spent a lot of time making them. It made me feel that all that time and money was wasted. But since weapons are dangerous and my parents didn’t trust me, I suppose it was for the better." This demonstrates how Eric feels a lack of control over his actions, and sometimes even himself. As a result, he tries to exert control over other things to gain the satisfaction of the illusion that he has full control over everything he desires.

The yearning for control, when one is deprived specifically by primary figures, can be seen as a coping mechanism in response to unresolved conflicts and unmet needs during early developmental stages. When a child experiences overbearing or neglectful parenting, they may feel powerless and seek to regain a sense of control to compensate for this deprivation. This can manifest in adulthood as a compulsive need to dominate the environment and individuals in it. Seeking to exert authority or fixate on themself and their actions very carefully to neutralize the feelings of vulnerability and establish an image of stability in their life.

2 : Learned Helplessness

Learned helplessness is born out of the feeling of lack of control. According to psychology, it is the coping process where a person gradually loses the ability or motivation to avoid recurrent exposure to negative stimuli, or painful events. The individual feels hopeless since they have learnt from past experiences that they have no control over their circumstances, so they just accept. This phenomenon can impact one’s motivation, thought processes, and mental health, allowing them to feel as though their actions have no control over the consequences they encounter.

Learned helplessness illustrates that past experiences, especially negative ones, can influence one’s passive behavior in accepting negative situations, even if they can be fled from or if it is detrimental. In short, children can be conditioned to accept their situation because they find their feelings to be insignificant in changing it, even if they have the power to do so by changing their mindset. This crucial aspect can harshly affect one’s future decision-making.

 3 : Social Adjustment and Self-esteem

A change in environment may lead to the exhibition of a child’s anxiety, detachment, and loneliness. This can delay a child’s social skills, which are severely impacted by their ability to cope with the sudden change and their self-esteem. The impacts can be considered minuscule but have the chance to develop into larger-scale issues. During his time at Plattsburg around the years 1992 to 1993, 12-year-old Eric Harris was in 6th grade and playing in the school’s baseball team. According to his former teammates, he had issues communicating and was considered the “shyest” and most reserved in the team, opposite from his brother who was outgoing and a varsity player in the school’s baseball league. His former teammates draw their conclusions on his membership being a parental decision rather than his own, circling back to the lack of control. 

Due to the absence of stability in one’s surroundings, because it is unfamiliar to them, a child may feel ostracized with their surroundings because they have no lingering familiarity and connection with the place that they are in. The absence of connection and meaningful interaction with one's environment is significantly tied to one's self-esteem. When a child is unfamiliar with or disconnected from it, they lack a support system that provides validation and a sense of belonging. 

This means that they do not receive the positive reinforcement crucial to developing a healthy concept of identity. As a result, the child may struggle to find meaning or purpose in their surroundings and eventually themself as well, because of the feeling that they are underappreciated and insignificant, which impacts their self-esteem negatively and heightens their feelings of insecurity and inadequacy. Since their concept of self is connected to their environment and circumstances, they are a reflection or manifestation of its effects.

4  :  Attachment

As seen above, Eric had written a parting letter addressed to one of his friends in his school at Plattsburg 1993, Adam Patsy, because his family was forced to move away. Eric was recalled to be a friendly and sweet child during his time there, with no indications of violence and hatred present inside him. One of his former classmates even stated, “I think that… He’s just turn into something that he wouldn’t have turn into if he just stayed here.”  

There's a sense of hopelessness tied to one's feeling of being separated from those who they are attached to. In this case, it’s Eric’s friends. Letting go becomes especially challenging under these circumstances because of the fear of uncertainty and abandonment. For a child, this separation can stunt their social development, making it difficult to interact with peers. It feels like starting from scratch, as they must navigate the exhausting process of stepping outside their comfort zone to form new friendships again just to escape the wrath of isolation and the circumstances in their tragic situation.

This was also seen in one of the clips in "The Basement Tapes", where Eric abruptly cries after reflecting the "inevitable" situation of his death. He recounts his past memories and his old friends, wishing he should have re-visited Michigan and "old friends". This recall present his clear attachment to the people of his past that he held dear and the community or environment he was involved and connected to back then. Eric was in Oscoda, Michigan during grades 3 to 4, in the years 1989 to 1992.

[hephaestiions]

author reclist: toomuchplor

a few months ago, when i was coming back to fandom in earnest, i came across this post from @sitp-recs. explorations of faith, divinity and worship are some of the tropes i find most furiously compelling, so i had to jump into o come, all ye faithful as soon as possible. i did, only to fall headfirst in obsessive, wide-eyed, awe-inspired love. @toomuchplor writes a desire that's both slow and heady, relentless and gentle, all-consuming and a rest stop to breathe easy. i couldn't help but read through (most of) their catalogue in a matter of days. this author's thematic range is astonishing, their characterisations lead to delicious stories where two headstrong, wilful and perennially longing men crash, fumble and rush into achingly sweet love and burning lust.

what always spools me in with plor, though, is their use of circumstance, especially in longer fics. every fic has a premise iron-clad in its fascinating, inventive, raw and exciting potential. more often than not, i've found them doing something i haven't encountered before in fandom at all, or reworking a popular trope in ways that make you go, 'oh. oh, i never thought about that happening, how did i never think of that happening?'

i've loved everything i've read from them, but here's a selection of some of my absolute favourites that i'll be going back to, over and over:

i've got a beautiful feeling (everything's going my way) (E, 3.5k)

“I’ve got such a boner,” Harry says, voice scratchy, just slitting his eyes open now, turning his head on his pillow to face Draco. “Oh, lovely, good morning to you, too,” Draco says.

a slice of life like the plush inside of a ripe mango— a love that's mature, constant, beating like a strong heart. the filthy, hilarious, gorgeous portrait of harry and draco's married life— the familiarity of sex, the rush of wanting each other as much as ever.

o come, all ye faithful & all the angels cry amen (E, ~22k total)

In which Draco finds faith in the church, and Harry finds faith in Draco.

an achingly tender rumination on faith as love, and love as worship. one of the most heartbreaking and realistic depictions of the reckoning it would take for harry potter to accept he has found refuge and rest in draco malfoy's arms. i loved the non-chronological, dual timeline storytelling— that particular form works so well when there's a taut, twinging thread holding both narratives together, and harry and draco's gravitational attraction to each other, fraught in parts and at peace in others was the perfect anchor.

time and too much don't belong together (E, 23k)

A Malfoy family heirloom gets triggered in a raid, binding Draco Malfoy to Ron Weasley; neither of them is too chuffed about this.

a masterclass in revelations. the reader can tell, from the outset, there's more here than meets the eye. the reader can also guess, from the beginning, what the dynamic in the shadows is. tense and breathtaking writing, you know what's coming, but every time you're fed a morsel you cling to it with both hands. one of the most inventive takes i've seen on the lust potion/spell trope in this fandom, and done in a way that makes you want to see it over and over and over again.

polar night/midnight sun (E, 54k)

Harry travels to arctic Norway on the trail of dragon egg poachers, only to find he's been assigned to work alongside the only NorMagPol Auror north of sixty: one Draco Malfoy. It's been ten years since they crossed paths, and Malfoy isn't exactly what Harry expected or remembered. For one thing, he wears a lot more hand-knits? When a sudden winter storm strands the pair, unable to use magic to rescue themselves, they take shelter in a one-room Norwegian hytte.

exquisitely atmospheric. uses extenuating circumstances in some of the most delicious ways. builds character and interpersonal dynamics through those small little elements of storytelling (draco in knitwear! brynjar the dog! the mundane pillowtalk! the quirks of their miscommunication!) that go the longest way in having characters leap off the screen into your personal space. also the sex in this is absolutely mind-blowing, i was hooked on every glorious word.

truth to materials (co-written by lately) (E, 58k)

In which Harry learns to appreciate art and other pleasures of the flesh.

decadent. in premise, in language, in characterisation, just absolutely decadent. this version of harry, bewildered and captivated by draco's out-there artistry is one of the funniest and most endearing i've encountered in fic, ever. his head, so full of determination and good intentions and terribly flawed and completely believable thinking, was such a brilliant place to set this fic. and draco— lord. you know that moment of transition, that click, when a piece of art goes from something untouchable and distant to a soulful thing you keep close because you recognise it as a cultural, emotional response? this fic felt like a literary project trying to capture that click, except it's a shift in perspective about a person. draco— the cool, untouchable, subversive artist who becomes irrevocably, warmly, achingly human.

probationary action (E, 63k)

As part of the terms of the probationary contract, DRACO LUCIUS MALFOY shall submit for inspection his WAND on the last day of every month, such inspection to be carried out by a duly registered and fully qualified AUROR in the employ of the MINISTRY OF MAGIC, and such inspection to include a PRIORI INCANTATEM spell to ensure that no PROHIBITED MAGICS as heretofore described have been practised by the aforementioned probationer.

*incoherent screaming*. a fic that starts with a premise so lighthearted and filthy that you think it's going to be a long, kinky fic about two rather hilariously perverted men getting it on, except it also gets into some of the most resonant discussions of post-war revenge tactics and human rights neglect i've ever read. the dynamic between harry and draco is simultaneously so light and so weighted, this is a fic that holds you down and keeps you there till you're done.

in conclusion: an entrancing author, a gift of a writer. i can't wait to see what else they have in store for this fandom.

[deadpanwalking]

you may have addressed this in the past, but i am pretty sure i'm too dumb to read james joyce. how do you improve your reading comprehension? i'd like to move beyond the nyt bestseller list, but going from stephen king to faulkner seems like a steep jump.

Nobody is too dumb to read a book, but plenty of people have been conditioned into perpetual incuriosity.  The only way to improve reading comprehension is by reading outside of your comfort zone, which necessarily means letting go of the notion that the relationship between an artist and their audience is adversarial, and that a challenging work of art is booby-trapped with mean tricks designed to make you feel bad.

What do you do when you run into a word or concept that you don't immediately understand in the wild? You don't (I fervently hope) drop what you're reading like a hot potato—you keep reading to see if there’s clarification, and if there's none, you find a reliable source that gives you the definition, context, and examples, then circle back. What do you do when you're watching a movie you haven't seen before and the camera lingers on a random detail, or a character makes an inexplicable choice? Unless you are my dad, you give the story a chance to play out before asking what the deuce is going on. 

Faulkner and Joyce aren't cyphers, which is why their short fiction is a standard in the public high school English curriculum, and As I Lay Dying and A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man are frequently assigned to juniors and seniors in AP classes—but even their denser writing is more accessible now than it's ever been. Over the past century, so many people have loved them enough to devote their lives to studying their work—and they’ve passed the savings down to you. They’ve written annotations that explain literary, historical, and biographical context and that's aligned with the pagination of the books, they’ve integrated hyperlinks into the hypertext.

There's exactly one (1) acceptable excuse not to read Faulkner or Joyce: not wanting to read Faulkner or Joyce.  You don't even need to give them a chance—millions of people (among them, many prolific and intelligent readers) have and will continue to live rich, meaningful lives after deciding that a particular book or author is simply not a priority, even if the author is famous and the book highly recommended by several friends who wear glasses.

If you can parse this passage from Pet Sematary, you can parse just about anything Joyce throws at you:

[yuurei20]

Crowley Facts Part 8 of 21: Portraits, Random Selection and More

We learn in the Prologue that the portraits around the school can speak, which makes Crowley's devotion to the portraits of the Great Seven very interesting:

Crowley says he dusts their frames every day as a sign of respect, and, "the portrays are all so chatty that sometimes I get carried away conversing with them and forget to work."

Crewel says, "I wouldn't put much stock in what the paintings around campus say. Some of them purposely try to mislead unsuspecting students."

Ortho hacks into the school's security system (and attempts to vaporize the main building) during Phantom Bride.

Idia calls Crowley via a number he should not know to let him know that he remotely accessed his email to contact the press on his behalf during Wish Upon a Star.

According to Leona transformation potions are forbidden, making it interesting that Crowley has one on hand in the prologue.

Azul, Jade and Floyd all have access to them, however, with Riddle explaining that they require government authorization and specialist supervision ("licensed pharmacists are the only ones who can formulate them") so it is not impossible that Crowley, too, carries them legally.

(But as he does not seem to be a mermaid, as far as we know, it makes one wonder why.)

Crowley uses a "magical raffle box" to select the participants for Glorious Masquerade, but Idia seems suspicious of how "random" the process supposedly is, saying, "How do three housewardens just 'coincidentally' get drawn in a raffle? I'm telling you guys, that box is rigged."

Crowley says that the Starsending participants were selected "via astrology" with roles assigned by birthdate, but Trey is suspicious, saying, "You don't think (the headmage) was lying about that, do you?"

[ladystoneboobs]

@sunflowersansa, #catelyn was raised to be hosters successor for almost a decade wasnt she?

the annoying thing is we don't have an approximate age for edmure, nor any age for cat when minisa died (in childbirth with a last, stillborn son, not edmure). i've seen fanart depicting him as anywhere from a toddler to a younger teen/tween when catelyn and lysa were teenagers. but i feel pretty confident in my estimation of ~7/8yrs age difference between eldest sister and baby brother, and not just bc of symmetry with the next generation. my reasoning is thus:

we all assume catelyn had some grooming as an heiress, rather than it just being a nominal status in early childhood. how much training can one really give a 3 or 4yo, y'know? we know rickon never had any manly lord lessons from ned since he was still so young when they parted. if she was closer to 7 or 8 when edmure came along, that leaves more realistic time for education, and a sizable number of years with only daughters for hoster to try to accustom himself to lack of a son and make do accordingly. even only 1 or 2 years of rulership lessons would still matter when minisa's death left hoster more dependent on her as not just hostess but later a trusted confidant of a sort until she got married.

ned thinks of edmure as "the boy" in his pov when hearing of the mountain's first attacks in the riverlands. we know ned's not great with keeping up with ageing from his earlier comments about tommen, and he surely hasn't seen edmure in many years, but this tells me that when they did meet at riverrun, edmure was not that close in age to himself, catelyn, and lysa. (i think it's less likely to see someone as frozen in childhood if they're anywhere near your age cohort.) ned could still be wrong about edmure's age thinking he couldn't possibly be at least 25 and any green knight younger than that was still a boy or youth, but that miscalculation makes more sense to me if he was around ~26 rather than a fellow thirtysomething or a guy pushing thirty.

we also know that edmure acted as brandon's squire in his duel with littlefinger, which i read as more someone playacting at some squirely practice when not yet consideed old enough to be anyone's assigned squire, with the informal nature of the duel which meant lightly-armored littlefinger having no squire of his own, and brandon having an actual squire who likely could have been present. so that lines up with a ~10yo edmure to 15yo littlefinger, 16yo lysa, 18yo catelyn, and 20yo brandon. (this is admittedly the most subjective point and i wouldn't consider it strong evidence if not consistent with the rest.)

catelyn doubted her memories of her mother, including her appearence, which in this world strangely devoid of portraits, still makes me think she was quite young when they lost her. so, yeah, not a large gap between edmure's birth and minisa's death in her next childbirth. if catelyn was 8/9 or even 10 when her mother died and she became de facto lady of riverrun, that could line up with the lannister twins losing their mother at 7 and not having strong memories of joanna.

idt catelyn really did think of riverrun as her birthright when her brief time as conscious heiress was a small fraction of her life, with at least 6yrs knowing she'd move away to be lady (consort) of winterfell instead and the rest of her life living out that responsibility as northern wife and mother. but it must still sting to be used to such a position of importance in her earlier time in riverrun and have no real authority when she returned to live there again as an adult, especially when edmure still seemed to act (to her) like the baby of the family not entirely matured into the authority he held all for himself. there's a part in her time in renly's camp when she thought robb was years younger but still knew what he was doing more than the southern king and his knights of summer playing at war. i'd imagine a simaliar feeling whenever edmure annoyed her. that's another difference between robb and edmure, that robb was a dutiful eldest sibling like his mother, formerly catelyn's baby but never anyone's baby brother. while edmure, even if he was (my by headcanon) a few years older than renly and unlike renly was meant to be a male heir from birth, was still a youngest child of 3 like renly.

[colorfulandblack]

Marion's Starburst Scar is Not a Bleed Scar and Also the Case of the Missing Soul

Here's some theories and thoughts so buckle up

So, ok let me begin with comparing the scars and reviewing what we know about them.

A person gets a scar whenever they receive 4 marks in either body, brain or bleed. This also changes one's character.

We saw Howard's scar, might I add self inflicted, then Charlotte's scar and we saw how the fact that they got them changed their personalities ever so slightly but also what's notable is the difference of the body/brain scar to bleed one. Howard performed a tracheotomy on himself and Charlie arm is rendered useless.

However, Arlo Black, who entered the latest assignment with already one bleed scar which was a result of her sticking her hand into a portal and being exposed to the Flare. Because of this her next bleed scar expanded beyond her hand onto her side of the face and heightened her abilities as an ocultist. Whenever she is exposed to bleed she feels it in her hand.

Sound familiar, doesn't it?

Marion also entered the assignment with a scar. However it was never specified how he got it and which sort is it. Seems pretty certain it is a bleed scar but hear me out cos that's not necessarily the case in my opinion.

Based on previous observations (especially Arlo and the fact that they are both under Weird category) and the fact that the scar seems to soak on the bleed as the blue veins show a bit more each time Marion uses his abilities much like Arlos points to it being a bleed scar. And the fact that after receiving a (second?) bleed scar it expanded up his neck.

But what drives me insane is why the hell is it starburst shaped? How the fuck would that manifest as a sign of bleed or be an indicator that he was exposed to the bleed? Arlo's scar makes sense because her hand was exposed to another dimension/plane.

What if Marion's first scar was a result of body marks?

First of all the fact that it's starburst shaped, for me immediately brings an image of an explosive. Which makes sense as Marion was a soldier and mortars were flying left and right on the battlefield.

It is also not specified when his premotions manifested in terms of had he already have the scar or not? See it is possible that once he started getting those premotions he maxed out on bleed scars pretty quickly. But his abilities are not inherently a sign or result of bleed. He soaks up other people's marks and given the fact he saved Sean and Nathaniel probably several times his tally for body must have been full. They had not encountered bleed during the war!

Again because of the shape of his scar I imagine that it is possible that the last mark he took was a body from a bomb going off. Now that wouldn't just leave a scar, that just puts you in the ground.

Now this is when it gets interesting both based on facts and on my headcanons.

Have you noticed how Marion's "Medium" underneath his portrait looks like a toetag?

I mean it could be just a little note thingy that you attach to gifts or use as a bookmark as a stylistic/aesthetic choice but if the fact that Luis names his character Marion Collodi like the author of Pinocchio who's a MARIONette and sings how he doesn't have any strings left (while Spencer graphically described the Eldrich terror reaching for their soul strings and finding nothing) taught me anything is that NOTHING is random here.

So, here's the thing. Marion dies. Marion dies in an explosion. He dies because he soaked up that last body only it wasn't just a body mark. It was entire fucking life. His scar is a result of body marks being full.

And because it was an entire fucking life his starburst scar becomes the centre of the bleeds that starts to enter his life well before Candela. Because this life that he exchanged was a result of some powerful magik that in the world of Newfaire ways manifests in the form of bleed and therefore marked this spot as it's home and now whenever Marion uses his abilities the scar pulsates and grows.

That is also a reason WHY he hasn't got a soul, because he exchanged it, saving someone's life. I like to imagine it was Sean and they are literally soulmates, two people, one soul. I mean I don't know if their relationship will play out more romantically or platonically/brotherly but they do have an insane bond together and it would make more sense, based on the conversation between Marion and Sean in the metro tunnels alone that they would fight alongside more often that they would alongside (literally in close proximity) Nathaniel. Sean said that Marion would often call the shots, how to maneuver the battlefield and Nathaniel being the lieutenant would put him in more commanding position. I just don't imagine he would tag along Sean and Marion having entire troup to command.

Either way bleed has already entered Marion's body/soul before Candela or any previous contant with bleed and marked him and that's why the thing said that he's a perfect vessel already prepared for whatever evil plan the monster have.

This of course DOES NOT explain the definitely DELIBERATE choice on Luis part of naming his character Marion Collodi, as elaborated above and what the fuck does it mean but perhaps we will learn about it later on.

Or perhaps because Marion is a vessel, because he exchanged his soul for other person's life he will become possessed and become a plaything, a mariontte to some Eldrich terror puppetier. Like some sort of cruel cosmic joke that prays and exploits Marion's heart of gold and innate inability to take care of himself and just soaking those marks left and right.

[chanrizard]

???? "leader of the pack" is literally SO GOOD?? and also cutely ties in his skzoo character/assigned emoji???? people don't make any sense wtfff

no but i'd understand the complaint if that was all the article focused on but it wasn't? the author actually praised all his other talents too and painted such a nice portrait, that was supposed to be the subtitle to capture your attention and make you want to read the article and if you're new to the kids that is exactly what you identify him as so ok it might not be as ""fancy"" as the others but it's still 100% true and i don't find it reductive in the slightest? 😭 idk maybe that's just me

[loeyshandtattoo]

the lady of moonreach

THIRD CHAPTER, Flames of Departure

chapter summary: Namra recalls the life she had in moonreach and makes a decision, but everything is foretelling the dangers behind the walls of her own home, even the depths of her mind

a/n: yes. i got to make a confession, i was heavily inspired by game of thrones in creating this fanfiction, if you surely have watched the series, i decided to have moonreach as a resemblance of riverrun and ironhold (though located in the capital) i visioned it more to be the ones in highgarden.

wc: 4.3k + did not proofread sorry whoops, first book has to be the boring one for me, wait out for the next two books chapter warnings: chanyeol itself is a warning, nightmares

picture is from Pinterest

THE SCENT OF POLISHED WOOD AND AGED LEATHER filled the air as I entered the grand hall of Moonreach. I had never seen a place so magnificent, and the sight before me was almost overwhelming. The walls were adorned with portraits of stern-faced ancestors, their eyes seeming to follow every movement. I clutched the edges of my coat tightly, feeling small and out of place amidst such opulence.

I glanced over Asia, I can see the quiver and how of a nerve wrack she was, mirroring how I am feeling as of the moment. "You think this is the best way?"

"We are to end helpless if we don't have any influence or power at all. You'll find that being Greenwell is going to have us at an advantage."

Lord Greenwell stood at the far end of the hall, a tall, imposing figure with an air of authority. His gaze was steady, a mixture of kindness and expectation. Beside him was Lady Greenwell, her warm smile offering a stark contrast to the formality of her husband.

My heart raced as I took tentative steps forward, guided by Ser Gareth, who had been assigned to escort me here. Lord Greenwell approached me, his expression softening as he neared. His eyes were a deep, thoughtful brown, and I could see the kindness behind his stern exterior. He extended a hand, and I hesitated for a moment before placing mine in his. His touch was firm but gentle.

"Welcome to Moonreach," he said, his voice carrying the weight of both authority and warmth. "I am Lord Greenwell. This is my wife, Lady Greenwell."

Lady Greenwell stepped forward, her smile radiant. "We've been waiting for you, Namra, Asia. We hope you will find Moonreach to be a place where you can feel truly at home."

I swallowed hard, emotions bubbling up. I had been so accustomed to uncertainty and instability that the prospect of a new beginning was both exhilarating and frightening. "Thank you," I managed to say, my voice barely more than a whisper.

"Thank you for choosing us to be your children." Asia whimpered as she held back a sob.

Lord Greenwell led us through the hallways, showing us the various rooms and spaces that would become our new home. As we walked, he spoke with a quiet authority, explaining the history of Moonreach and the Greenwell family’s legacy. His words painted a picture of a proud and noble lineage, deeply rooted in the land.

"House Greenwell has long served the royal family of Iris, the records of this estate dates back two-hundred years ago. We have been loyal to the crown, and that's what makes us powerful all these years."

Then Lord Greenwell, head downturned as he sighed, "However, for the last twenty-seven years, nothing but uncertainty has flooded the kingdom. After the assassination of the royal family that night, it all seemed that life ended. We tried to remain to king Fritz just so we may save this house, can you blame me for siding with the usurper?

Felicity and I have not conceived an heir, and the bloodline ends with me."

I looked at him as though as I have understood everything about what he's trying to say, sympathizing with him, having to grow without a family for more than two decades, changed how I am to interact with people.

"So you chose to adopt us." Asia added.

"It was pure coincidence, children. I saw you both in the fishing village up north, near the borderlines, and I just thought that to help you ease you from your life." He replied.

In the evening, the Greenwells hosted a small welcoming feast in our honor. The dining hall was filled with the scent of roast meats and fresh bread. As I sat at the table, I noticed how different it felt from the stark meals I had grown accustomed to. There was laughter and conversation, and for the first time in a long while, I felt a sense of belonging.

Lord Greenwell raised his glass in a toast. "To Namra and Asia Greenwell," he said, his voice resonant with sincerity. "May Moonreach be a place of warmth and strength for you, as it has been for us."

I looked around at the faces surrounding me—faces that seemed genuinely pleased to welcome me into their lives. The warmth of the evening, the kindness of my new family, and the beauty of Moonreach combined to create a profound sense of peace.

After the welcoming feast, I was escorted back to my new quarters by Lady Greenwell. However, as night settled and I couldn’t shake off my curiosity, I found myself wandering the halls of Moonreach, eventually ending up in Lord Greenwell’s study. The door was slightly ajar, and I could see the flickering light of the fire within.

I hesitated for a moment before gently pushing the door open. Lord Greenwell looked up from his desk, where he was engrossed in a stack of papers. He seemed surprised but not displeased by my presence.

“Come in, Namra,” he said, gesturing to a comfortable chair near the fireplace. “It’s quite late, but if you wish to talk, I’m happy to oblige.”

I settled into the chair, feeling both nervous and curious. “I didn’t mean to intrude. I just—” I paused, unsure how to continue.

“It’s all right,” Lord Greenwell said with a reassuring smile. “Is there something on your mind?”

I took a deep breath, my thoughts drifting back to the stories I had heard about the kingdom’s tumultuous history. “You said that the Royal family of Iris has been assassinated. What happened?”

Lord Greenwell’s expression grew somber, and he leaned back in his chair, his gaze distant. “It’s a painful subject, but if you wish to understand, I’ll tell you.”

He began, his voice steady but tinged with regret. “Twenty-seven years ago, the royal family of Iris was assassinated in a ruthless coup. The official history claims that a faction within the court orchestrated their deaths, but the truth is far more unsettling.”

I listened intently, my curiosity piqued. “What happened afterward?”

“The kingdom was engulfed in chaos,” Lord Greenwell continued. “The usurper King Fritz seized the throne amid the turmoil. Many nobles, including myself, were faced with a choice—align with the new ruler or risk our estates and lives.”

He paused, his eyes reflecting the weight of the memories. “I chose to remain neutral, not out of indifference, but because I had doubts about the legitimacy of anyone claiming to be the rightful heir. The royal family was completely wiped out that night, and there was no clear successor.”

I was taken aback by his revelation. “So you had doubts about Chanyeol’s claim to the throne?”

“Yes,” Lord Greenwell admitted. “Without any surviving members of the royal family, the legitimacy of Chanyeol’s claim was questionable. I chose to focus on preserving Moonreach and ensuring the safety of those under my care, rather than risking everything on a claim that might not be genuine.”

His gaze met mine, and there was a depth of regret in his eyes. “It was a difficult decision, one that has haunted me for years. As Chanyeol returns to claim his throne, I remain cautious. It’s not that I wish him ill, but I must weigh the risks carefully.”

I sat in silence, absorbing the gravity of Lord Greenwell’s words. The history of Iris and the Greenwell family’s role in it was more complex and uncertain than I had imagined. This understanding deepened my appreciation for Moonreach and the responsibilities that came with it.

Lord Greenwell’s voice broke the silence. “I hope this knowledge helps you understand the weight of the legacy we carry. Moonreach is not just an estate; it’s a symbol of resilience amidst the uncertainty of our kingdom’s history.”

As I left the study, I felt a renewed sense of purpose. Lord Greenwell’s revelations had provided me with valuable context and reinforced my commitment to Moonreach and its restoration. It was not just about the estate; it was about contributing to the legacy of a family and a kingdom striving to find its way through the shadows of its past.

This takes me back to the present time as I stride towards the council chamber, father's words echoes in my ears. Asia and I owe our life to him after everything that we have endured.

The council chamber was alive with murmurs as I entered, the air thick with anticipation. Chanyeol sat at the head of the table, his gaze piercing as he took in the room. The council members, each with their own agendas, shifted in their seats, waiting for the proceedings to commence.

I cleared my throat, drawing their attention. "I have an announcement to make."

“If we can make them believe that you’re heading back to Moonreach, it might draw them out. We need them to reveal themselves.” Junmyeon raised his pointer finger and directed it towards me.

I nod, my fingers brushing over the map where he’s pointed. Moonreach has always been more than just a location to me; it’s a piece of my past, a symbol of my connection to this land. The idea of using it as bait doesn’t sit well, this can cost everything that we have planned for the restoration, but it’s a necessary risk.

“What if they don’t fall for it?” I ask, my voice betraying a hint of worry. “What if they see through our plan?”

Junmyeon looks at me with a determined expression. “That’s why we need to be meticulous. We have to ensure that our departure is seen as genuine. The more convincing we are, the more likely they are to take the bait.”

I take a deep breath, the memories of Moonreach flashing in my mind. The echoes of laughter, the warmth of family, and the fire that consumed it all. The emotional weight of it hits me again, a reminder of why this is so important.

“We can use the upcoming council meeting to announce your departure,” Junmyeon continues. “We’ll make it clear that you’re going to oversee the restoration and ensure that Moonreach is secure. The loyalists will think they have a clear opportunity.”

I look up at Junmyeon, catching his gaze. His eyes hold a steely resolve, and for a moment, I see the same determination reflected in his face that I felt during our earlier, more dangerous assignments. It’s a reminder that we’re in this together, despite the risks.

“What about Chanyeol?” I ask, my voice softer now. “He’ll be left in the dark about our true intentions.”

Junmyeon’s expression softens, but there’s a note of pragmatism in his eyes. “We can’t afford to involve him in this part of the plan. It’s too risky. We’ll have to handle this carefully and ensure he doesn’t suspect anything until it’s too late for the loyalists to retreat.”

I nod again, feeling the weight of responsibility on my shoulders. “Alright, let’s do it. But we need to make sure we’re prepared for whatever comes next.”

The room fell silent. Chanyeol's eyes narrowed, his expression a mix of curiosity and concern.

"I am preparing to return to Moonreach," I said firmly. "The restoration efforts are crucial, and I intend to oversee them personally."

A ripple of surprise moved through the council members. I could see the questions forming on their faces, but I held up a hand to forestall any immediate reactions.

"Moonreach is not just a strategic location; it holds great personal significance for me," I continued. "I will use this opportunity to reinforce our position and gather more intel on the northern regions."

Chanyeol’s face tightened, his eyes flashing with unspoken concerns. "Namra, are you sure this is the right course of action? The risks—"

"I am aware of the risks," I interrupted, meeting his gaze steadily. "But Moonreach needs someone who understands its importance. Besides, this is an opportunity to address certain issues directly and ensure the restoration proceeds as planned."

There was a pause, and Chanyeol's gaze flickered toward Junmyeon, who had been unusually quiet. Junmyeon met Chanyeol’s look with a calm expression, as if ready to support whatever decision was made.

"You must understand," Chanyeol said slowly, "Moonreach is not without its problems. I am concerned about your safety."

"I appreciate your concern," I said, my tone softening slightly. "But I am determined to make this work. It’s not just about the restoration; it’s about securing our future."

The council members exchanged glances, their interest piqued. I could sense a shift in the room, a growing acknowledgment of my determination.

"Very well," Chanyeol said reluctantly. "If this is what you believe is best, then I won’t stand in your way. But please—take every precaution."

"I will," I assured him. "Thank you."

As the meeting concluded, the atmosphere remained tense, the weight of my decision hanging heavily in the air. I could feel Chanyeol’s eyes on me as I left the chamber, his worry palpable.

Later that day, I met with Junmyeon in private. We discussed the plan to use my departure as a strategic move to lure out any potential threats. Junmyeon seemed satisfied with the plan, though his expression remained serious.

"This will work," Junmyeon assured me. "We need to be careful, though. The council is watching closely."

"I understand," I said. "It’s crucial that we remain one step ahead."

As I prepared for my departure, I couldn’t shake the feeling that the upcoming days would be pivotal. I had to balance the restoration of Moonreach with the underlying tensions and hidden threats that lay ahead.

The strategy room was eerily quiet, the only sounds the crackling of the fireplace and the rustling of papers as I reviewed the latest reports from Moonreach. The weight of the kingdom's struggles pressed heavily on my shoulders. Just as I was about to close my eyes and rest my head on the table, the door creaked open.

Chanyeol entered, his presence immediately filling the room. He looked tired but resolute, his eyes meeting mine with a mix of determination and frustration.

"We need to talk," he said, his voice low but firm.

I straightened, feeling a flare of irritation. "About what?"

He crossed the room, stopping just a few feet away from me. "About your decision to return to Moonreach. It's reckless, and you know it."

Anger surged through me. "Reckless? Moonreach is my home. It's our home. I have a responsibility to see its restoration."

Chanyeol's eyes flashed with anger. "And I have a responsibility to keep you safe. You don't understand the dangers out there."

"I understand perfectly," I shot back. "I don't need you to protect me. I can take care of myself."

His expression hardened. "This isn't just about you. It's about the kingdom, about the people who depend on you. You can't just run off and—"

"Run off?" I interrupted, stepping closer to him. "Is that what you think I'm doing? Running away?"

Our faces were inches apart now, the tension between us palpable. I could feel the heat of his breath on my skin, the intensity of his gaze boring into mine. The room seemed to shrink around us, the air thick with unspoken emotions.

"You don't get to decide what's best for me," I continued, my voice shaking slightly, though I tried to mask it with defiance. “You don’t get to dictate my choices.”

Chanyeol's eyes softened for a moment, a flicker of something vulnerable passing through them. He reached out, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face, his fingers lingering longer than necessary. The touch was electric, sending a shiver down Namra’s spine.

“I’m not trying to dictate anything,” he said, his voice softer but still tinged with frustration. “I just… don't want anything to happen to you."

My breath hitched, my defiance faltering as I looked up at him. The raw emotion in his eyes was almost overwhelming, and it pulled at something deep within me.

“I’m asking you to trust me.” I assured him.

For a moment, we stood there in tense silence, the only sound the crackle of the fire. Chanyeol’s gaze dropped to my lips, his own parting slightly as if he were about to speak, but the words seemed to escape him. His hand, still resting on my face, slowly slid down to cup my cheek, his thumb brushing over my skin.

My heart pounded in my chest, and I could feel the heat radiating off him. The intensity of the moment was almost too much to bear, and I found herself leaning into his touch, her eyes fluttering shut for a brief second.

“Chanyeol,” I whimpered, voice barely more than a whisper, “please…”

The plea was enough to break the dam of his restraint. Without another word, Chanyeol closed the distance between us, his lips capturing mine in a desperate, heated kiss. The world outside seemed to disappear, leaving only the two of us and the fierce connection we shared.

In the kiss, I responded with equal fervor, my hands finding their way to his shoulders, pulling him closer. The kiss was passionate, filled with a mix of frustration, longing, and an undeniable attraction that had been building between them.

Chanyeol’s hands roamed over my back, pulling me flush against him, as if he was trying to fuse our bodies together. The fire crackled in the hearth, casting shadows that danced on the walls, mirroring the tumultuous emotions that swirled between us.

But as quickly as it began, it ended. Chanyeol pulled back, his expression a mix of hope and trepidation. I could see the longing in his eyes, but it was overshadowed by my own mounting regret.

“What… what have we done?” I whispered, stepping away from him, my heart pounding with a tumult of emotions.

Chanyeol looked at me, his face a mask of confusion and hurt. “Namra, I…”

“I’m sorry,” I interrupted, my voice trembling. “This… this isn’t right. We can’t—”

“Namra, wait—” he began, reaching out to me, but I took another step back, the reality of the situation crashing over me like a cold wave.

“No, Chanyeol. We can’t do this. We have duties, responsibilities. This kiss… it changes nothing. I can’t let myself be swayed by… by this.”

He looked at me with a mix of sadness and understanding, but there was also a flicker of frustration in his eyes. I could see the hurt in his gaze, and it twisted the knife of my regret deeper.

“Is this about Junmyeon?” Chanyeol's voice was tight, his eyes narrowing as he spoke.

I froze, my breath catching in my throat. “What are you talking about?”

“I’ve seen the way you two are together,” Chanyeol said, his voice rising with anger. “The way you look at him, how you interact with him. I can’t ignore it anymore.”

I stared at him, my heart racing. “You’re being irrational. Junmyeon and I are working together. It doesn’t mean anything beyond that.”

Chanyeol’s eyes flashed with hurt and jealousy. “It’s more than that, Namra. I’ve watched you two for weeks. There’s something between you, and it’s clear to me now. This kiss—was it just a way to push me aside?”

“No!” I shot back, my voice laced with frustration. “This kiss was a mistake. I let my emotions get the better of me, but it doesn’t change what we need to focus on.”

Chanyeol’s expression hardened. “It feels like you’re trying to push me away. First, there’s Junmyeon, and now this. It’s like you’re using me as a distraction while you have something else with him.”

I felt a pang of guilt. “That’s not true. I’m not using you. I’m trying to do what’s right for everyone. But this… this kiss was a lapse in judgment.”

"Oh come on. We know that kiss means something, Namra." Chanyeol continues to argue. "Tell me right then, at this very space."

"I don't feel anything at all for you. My loyalties lie with my purpose right now. I'm sorry if the way I act for the past few weeks told you otherwise." I apologized.

"I have been set up for marriage, you know." He said. Trying to clench to his last bit of hope. "To the lovely Lady Ambers of Dawnspire, we need their reinforcements to secure power in the west."

"Then I wish you both good luck. Thank you for aiding us in restoring my family's estate. We owe the crown a lot, and we will assure you that the debt will be paid."

The early morning light filtered through the mist as I stood alone at the edge of Stonehearth, my breath visible in the cool air. The city, still in its sleepy state, seemed distant and almost surreal, as if the bustle and energy I had grown accustomed to were nothing but a distant memory. My carriage awaited, dark and imposing, its wheels poised to carry me away from the city and toward Moonreach.

The argument with Chanyeol still lingered in my mind, a sharp edge against the calmness of the dawn. We had both been on edge, and our emotions had flared in the heat of the moment.

I shook my head, pushing the thoughts aside as I approached the carriage. Junmyeon was already inside, reviewing the documents with a concentrated expression. He looked up as I climbed in, his gaze sympathetic but guarded.

“Everything is set,” he said, handing me a final checklist. “The route is clear, and we’re prepared for any complications.”

I took the checklist, nodding. “Thank you. I know it’s been a challenging few days.”

Junmyeon’s eyes softened slightly. “We’re all here for the mission, Namra. It’s important to stay focused, especially with the obstacles we might face.”

"Which reminds me I have to return to Stonehearth in few days time. I cannot be absent longer in the council meetings especially leaving him alone there to be feasted by those vultures." I just nodded in reply.

I glanced back at Stonehearth one last time, the city’s skyline now a silhouette against the rising sun. The warmth of the early light did little to chase away the chill of the previous argument. My thoughts were clouded, but I forced myself to concentrate on the task ahead. Moonreach awaited, and there was no room for doubt.

The carriage doors closed behind me, and the rhythmic sound of the wheels on the cobblestones began. The cityscape gradually shifted to the rolling countryside as we traveled north. The sun climbed higher in the sky, bathing the landscape in a golden glow.

As we journeyed, the terrain changed from the gentle hills surrounding Stonehearth to the rugged, more challenging landscape of Skybound. The road was winding, and the carriage rocked slightly with every turn. Junmyeon was quiet, his focus on the documents in his lap, but his presence was a steadying influence.

I reviewed the maps and notes we had prepared, mentally going over the plans for Moonreach. The estate was crucial to our mission, and every detail needed to be accounted for. The need to restore Moonreach and uncover the secrets within its walls drove me forward, pushing aside the personal conflicts that clouded my mind.

The journey was long, and the sun began to dip toward the horizon, casting long shadows across the landscape. As we neared Moonreach, the estate’s dark silhouette emerged against the fading light, its grandeur marred by the scars of the recent fire.

The carriage rolled to a stop before the grand entrance of Moonreach. The once-majestic estate stood silent and solemn, the damage evident but the essence of its former glory still present. I took a deep breath, the cool evening air biting at my skin. The estate was a formidable presence, and the weight of our mission pressed heavily on my shoulders.

Junmyeon joined me as I stepped out of the carriage, his face reflecting a mixture of determination and professionalism. Together, we walked toward the grand entrance, ready to begin the next phase of our work.

As I approached the imposing structure, the last light of the day cast a soft glow over the estate. The shadows of the damaged walls seemed to whisper of the challenges that lay ahead. But with a steely resolve, I entered Moonreach, greeted immediately by the workers.

"Lady Greenwell, we didn't expect you to arrive so soon." He greeted.

"How's the progress so far? It was fortunate that some parts of the structure are not fully in ruins."

"We hadn't been operating for days, my lady. We were expecting the materials the other day, but still haven't arrived."

"I'll write back to Ironhold for new batch of shipments." Junmyeon interjected. I assented and allowed him to do what he needed to do.

The candlelight flickered softly, casting shifting shadows on the stone walls of my chamber. The room was one of the few spared by the inferno that had consumed Moonreach. Though it retained some semblance of its former grandeur, its emptiness felt like a ghost of its past. The bed, though clean and neatly made, seemed heavy with the weight of the estate's history.

Exhausted from the day's efforts to salvage what remained of Moonreach and coordinate the necessary repairs, I collapsed onto the bed, hoping for a few moments of rest. The familiar strains of fatigue were setting in, and I found my thoughts drifting, merging into the quiet lull of sleep.

As I surrendered to slumber, my dreams took on a strange and vivid quality. I found myself in a dimly lit room that felt oddly familiar, though its details eluded me. The space was filled with an ethereal mist, and the air was heavy with a sense of foreboding. The atmosphere was charged with an unspoken tension that prickled at my senses.

In the midst of this dreamscape, a figure emerged from the haze—neither distinctly familiar nor entirely strange. The figure’s features were obscured by the mist, and their presence was commanding yet enigmatic. They moved with a quiet, intense energy, their eyes never meeting mine directly but always seeming to observe me closely.

"Namra," the figure’s voice resonated, echoing with an authority that made me shiver. "You’re growing too close to this place. I can sense it."

I tried to step back, but the mist seemed to constrict around us, making it difficult to move. The figure approached, their gaze piercing through the fog. "You’re letting yourself be swayed," they continued, their tone edged with a mix of urgency and reprimand. "Chanyeol is nothing more than a distraction. You were sent here for a reason."

The dream felt strangely real, the air between us charged with an emotional current. The figure’s presence was almost suffocating, their words a reminder of the mission’s importance. "I can’t let you lose focus," they said, their voice a low, insistent whisper. "Remember why you came here. The secrets you need to uncover are far more important than any personal attachment."

As the figure's presence began to dissolve into the mist, their voice lingered, a haunting reminder of the mission at hand. "You must stay true to your purpose. Do not let emotions steer you off course."

The mist began to recede, and the dreamscape dissolved into darkness. I awoke abruptly, my breath quick and shallow. The room was still and quiet, the candlelight casting gentle flickers on the walls. I sat up in bed, my mind racing to make sense of the dream. The mysterious figure’s possessiveness and the urgent reminder of my mission weighed heavily on me.

The dream had been a stark reminder of the delicate balance I had to maintain. Despite the growing connection I felt with Moonreach and its people, the mission remained my primary focus. I had to stay vigilant and remember why I was here. The fate of Moonreach and the larger purpose of my mission rested in my hands, and I needed to be ready for whatever lay ahead.

The morning light filtered through the partially restored windows of Moonreach, casting a warm glow over the chamber.

A knock on the door interrupted my thoughts and adjusting from the restless slumber. I reluctantly rose from the bed. She pulled on a simple robe and opened the door to find a servant standing with a note.

“This arrived for you, my lady,” the servant said, handing her the sealed parchment. “It’s from Lord Baekhyun of Verdantia.”

Namra’s eyebrows shot up. She had not expected any correspondence from him. She broke the seal and unfurled the letter, her eyes skimming over the elegant script:

Lady Namra,

I trust this letter finds you well despite the recent trials. I have been informed of your presence in Moonreach and would like to offer my assistance. I am en route to meet with you personally to discuss matters of mutual interest. Please expect my arrival by midday.

Yours sincerely,

Lord Baekhyun of Verdantia

Namra folded the letter and turned to the servant. “Prepare the guest chamber for Lord Baekhyun. And ensure that the preparations are made for a formal greeting.”

“Yes, my lady,” the servant replied, hurrying off.

By midday, Moonreach had transformed into a flurry of activity. The great hall, once a charred shell, had been cleaned and arranged for the noble visitor. The scent of freshly baked bread and roasted meats filled the air, mingling with the crisp aroma of polished wood.

As the grand doors to the hall were flung open, Lord Baekhyun strode in, his presence commanding immediate respect. He was dressed in the fine attire of Verdantia’s elite—an elegant green and gold ensemble that spoke of both his wealth and his status.

Baekhyun’s gaze swept the room before settling on Namra. His eyes, sharp and calculating, softened slightly as he offered a courteous bow. “Lady Namra, it is a pleasure to finally meet you in person.”

Namra returned the bow, masking her curiosity with a polite smile. “Lord Baekhyun, welcome to Moonreach. Your presence here is most unexpected.”

Baekhyun’s smile was warm but held a glint of something more. “I have been following the events closely and felt compelled to offer my support. Verdantia has long valued the alliance with Iris, and I believe we can be of help to each other.”

They exchanged pleasantries as they walked toward the dining table, where a small feast had been prepared. As they took their seats, Namra’s curiosity got the better of her. “You mentioned in your letter that you have matters of mutual interest to discuss. What did you have in mind?”

Baekhyun’s expression became more serious. “We will be glad of assistance in restoring the Greenwell's residence after all our fathers have been of mutual respect for the last twenty years."

Namra nodded, her interest piqued. “I appreciate your willingness to assist. My primary concern is the recovery of Moonreach and the restoration of order within the kingdom. But there are also matters of intelligence and security that need addressing.”

Baekhyun’s gaze grew more focused. “Oh indeed. The force that weakens the crown."

"It was actually Lord Junmyeon who rallied me to your side. He spoke highly of your dedication and the challenges you face. His endorsement was enough for me to prioritize your cause. Verdantia stands ready to offer support in various capacities, whether through information, resources, or strategic alliances.”

Namra raised an eyebrow. “Junmyeon did this?”

“Yes,” Baekhyun confirmed, nodding. “He believes that your mission aligns with the broader goals of stabilizing and strengthening the kingdom. His trust in you was a strong influence on my decision to assist. We believe in Chanyeol's claim to the throne as well."

I sighed as I remember the dream I had last night.

"What? You don't believe in Chanyeol's rightful claim to the throne?" Baekhyun questioned my loyalty to the crown, trying to search any signs of treason in my behavior.

The dreams of last night still continued to bug me. "It's just my father has been loyal to the Royal family, but when Chanyeol conquered Iris once again, he doubted him of his claim." I replied.

"I guess your father never had the chance to explain to you before his death." He mumbled.

This caused me to peer my gaze towards him, inquiring the meaning behind his words, what my father failed to tell me, and hearing it here from the walls of my own home.

"Polymos is indeed a beautiful home to our house before."

"That must have been the reason why father, the member of the king's council years ago, fled to Polymos to save the infant Chanyeol."

the lady of moonreach masterlist

[alenaphale]

now i believe it is time to elaborate a little on the subject (everyone in this au is just so chaotic)

• there is one particular rule that not a single meeting of les amis fails to follow — the musicians always complain about professor javert. they literally cannot shut up.

• the artists could never understand their complaints, however, because valjean is such an amazing mentor — he never shouts, never makes any negative remarks, only gives soft suggestions and guidance. and they all respect him greatly, because he really is a professional, to that extent that he can interpret the rules in his own way.

• still, grantaire is systematically late for plein-airs, his hair and clothes in horrible disarray, his head still dizzy from the previous night’s party, but no one can blame him, honestly, because, despite his absolute lack of self-discipline, he somehow manages to get good grades (and not only because of valjean’s soft-heartedness and compassion. i swear.)

• enjolras is always pissed because everyone thinks he follows javert’s instructions blindly at the rehearsals — but he doesn’t, they just have very similar understanding of how an orchestra should work (although, of course, enjolras is more inclined to suggestions from the members, whereas javert is merciless towards ones who ‘cannot even play their part right’). enjolras always stands up for his colleagues, but honestly he never succeeds, for javert’s authority and experience are unquestionable.

• marius is always late for the rehearsals. there have been endless times combeferre sat in his chair in cold sweat, white-knuckled grip on his violin and the bow, knowing that javert will definitely notice poor bloke’s absence and then it will be over for them all.

• during the classes grantaire draws endless portraits of enjolras instead of actual assignments. valjean only sighs at this.

• marius and courfeyrac share an apartment and this is actually so terrible because marius is helpless and courfeyrac is irresponsible but the latter still manages to do the chores while the former is locked in his room for hours staring blankly at the wall. occasionally courfeyrac knocks on his door to bring him some dinner made of the leftovers from the fridge. marius answers with extremely sad and honestly pathetic violin solo.

• joly and lesgles also share an apartment, but in a completely different way. bossuet’s room is a mess and his shirt stains the moment he pulls it out of the laundry, joly cleans the flat in its entirety at least twice a week. bossuet breaks a cup or a plate on a regular basis and burns the pans, joly cooks the most healthy and hearty dinner one can imagine, leaving the kitchen counter perfectly clean. bossuet is always late to classes even if they leave the flat together. bossuet cuts his finger and doesn’t do anything about it, joly shows him a video with horrifying outcome of not washing your fruits properly. sometimes while watching something they fall asleep together in joly’s room, and for once bossuet doesn’t fall from the bed and joly is totally okay with being so close to another human being.

• feuilly made an installation of powstanie listopadowe for his term project. then bossuet ruined it while just walking past it on the exhibition and feuilly was swearing at him in polish for good fifteen minutes.

• combeferre is the one who prints out the scores for the whole orchestra. sometimes he forgets which one was the original — with all the marks javert left for every party — and spends the whole night copying the marks with his own hand. sometimes he hates being a concertmaster, but in the end he does it all out of good will only.

• sometimes when a meeting is over, enjolras and combeferre wait patiently (or not, if courfeyrac and grantaire are too enthusiastic to spend a little more time with them) until everyone takes a bus or a train home, and then they just wonder aimlessly through the streets, discussing everything and nothing in particular. sometimes they talk eagerly to the very break of dawn, and then they still have to show up for the rehearsal strictly at nine o’clock.

there is more to come! in the next post i will probably write about valvert because i love them dearly and of course they are insane even here.

[fefairys]

"Everything an author is capable of conceiving is recorded through the characters they create and the words and actions they assign to them, which includes good and evil things. If it didn't include such moral polarities, the results wouldn't be too interesting. Which is why me saying characters like Dirk, Equius, Doc, and a few others exist as dark authorial surrogates shouldn't be taken as overly self-critical lacerations. (Unless you really want to think I suck as bad as they do, in which case I'll just say: fair enough.) I'd say these self-examined qualities are just drawn out, isolated, and inflated both for dramatic effect, and also as critical write-up of those qualities existing within many human beings in general, which I would like to think is grounded in a creative process involving a certain degree of humility about some of this bullshit. I like all these characters here, but that doesn't mean I think their unpleasant qualities are good. It just means I am harnessing and heightening those qualities for creating strong villainous portraits. If you write stuff, then it's very likely you do this as well. That is, carving up the full potential of your personality and endowing your OCS with the exotic results, including your extremes. The only difference between us is you probably didn't have the courage to drag yourself into the story and begin weirdly personalizing many of these decisions, thereby essentially making everything about you, literally constantly, and then writing tons of cool huge notes about it all in later editions." -Andrew Hussie

[sitp-recs]

Hello! Any writer!Draco fics you can recommend?

Hi anon, absolutely! I reckon that’s a pretty common trope in fic nowadays. I’ve decided to include journalist!Draco as well, in case you’re interested:

He Whose Hand and Eye Are Gentle by khalulu (2017, G, 5k)

Draco reads poems and sometimes writes them. Harry receives poems and sometimes reads them. Rutherford delivers poems via the scenic route.

i just want your extra time and your.... by @bonesliketambourines (2020, E, 9k)

Ron should know better than to speak Latin in a magical library. If he’d just left well enough alone, instead of trying to badger Malfoy for the details of his newest novel, Harry wouldn’t have to listen to all of this chatter about how bloody decent Malfoy is, and he wouldn’t be dealing with all of these...feelings.

coffee & communication: a (slow) romance by @softlystarstruck (2022, E, 11k)

Nearly a decade after the war, Draco has made a life for himself in Muggle London, writing romance novels and hanging out with his cat.

Dream by the Fire by GallifreyisBurning (2020, M, 11k)

When Draco Malfoy resurfaces in England after eight years abroad—tattooed, pierced, and wanting to take over a corner of Harry's coffee shop to work on a writing project—Harry can't help but be intrigued.

Write the Way Out by carpemermaid (2017, E, 14k)

When Draco finally gets his first real assignment as a reporter for the Daily Prophet, he didn’t imagine that he would be given the Potter beat.

100 Beats per Minute by @oknowkiss (2022, E, 14k)

When Draco left the Magical World behind at nineteen, he didn't expect the cusp of thirty would find him comfortable and secure, with a stable life and a successful career as a sex columnist.

Romance, in Quartet by @potteresque-ire (2014, E, 14k)

Draco Malfoy, the writer of WWN's The Romance Hour, found solace in his quill as his son Scorpius battled cancer.

Reading Malfoy by Femme (2013, M, 15k)

After thirteen years of hiding himself away in Muggle London, Draco Malfoy shows up again in the wizarding world--with a wickedly amusing memoir in hand. Harry doesn't want to read it. Really. He doesn't.

Sourdough by @academicdisasterfic (2021, M, 17k)

Draco writes romance novels and doesn't leave his apartment much. Harry bakes bread and sells it to Draco. Draco is quite weird. Harry might like that.

Sparks from the Fox’s Tail by khalulu (2013, T, 17k)

Draco is frustrated with his career as a travel writer, when a mini-tirade from Mrs Weasley and an encounter with the portrait of an intrepid great-great-great-aunt lead him to Finland to study wandless magic.

Gossip Boys by mypetelephant (2012, E, 24k)

Confiscated Dark objects have been disappearing from the Ministry, and journalist Harry Potter is on the case. Unfortunately, he has to drag along Draco Malfoy, gossip columnist extraordinaire, whose subject of choice is everyone's favorite desultory hero.

If We Were Honest by @daisymondays (2018, E, 26k)

Two years ago, Draco and Harry had a whirlwind secret romance that ended in heart-break. Since then Draco's written a best-selling novel based on their relationship, but with one key difference—the characters get a happily ever after.

The Boy and the Sleeping Prince by phoenixacid and @writcraft (2014, E, 26k)

Harry is miserable and tired of being an Auror, coasting through life until he’s forced to make some changes. Spurred on by his passion for drawing and working with best-selling author Draco Malfoy, Harry develops a charm which gives children a magical, interactive reading experience.

Written Proof by @m0srael (2021, E, 34k)

Draco's move home to Wiltshire after more than a decade is anything but easy. He's given up an illustrious career in journalism to pursue poetry, his mother's health is declining, and it seems that the War isn't quite as 'in the past' as Draco assumed.

All Roads by @korlaena and Saulaie (2019, M, 36k)

Draco hates his job at the Prophet. He hates it even more when he’s assigned to write an article on Harry Potter, who left the country three years ago after their falling out.

Picking Up Pieces by @tessacrowley (2017, E, 44k)

Fifteen years after the War, Draco is a social recluse and award winning author. Harry is an auror who works too hard, ensuring his old war wounds never heal.

Antonym of Silence by @xx-thedarklord-xx (2021, M, 45k)

No witnesses, no sign of a break-in, wards intact and a missing person. Just what happened to Draco Malfoy? Was he even still alive? All Harry's got to go off of is a wrecked house, a silent painting, and a journal full of private emotions.

Had To Be You by @lettersbyelise (2018, E, 59k)

Draco Malfoy is possibly the last person Harry expects to find at the wheel of a Muggle car, on a beautiful summer day on the road to London.

Who we are in the shadows by @quicksilvermaid (2019, E, 99k)

What happens when you’re forced to become the very thing you despise? Ex-Auror Harry Potter, tossed out of the Ministry for something he had no control over, has been looking for a way back to his former life.

Turn by Saras_Girl (2013, E, 306k)

One good turn always deserves another. Apparently.

[alliluyevas]

re: last night's discussion of classic lit/assigned readings/Reading Faulkner...I do want to read Absalom, Absalom sometime in the near future but I am also interested in reading some critical analysis on Faulkner's work. I obviously have my own thoughts but there's also been a ton of really interesting scholarship including a few books I've flagged for myself that sound really promising. For instance:

Faulkner, Mississippi by Edouard Glissant

In 1989, while teaching literature in Louisiana, the Caribbean writer Edouard Glissant visited Rowan Oak, William Faulkner's home in Oxford, Mississippi. His visit spurred him to an original and powerful reappraisal of Faulkner's work. Like Faulkner's literary descendants in the United States, Glissant is fascinated by the stories of Yoknapatawpha County and disturbed by the author's equivocations about the racism there. Glissant, however, stands in a distinctive relation to Faulkner and his county: as a black Martinican, he is descended from slaves; as a native French speaker, he first encountered the great novelist's work in translation. Faulkner, Mississippi is a distinctive look at an American icon by a writer deeply involved in the issues of Faulkner's work. Glissant sees the racial complexities of Faulkner as the key to his influence in the next century, and presents Faulkner as the progenitor of Flannery O'Connor, Gabriel Garcia Marquez, Alejo Carpentier, and Toni Morrison, who all write fiction in which the characters are implicated in a single multiracial calamity. He exhorts the reader to "Look him straight in the eyes, the son of the slave and the son of the slave owner" -- and Glissant's own clear-eyed gaze makes this book a revelation about the work of one of our greatest but still least-understood writers.

The Saddest Words: William Faulkner's Civil War by Michael Gorra

How do we read William Faulkner in the twenty-first century? asks Michael Gorra, one of America’s most preeminent literary critics. Should we still read William Faulkner in this new century? What can his works tell us about the legacy of slavery and the Civil War, that central quarrel in our nation’s history? These are the provocative questions that Michael Gorra asks in this historic portrait of the novelist and his world. Born in 1897 in Mississippi, Faulkner wrote such iconic novels as Absalom, Absalom! and The Sound and the Fury, creating in Yoknapatawpha County the richest gallery of characters in American fiction, his achievements culminating in the 1949 Nobel Prize in Literature. But given his works’ echo of “Lost Cause” romanticism, his depiction of black characters and black speech, and his rendering of race relations in a largely unreconstructed South, Faulkner demands a sobering reevaluation. Interweaving biography, absorbing literary criticism, and rich travelogue, The Saddest Words recontextualizes Faulkner, revealing a civil war within him, while examining the most plangent cultural issues facing American literature today.

William Faulkner and Southern History by Joel Williamson

Indeed, to a degree perhaps unmatched by any other major twentieth-century novelist, Faulkner remained at home and explored his own region--the history and culture and people of the South. Now, in William Faulkner and Southern History , one of America's most acclaimed historians of the South, Joel Williamson, weaves together a perceptive biography of Faulkner himself, an astute analysis of his works, and a revealing history of Faulkner's ancestors in Mississippi--a family history that becomes, in Williamson's skilled hands, a vivid portrait of Southern culture itself. Williamson provides an insightful look at Faulkner's ancestors, a group sketch so brilliant that the family comes alive almost as vividly as in Faulkner's own fiction. Indeed, his ancestors often outstrip his characters in their colorful and bizarre nature. Williamson has made several the Falkners (William was the first to spell it "Faulkner") were not planter, slaveholding "aristocrats"; Confederate Colonel Falkner was not an unalloyed hero, and he probably sired, protected, and educated a mulatto daughter who married into America's mulatto elite; Faulner's maternal grandfather Charlie Butler stole the town's money and disappeared in the winter of 1887-1888, never to return. Equally important, Williamson uses these stories to underscore themes of race, class, economics, politics, religion, sex and violence, idealism and Romanticism--"the rainbow of elements in human culture"--that reappear in Faulkner's work. He also shows that, while Faulkner's ancestors were no ordinary people, and while he sometimes flashed a curious pride in them, Faulkner came to embrace a pervasive sense of shame concerning both his family and his culture. This he wove into his writing, especially about sex, race, class, and violence, psychic and otherwise. William Faulkner and Southern History represents an unprecedented publishing event--an eminent historian writing on a major literary figure. By revealing the deep history behind the art of the South's most celebrated writer, Williamson evokes new insights and deeper understanding, providing anyone familiar with Faulkner's great novels with a host of connections between his work, his life, and his ancestry.

I think all of these books sound really interesting and would provide new critical lenses with which to analyze the books :)