#the king that lives in the hearts of the people

[xi-vz]

Look at me back on my BS. HC—Shen Yuan looks like Mobei Jun.

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Shen Yuan was a cute guy, at least his mom always said he was. He honestly didn’t care much for his looks. He was a teenage boy, and his interests lied with books, gaming, and trolling the comments section of the PIDW forums.

So maybe this whole thing was the forums fault?

Apparently Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky was going to make his first ever public appearance at a convention—it was exciting stuff seeing as PIDW just received a live action TV deal. (Shen Yuan wondered if the TV show would be able to transform the utter garbage parts into gold.)

Shen Yuan, with the fervor only a true (anti) fan could muster, scrambled to get his hands on a convention ticket the moment they went on sale. His parents even encouraged him! Happy to see him excited for something other than the internet. Securing his place, he also entered the cosplay competition where Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky would be a judge. Because why not? When else would he get to dress like a xianxia character?

It took him a while to decide who he wanted to dress up as. Look, if it were up to Shen Yuan he’d have been Luo Binghe. But, one, he doubted he could pull it off. Two, there were probably going to be a ton of Luo Binghe’s.

“Be the ice king,” his younger sister suggested one evening while the two fo them were hanging out in Shen Yuan’s room. She was busy on her Switch while he was on his laptop.

“Mobei Jun?” He asked, a skeptical look on his face.

“Yeah! You look like him.”

Which was untrue but whatever. Since he didn’t have any other ideas, he spent weeks (months) perfecting his costume, studying every detail from the illustrations and fan art.

(Shen Yuan learned how to sew for this costume!)

(And spent way too much money on commissioning what he couldn’t make.)

“You need to bulk up a bit,” his second older brother suggested one night. “I read some of Proud Immortal Demon Way, and Mobei Jun isn’t a twig like you.”

“Ha, A-Yuan is more of a twink,” his eldest brother teased.

So…Shen Yuan began to work out. He still had a few months until the costume contest.

It was hard at first, but his doctor had been on board. Granted, Shen Yuan couldn’t really get buff within a few months, but he did wind up with the beginnings of abs, his shoulders broadened and his ass looked great. There were a bunch of girls (and some guys) who made eyes at him at school now. Not that Shen Yuan noticed. But, he did notice that for the first time in his 19 years, he felt healthy.

When the day of the convention finally arrived, Shen Yuan found himself subjected to his sister's meticulous and admittedly skilled hand. She styled his already long black hair, adding extensions to achieve the full, flowing mane of Mobei Jun. She also worked some magic with makeup, highlighting his naturally icy blue eyes, which he had always considered a genetic defect, but today they were his greatest asset.

When he looked in the mirror, he barely recognized himself. There stood Mobei Jun, the demon king, imposing and cold. Shen Yuan’s heart pounded with excitement and a tinge of apprehension as he made his way to the convention center. His siblings in tow, because they wanted to root for him. As embarrassing as that was.

Upon arrival, the crowd was bustling with anticipation. Shen Yuan attracted a lot of attention—both for his stunning costume and his uncanny resemblance to Mobei Jun. A lot of people called out “my king!” As he walked by them, his cloak billowing behind him.

Damn, he felt majestic as fuck.

As he stood before the judges—a voice actress, a manhua artist and Airplane himself—he couldn’t help but feel a mix of pride and anxiety.

That was until he saw Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky for the first time. And. Wow. Okay.

Airplane was younger than Shen Yuan thought. Maybe 20; handsome, which was so weird. Square-jawed, in great shape with his DanDaDan graphic tee stretched enticingly over his pecs and biceps. His hair was curly and kept in an attractive undercut. He wore glasses and had ear piercings and a lip piercing and dimples and a sleeve tattoo. What? What the fuck?

Was Shen Yuan experiencing heart palpitations?

Airplane looked exactly how Shen Yuan envisioned Luo Binghe to look.

Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky's dark eyes widened in surprise and delight at seeing a Mobei Jun cosplay. It wasn’t done often, the king was not a fan favorite. But, his jaw dropped as he stared.

Something happened when Shen Yuan and Airplane's eyes met. A zing went up Shen Yuan's spine. Airplane stopped the contest then and there and declared Shen Yuan the winner while jokingly (not really) asking for his phone number. They did get to chat later, one-on-one, when Airplane began to sign autographs into books.

“Well, My King,” Airplane smiled at Shen Yuan, and there went his heart again! Which was bad, and meant that Shen Yuan probably needed to see a doctor. “What name shall I write out as the receiver of this book?”

“Um,” Shen Yuan’s brain scrambled. Did he give his name? Did he coyly say Mobei Jun? Ah, he didn’t know what he was doing! That was his only excuse as he blurted out, “Peerless Cucumber.”

Airplane froze.

Shen Yuan froze.

And then Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky began to laugh.

[doritochoi]

pairing: king elf choi san X human!reader

genre: fantasy, smut, slow burn, dark romance, supernatural, royalty, forbidden desire

word count: 11,6k (42 minutes)

warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, blood and injury, dark themes (including fear and death), morally gray characters, power imbalances, explicit language, eventual explicit content (smut), themes of captivity, slow trust-building, mentions of magic and curses, and emotionally intense scenes.

A/n: Hey everyone! I’m so sorry it’s been such a long time since I last posted—I’ve been swamped with school and barely had time to write anything. Recently, I rewatched The Lord of the Rings, and it completely inspired me to create a story with a similar vibe. I hope you’ll love this twisty, magical world as much as I enjoyed writing it. Let me know what you think! 💗

Your village sat on the edge of a dark forest, a place where sunlight rarely touched the ground. It was a simple life, full of chores and quiet days. People often told stories of the forest—how it was sacred, forbidden, alive in ways no one could explain. But you never believed those stories. To you, they were just warnings to scare children, until the night the creatures came. They arrived without sound, like shadows in the dark. Their glowing eyes and twisted forms were unlike anything you had ever seen. They destroyed homes, set fires, and dragged people screaming into the night. Your family begged you to run, to leave them behind and save yourself. You didn’t want to go. But when you saw one of the creatures tear through your neighbor’s door, you had no choice.

So you ran

The hills stretched endlessly before you, but you could feel it—their eyes on you. One of them was still following, its growl echoing in the distance. When you reached the edge of the forest, you stopped. The trees were massive, their trunks twisted and ancient. The stories of the elders whispered in your mind: “The Forest of Luthënar is no place for mortals. Those who enter are never seen again.” But the growl behind you grew louder, and you knew there was no other way. You stepped into the forest.

The air changed immediately. It was heavy, damp, and strangely silent. The only sound was the crunch of leaves beneath your feet as you pushed deeper into the woods. You could hear the creature behind you, crashing through the trees, and your heart pounded. The forest didn’t seem to want you there. Roots twisted up from the ground, trying to trip you. Branches reached out like claws. You dodged them as best you could, but you were already so tired. When you glanced back, the creature’s glowing eyes locked on yours. It was fast—too fast. You tried to push yourself harder, but the forest was too wild. Your foot caught on a thick root, and you fell. Pain exploded in your head as you hit the ground. The last thing you saw before everything went dark was the forest above you, the trees twisting together like they were closing in.

When you opened your eyes, it wasn’t the forest floor beneath you. You were lying on something soft, like a bed, and warm light streamed through the air. Slowly, you sat up, wincing at the ache in your body. The room around you was unlike anything you’d ever seen. The walls seemed to be made of living wood, with golden light shining through cracks in the branches. The carvings on the ceiling looked ancient and beautiful, full of strange symbols and patterns. You looked down at yourself. Your old, dirt-stained clothes were gone, replaced with a soft tunic. Before you could wonder what had happened, a voice cut through the silence. "She's awake". You turned your head to see a man standing by the door. He wore silver armor that gleamed in the light, and his sharp features were cold and unreadable.“Bring her to the king,” he said. Two other guards stepped forward, their expressions as blank as stone. They helped you to your feet, ignoring your protests, and led you out of the room. The halls were like a maze, carved from the trees themselves. The air was thick with magic, and the light seemed to shift and shimmer. But you didn’t have long to look before you were brought to a massive room. At its center was a throne made of twisting branches and silver, and sitting on it was the most striking figure you’d ever seen. Choi San, the king of this strange, hidden realm. His hair was short and dark red, a deep color that reminded you of embers. It framed his sharp features perfectly, his piercing eyes watching your every move. He was dressed in robes of dark green and black, lined with silver thread that shimmered as he moved. San sat with one leg crossed over the other, his posture relaxed but his presence overwhelming. He studied you carefully, his gaze moving from your face to your hands, as if searching for something. The longer he looked, the smaller you felt. “Who are you?” he asked, his voice low and cold. You swallowed hard, your mouth suddenly dry. “I… I didn’t mean to come here,” you said, your voice shaking. His gaze didn’t waver. “And yet, here you are.”, “I was being chased,” you said quickly. “By something… I didn’t know where else to go.” San tilted his head slightly, his eyes narrowing. “I didn’t mean to—” ,“Silence,” he said sharply, and you froze. He rose from his throne, the movement so smooth it seemed unnatural. As he stepped closer, the light caught the silver embroidery on his robes, making it seem like he was glowing. “You entered the Forest of Luthënar, knowing nothing of its laws or its dangers,” he said, his voice calm but dangerous. “Do you have any idea what this place is?”. You shook your head, trembling. “This is no place for mortals,” he said, his eyes locked on yours. “And yet… you’ve survived.” For a moment, he stood there, his expression unreadable. Then, without looking away from you, he spoke to the guards. “Take her to the dungeons,” he ordered.

The days in the dungeons bled into weeks. Weeks into months. Time became a haze of cold stone, fleeting dreams, and the weight of unspoken words. The guards came and went, wordless as always, their presence a fleeting shadow. Yet, despite the monotony, there was a shift in the air—a tension that hadn’t been there before. You noticed it in San’s visits. At first, he had come to question you, his cold eyes cutting through you as he demanded answers you couldn’t give. Over time, those visits grew less frequent. But when he did appear, something in his gaze lingered too long. His sharp features—too perfect to be mortal—softened ever so slightly, as though he were searching for something he could not name. You had long since stopped trying to understand him. Yet, even in the dim silence of the dungeons, you felt his presence looming, like the whisper of a storm on the horizon. That night, you were jolted awake by the sound of iron scraping against stone. The cell door swung open, and two guards stepped inside, their expressions as impassive as ever. “Up,” one of them barked. You blinked, groggy and disoriented. “What’s happening?” The guards didn’t answer. They seized your arms with unyielding force, pulling you to your feet. You struggled, fear clawing at your chest. “Where are you taking me?”, “Silence,” the other guard snapped. You had no choice but to comply as they dragged you through the winding corridors. The forest palace was silent, the usual hum of its magic muted as though it, too, were holding its breath. When they threw open the doors to the great hall, the sight before you stole the air from your lungs.

The room was vast, its walls carved from living trees that stretched impossibly high, their branches intertwining to form a ceiling of shimmering leaves. Light cascaded down in ethereal beams, casting the hall in a golden-green glow that felt both warm and foreboding. Intricate carvings adorned every surface—scenes of battles, feasts, and stories long forgotten by mortals. And at the center of it all, on a throne of twisting silver and ebony, sat him.

Choi San.

The Elven King.

His presence commanded the room, even as he sat in stillness. His dark red hair, like the embers of a dying fire, caught the light in a way that seemed otherworldly. His robes, deep green lined with silver, draped elegantly over his lean frame, accentuating the sharp angles of his face. He looked as though he had been sculpted by the gods themselves—beautiful, cold, and untouchable. Yet, his expression was far from serene. His jaw was tight, his piercing eyes fixed on you as though you were a puzzle he couldn’t solve. At his side was a long table, its surface littered with scrolls, maps, and what looked like an ancient goblet. The guards shoved you forward, and you stumbled, landing on the cold stone floor before the throne. You winced, the impact jarring your knees, but you barely had time to register the pain before something clattered onto the ground in front of you.

Your medallion.

The delicate chain glinted in the soft light, and the pendant, a green, pearlescent leaf. For a moment, you simply stared at it, your heart thudding in your chest. San rose from his throne with the grace of a predator. Every movement was calculated, his robes shifting like water around him. He descended the steps slowly, each step reverberating in the silence until he stood over you. “Where did you get this?” he demanded, his voice low and dangerous. You looked up at him, confusion and fear warring within you. “It—it’s mine.”

“Do not lie to me.” His tone was sharp, cutting through the air like a blade. “This medallion… it does not belong to you.” Your brows furrowed. “I’m not lying. I’ve had it for as long as I can remember.” He crouched before you, his piercing eyes boring into yours. “You expect me to believe that a mere mortal stumbled into my realm, wearing this?”His fingers brushed the medallion, and you flinched at the sudden intensity in his gaze. He wasn’t just angry, he was shaken.“I don’t understand,” you whispered. “What does it mean to you?”San straightened, his expression unreadable. “This medallion,” he said slowly, “belonged to my queen.”His words struck you like a thunderclap. You stared at him, your mind reeling. “Your… queen?”San turned away, his posture rigid. “She is gone,” he said quietly, his voice laced with something you couldn’t place—pain, perhaps, or anger. “No one but her could have possessed this medallion.”

“I swear,” you said quickly, your voice trembling. “I don’t know how I got it. I’ve had it since I was a child. My family said it’s always been mine.”He turned back to you, his expression unreadable. “You expect me to believe that this—this artifact—found its way to a mortal child by chance?”

“I don’t know!” you cried. “I’ve never understood what it was. It’s just… always been there.”His eyes narrowed, and for a moment, you thought he would lash out. Instead, he moved to the table beside his throne. With a sudden sweep of his arm, he sent everything on it crashing to the floor—scrolls, goblets, and maps scattering across the stone. The sound was deafening, echoing through the hall like a storm breaking.The guards shifted uncomfortably, but San ignored them. He leaned heavily on the table, his head bowed as though trying to gather his thoughts.When he finally spoke, his voice was low and strained. “My queen,” he said, almost to himself, “was the only one who could wear this. It was bound to her.” You swallowed hard, unable to look away from him. “I don’t know why I have it,” you said softly. “I just… I’ve always had it.” San’s gaze snapped back to you, and for a moment, you thought you saw something in his eyes—recognition, perhaps, or even fear. But it was gone in an instant, replaced by the cold, unyielding mask he wore so well.“Take her back to the dungeons,” he ordered, his voice like ice. The guards moved to seize you, but you resisted, desperation bubbling to the surface. “Wait! Please, you have to believe me—”

“Enough!” San’s voice thundered, the power behind it shaking the very air. “Take her.” The guards dragged you away, your protests falling on deaf ears. As the doors to the great hall slammed shut behind you, you couldn’t shake the image of San’s face—the way he had looked at you, as though you were a ghost from his past.

A few years ago

The medallion had always been there, as much a part of you as the blood in your veins. From the moment you drew your first breath, it had hung around your neck—a delicate green leaf with a pearlescent glow, suspended from a fine silver chain. No one had ever told you where it came from. No stories, no whispered truths. Just silence.

Because the truth was, no one knew.

You had no parents. At least, not the ones who gave you life.

The family who raised you—the kind, hardworking couple who had taken you in—had always been honest about that. They told you how they’d found you on a stormy night, abandoned on the edge of a cliff overlooking the restless sea. You were swaddled in soft, unfamiliar fabrics, cradled in a small wicker basket that was damp from the rain. The medallion was clasped around your tiny neck, its glow faint but unyielding, as if it were alive. It had been your father, a woodsman by trade, who had spotted you. He was out hunting for game when he heard your cries, faint and fragile against the roar of the wind. At first, he thought it was the wail of some forest creature, perhaps an injured fawn or a lost bird. But as he approached the cliff’s edge, he saw the basket. His heart stopped. “What kind of monster would leave a child out here?” he had whispered, his voice shaking. The storm had been unforgiving that night. Rain lashed at the rocky cliffs, and the sea churned below, its waves crashing with a violence that seemed determined to swallow the earth whole. If he had arrived even moments later, the wind might have swept the basket into the abyss. Your mother had wept when he brought you home. “She’s so beautiful,” she had said, her voice thick with emotion as she gently cradled your tiny form. “Who could leave her out there like that?” You were a mystery to them. A miracle, perhaps, or a tragedy they would never understand. But one thing was certain—they couldn’t turn their backs on you. “We’ll keep her,” your mother had said firmly, wiping her tears. “She’s ours now.” And so, you grew up in a small, humble home at the edge of the village, surrounded by love and warmth. Your adoptive parents treated you as their own, raising you with care and devotion. They taught you how to tend the garden, mend clothes, and read stories by the firelight. They were simple people, but their love for you was boundless. But the medallion was another story. It hung around your neck every day, an unspoken part of your existence. No one in the village could make sense of it. The local blacksmith once examined it, running his calloused fingers over the smooth, pearly surface of the leaf. “It’s no metal I’ve ever seen,” he had muttered, his brow furrowed. “And this shimmer… it’s not natural. Almost looks alive.” The village elders, who prided themselves on their knowledge of lore and legend, had no answers either. They spoke of old magic, ancient forests, and forgotten kingdoms, but none could explain how such an artifact had come to be with a child like you.

Your parents had little interest in the medallion’s origins. To them, it was just another part of you—something they loved because it was yours. But to you, it was a question that lingered in the back of your mind. Who had left you on that cliff? Why had they given you this strange, beautiful thing? And why, no matter how far you wandered or how many years passed, did the medallion seem to hum faintly against your skin, as if it were alive?

As you grew older, you couldn’t shake the feeling that the medallion was more than it seemed. You tried to ignore it, focusing instead on the simple joys of village life. Helping your parents in the fields. Watching the sunset from the hills. Listening to the crackle of the fire as your mother sang soft lullabies. But the medallion was always there, a silent companion. Sometimes, when you were alone, you would take it in your hands and marvel at its intricate design. The leaf was perfectly formed, each vein etched with delicate precision. Its green surface shimmered with an otherworldly glow, shifting between shades of emerald and pearl. You never dared to take it off. It wasn’t just because of its beauty or its mystery—it was because, deep down, you felt that it belonged to you in a way that nothing else ever could. As though it were a part of your very being. The villagers sometimes whispered about you, though never within earshot. They didn’t mean to be cruel—it was simply human nature. The child with no past. The girl who wore a medallion of magic. The one who had survived against all odds. “She’s special,” some would say.“Or cursed,” others would mutter. Your parents shielded you from the worst of the gossip, reminding you daily that you were loved. But the whispers followed you, a quiet shadow you could never escape. And now, as you sat alone in the cold darkness of the dungeon, the weight of those whispers pressed down on you. The medallion, which had always been a source of comfort, now felt heavier than ever. San’s words echoed in your mind. “This medallion belonged to my queen.” How could that be possible? You had worn it for as long as you could remember. You had no memory of his queen, no connection to his world. And yet, the look in his eyes when he saw it… It was as though he had seen a ghost. Your fingers brushed the medallion’s smooth surface, the faint hum of its magic resonating against your skin. It was warm to the touch, a strange contrast to the chill of the dungeon air.

In the great hall, San stood by his throne, his fists clenched at his sides. The medallion haunted him. He could still see it gleaming in the faint light, just as it had all those years ago when his queen had worn it. His queen. The one he had loved beyond reason. The one he had failed to save. He turned toward the table, his mind swirling with questions he couldn’t answer. Who was this mortal girl? Why did she bear the queen’s medallion? And why… why did she feel so familiar?San’s fingers trembled as he brushed the edge of the throne. He had spent centuries burying the past, locking away his grief and guilt in the deepest corners of his soul. Yet, with one look at her—at that medallion—everything had come rushing back. The storm outside mirrored the one within him, lightning flashing across the forest as rain pounded the palace. He closed his eyes, his jaw tightening. “I will find the truth,” he murmured, his voice barely audible. “No matter what it takes.”

The throne room was steeped in shadow, its once-grand walls shrouded in an oppressive gloom that mirrored the heavy silence within. The shimmering light that once filled the halls of the forest palace was absent, as if even the magic of Luthënar had withdrawn. The air itself seemed heavy, thick with a sorrow that no amount of time could dispel. Choi San sat on his throne, his posture regal yet tense, his fingers curled around the armrests as though they were the only thing anchoring him. His features—carved sharp as if by the hands of a master sculptor—were thrown into relief by the faint glow of a single enchanted lantern. The play of light and shadow etched every emotion onto his face, though his expression remained unreadable to all but himself. He was alone, as he had been for what felt like an eternity. The throne room was empty save for him, and his thoughts were loud enough to drown out even the faint whispers of the palace’s magic. His gaze wasn’t fixed on the doors, the floor, or even the medallion that lay on the table beside him, but somewhere far away—on a memory. Memories of her. In his mind, she was vivid. The soft curl of her smile, the warmth in her voice, the way her laughter could fill even the coldest corners of his heart. His queen. His beloved. She had been everything to him, a light in a life that had grown increasingly dark. He remembered the way she would stand beside him at this very throne, her presence a calming force even amidst the pressures of ruling. She had been wise, compassionate, and stubborn in the way only someone who truly cared could be. He had loved her strength, her kindness, her fire.

The sound of footsteps broke through his reverie, echoing softly in the vastness of the throne room. San didn’t look up; he didn’t need to. There was only one person who would dare to intrude on his solitude unannounced. “Wooyoung,” San said, his voice low but commanding. From the shadows stepped a figure, his presence lighter but no less commanding than San’s. Wooyoung was a king in his own right, ruling a distant realm that thrived on its trade and opulence. He was as charming as he was dangerous, his sharp smile often masking his sharper wit. His long, raven-black hair was tied loosely at the nape of his neck, and his deep crimson robes shimmered faintly as he moved. “You didn't move on, I see...,” his voice carrying a teasing lilt as he approached the throne. “It’s been centuries, San." Wooyoung continued, casually placing a hand on the edge of the table beside San. His gaze dropped to the medallion. He sighed, pulling up a chair and sitting across from San, his posture relaxed but his gaze sharp. “You can’t keep doing this to yourself,” he said. “The past is the past, my friend. You need to let her go. San’s hand twitched against the armrest, the first sign of movement since Wooyoung’s arrival. “Let her go?” he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper, but the weight of it filled the room. “You speak as though it’s a choice.” San’s gaze finally rose, meeting Wooyoung’s. His eyes were dark, haunted. “She was my life,” he said simply. “How do you let go of that?” Wooyoung leaned back, his expression softening for the first time. “You don’t,” he admitted. “Not completely. But you can’t keep drowning in it, either. It’s been centuries, San. Do you even know who you are without her?"San’s gaze shifted back to the medallion. Its faint glow was hypnotic, pulling him into memories he’d spent lifetimes trying to forget. But it wasn’t just the past that haunted him now—it was the girl.The mortal who had appeared in his realm wearing this.“She’s connected to her,” San said finally, his voice rough. “The girl. I don’t know how, but she is.” Wooyoung arched a brow. “The one you’re keeping in the dungeons?” He let out a low whistle. “I heard rumors, but I didn’t think they were true. What do you mean she’s connected?” San’s lips pressed into a thin line. “She wears the medallion.” Wooyoung’s casual demeanor faltered. He straightened in his seat, his playful smirk replaced by genuine curiosity. “The medallion? Her medallion?” He nodded. “She says she doesn’t know where it came from. That she’s had it since birth.”, “And you believe her?” Wooyoung asked, his tone skeptical. San didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he stared at the medallion. “She has the same look in her eyes,” he said quietly. “The same fire. I don’t know if it’s a trick of fate or something worse, but I can’t ignore it.” Wooyoung frowned, tapping his fingers against the table. “You’re playing with fire, San. You know that, don’t you? If she’s truly tied to your queen, then the answers you’re looking for might not be the ones you want.” San’s eyes darkened. “I don’t care what the answers are. I need to know.”

When Wooyoung left, the throne room fell silent once more. San remained where he was, his eyes fixed on the medallion. The memory of her face lingered in his mind, as vivid as it had been the day he lost her. And somewhere, in the cold darkness of the dungeons, you sat alone, the medallion around your neck glowing faintly against your skin. San leaned back in his throne, closing his eyes as the weight of everything settled over him. The medallion, the girl, the past—it all pointed the one truth.

The night was quiet, almost too quiet. You woke with a start, unsure what had disturbed your restless sleep. As you looked toward the heavy iron door of your cell, your heart stopped. It was open. The faint glow of magic that usually sealed it was gone. The air was still, but there was a strange feeling in your chest—a sense that this was your chance. You didn’t know why the door was open or how it had happened, but you weren’t going to waste it. Slowly, you crept toward the doorway, your bare feet silent against the cold stone floor. The corridor was dark, the flickering torches along the walls barely lighting the way. You hesitated for a moment, listening for any sign of guards, but the silence was complete. Taking a deep breath, you moved forward. The palace halls were a maze, and you had no idea where you were going. All you knew was that you needed to get out. The night air hit you as you stepped through the large wooden doors at the end of the hall. You were outside. Free.

The forest stretched out before you, endless and dark. The trees were massive, their twisted branches blocking out the moonlight. Shadows danced between the trunks, and the air was thick with damp earth and decay. Every step you took was a gamble—roots jutted out from the ground, and the uneven forest floor threatened to trip you. Your breath came in gasps as you ran, clutching the medallion at your neck. You didn’t know where you were going; you only knew you had to keep moving. Then, the sound you feared the most broke through the silence: a horn. The guards had discovered your escape. The sound echoed through the forest, a low, haunting note that made your chest tighten. You pushed yourself harder, your legs burning as you stumbled through the undergrowth. In the distance, a small, crooked cabin came into view. It looked abandoned, its roof sagging and the wooden walls blackened with age. But it was better than nothing. You slipped inside, shutting the door behind you as quietly as you could. The cabin was cold and smelled of mildew. Dust coated every surface, and cobwebs hung from the ceiling. It was dark, the faint moonlight filtering in through cracks in the walls. You huddled in a corner, trying to catch your breath.

You were safe. For now.

The horn’s sound reached every corner of the palace, waking the guards and setting them into motion. They rushed through the halls, their armor clinking, until they reached the throne room. Choi San sat on his throne, his head bowed as he stared at the medallion in his hand. He had been holding it more and more often lately, unable to let it go. It was the last piece of her he had left. “My king,” a guard said, his voice shaking slightly. San didn’t look up. “What is it?”

“The girl,” the guard began nervously. “She’s escaped.” San froze, the medallion slipping from his fingers and landing on the floor with a soft clink. He lifted his head slowly, his sharp eyes fixing on the trembling guard. “What did you say?” His voice was quiet, but there was a deadly edge to it. “She’s gone, my lord,” the guard stammered. “We don’t know how. The dungeons were sealed, but she—”

“Enough,” San interrupted coldly, rising from his throne. Without another word, he strode toward the stables. The guards followed for a moment, unsure of what to do, until he raised a hand. “I will handle this myself,” he said firmly.

San’s horse was a massive black stallion, its coat gleaming like polished obsidian. The animal snorted, its breath clouding in the cool night air as its master approached. San mounted swiftly, his movements precise and controlled. He urged the horse forward, the forest swallowing them both. As the horse galloped through the dark woods, San’s mind was far from the present. His thoughts were filled with her—his queen. She had been his light, the one thing that made eternity bearable. Her laughter had warmed even the coldest corners of his heart, her touch grounding him in a way nothing else ever could. With her, the world had been full of color and life. Now, everything was dark. The palace, the forest, even his heart. He had tried to move on, to bury her memory deep, but it was impossible. The guilt, the loss, the weight of her absence—it consumed him. And now, this mortal girl, with her strange presence and the medallion, had brought it all back. “She’s connected to her,” he muttered to himself. San’s jaw tightened. He didn’t care about the risks. He needed answers.

The cabin was small and dimly lit, its wooden walls creaking softly as you leaned against them, trying to catch your breath. Your chest rose and fell as you gasped for air, your legs trembling from the mad sprint through the forest. Outside, the sound of horns echoed faintly, the guards’ warning carrying through the trees. You had escaped—for now—but the fear still gripped your chest like a vice. You thought you were alone. But then, out of nowhere, a voice startled you. "Who are you, my dear?" It was soft but sharp, the kind of voice that made you freeze in place. Your heart skipped a beat, and your wide eyes scanned the room. A figure stepped forward from the shadows in the corner of the cabin. It was an elderly woman, hunched slightly with age but somehow commanding. Her silver hair was wild and long, framing a face lined with time. Her dark, piercing eyes locked onto you, making you feel as though she could see every secret you didn’t even know you had. Her clothes were patched and old, layers of earthy tones that seemed to blend with the forest outside. "I—I didn’t know anyone was here," you stammered, your hand gripping the door behind you as if preparing to run again. The old woman’s eyes dropped to your chest, and her breath hitched. "That medallion..." she whispered, her voice shaky. "How do you have that?" Your hand instinctively touched the necklace that hung from your neck, the one you had always worn. The smooth surface of the green, pearl-like pendant felt strangely cold beneath your fingers. "I—I’ve always had it. It’s mine," you replied. The woman stepped closer, her hands trembling slightly as though she wanted to touch it but stopped herself. Her face was pale, her expression unreadable, but there was something in her eyes—shock, disbelief, maybe even fear. "You look just like her," she murmured, almost too softly for you to hear. "Like... who?" you asked, your voice shaking. Something about her gaze made your stomach churn. She gestured to a chair by the fireplace. "Sit. There is much you don’t know." You hesitated but eventually sat, too tired and too confused to argue. The old woman lowered herself into a creaky chair across from you, her movements slow, as though the weight of her words was already too much. "That medallion," she began, "is no ordinary piece of jewelry. It was made long ago, in the heart of the Forest of Luthënar, from the bark of the Eldertree. The Eldertree is a sacred tree—older than memory itself. Its wood glimmers like moonlight, and its sap is said to hold the power of life and death. This medallion... it was crafted using that sap, along with the dust of rare stones found only on the darkest nights. It is unlike anything else in this world." Her voice was steady, but her words left you reeling. You glanced at the medallion in your hands, its soft glow catching the faint light of the fire. It had always been a part of you, but you’d never thought it was anything more than a family heirloom—or at least, that’s what you’d told yourself. She continued, her voice heavy with meaning. "The one who wears that medallion is bound to a powerful fate. It carries the blessing—and curse—of rebirth. Whoever wears it... their soul will return again and again, until their purpose is fulfilled."

"Rebirth?" you echoed, shaking your head. "That’s impossible. I’ve had this medallion since I was a baby. I was found with it."

Her sharp eyes bore into yours. "Yes. You were found. Left on the edge of a cliff, I’d wager. You were not abandoned by chance, my dear. That medallion belongs to a queen—a queen who lived long ago, a queen who ruled with strength and love. A queen who died... far too soon." You blinked at her, your mind struggling to process what she was saying. "A queen? No, that can’t be true. I’m not a queen. I’m just... me."

"You are her," the woman said firmly, her voice shaking slightly. "You are his queen. The medallion ensured your soul would return, though you may not remember. You may not know who you were, but the soul never forgets. It always remembers." You stared at her, your hands tightening around the medallion as if it might slip away. The words felt impossible, and yet... a strange uneasiness stirred within you. A faint flicker of something—like a memory just out of reach—tugged at the edge of your mind. "But... if that’s true, why don’t I remember?" you asked weakly. "Because memories fade with each new life," she explained, her voice soft now. "The mind forgets, but the soul holds on. That is why he could not destroy you, no matter how much anger he felt. Somewhere in his heart, he knows who you are, though he does not yet understand." You shook your head, leaning back in the chair as your world seemed to spin. This was too much. Too strange. Too... impossible. "You’re wrong. He doesn’t care about me. He threw me in the dungeons. He—he hates me." The old woman’s face softened, her eyes heavy with sorrow. "He does not hate you, my dear. He hates himself—for failing you. For not protecting you in your first life. His heart is broken, shattered by grief. And now, seeing you again... it terrifies him. He cannot face the past. But he cannot turn away from you, either. That is why he is searching for you now." Her words sent a chill through you. "Searching... for me?" you whispered. The woman nodded grimly. "He will not rest until he finds you. He cannot. His soul is as bound to yours as yours is to his." As if on cue, the distant sound of hooves reached your ears, faint but growing louder. Your breath caught in your throat as you stared at the door. The woman rose slowly, her gaze shifting to the window. "He’s here," she murmured. "You cannot run from him forever. The truth will follow you, no matter where you go."

The cabin door creaked as you stepped outside, the cold night air hitting your face like a warning. You didn’t dare look back. The old woman’s words still echoed in your mind, but you had no time to think about them. You ran, the medallion bouncing against your chest as your feet pounded against the forest floor. The woods were even darker now, the moon hidden behind thick clouds. The trees closed in around you, their twisted branches reaching out like claws. Sharp twigs scratched at your skin, and the uneven ground threatened to trip you with every step. You had no idea where you were going—only that you had to get away. And yet, no matter how fast you ran, you could feel it. Him. Choi San. His presence wasn’t just a shadow in your mind; it was something tangible, closing in like a storm. Then, the growl stopped you in your tracks. It came from somewhere in the darkness, low and guttural, sending a chill down your spine. Slowly, you turned toward the sound, your breath catching as your eyes adjusted to the gloom. A massive wolf stepped out of the shadows, but it wasn’t like any wolf you’d ever seen. Its fur was black, its body rippling with unnatural strength. But the most terrifying part was its three heads, each one snarling, each mouth lined with jagged, dripping teeth. Its glowing red eyes locked onto you, and all three heads tilted slightly, as though it were studying you. A low, menacing growl rumbled from its chest, vibrating through the ground beneath you. Your legs refused to move. Fear gripped you, freezing you in place as the creature came closer. The wolf growled louder, its heads snapping toward you in unison. Your heart raced, your mind screaming for you to run, but it was too late. The beast crouched, ready to pounce. Then, like a flash of lightning, something silver sliced through the air. A sword struck the wolf with deadly precision. In one clean motion, the blade severed all three heads from its body. The creature’s snarl turned into a wet, gurgling sound before it collapsed to the ground, lifeless. You stared, frozen in shock, as the three heads rolled away, their glowing red eyes dimming. The body hit the ground with a sickening thud, blood pooling around it. For a moment, the world was still. Then, the sound of boots crunching through the leaves snapped you out of your daze.You turned, your wide eyes meeting his. Choi San stood there, his sword still dripping with the creature’s blood. He looked like something out of a legend, his sharp features illuminated by the faint glow of the moon. His black cloak shifted in the breeze, and his amber eyes burned as they met yours. He took a step closer, his gaze sweeping over you. His expression was unreadable, but there was something in his eyes—something intense, searching. "You..." he said softly, his voice rough but steady. "It’s you." You backed away instinctively, your pulse racing. "I-I don’t know what you mean." San sheathed his sword with a swift, practiced motion and took another step forward. "You don’t understand, do you?" he asked, his voice low. "But now... now I see it."

"See what?" you asked, your voice trembling.

San’s eyes flicked to the medallion around your neck. His expression shifted—confusion, pain, and something else you couldn’t name flashed across his face. "That medallion," he said, his tone almost accusing. "It belonged to her. To my queen." You instinctively clutched the medallion, shaking your head. "I’m not her," you said firmly, though your voice wavered. "I don’t know what you think I am, but I’m not—"

"You are," he interrupted, his voice steady but filled with emotion. He looked at you like you were a ghost, someone he thought he would never see again. "I didn’t want to see it before. I couldn’t. But it’s you. You’re her." You stared at him, your mind spinning. The old woman’s words echoed in your mind: You were his queen. Reborn. "No," you whispered, shaking your head. "You’re wrong. I’m not—"

"I know what I see. You have her face, her soul. That medallion... It wouldn’t be with you unless-" He stopped, his hands curling into fists at his sides as if he couldn’t bring himself to finish the thought. Tears pricked your eyes. "I don’t know what you want from me," you said, your voice breaking. "I don’t know anything about a queen or a past life. I’m just me." San exhaled sharply, running a hand through his dark hair. He looked at you with a mix of frustration and anguish, like someone fighting a battle within himself. "You don’t remember," he said softly, almost to himself. "Of course you don’t." His words made your chest tighten. You wanted to argue, to deny everything, but deep down, something about his gaze, his voice, made you hesitate. San took one last step toward you, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from him. "Whether you remember or not," he said, his voice low, "you’re here. And you’re mine." The words sent a shiver down your spine, and you weren’t sure if it was fear, anger, or something else entirely. "I don’t belong to anyone," you managed to say, your voice trembling but defiant. San’s lips curved into a faint, bitter smile. "You always said that," he murmured, almost fondly. San moved closer, his steps slow and deliberate, like a predator stalking prey.

You instinctively backed away, your heart racing in your chest, but it was no use. The rough bark of a tree pressed into your back, halting your retreat. You were trapped. His imposing figure loomed over you, his broad shoulders blocking out the faint light of the moon. The cool night air felt suffocating as his amber eyes locked onto yours, piercing through every layer of your resolve. For a moment, neither of you moved, the tension between you thick and electric. San’s gaze flickered, his eyes traveling from yours to the medallion hanging around your neck. Then, slowly, they dropped lower, tracing the line of your jaw, lingering on your lips.He licked his lips, his hand moved upward, brushing against the medallion with a featherlight touch. The cool metal shifted against your skin, and his fingers followed, grazing your collarbone. "You still don’t understand, do you?" he murmured, his voice low and rough, the sound of it sending a shiver down your spine. "I..." You tried to speak, but the words caught in your throat. His presence was overwhelming, and your mind was a storm of confusion and unease. San leaned in, his face so close now that you could feel the warmth of his breath against your cheek. His eyes searched yours, as though trying to find answers you couldn’t give him. His free hand slid to your waist, his fingers pressing firmly but not harshly, grounding you to the moment. "Even if you don’t remember," he said, his voice softer now but no less intense, "your soul does. I can feel it." You stood frozen, your back pressed firmly against the tree. Your breath came in shallow gasps, your chest rising and falling with every labored inhale. His words left you shaken, but it wasn’t just what he said—it was the way he looked at you, like you were something precious and fragile, yet completely untouchable. He leaned in further, the space between you vanishing until his body was almost flush against yours. His hand on your waist tightened slightly, and you felt the strength in his grip—not rough, but possessive, as though he were afraid you might disappear if he let go. Your mind screamed at you to push him away, to break free, but your body refused to move. It wasn’t fear that rooted you in place; it was something far stranger. His presence, his touch, the raw intensity in his eyes—it all held you captive. "You’re afraid of me," San said quietly, his lips so close to your ear that the words sent a ripple of heat down your neck. "But you don’t have to be." Your heart thudded painfully in your chest, your thoughts a jumbled mess of defiance and confusion. "I’m not afraid," you whispered, though even you didn’t believe it. His lips curved into a faint, knowing smile. "Then why are you trembling?" You didn’t have an answer. Your hands clenched into fists at your sides, but you couldn’t summon the strength to push him away. Instead, you looked up at him, your wide eyes meeting his, and for a brief moment, the world around you seemed to fade. San's hand remained firm on your waist, his fingers pressing into the fabric of your tunic, grounding you as the world seemed to tilt around you. His piercing gaze remained locked on yours, flickering with emotions you couldn’t name. It was as if he were searching for something—some hidden truth, some unspoken connection. His face was close now, so close that you could feel the warmth of his breath against your lips, steady and measured, yet carrying an intensity that made your heart race. Your back pressed harder against the rough bark of the tree as he leaned in, his presence overwhelming but strangely magnetic. "You don’t even realize it, do you?" he murmured, his voice a soft rumble that sent a shiver down your spine. "Realize what?" you whispered, your voice trembling. "That you’ve always been mine."

The words hung in the air, heavy and undeniable, as if they carried the weight of lifetimes. Your chest rose and fell rapidly, your breath mingling with his as he drew even closer. His eyes lingered on your lips, and you felt the moment stretch, a taut thread about to snap. And then, it did. San’s lips brushed against yours, tentative at first, as if testing the waters. The touch was featherlight, sending a jolt of warmth through your entire body. Your breath hitched, and for a moment, the world seemed to pause. But he didn’t stop there. The hesitation melted away as he deepened the kiss, his hand sliding from your waist to the small of your back, pulling you closer. His other hand cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing gently against your skin. The kiss was slow yet filled with an intensity that made your knees weak, a mixture of longing and something deeper—something neither of you could name. You didn’t know why you didn’t push him away. Every rational thought told you to, but your body refused to obey. Instead, you found yourself leaning into him, your hands instinctively gripping the front of his cloak for balance. When he finally pulled back, just enough to look at you, his breathing was uneven, his eyes searching yours with a vulnerability you hadn’t expected. "Why don’t you stop me?" he asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper. You swallowed hard, your lips tingling from the kiss, your mind spinning. "I... I don’t know," you admitted, the words trembling as they left your mouth. San’s gaze softened, but his intensity didn’t waver. "You may not remember me," he said, his thumb brushing your cheek again, "but I’ll make you remember." His words sent another shiver through you, and you realized with a pang of confusion that you weren’t sure whether you wanted to run or let him consume you entirely.

San’s hand remained steady on your waist as his other brushed against your cheek, his amber eyes pulling you into their depths. His gaze softened, and for the first time, there was something almost tender in his expression, though it was tinged with hesitation. “Close your eyes,” he said quietly, his voice low but commanding. You hesitated, your breath catching in your chest. “Why?” He tilted his head slightly, his lips curving into a faint, almost bittersweet smile. “Just trust me. Close your eyes.” Something about the way he said it left no room for argument. Slowly, you let your eyelids flutter shut, the tension in your shoulders still refusing to leave. You felt the faint warmth of his hand against your skin, grounding you, and the low hum of the medallion against your chest seemed to grow stronger.“Now open them,” he whispered, his voice brushing against your senses like a breeze. When you did, the world around you was transformed.

The dark, tangled woods were gone, replaced by a vibrant, sunlit forest. The trees stood tall and proud, their trunks wrapped in soft moss, and the air smelled of wildflowers and fresh rain. Birds chirped overhead, their songs mingling with the laughter of children. In the distance, you saw them—small, carefree figures running and playing among the trees, their joy infectious. The world here was alive in a way you had never seen before, every corner of it glowing with a warmth that made your chest ache. You turned to San, your eyes wide with awe. “What... what is this?”. “This,” he said, gesturing to the beauty around you, “is what it used to be. The forest before it was tainted by loss. Before... everything changed.” You couldn’t find the words to respond. It was breathtaking, magical, and yet there was a strange sense of familiarity in it all, like a distant memory stirring in the back of your mind. San reached for your hand, his touch firm but careful, and began leading you down a soft, well-worn path through the trees. You didn’t resist, too captivated by the scene unfolding before you. The laughter of children faded as you walked, replaced by a stillness that made your heart ache. The trees grew taller, their branches arching over the path like a natural cathedral. And then, through the gaps in the trees, you saw them.

There, standing in a sunlit clearing, was... you.

You gasped softly, your grip tightening on San’s hand as you took in the sight. The version of you from the past was radiant, dressed in a grand crimson gown that shimmered like liquid fire in the sunlight. The bodice hugged your form perfectly, while the skirt flared out in soft, sweeping folds, its intricate embroidery glinting faintly. Around your neck hung the medallion, its glow unmistakable even from a distance. You stood next to him—San. Or rather, the San of that time. He was dressed in dark armor, elegant yet strong, with intricate designs etched into the metal. His expression was softer than the San you knew now, his lips curved in a rare smile as he gazed at you. You both looked... perfect. A king and queen. Your throat tightened as you watched. “Is this...?”

"This is who we were", San said, his voice quiet, almost reverent. The memory played out before you like a dream. The two of you were speaking softly, though you couldn’t hear the words. San reached out, his hand brushing a stray strand of hair from the past you’s face, his touch filled with a tenderness that made your chest ache. But the peace didn’t last. The skies darkened, and the sound of distant horns broke the stillness. Shadows moved through the trees—soldiers, weapons drawn, marching toward the clearing. The air was heavy with the tension of an impending battle. You saw yourself arguing with San, your face set with determination, his with frustration. “You can’t fight,” the past San said sharply, his voice firm but desperate. “I won’t hide while my people suffer!” the past you shot back, her voice ringing with defiance. San grabbed your arm, his grip firm. “You are my queen. You’re meant to lead, not die on a battlefield!”

“And you’re my king,” you replied, your tone softer now but no less resolute. “If you’re fighting, then so am I.” The memory blurred as the battle began. Swords clashed, shouts filled the air, and the forest was soon alight with chaos. You could only watch as the scene unfolded, your past self moving through the battlefield with grace and courage, the medallion glowing faintly as if feeding off your resolve. Then, the focus shifted. You followed San as he was drawn away from the main battle, his opponents forcing him deeper into the forest. Their swords clashed, the sound sharp and violent, until he finally struck them down one by one. But you didn’t know that. The past you, frantic and desperate, ran after him, your gown torn and dirtied from the fight. You called his name, your voice trembling with worry, but the forest seemed to swallow the sound. When you finally stumbled into a small clearing, it was empty. Or so you thought. A figure stepped out of the shadows. You couldn’t make out their face, only the glint of the blade in their hand. You backed away, clutching at the medallion as if it could save you, but it was too late. The blade pierced your chest, cold and unyielding, and your breath left you in a ragged gasp. You fell to your knees, blood pooling beneath you, staining the earth red. You tried to speak, to cry out, but no sound came. And then, through the haze of pain, you saw him. San. His sword slipped from his hand as he stumbled forward, his face pale with horror. “No...” His voice broke, raw and filled with anguish. “What have I done?” You stared at him, confusion and betrayal etched into your features as you tried to understand. It was his blade. His hand. The person you trusted most had ended your life.The last thing you saw was his face—haunted, broken—as the world faded to black.

You gasped as your eyes flew open, your chest heaving as if the blade had struck you again. The forest of the past was gone, replaced by the cold, dark woods of the present. San stood before you, his face pale, his expression unreadable."You..." you choked out, your hand instinctively clutching the medallion. "You killed me." His jaw tightened, his eyes filled with something between guilt and desperation. "I didn’t mean to. You have to believe me—I never meant to hurt you." Tears burned in your eyes as you took a shaky step back. "How could you? I trusted you. I... I loved you."

"And I loved you," San said, his voice breaking. "More than anything. That’s why it destroyed me when I saw what I had done. Why I’ve spent centuries trying to atone for it. Why I couldn’t let you go." You shook your head, tears streaming down your face. "You don’t get to decide my fate," you whispered. "Not then. Not now." San reached for you, his expression pleading. "Please, let me explain—" But you didn’t let him finish. You turned and ran, the forest swallowing you once again as the weight of the truth threatened to crush you. The forest seemed endless, its twisted shadows reaching for you like hands trying to drag you back. You didn’t care where your feet were taking you—you just needed to escape. His voice, his eyes, the memories of what he had done... it was all too much. Branches scratched at your arms, roots threatened to trip you, but you didn’t stop. Your legs burned, your chest ached, and yet you pushed forward. But then, out of nowhere, he was there. San stepped out of the shadows ahead of you, his tall frame bathed in faint moonlight. Your breath catching as you stared at him, frozen. His chest rose and fell quickly, his breathing ragged, and his dark hair fell loosely over his forehead, damp with sweat. His shirt hung open at the collar, revealing the faint sheen of his skin, the lines of his chest rising and falling with each unsteady breath. The way the moonlight hit his sharp features made him look impossibly beautiful, almost unreal, but the intensity in his amber eyes grounded you in the moment. “Don’t,” he said, his voice raw and desperate. “Don’t run from me.” Your throat tightened, and you instinctively took a step back, your body trembling. “How did you—” The words barely left your lips before they faltered. San didn’t answer, but his gaze burned into yours with an intensity that made it hard to breathe. His lips were slightly parted, his jaw clenched, and there was something in his expression—something between anguish and longing—that sent a shiver through you. You took another step back, then another, until your back hit the rough bark of a tree. The impact made you gasp, and you realized, too late, that there was nowhere left to go. San moved closer, his steps slow but deliberate, like he was giving you a chance to stop him—but you didn’t. You couldn’t. His broad shoulders seemed to block out the forest around you, his presence commanding every part of your attention. “I told you not to run,” he murmured, his voice strained, his eyes flicking down to the medallion around your neck before returning to your face. He lifted a hand, bracing it against the tree beside your head, trapping you without touching you. "Why can’t you just leave me alone?" you whispered, your voice trembling, though you didn’t know if it was from fear or something else entirely. San exhaled sharply, his free hand running through his messy hair, his frustration clear. “Because I can’t,” he said, his voice low and uneven. He leaned in slightly, the space between you growing smaller with every word. “Don’t you see? I can’t stop—I can’t stop being in love with you.” Your breath hitched, and your heart felt like it had stopped. His words hung in the air, heavy and raw, like they had been torn from the depths of his soul. “Even after all this time,” he continued, his voice soft but filled with a desperate edge, “even after everything I’ve done, I can’t stop. You’re in my blood, in my soul. You’re... you’re everything.” Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as his words crashed over you. “You don’t mean that,” you said weakly, your voice breaking. “You can’t mean that.” San’s hand moved, his fingers brushing your cheek so gently it sent a shiver down your spine. His touch was warm, grounding, but it only made your emotions swirl more chaotically. “You don’t believe me?” he asked, his eyes searching yours. His breathing was uneven, his chest rising and falling just inches from you. “Then tell me to leave. Look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t feel it too. Tell me, and I’ll go.”

Your breath trembled as you stared at him, his amber eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that made it impossible to think straight. His chest rose and fell rapidly, his body inches from yours, yet he didn’t move any closer. He was giving you a choice. "You want to know what I want to tell you?" you whispered, your voice shaking as you fought the storm of emotions swirling in your chest. San didn’t speak, his lips parting slightly as he searched your face. His silence was answer enough. He was waiting, bracing himself for the words that might finally break him. Your heart thundered as you stepped forward, closing the small distance between you. His eyes widened slightly at your movement, his breath catching as your face came closer to his. “I want to tell you this,” you whispered. Before he could react, your hands reached up, gripping the edges of his cloak, and you pulled him down to you. Your lips crashed against his in a kiss so desperate, so consuming, that it left no room for hesitation. San froze for a heartbeat, as though he couldn’t believe what was happening, but then he melted into you. His hands slid around your waist, pulling you flush against him as he deepened the kiss with a hunger that sent heat rushing through your entire body. Your fingers tangled in the fabric of his shirt, clutching him as if you were afraid he might disappear. The world around you seemed to blur, the forest and its shadows fading into nothing as his warmth surrounded you. The kiss was fierce, filled with longing and pain and something else—something that felt like hope. San’s hand moved to cradle your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek as his lips moved against yours. He kissed you like you were the only thing that had ever mattered, like he was pouring centuries of heartbreak and love into this one moment. His breathing was still ragged, but now it was from the sheer intensity of it all. When you finally pulled back, your forehead rested against his, both of you breathless. His amber eyes searched yours, his expression torn between disbelief and something deeper—something that made your chest tighten. "You..." he started, his voice hoarse, his grip on your waist tightening as though he feared you might slip away. "Why—"

"Because I couldn’t lie to you," you interrupted, your voice still trembling. "No matter how much I wanted to, I couldn’t tell you to go. I couldn’t stop myself. I can’t." San closed his eyes briefly, his hand tightening against your waist as his other stayed cradling your face. "You don’t know what you’re doing to me," he whispered, his voice cracking slightly. "Maybe I do," you replied softly, your lips still tingling from the kiss.

San’s breath was uneven as he held you close, his forehead still resting against yours. The space between you had vanished, replaced by something undeniable, something neither of you could fight anymore. Then, his lips brushed against your jaw. Your breath hitched, your fingers curling against the fabric of his cloak as warmth spread through your body. “San...” you whispered, unsure if it was meant to stop him or urge him on. He didn’t respond with words, only with actions. His mouth moved lower, trailing kisses along the curve of your jaw before reaching the delicate skin of your neck. His lips fit there so perfectly, as if they had been meant for this. A shiver ran through you as he lingered, his hands tightening their hold on you as if anchoring himself. Each kiss was careful, like he was relearning something he had once known by heart. His nose brushed against your skin as he exhaled softly, the warmth of his breath sending a rush of sensation down your spine. “You taste the same,” he murmured against your throat, his voice low and laced with something dangerously close to need. You swallowed hard, tilting your head instinctively as his lips moved lower. Your mind was spinning, every nerve in your body awake under his touch. “San...” you tried again, your fingers gripping his shoulders. “We shouldn’t—” He pulled back just enough to look at you, his amber eyes dark and unreadable. "Then tell me to stop," he challenged softly. You opened your mouth, but the words never came. You couldn't say it. San's lips curled into a knowing smirk, his fingers reaching for the fabric draped around your shoulders—a soft, flowing cloak lined with delicate silver embroidery. With one slow, deliberate motion, he pushed it off, the fabric slipping from your body and pooling at your feet. The cool night air kissed your skin, but it was nothing compared to the warmth of him, of his hands sliding gently over your arms."You’re beautiful," he murmured, his gaze drinking you in as though committing the sight to memory. You shivered, though not from the cold. His lips found your neck again, this time pressing deeper, lingering longer. He kissed and nipped gently, his touch slow and teasing. Your breath came in soft gasps as he traveled lower, his lips brushing just above the lace of your bra, his fingers ghosting over your waist. Your hands found his hair, threading through the soft strands as you fought to stay silent. But when his lips pressed just above your collarbone, a quiet, shaky breath escaped you.

San's mouth paused, his lips still touching your skin, as he waited for your reaction. The sound of your shaky breath was like a spark to dry kindling, igniting a fire within him. His hands, already warm on your skin, seemed to burn with an inner heat as he slid them up your back, his fingers tracing the delicate lace of your bra. The touch sent shivers down your spine, and you felt your nipples harden in response, straining against the fabric that confined them. His lips, still pressed against your collarbone, curved into a gentle smile, as if he knew the effect he was having on you. And then, with a slowness that was almost torturous, he began to kiss his way down, his mouth tracing the curve of your breast, his tongue darting out to tease the lace that covered your nipple. Your hands, still threaded through his hair, tightened, pulling him closer as you arched your back, offering yourself to him. The night air was cool around you, but you felt only heat, only the burning desire that seemed to emanate from San's very pores. His fingers found the clasp of your bra, and with a deft touch, he released it, the lace sliding away from your skin like a whispered promise. Your breasts, freed from their confinement, seemed to swell, the nipples hardening further as San's mouth closed around one, his tongue swirling in a maddening rhythm. You felt your breath catch, your body arching further, as he sucked, his lips pulling gently, sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. And when he finally released you, his eyes locked onto yours, burning with a fierce inner fire, his voice low and husky as he whispered, "I've missed this, missed you, missed the way you respond to me" As San's eyes held yours, his hands began to move, the fingers that had so deftly undone your bra now working to release the buttons of his pants. The sound of the zipper lowering was like a promise, a hint of the pleasure that was to come. His eyes never left yours, his gaze burning with an intensity that seemed to sear itself into your very soul. The pants, once undone, slid down his hips, revealing the hard, muscular thighs that had been hidden beneath. And then, his hands moved to his underwear, the last barrier between you and the desire that had been building for so long. The fabric slid down, and San's erection sprang free, hard and proud, the head glistening with precum that seemed to bring you closer. Your breath caught, your heart racing with anticipation, as San's hands moved to your hips, the fabric was pushed up, bunched around your waist, and then his hands were on your thighs, his fingers tracing the curve of your legs before moving to the lace of your panties. The touch was like a spark, igniting a fire that seemed to burn away all reason, all thought, leaving only the desire that had been building between you for so long. "I want you," San whispered, his voice low and husky, his eyes burning with a fierce inner fire. "I want to be inside you, to feel you around me, to make you mine."

His hands grasp your hips, his erection pressing against your inner thighs. You feel the tip of his cock teasing your entrance, sending a rush of anticipation through your body. With a gentle thrust, he slides inside you, filling you completely. The sensation is almost overwhelming, his length stretching you to your limits. Your muscles clench around him, holding him tight as he begins to move, his strokes slow and deliberate at first, then growing faster and more intense. The friction builds, a burning heat that spreads through your core, threatening to consume you. His breath is hot against your skin, his lips tracing the curve of your neck, sending shivers down your spine. One hand remains on your hip, holding you in place, while the other reaches down to find your clit. His thumb brushes against the sensitive nub, sending a jolt of electricity through your body. He begins to rub your clit in slow, gentle circles, the pressure building as he continues to move inside you. The combination of his cock sliding in and out of you and his thumb teasing your clit is almost too much to bear. Your breath catches in your throat as you feel yourself being pushed closer to the edge. His thumb moves faster, the circles tightening as he senses your impending climax. The sensation is intense, your body coiling tighter and tighter until you're not sure how much more you can take. 

The forest was quiet now, the air thick with the scent of earth and the lingering warmth of your bodies. The only sounds were your soft, uneven breaths, still tangled together in the aftermath of what had just happened. San held you close, his arms wrapped securely around you as if afraid you might disappear. His skin was warm against yours, his chest rising and falling in time with your own. The rough bark of the tree pressed against your back, but you hardly noticed. The only thing you could focus on was him—his touch, his presence, the way his fingers traced gentle patterns along your spine.He pulled back slightly, just enough to look into your eyes. His amber gaze was softer now, no longer filled with the tension and desperation from before. Instead, there was something deeper—something that made your breath catch. His hand came up to cup your face, his thumb brushing delicately over your cheek. His lips curved into the faintest of smiles before he leaned in, kissing you again—slow, unhurried, savoring the moment. When he pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours, his voice barely more than a whisper. “I love you, my queen.” The words settled over you like a warm embrace, wrapping around your heart and holding it tight. You smiled, your fingers threading through his dark hair as you whispered back, “And I love you, my king.”

[11cupids-tarot11]

What will Life in general be like with your Future Spouse?

Gender Neutral for Everyone!

1 -> 3 ♡

Tips are very much appreciated!! Love you guys!!♡

My Kofi (I plan to set up the rest of my services in shop soon!)

Cupid's Services

Cupid's Master-List

Hi loves! Happy 2025 🥳 I know I’m two months late and I’ve been gone for way longer than I had expected, but I’m so happy to be back!! I hope everyone’s new year is going amazing!

Pile 1- The World, King of Wands, Eight of Cups and, Strength.

Hi pile 1!

So right off the bat I feel like your person is such a character! They don't like to be bored, very adventurous and free spirited. If you're a home body I'm not sure if you'd like this about them, but if you're someone that also loves a good adventure I see you two being partners in crime! Everyday is something new really, I think even days when you're both just chilling in the house they like to make it fun, there's always laughter in y'all's home.

So I see this being during a time in life together you're both financially stable, living together and the both of you just really love to live out your days to the fullest, enjoying life together, I hear you guys will always hear complaints from your friends and family how you're never around anymore because you're always on trips lol, living with this person is almost like a whole new world almost, you'll feel like nothing's impossible.

I feel like your person is very fiery, they like to charge through life with their head held high, very outspoken and would rather be a leader than a follower, they fight back, they're so loud too, they won't be ignored. You'll always see these things about them throughout life, you'll see how they love to take charge and stand ground, how they don't like to put up with anyone's bullshit.

I feel like for fun you two will do things kinda sketchy, like my cards show a person graffitiing on the wall, you two will do things for the adrenaline rush of not getting caught but even if you get caught that adds to the fun cause you'll just run away. This person could make you feel younger than you actually are, I just see lots of giggling and mischief, things you'd probably never even thought you'd do because you're like "nah I'm too reserved of a person" but this person will make you want to branch out of your comfort zone, they'll help you through every high and every low, they'll be your strength when you have none.

I feel like if you're someone that's like me and ALWAYS bored, you'll love this person because they're like how could you ever be bored of me? Even conversations with this person are crazy and wild because I don't really think they care for a filter, they seem to not really fear anything in life lol I love their energy, they'll totally rub off on you some of their fiery ways too, they like to see you strong and in your power.

I hope you enjoyed this reading, please leave a heart and reblog!! ♡

-Cupid 𖥔 ࣪ ᥫ᭡ꗃ⋆࣪.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Pile 2- Seven of Cups, Temperance, Nine of Cups and, Three of Swords.

Hi pile 2!!

So your future spouse and you will like to plan, I see you guys discussing everything first before you actually do it. You guys just might like feeling secure and safe, planning for the long run, but also being like "okay, so, what's for dinner tomorrow? Do I need to go to the store tomorrow morning?" That kinda energy in almost everything. You guys also like planning your alone time, you might be busy people so I see you two sitting down discussing your little get away from everyone and life temporarily.

Funny enough with the Temperance card here I think this person also likes to go with the flow, maybe this person loves days when you're both free from work or your schedule for long periods of time and can finally focus on each other.

I think during days like those your person will just love making their days about you, they feel kind of clingy and quality time is their love language tbh, they don't really care what you guys do as long as they're with you, they could just sit in silence with you. This person loves focusing on healing the both of you daily, they're really into health and fitness I think but also mental health as well, they're the type to make you a random snack when they've noticed you've skipped breakfast or haven't eaten in awhile, I think they really love taking care of themselves but you as well!

I hope you enjoyed this reading, please leave a heart and reblog!! ♡

-Cupid 𖥔 ࣪ ᥫ᭡ꗃ⋆࣪.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Pile 3- The World, Eight of Swords, The High Priestess, and Six of Coins.

Hi pile 3!

So starting off with The World card I have a very big feeling this is a very free flowing and creative pile! Maybe you do something creative for work, an influence online or something along the lines of that, or your future spouse could be! There’s a vibe here that you and your spouse might like to travel a lot, I feel like your life is a little less planned out, for example you guys might do lots of things out of the blue, random dates, going out shopping together but getting distracted and deciding to go out on a little dinner date at a new restaurant you two stumbled upon while shopping, that kind of unplanned/spontaneous energy.

I feel like your spouse is someone very supportive with the Eight of Swords here, I think in the future together you and your spouse will like to keep things light hearted, I’m hearing in the world we live in these days you and your spouse will try to not like this world break the two of you apart, change your character or value. You guys feel like a very positive couple, the kind to go donate to Charity, volunteer ect etc. Your spouse also likes to take of you! They’ll also be the shoulder you can cry on, they’ll want to make life easier for you too in this world we live in!

Your spouse will honor you, they’ll think and respect your home like a Kingdom, they’ll honor you and the ground you walk on, everyday! From the moment you open your eyes in bed, they’re the type to wake you up with breakfast in bed, except they’ll let you sleep in while they’ve been up for awhile cooking for you. So sweet! A real partnership💕

With the Six of Coins here I think your spouse might be wealthy or is destined for wealth, your spouse wants you to live a life with them where they can pamper you! If you want to be a stay at home parent they’ll support that (if not that’s okay too, they’ll support you working as well!) they’re just like that! They’ll support anything you do! I think this person wants to be so wealthy that they can make money in their sleep and can relax on vacation with you!

I hope you enjoyed this reading, please leave a heart and reblog!! ♡

- Cupid 𖥔 ࣪ ᥫ᭡ꗃ⋆࣪.

[kaynanarie]

Eyes of Gold (Part 13)

(A WukongxReader story inspired by Beauty and the Beast and Lutung Kasarung.) (First) (Prev)

            Quiet. Warm. Serene. Another peaceful day on the Mountain of Fruit and Flowers. You sat under a peach tree, enjoying the sweet scent of florals and the kiss of sunshine on your skin. It was the perfect place to relax and sort yourself out.

           Thoughts, feelings, wants, and doubts had been whirling through your head for days now. And at the center of it all was Shihou. Wonderful, kind Shihou. With soft fur that smelled of peaches and mountain stone. Strong arms that held you close and kept you safe. A cheeky smile and chittery laugh that brightened your day and cheered any mood. And warm, golden eyes that captured your heart with their unspoken devotion.

           It was unexpected, you didn’t even know when it truly started, but there was no denying the most obvious fact now. You had fallen in love with Shihou.

           Maybe it was impossible not to. You lived for the moments his tail would curl around your wrist as he led you somewhere. In the comfort and protection he offered in each and every hug. Watching his handsome face as he spoke of his home and people, brilliant eyes shining with his infectious enthusiasm. More than once, you dreamed of brushing your hands through his fur, feeling his solid form press against you, and touching your lips to his to find out how he tasted.

            You shook your head, cheeks burning at the scandalous thoughts. Being close to Shihou only fanned your desires higher, fueled by every lingering touch and fond glance. It was getting harder to hide your reactions, face constantly flushed and heart fluttering every time you were together. If Shihou’s questioning stares and smug grins were anything to go by, you weren’t doing a very good job.

           It was embarrassing to be so shy over something so easily remedied but other worries plagued you with doubt and halted any confessions.

           As affectionate as Shihou was, you could only guess the depth of his true feelings. He was your protector, your peach friend, but beyond that? What if you mistook normal demon behavior for romantic interest? Maybe he could never see himself with a human? Perhaps another already held his heart far from your clumsy reach? Understandable but heartbreaking, all the same.

           Then there was the question of the King. While Sun Wukong had been nothing but kind and welcoming to you, his tolerance of humans was still vague. He’d upheld his promise, even declaring himself protector of your village, and your gratitude was immeasurable. But if he objected, or found insult in your pursuit of his guard, any goodwill between you and the Monkey King would be shattered. And worse, Shihou might also face punishment for your mistake; something you couldn’t bear to put him through.

           Your thoughts twisted and tangled themselves together until your head ached but no true answer relieved you of your woes. The mountain had slowly become your home and a small, hopeful part of you wanted to share it with Shihou. But fears of his refusal or banishment from the King himself kept your secrets buried and left your heart wanting.

           As you sat, sighing and contemplating, something soft brushed your cheek. Then something else touched your shoulder. Tiny flowers in pure whites and blushing pinks were floating down, covering you in delicate petals and flowery fragrance. A quiet chuckle gave away the culprit before you even glanced up.

           Shihou had suddenly appeared, perching nimbly in the tree as he dropped flowers down like a mischievous cloud. “Hey, Peaches!” he greeted with a cheeky grin. “What you doing out here?”

           “Just thinking,” you said simply, biting back the wave of emotions threatening to spill out. Just seeing him, hearing his voice, was a balm and a thorn all in one.

           “About what?” When you didn’t answer, Shihou let himself fall backwards, hanging upside down from the branch so his frowning face hovered just in front of yours. “Everything okay?”

            “Everything’s fine.” You booped his nose, giggling when he followed your finger with crossed eyes. “How was your day?”

           Shihou scowled. “Boring. Long meetings, patrol schedules, a lot of guard complaints. I’m glad it’s over.” His face softened, eyes shining fondly when they met yours. “I missed you.”

           “I missed you, too.” It was painfully honest and you were determined to enjoy whatever time or affection he was willing to share. “So, what do you have planned now that you’re free of responsibilities?” you teased, picking away the loose flowers still clinging to his fur.

            “Well…” Shihou mused, casually swinging back and forth by his tail. “I was thinking of taking you up to the waterfall. We can enjoy the view, have some dinner, maybe go for a swim. Or,” He paused, throwing a challenging smirk your way. “You can test how brave you are.”

           You raised a skeptical brow. “How so?”

            “The waterfall is pretty famous,” he explained with a shrug. “It’s the same one Sun Wukong jumped through to become King. Lots of monkeys try it to prove their courage; most just end up going for a swim but it’s all in good fun.”

            “You think I can jump through a waterfall?” A surprised giggle bubbled out of you at the suggestion. The impromptu swim sounded like the more likely outcome. “I’ll pass on that challenge, thank you.”

           Shihou’s adorable pout nearly swayed you. “Aw, come on! What if I jump with you?”

           “Won’t that be cheating?”

           “You can’t cheat if there aren’t any rules,” he countered.

            “And if I make it, will I impress Sun Wukong enough to earn my own crown?” you asked, tapping your chin in playful thought.

            Smiling softly, Shihou reached forward to caress a gentle hand against your cheek. “I think you’re impressive enough just the way you are.”

           His sweet words and tender touch caught you off guard, fluttering your heart and nearly melting you on the spot. Turning away, you consider his challenge while hiding your blush from his hopeful stare. “Why don’t we go enjoy the view and I’ll think about doing your little waterfall jump?”

           Shihou’s excitement was like sunshine itself. “Perfect! Then it’s a d–”

           “Hello! Is someone there!?”

            A sudden shout startled you both, echoing from just beyond the trees. In the span of a second, Shihou had dropped down and shoved you behind him. He stood tall and tense, fur bristling and tail lashing as he scanned the forest with narrowed eyes.

           “Who’s there? Show yourself!” he ordered, voice carrying a startling weight of authority. As if on cue, two humans stumbled from out of the bushes and collapsed to the ground.

           “Please! We need help!”

           You peeked around Shihou’s protective shield and recognized the groveling men. “Wait, you’re the farmers from the village!”

            “We are,” one of them nodded. “Elder Gran sent us.”

           “What’s happened?” Shihou asked sternly. “Did the demons return?”

           The other farmer shook his head. “No, a deep freeze fell on our village two nights ago.”

           A chilling dread washed over you at the news. “Is everyone alright?”

           “We’ve kept warm so far but the lake is frozen solid. Food is already running low and now we can’t catch any fish. We came to beg the Monkey King for assistance.”

            Both men bowed on their knees, nearly shaking from their tears. “Please help us.”

           “We have to do something,” you said, pondering the dire situation. “If we pick more fruit, it can help the village for a bit but I’m not sure what to do about the lake.” You turned to Shihou with pleading eyes. “Is there anything Sun Wukong can do?”

           Shihou frowned in thought. “Maybe. You take some fruit back to your village for the time being. I’ll bring word to the mountain see what can be done.”

           “Thank you, Shihou!” You threw your arms around him, nearly giggling at his surprised chirrup, before pulling back with a smile. As much as he tried to stay composed, the red of his face and the bashful flick of his tail gave him away.

           “I’ll see you soon,” Shihou said with a parting wave. “Stay safe.” One moment he was there; the next, vanished like the wind into the endless green of the forest.

           The instant he was gone, you turned to the two men still on the ground. “Alright, get up, you two. We have some fruit to pick and I’m not carrying it down the mountain by myself.”

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~🍑 Peach Friends 🍑~

@joyfulllittlething @iluxurycruisedthatship @drspecialhell @moondrop39-dovewing70 @happycarp @chibifox88 @rutabaga-menace @resident-cryptid

(If you would like to join the tag list, let me know!)

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

Hello Peach Friends! Happy Lunar New Year and Imbolc/St. Brigid's Day! The last week has been crazy busy but I come bearing gifts of Shihou emotions and plot points to come. Thank you so much to everyone enjoying the story so far. Every comment, like, and reblog means the world to me and I am beyond grateful for your support!

You can also find this story on AO3:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/60643669

[toffeeflowerrrssss]

ִ ࣪𖤐 — "Full Circle"

︶ ⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶

╰┈➤ Prologue

— An Itoshi Brothers Reincarnation AU x FEM!Reader — CW!

—Suic1de Warning!

— Summary:

— Masterlist:

· ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── ·

It has been long ever since I've felt the gentle yet cold embrace of the breeze caressing my skin, a bittersweet taste of freedom lingered...

As the fresh air entered my lungs, I let myself relax as I slowly remembered every stupid and impulsive decisions I've made. Such actions have resulted in making a pathetic story that I am ashamed to call my "life".

My life which contrasts so much to Shinoa's ... The name of my favorite game's protagonist.

As ridiculous as it might seem, I am not embarrassed to admit how envious I am of a digital character.

Shinoa De Rosier, the main character was of a noble bloodline. Her family had quite a lot of influence both in the social world and political grounds. In order to maintain their reputation they must act with no flaw.

However, Shinoa was unique. An outgoing personality, wanting to ride horses, hunting, running around even if it means getting filthy? She doesn't mind! Such traits were looked down upon by everyone around her and caused an uproar within their community.

So when the cold-hearted king requested a bride from the Duke of De Rosier, they immediately presented Shinoa thinking the king would dispose of her immediately. Yet by some miracle, he was immediately fond of her. That's where the game began, where Shinoa would gain the favor of everyone in the palace with her unique personality, resulting in her romancing not only her fiancé — but a knight, a servant, a marquess, and her fiancé's younger brother

Such a story would only befit fiction, more specifically a dating simulator.

But in other people's eyes, it is nothing but a childish and worthless game.

But to me...

In a world where reality is nothing but a joke, it was the only thing that brought me comfort and the distraction that I desperately needed.

To live a life where the only hurdle you have in life is to pick your destined one in a line of men who were willing to devote their whole lives to you, how could I not be envious of Shinoa's seemingly picture perfect story?

Now I finished the game, played all the routes it could offer. I felt as if there's nothing left to do.

Slowly, my eyelids lifted. The breath I sucked in earlier was now forming into a sigh.

One last time.

I looked back at my apartment, a sight that is too familiar.

It made me sick.

I tore my gaze away reluctantly, not wanting to linger any longer than I should.

Now gazing at the sight in front,

A beautiful sunset.

For a moment I locked my eyes upon the gorgeous sight before me as the sounds of the city slowly fade

Out of instinct my arms spread wide, letting the cold breeze yet again graze through my skin as my mind went blank.

For the first time, a moment of silence was shared between me and this world

....

....

....

Such silence was interrupted by a thought;

"if I were to live another life, would it be better?"

'Such a stupid thought.' I muttered

But...

If I was blessed by another life I would want one like Shinoa's... maybe better?

I only scoffed at such thoughts, I was ending my life yet I wished for another?

I chuckled slightly

Such a Juxtaposition

....

....

....

One last time I put my gaze on the sunset before me.

The view so beautiful yet it reminds me of something so nauseating,

The scenery when I made the most stupid decision my entire life to which I regret until now.

....

....

....

....

Now i have a choice

A choice where i can end my suffering by running away from my problems

or going back, and staying quiet till i can't anymore

....

....

....

....

'i wanna be selfish this time.'

with one last breath, i placed a foot forward as it hovered above my one way ticket to the freedom I've always yearned for

....

....

....

....

....

....

As i was finally able to escape this hell

my breath hitched

....

....

....

....

....

i was scared

after everything I've been through i was still

scared of what I've awaited to do

huh..

through and through i was still

....

A Coward

....

But with just another step i change it all

....

just

Just one step

....

I tried to move, but i couldnt at all

i was paralyzed on the spot

....

....

....

....

c'mon

C'mon

C'MON

HE'S GONNA BE BACK ANY MINUTE RIGHT NOW

THE ONLY CHANCE I HAVE IS GETTING SHUNNED TO THE SIDE JUST BECAUSE IM STILL THE PERSON I VOWED TO CHANGE?!

PATHETIC

PATHETIC

PATHETIC

PATHETIC

PATHETIC

PATHET-

....

....

....

....

....

....

....

....

What a way to coincidentally overcome my fear huh?

Slipping as i was lost in thought earlier is what resulted to me falling off the building right now

....

not gonna lie..

thinking of nothing, as my body gets pulled down by gravity is quite peaceful

Its as if im flying, the cold wind enveloped my body was just another reason for this peacefulness...

....

....

....

....

....

....

....

....

....

....

....

....

....

....

....

....

....

....

....

....

....

....

....

....

....

....

Huh?

Looking around i saw myself in, what looks like a cottage? Aren't i supposed to be in the afterlife by now??

As I had so many questions in my brain, I felt my head sting, making my hand land on my forehead

Uh...

Why is my hand so small?

scratch that, why am I so small???

WHAT'S HAPPENING????

.Prologue end.

Stay tunned for the next part!!

_________________________________________

Heyloo i just came up with an interesting storyline and i wanted to share it with y'all!!!

Special thanks to my dookie bear @kxniiiii

for helping me with the writing and coming up with the AU with me!! (⁠◍⁠•⁠ᴗ⁠•⁠◍⁠)⁠✧⁠*⁠。ILY DOOKS ♡ ♡♡ ♡

Part 2 is gonna be out uhhh when me and dooks aint that busy with school 🫶

[lyculuscaelus]

Imagine if it took Odysseus too long to find the place Teiresias described, where people knew nothing of the sea, where a wayfarer would call the oar on his shoulder a shovel for winnowing.

The old sailor was roaming from cities to cities, learning customs and asking for directions—it had all been useless. There was not a kingdom which had not heard tales of the Achaeans’ war and return, not a place where Poseidon’s glory was unsung, not a people who ate food without mixing with salt. After all these days—or was it years?—of seeking, he might as well believe it was just another cycle of sufferings sent by the gods just to toy with him, in search of a place which might not even exist.

He had survived this long—hunting for food with his old bow in the wild, receiving hospitality from friendly hosts in the cities—he had survived and known he’d live on. But how long must he keep living this way, till he could at last find a place to mark his journey’s end?

Maybe it was his fate to return one day; but how long was it going to take this time?

Frustration after frustration, pain after pain, despair after despair—still the great-hearted man held on, holding himself together to carry on day after day, month after month, year after year…he’d be fighting a war with himself, just to question if it was all worth it after all.

He did not suffer everything to return home just for this to happen again.

He did not reunite with his family after all these years just to depart from them again.

He did not carry out Fates’ calling just to find himself toyed by them all over again.

But the day did come, when he felt so blissful, hearing the tongue so familiar to him (would you chance to be a bright-eyed goddess in disguise, stranger?)—telling him how he carried a winnowing-fan on his broad shoulders, such words sweet like the promise of homecoming to his mind, filling his heart with hopes once more. And he’d finish his task and set out, and do it again.

And he did it, again.

And the sight of his sunny Ithaca welcomed his lone arrival, again.

He was just not sure how long it had actually taken him, until he found himself collapsing by Penelope’s deathbed, broken into wails and screams, as her weak hands caressed his wrinkled face tenderly, wiping off the tears that burned like a city. And there, Telemachus was kneeling by their side—oh, what a renowned king he had become—holding his father’s weary back, keeping him firm, keeping him home. He raised his tear-drowned head, still apologizing, still trying to look for solace in Penelope’s eyes…

But she only weaved her forgiveness into a smile, saying, “welcome home, daemonie.”

They conversed and traded their stories. The bright-eyed goddess held back the slayer of Argus, giving them one more chance to repair the time they had lost. But the moment would not last forever—and they both knew. And they all knew.

It was far from enough; but it would be enough, soon.

The next day, Odysseus held a hecatomb for the gods, and a funeral for his dearest Penelope.

With both of those carried out, there was only one more thing left to do.

The old sailor walked up to the shores, lying down by the sea, letting the gentle waves take him away in peace.

He had accomplished the last task in Teiresias’s prophecy.

Just imagine.

[threepandas]

Bad End: War Bride

I tried everything. EVERYTHING. But in the end... nothing changed.

We were CRUSHED.

My people fought valiantly. Proud and noble, honorable and good to the very end. I was... I AM... so proud.... so very, very proud to be their honored princess. Their King's first born (and only) child. My small kingdom. My precious, precious people.

Forgive me.

Guhwa is falling. The chrysanthemums our small nation is so known for, red with the rivers of citzen blood spilled. I... Gods, I tried to strengthen our armies. Made allies. Agreements hand over fist. Better weapons! Stronger walls! Food and infrastructure! Anything. Everything! To forestall the end.

This end. Our End. (I had prayed. For so long. So very hard. That I was wrong.)

Bloody and terrible, which... gods, I always feared would come. (But I wasn't. Was I?)

Reborn into a story. Where the terrible was made insipid and light. Where all could be forgiven in the name of ~Love~! The death, the horrors, the screams that filled the streets. Children dying in their mothers arms and the blood of brothers as they tried to run. Families torn asunder. Lives cut short.

It's OKAY. It was for LOVE! For the Gods little LOVE story! Roses and romance. Intricate silks and palace drama! How FUN. How ROMANTIC! Look at all these Pretty Boys~!

Sickening. Utterly sickening. It was enough to make me vomit.

My friends, my family, my servants and THEIR families. My PEOPLE. They were not SET DRESSING! Bodies to be thrown on the pyre! Fodder for the machine! The servants who snuck me candies as a child. Who stayed up late to rock me through nightmare. The friends who laughed and joined me in lessons, just so I wouldn't have to be alone.

The people who were so proud of me, I might as well be a daughter of their very own.

MY Guhwa.

I grit my teeth as it BURNED.

The story did speak of me. Or at least, a woman with my name. My face. A selfish, bitter, hateful thing. A lesser antagonist. Little power. After all? Why would a princess from such a minor kingdom have any power in his Majesty illustrious court? The Emperor was the son of heaven after all!

Did she go, I wondered, to seek an alliance? To seduce protection for our people? Was she there by choice at all? In my soul, somehow... somehow I always knew. Suspected. My answer.

Guhwa is just a notch in their belts. Another glorious conquest for their festering empire. Bloated and heaving, like an animal spoiled to rotting. They don't need our land. Do need our resources. It was about power. Control.

My... my people... my beloved people! DIED for their Power and Control!

I scream, wrathful and grieving, as I swing my glaive. Keeping distance as I strike down the vermin that swarm the palace. Let me die here. Please, gods! Let me DIE here! With my people. My Honored Father. With Guhwa!

There! Lazily striking down servants, who are fighting for their lives. I see golden fucking hair. You. That miserable, festering, philandering, PIECE OF SHIT! Come to claim so honors, have you? Glory in FUCKING BATTLE? What GLORY is there in this?!

My rage feels like acid. A roaring of dragons and a hushing of the world. Inside me, it is deafening. Outside? The world is far away. Only anger. Fury. RAGE. Kill him. Kill him! KILL HIM!! And on the ground, still held in the loyal hand of my Father's finest, is my means. A crossbow. One bolt.

Ignoring the battle around me, calm as tranquil waters at the heart of a hurricane, I lift... and fire.

My smile is gruesome, as I watch the fucker SCREAM.

Pity, it wasn't deep enough to kill. He turned. But I certainly took an eye. Kocked him from his pretty little horse. A grieving and bitter chokes free. I drop the bow. Turn to fight on. And... meet the eyes of Death.

Dragon eyes consider me, as they coolly assess. Storm grey hair like a war banner, crowning a face untouched by the brutality he's unleashing. The third prince, War God of the Golden Empire. Ah... I wonder if I should be honored? That humble Guhwa, required the Third Prince to destroy. Guess... ha ha, I guess my actions were not in vain. Just simply... not enough.

I glare. Bare my teeth like an animal. We will not die quietly. If they want our land? It will come blood soaked and in ASHES! Guhwa will give them NOTHING!

We do not BOW to the likes of YOU. Dogs!

Of course, though... the Gods Laugh. We are not favored. They make mockery, of humble Guhwa and it's pride. It's simple people. My Father, Our Lords, the Generals... all dead. They gather the defeated in ropes, on our knees. On the blood soaked ground before them. Women, children, and the wounded.

I kneel before them all, dragged alone to the front.

There fear is like a terrible weight at my back. But... but I can not show it. Will not show it. I am Guhwa's crown now. So, on twisted ankle and screaming knees, I sit properly. Befitting my station. My head unbowwed, my shoulders back. Let them take my head before they take my pride.

I AM Guhwa.

The blonde pretty boy fop, stomps out to hiss and lord over me. Sedately his half brother follows, generals in tow. Blonde boy has a new eye patch. I smirk. Oh dear, bite more the you can chew? May the wound fester unto death, you wretch. I spit. Get a backhand for my troubles. (There are screams. Voices howling in outrage and begging on my behalf. Children start to cry. I do not deserve them. I do not deserve them.)

He draws back a foot to kick me. I do not cower. Bare teeth stained in defiance. Dare him.

"Finish that action, brother, and I will take the leg to match that eye."

There is only one person, here, who would dare threaten the crown prince of that wretched land. More importantly? Only one who could and get away with it. I turn, half disbelieving, only to meet a predators gaze. Dragon eyes, picking me apart. The War God stolling forward, like he's come to examine an art piece, not a prisoner.

Dispite my pride... I feel fear.

His reputation precedes him. And it is not kind.

Still, I clench my hands, grit my teeth, and tilt my head up in defiance. You are NOTHING before me, so called War God! Your Empire TRASH! My Guhwa is worth ten THOUSAND of your filthy little cess pits! I sneer. The picture of royal distain.

(I shake, as his mouth curves ever so slightly in amusement. He sees through me. He sees through me!!)

Cool eyes move from me to his brother. I watch as they turn from cool to a cold and flat I have no name for. Dragons and death. All my mind can scream at me, is those eyes are dragons and death. Run. Be afraid. There... there is nothing human there. Not anymore, if there ever was.

Distantly, I hear the "main love interest" stomp his feet like a child. Rage and demand. He wants my death. My suffering. Humiliation and desecration. How DARE I fight back. Pathetic. I can not keep my disgust from my face. Nor do I try.

The third prince looks bored. Like he's waiting for a child to be "done". Get his little tantrum out of the way. Anyone with eyes can tell a decision was already reached, will not be changing, and the Crown prince's spoiled demands will not be met. The price of battle, after all, is the risk of injury. Did he think this a game?

(Yes. He clearly did. It is winning him no favors.)

"You're in a delicate state brother. It's clear the pain has overwhelmed you." The third prince interrupts, clearly done with tolerating his half brother. "I would hate for you to take a turn for the worst. You should go lay down."

The Crown Prince startles, struggles, but is ultimately manhandled away. All but dragged, shouting and cursing, by his brothers loyal towards the medical tent. Oh dear. Politics at play. Sure hope I haven't condemned the fucker, now that he's not "perfect". That would be terrible!

"Enjoy seeing him suffer, do you? Or is it the humiliation of being dragged away?" Caught staring, my gaze snaps back to the third prince. That terrifying little quirk of the lips is back. He's amused. "It's not hard. I'll show you how to do it."

What.

"You'll have to tell me what other sort of things amuse you. So I can gather them. After all, you're not going to be leaving for a while. I imagine you'd cause trouble, wouldn't you?"

The thought of me causing "trouble" is what finally does it. Turning his smirk into a full, predatory, grin. Like he can't decide if we wants to bark out laughter or bite me. Eyes hyperfocused like he's hoping I'll run. Somehow, someway, bolting so he can chase me down.

(Ice slides down my spine. I... I refuse! T-To be AFRAID!)

Keeping my voice imperious, unafraid, I demand to know why, exactly, I would need to tell him ANYTHING. His laugh is the chuffing of a beast. The exhale of air, more then sound. How cute I am. How funny! Don't I know? Haven't I realized yet?

Guhwa's been conquered. And I have a choice, here.

Either Guhwa get a new king, by force, or it gets wiped of the map! And HOW is this to happen? Oh, little princess, you know exactly how. You're a warbride! But hey, at least you'll be his honored FIRST wife. Instead of a concubine. Like the crown prince wanted.

I jerk back. Ready to hiss exactly where he can shove his... HIS-! When I remember my people behind me. A child, trying bravely not to cry too loud. An elder, whispering prayers. Turning my head... I... I can just barely see them. Dirty, battered, bloody. Willing to follow me straight into hell. They would not blame me if I refused.

Only I would.

Gritting my teeth, I close my eyes. Breathe deep. In, hold, release. Again. For... damn it. DAMN IT! For Guhwa. Be it poison or knife. My hands around his filthy throat. I will burn their wretched nation to the ground. Dance on it's ashes and return a QUEEN.

"That's it. Right there." When I open my eyes, he's crouched in front of me, staring intently at my face. "Beautiful~"

"You'd tear my throat out with your teeth if I gave you even half a chance, wouldn't you? Rip out my entrails and choke me with them. You wear hate so well, princess. Rage. I wonder... what other emotions can I drag out of you?"

He seemed almost gleeful, as he mused.

"Ah, what a perfect little bride I've found. A lovely little monster."

"I can't wait to break you and make you mine."

[raayllum]

Spark notes on "Callum lost his true heart" in S2. Excellent true heart meta here by @kradogsrats on how the concept works more generally that I would 100% recommend reading before coming back here

The true heart is a gift of childhood. For a few wonder-filled years, we each have innocent eyes to experience the world’s beauty in a simple way. 

We see Callum on the cusp of being 15 undeniably believing that the resolution to the war can be that simple (even if we know well before S7, wherein Aaravos directly says they have similar views of how the world works, that Callum does not hold onto this simplicity for long). This is demonstrated, as Krads points out, in Callum's conversation in 1x02:

CALLUM: Can't you just make peace with them? HARROW: It's not that simple. CALLUM: It seems pretty simple to me. You don't want to die, I'm sure the elves and dragons don't want to die, so everyone agrees.

This emphasis on what people want over what they're devoted/committed to ("I'm sure they don't want to die" -> "I am already dead") is similar to Ezran's in arc 2 ("We all want peace and we all want love [...] you want to hurt someone else") that is both dismantled and upheld ("You want Janai to attack!" / "I want them to hurt"). To hammer it in further, Harrow even denotes that Callum is operating under the illusion of childhood, where adults have all the power/freedom.

What happens, I think, over the course of season one and season two is a bit of a domino effect, with Callum making choices in season one that season two continually 'knocks' down so to speak. The first and easiest example, perhaps, is Callum's choice in 1x03 between staying and trying to save Harrow... or choosing his little brother, who will remain in danger the longer they stay at the castle (Runaan and Viren both presenting strong antagonistic forces) and even worse danger the longer the egg remains.

Callum glanced out a tower window and saw Ezran in the courtyard searching for him. But how could he leave the tower when the king was in so much danger? Callum tried to think of what the king would want him to do. “I’m coming, Ez,” he called out the window. He gave one final look back at the door to King Harrow’s chamber, then bolted to the spiral staircase. He took the stairs two at a time, trying not to look at the dead bodies strewn on the way to his little brother.

—Book One: Moon novelization

Now, this choice makes sense. It is in many ways just another version of the same one (choosing Ezran and his safety) that Callum had made earlier this same episode. Both are more complicated choices ("the right thing, I hope" does not beget certainty, and therefore does not beget simplicity) but we'll get to that in a moment.

The final domino set up in season one for Callum's true heart is, I think, choosing to destroy the primal stone. The reason I say these are the dominoes, so to speak, is because each of these choices are made in a very distinctly Callum-y way, by which I mean: he thinks to a certain degree he can skirt the consequences.

This is not to take away from the weight of the choices Callum is making — they're still sacrifices, they're still honourable, he's still aware that he's risking Something — but there's still clearly a 'block' of some kind between "this is what I'm choosing to sacrifice" and "this is the full consequential weight of my sacrifices".

For example, the primal stone means a great deal to Callum. He states that "without this, I'm nothing" and it's a great powerful tool of magic. However, when Callum destroys it, it is currently unknown to him that this means no more magic, point blank. The consequence for his choice is steeper than he'd imagined, and now he has to live with the reality of it (for a time, anyway, but it's not like the journey to primal magic isn't gruelling, anyway).

But as we grow up, we are forced to make choices, sacrifices, compromises. And they change us forever. 

The same happens when it comes to learning about Harrow's death. Callum was happily writing him a letter two episodes ago, reassuring Ezran in 1x03, etc etc. And yet:

Callum made a sacrifice, then convinced himself that maybe he hadn't, and had to face the devastating reality of what he knew was most likely, on top of why Rayla wasn't able to tell him for the same reason(s) he couldn't tell Ezran.

I also want to highlight Claudia (and Soren)'s betrayal of Callum as well for two reasons. The first, and less interesting/important one in some ways (to me, anyway) is that if Callum's betrayal of 7x02 contributes to the last vestiges of Ezran's true heart being snapped to pieces, it would make sense that Claudia's betrayal would likewise contribute to Callum's.

The more interesting/important facet of the Callum/Claudia breakdown is, to me, what happens before Claudia shows her true colours, and whereupon she hasn't done anything (knowingly) wrong to Callum yet, and still:

RAYLA: Callum, I know you trust them, but if we let them come with us, by the time we know the truth, it'll be too late. Do you understand? We'll lose everything. CALLUM: So what do we do? How can we figure out if it's help, or a trap?

Callum has already made a Compromise. He trusts Claudia, but Rayla doesn't, and he ultimately trusts Rayla more than Claudia, even this early on, the same way he trusted Ezran more than Claudia (and didn't trust Claudia with Ezran, then) in 1x03. So he goes along with the illusion plan, which would've been pretty crappy to do to an old friend if Claudia (and Soren) had been genuine in their offer to help.

So I think in quick succession over a few days, most if not all of Callum's true heart gets shredded to pieces within the first few episodes of season two. Barring that, I think 2x07, specifically the choice to do dark magic, takes whatever remains.

AARAVOS: You call it corruption. I call it compromise.

'Could he really bring himself to go through with his plan? What if he didn’t succeed? What if he compromised his beliefs and it was all for nothing? […] But Rayla was in trouble.' —book two: sky novelization

While Aaravos lists off choices, sacrifices, and compromises as though they are separate things, and occasionally they can be, I think more often than not in life and within TDP that they are all the same thing.

Do you choose (sacrifice) your father or your baby brother? Do you sacrifice your oldest friendship (compromise) to ensure your travelling party can be safe? Do you use dark magic (a compromise, a sacrifice of yourself) to save someone you love?

And Callum's dark magic use falls into his previous pattern of you made a choice, and you knew there would be consequences, but you never dreamed it'd be This. And finally — finally — in 5x08, Callum makes a choice with the full knowledge of the consequences, of exactly what he's risking — and what he refuses to sacrifice.

His true heart has been gone for a while by this point, I think — but within the narrative, Callum is an adult from 5x08 onwards. He knows undeniably what he'll sacrifice and why, and what he won't.

(Something something sacrificing your true heart to protect the person who is your heart and your truth.)

[alelathedragon]

THERES MY BABYYYYY LOYBOOO AAAAAAA CUTIEEEEEE U DREW HIM SOOO CUTE... LUCIAN CHECKING ON HIM 💦💦💦 MY HEART

" huh?? "

The little creature was startled by the sudden question by the tall male with duel pistols as if they were zoned out in their own little world... Shifting nervously

" oh... I'm okay... Thank you,,, I am a bit worried!! This is my first time being in a big group that isn't the Boos!!! I don't know a lot about customs or or... Uh- how people talk out here away from the woods- its so big and intimidating "

" I'm just.... Going to mostly hang in the back... Draw on my tablet..... I hope that's okay... "

[some yummy context for Loyboo in RTV's universe below]

Loyboo lived out in the darkest point of the woods since she materialized into existence like all the other boos do- following King Boo from day 1 but that doesn't mean her interests don't expand!!! Shes sweet, nervous, a drawer, though she has a bit of a dark side- will torture and kill for the thrill of it. Loves pranks and dark humor. Her upbringing in King Boos house led her existence to feed off more negative emotions so if shes hungry- someones going to suffer for it.

Shes a mixed media. Not always evil but not necessarily good either.... Though living out in the middle of nowhere he didn't find out about RTV like everyone else did via the mass brain washing (they didn't have a tv out there lol!)

Loyboo went out of the forest for a good ol' prank on some random stranger! When his interest was suddenly drawn to one of the televisions violently integrated into one of the structures near by- as there was a cartoon playing! Loyboo loved cartoons when he came into town and had a chance to watch them!! So he sat down and watched.

Eventually the puzzlevision logo appeared and RTV right after promoting something as usual- the natural brainwashing tried to manipulate Loyboos brain.... But living with King Boo and all his tricks made her heavily resistant to it and she didn't get brainwashed. In fact. She could recognize what was happening and pulled herself away from the television to not lose her brain privileges.

While wondering around. That's how she figured out that the world was under RTV's finger tips... All the televisions, odd behavior, the sound of static.

.....

COOOOOOOOOL >:D this is awesome

Loyboos eyes got stars in them as he wondered around and began to follow RTVs advances in the world by his own merit. Always pulling himself away before being brainwashed because he didn't want to become a zombie! He wanted to continue to enjoy himself and the content RTV was handing out as himself. And maybe eventually meet the famous fellow. Ask for pointers.... Loyboo fancies themself a good artist but no one will buy their work.... Maybe she could get pointers from someone who has an understanding of artistic vision and is also so powerful!

Worth a shot.......

Right?

1st Group!

The first people have arrived at Puzzlevision Studios for the tour!

@alex-dolmatescu2-0 @alelathedragon @liliththequeenofdemon @runrabitrunrunrun @lunatic-artz @mrtophat518 @mylifeisfakeenjoy @theghostinthestudio @just-j3ster

[uselessmoonlight]

Stranger part 19

Reader is Telemachus' friend, and when he leaves for his "diplomatic mission" he asks her to watch over his mother. Later, once the king has returned, she stumbles upon an injured Poseidon.

Previous / series masterlist / character sheet / next

Content specs: she/her pronouns used, afab reader, Platonic! Telemachus x reader, Epic!Poseidon x reader, possible OOC!Poseidon, Polites’ daughter! Reader, unrequited love, blood, fighting, nudity, illusion, possibly more?, trying to avoid using y/n, slowburn, suggestive themes.

Please check out the poll at the end of the chapter!

Two young adults were sat in silence in one of the rooms of the palace, an owl sat in the windowsill, ready to both intervene, and relay information to her mentee and friend, and his wife. For an hour neither spoke, not knowing what to say, but time was ticking as guests of the palace trickled in, coming from far and wide for the celebration.

Awkwardly, Ónoma started the conversation. “So, you like me.”

“You don’t have to sound so disappointed about it.” Telemachus answered, somewhat angrily.

“I am disappointed though.” She stopped him from interrupting her. “It’s not because you are not good enough or anything, I just thought that, for once, I wasn’t just a woman, a potential partner to someone. I thought it was just friendship, true friendship, but now I don’t know.” She trailed off, not knowing how to continue.

“We are friends, you are more than just some girl, that’s why I like you.” Telemachus started, but Ónoma cut him off.

“I don’t know if I can trust your intentions. You are the greatest, sweetest, most thoughtful friend I’ve ever had, but I can no longer tell if that’s because of who you are, or if it is because you wanted something more from me.” She explained. “And it sucks, because I don’t want to paint you as some manipulative mastermind, but my mind can’t help but wonder. It’s not far-fetched either, because your father is a known wordsmith and you’ve been taken under Lady Athena’s wings as well.” She paused. “I don’t want to hurt you by suggesting that you could’ve done that, but you must understand why I might think that.”

The prince was silent, speechless even. Matters of the heart are truly the greatest challenge one can face. After a long pause he came to a conclusion. “Perhaps it’s best if I keep my distance for a while, to get over it, you know.”

“Or we could find you a nice princess tonight.” She offered hopefully. Both of them knew Telemachus’ solution was the best one, but neither wanted to go without the other. Through the years they’d developed an almost co-dependency.

“It’s worth a try.” He replied, taking her hand and holding it to his chest for a moment. It only broke his heart to hear her suggest considering other women, but for now, with her hand near his heart, it ached a little less.

When the two friends got to the main hall, the party was already in full swing. Ónoma felt entirely out of place amongst the royals and nobles in attendance. She spotted Odysseus talking animatedly with a man she assumed to be Diomedes of Argos, king Nestor was also easily recognizable, his age a dead giveaway, but aside from that she could not conclude who any of these people were.

Most of the man’s comrades from the Trojan war were no longer amongst the living, so she wondered if he himself even knew these people, or if this party was more strategic than she’d first thought. An opportunity of diplomacy, under the guise of celebration. The man had relied on Xenia a lot during his journey.

The last people to arrive were easy to recognize, Helen’s beauty was easily recognizable, and Menelaus was, well, Menelaus. He was not unpleasant, but there was something off about him. At least he wasn’t his brother, Ónoma would not be surprised if Agamemnon had a spot in Tartarus. All that she’d heard about the man was rather unpleasant.

The celebration had gone by surprisingly well; Ónoma had had a discussion with king Nestor, the man truly had learned a lot in his long life and had some meaningful insight in certain things. Diomedes had approached her, asking about her role in fighting off the suitors commended her bravery. She’d let the sexist undertones slide, not wanting to get in trouble with him, but she’d appreciated the praise none the less.

Menelaus had mistaken her for a palace slave, and she’d awkwardly redirected him to the servants. She did not receive an apology from him, but his wife had been pleasant enough. Their daughter had been even nicer, Hermione had been able to marry the man she wanted to after the passing of Neoptolemus and had been thriving ever since. After speaking about her with Telemachus, however, she learned that she was not a fan of the girl, with what she’d tried to do to Andromache.

Polycaste had been incredibly pleasant company. She’d ended up talking of her troubles with the daughter of Nestor, leaving out some details, but the girl had had interesting views. Her father’s wisdom had clearly rubbed off on her. Perhaps she’d be a good match for Telemachus, the two of them seemed to get along quite well.

Even more surprising had been the actions of the Ithacan king, he’d apologized to her and had proceeded to boast about her to the other attendants; how she’d defended his wife, gaining the aid of a God in doing so, how she was vital to the workflow of the island and of her duties in the temple. Perhaps this was his attempt at making things right after his previous actions, but Ónoma did not appreciate all the attention, even if she recognized that he had good intentions.

Telemachus did not appreciate the attention his friend was getting either, sure he’d promised not to act on his feelings, but that didn’t mean they no longer existed. Competing with a God was bad enough, now there were other princes, even kings vying for her attention. not that she showed interest.

At the end of the night Ónoma had danced more than she ever had before, being unable to refuse any of the men who’d asked because of their status. She all but ran home the second she was able to do so. she was dizzy and exhausted and promptly passed out the second her head hit the pillow, still wearing the fancy clothes and jewellery.

A/n: If you want to be added to the taglist, let me know. I might mess up, but you can always check out the tag "epic the stranger saga" as all works related are tagged with this.

I might make a spin-off/ alternate ending series, since this series is nearing the end. let me know if you'd be interested in the following:

Taglist:

@apollos-dodgeball-target

@barrythestrawberry041

@darling-eos

@doodle-with-rhy

@glaciuswduo

@hardbarbarianfox

@h0ne4bee

@isla-finke-blog

@keikeiluvyou

@missam

@suckerforblondies

@trashcannotbealive

@visha1965

[runabout-river]

Curse or Not.

A common misconception about Sukuna I see constantly is people (me included at first) believing he's a curse when in reality he's a reincarnated sorcerer. A factor that contributes to that misconception is the story itself though.

Sukuna is the King of Curses; he's called a curse by Yuji; he's described as a calamity, a natural disaster like curses are conceptualized as; he regularly baths in CE; his CE is so seeped in evil he's immune to poisons; he calls himself a curse.

In-story, Sukuna walks a transcendent path between sorcerer and curse similar to Tengen though not quite as physical as her. Something I've been thinking about for a while though is how outside of the story, Gege didn't make a clear distinction of Sukuna's personhood either.

I think Gege wrote Sukuna as a curse at the beginning of the manga.

Here Sukuna is described to have died before turning into cursed objects. In-story you can explain that as modern sorcerers not knowing what actually happened to Sukuna. But taking this with Sukuna later healing his hands without the tell-tale signs of RCT (or the shiny glow from JJK 0) and ripping his heart out and continuing to live without anyone wondering about it or giving an explanation on how he did that, makes me believe that at that point in the story (ch. 8) Sukuna had been a curse.

Before Gege changed his mind and reconceptualized him as a reincarnated sorcerer. So people can be forgiven twice over for mistakenly thinking he's a curse.

And of course, at the end of the manga, Gege had to find an explanation for how Sukuna had his blood still pumping. Answer: Cursed Energy 😂

[tobiasdrake]

It's been about a week and a half since we last discussed the Live Action Dragon Ball Adaptation. So, King Piccolo?

A few points to consider:

The King Piccolo arc isn't especially long as far as Dragon Ball arcs go, but adapting a couple dozen chapters of manga into 90 to 150 minutes of film pretty much requires some cuts. What has to stay, what gets trimmed, what gets cut?

Where does Goku's training with Kami go? At the end of the King Piccolo movie, or the start of the tournament movie, or what? Do we see it at all?

Piccolo-demons and Namekians in general: CGI, rubber foreheads, or full tokusatsu suits?

Okay, here we go with Piccolo movie.

During the RRA film, as part of condensing the story into a 2.5-3 hour structure, I made the following proposal.

Move Uranai Baba to before Goku attacks RRA HQ but after Taopaipai defeats him. They go to Baba to find out where the RRA took the Dragon Balls.

Goku's reunion with Grandpa Gohan replaces his training with Karin.

That leaves "Goku climbs Karin Tower to drink the special water" as a scene to be kicked out to this film, replacing "Goku climbs Karin Tower again to drink the even more specialer water." We're compositing Goku's two trips up the tower into one here.

Otherwise, I think the story is short and simple enough to be adaptable with minimal modification.

-> Goku chases Tambourine for revenge, meets Yajirobe. -> Goku and Yajirobe kill Piccolo's spawn. -> Piccolo fucks Goku up. -> Piccolo collects Dragon Balls, regains youth, kills Shenron. Muten-Roshi attempts Mafuba and fails, Chiaotzu is killed. -> Goku and Yajirobe ascend Karin Tower. -> Preparations for final battle. Goku training with Karin and Sacred Water stuff, Ten self-teaching Mafuba. -> Tenshinhan vs. Drum -> Goku vs. Piccolo, final battle

I think this is an outline that can fit pretty easily into a 2.5-3 hour cinematic structure.

Bulma can ride-along with Tenshinhan and the Muten-Roshi for this one, which isn't too dissimilar from what the anime did with her and Yamcha. It's important that Goku be isolated by his own impulsiveness for the portion of the story he shares with Yajirobe and Karin. This is where our little Monkey King starts to become something beyond the mortal world and enters the realm of the divine.

Plus, having Bulma with Tenshinhan gives him someone he can talk to and emote with after the Muten-Roshi and Chiaotzu are dead.

Building on the 21st Tenkaichi Budokai centering the passing of generations, the Piccolo film centers inheritance of worldly causes. Piccolo was a problem believed solved not even back in Roshi's day but in the day of his master. But now here he is. A hardship once believed solved that now has to be confronted once again, not by Roshi but by the next generation that have surpassed him.

And even when Piccolo is defeated, he still isn't done. Because he too ends the film by passing down his power to his own next generation, perpetuating the problem.

...I kinda want to get Krillin's actor in there to play Yajirobe as a deep-cut reference to the reason Yajirobe exists as a character. Toriyama wanted Krillin cast as Yajirobe way back in the day, so let's cast Krillin as Yajirobe.

As for Goku's training with Kami? We're going to obscure that.

This movie ends on Goku ascending into Heaven with the Nyoi-bo. Heart full of hope that he might restore Shenron and bring back the people who died.

Next movie begins on everyone arriving for the 23rd Tenkaichi Budokai. Krillin, Roshi, and Chiaotzu are alive and well, but no one knows what happened to Goku or how the Dragon Balls reactivated. He was just... never seen again after the fight with Piccolo, until the day of the 23rd Tenkaichi Budokai. Leaving three resurrection miracles behind him as he vanished.

What happened between these two points gets slowly revealed in flashback during the course of the 23rd Tenkaichi Budokai, as it becomes relevant to the drama unfolding between Goku, Kami, and Piccolo.

(Before you ask, no. I have no idea how to translate Popo to the big screen. That is something I would have to defer to someone who is, let's say, of a less vampiric complexion.)

As for the design of the Namekians and Mazoku? Practical effects touched up by CGI where necessary. I'm old-school. I believe in shooting as much reality as possible and then using CGI to put finishing polish on the designs.

[hide-in-imagination]

Tengo mi sangre ardiendo, por un poco de tu mirar... (x)

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 241

Wing au? Wing Au. With perhaps a bit of a twist. Also a hint of eldritchness perhaps. For fun! 

Ghosts have wings. Sure, they aren’t normally seen, not in the visible spectrum, but they do. Scanners pick them up, and sometimes a ghost might even reveal them, which was hypothesized to be some sort of animalistic intimidation attempt. (Something more than one Amity Parker rolled their eyes at)

Everyone had seen them at least once- the motorcycle-driving ghost’s mass of shadowy feathers, the green-haired girls matching shaggy ones, the rocker’s ones that looked like pages of music before bursting into flame. Even the box ghost’s had been spotted- feathers looking more like sheets of cardboard than anything else. 

It wasn’t until the whole kidnapped to the ghost zone that anyone saw Phantom’s, but that was another tale unto itself really. Honestly the arrival of the GIW would have maybe been seen as positive before, but the fact that many of them had looked in the mirror or gone to the doctors only to find feathers beginning to sprout on their back soured it. 

Especially as the GIW continues to prattle on and on about how all ecto-contaminated scum are less than human, less than bacteria. And well, what does that make them? Them, who have been to the realms of the dead and gods and back, touched by the swirling green energy in ways incomprehensible? Changed by that energy? 

So the people silently brush hidden feathers together, quietly rebuff the white-wearing lunatics from the city as best they can, and hope to anything listening that they can stop anyone else from disappearing. That maybe they can find the few no one noticed had been taken before it’s too late, even if they have to tear down the entire government to do it. 

[p4nishers]

thinking about the relationship between mightily oats' "the worthwhile [words] don't burn" and constable dorfl's "the words in the heart cannot be taken"

[carlottastudios]

Every day I get closer to making an unhinged behemoth of a post listing all of the things about Kaeya and his possible connections to mythology & stuff that I notice but NOBODY ELSE SEEMS TO BRING UP IN THEIR THEORIES

(edit: OMG I reached the tag limit I'm so sorry)