#what a magical and chaotic day truly

[glindaupland]

The Phantom of the Opera | Seoul, South Korea | 집팬텀 x 송크리 Review 5/6

October 13, 2023 - Evening / 1500th Korean performance

The Phantom of the Opera | 김주택 Kim Ju-taek/Julian Kim

Christine Daaé | 송은혜 Song Eun-hye

Raoul, Vicomte de Chagny | 황건하 Hwang Gun-ha

Carlotta Giudicelli | 이지영 Lee Ji-young

Oh another incident of me making excuses to see this show again...

@capitanogiorgio really wanted to go and how could I miss the chance to go with a great friend

it was the 1500th Korean performance

I wanted to see Ju-taek with a completely different cast rotation

...it's King Ju-taek, that's reason enough

It was meant to be because when I checked in with her after ticketing, I had bought a seat right in front of hers without even trying. I was just aiming for the general area. So yeah I'm justified! The stars aligned! No regrets, because this was another performance that blew me away and oh boy I cried again somehow what is this dark magic being done to me

I'm so dumb and I left my binoculars in my hotel room so I literally had to run to grab them and my art print for Yoon Young-seok during intermission. Like I said before though, the Charlotte is very small. The view from the last two seats genuinely doesn't feel that far away like it might at the Majestic. It's just difficult distinguish expressions. Any pair of binoculars and opera glasses can easily rectify that.

Backstage | Little Lotte / The Mirror

Quoting Ceci's notes "XOXO Gossip girl André" I just needed to note his dramatic "WoOoOw~!" and silly teenage girl giggling as they left Raoul to be alone with Christine. So scandalous! We both especially liked his delivery in The Mirror this performance. Even with such a powerful commanding voice he's able to make himself sound gentler and a lot less intimidating in response to Christine. Her words clearly have an affect on him, softening him. He called to her more quietly and eerily this time, but oh that nice little build up again in the final words telling her to come closer? Chef's kiss. Very nice range.

The Music of the Night

As with Dong-seok, SEH Christine was more curious about him and is not the fully obedient student like SJS Christine. It makes it interesting when she's paired with the more controlling Phantoms like KJT or CJR. Even so, these two had some interesting chemistry. He actually got a bit too caught up in the moment, leaning in very close to her (the almost kiss). There was a little bit more urgency when he quickly backed away even though he immediately pretended to be composed again. So maybe she hadn't fully given in yet, but she definitely was getting a little too curious. Both shows it did look he kept getting pulled by small stirrings of something from the intimacy, but he was always quick about brushing it off. This night for the line, "마침내 내 것이 될 순간 / The moment you'll finally be mine" - he put the whispered emphasis on "be mine" By the end, she was definitely more convinced by him and open to listening. But of course, getting jumpscared by a bride replica of yourself might be a bit of a vibe killer so hm that progress kinda dropped

Stranger Than You Dreamt It

Like I said, I left my binoculars for Act 1 so this part was kinda agonizing because I couldn't see facial expressions. But he really sounded more exposed and hysterical after his unmasking than before. He ended his outburst with loud gasps and even the first half of STYDI which was clearly meant to sound intimidating and harsh felt shaky. Once again, SEH Christine didn't take her eyes off of the Phantom when he came near. She began to reach for him when he was close like she had done with JDS Phantom, but he turned away too quickly...

Why Have You Brought Me Here? / All I Ask of You

Side-eyeing the hell out of HGH Raoul again, but extra this time. Until he's just about to start AIAOY, he just comes across as judgmental and irritated with her. Although I definitely prefer him over Hadley, he's a little too much of that type of hot-headed for me. I found it funny that Ju-taek talked about HGH Raoul always being angry. Like even directing his anger at Christine (he noted his way of shouting "이쪽으로 와요 / Come this way!!!" at Christine before she takes him to the rooftop and the way he shouts at Madame Giry). It's too accurate 😭 Anyway, not technically a bad performance, just not my preference with personalities for Raoul. I think he would suit the role of the Phantom a lot more when he’s older 👀 To more briefly summarize this I'm quoting Ceci's notes again: "Tiger big douche tonight?" I will give him that he is very cute during AIAOY and I wish he would continue to be this cute. He was romantic and very passionate about it! I just have a radio performance to share so sadly you won't get the real feeling, but it's at least a little taste?

Wandering Child

I know the Phantom's murdering and kidnapping and whatnot but this is in his top crimes like he's a real bitch for this. He made himself sound so safe and inviting in 'Wandering Child' like leave her alone you weirdo!! And SEH Christine responds with "아빠 - Father?" whenever the Phantom calls for her to come closer at the end of the trio's singing. No, girl, no! 😭 His voice made a complete transformation after being interrupted by Raoul. Suddenly, he had a strong terrifying authoritative presence.

The Point of No Return

I loved how he gently tilted her chin with his fingers during the beginning of his half of the song like Dong-seok had at my first performance 🤭 His voice felt really strong, he really seemed determined and confident, but once again he was absolutely on edge when they get to the bench and struggling to grasp for that "control" he thought he had. They ended the song very close!! He wasn't even able to finish singing the final word. The adrenaline rush was gone. He was scared now. Despite being so intense before, his voice and the way he went to take her hand for the ring became so gentle, but also desperate and rushed at the same time. ...but why did the rooster NO!! get funnier to me. I'm so sorry!

Final Lair

During ‘Down Once More’ she tried to touch him, but he grabbed her angrily to stop her. I think she tried to reach to him or touch him a few other times like when she said she didn’t fear his face anymore, but this only made him panic and lash out more. He was really agitated and on edge! There were a lot more aggressive responses as attempts to suppress his doubts about his actions. Deep down he knew he sensed what he was doing was wrong, but he kept clinging to this feeling of betrayal and the excuse of his face to justify pushing forward. But we're past the point of no return, we can only go full speed ahead now. The way he mocked Raoul seemed so calm, but when HGH Raoul started snapping at him he matched his energy a lot more viciously than when interacting with SWG Raoul. He pounded his chest during the line "이 모든 건 이미 결정된 것 / Everything has already been decided" with a pained emphasis on 'decided'. I think deep inside he already might have known what the ending would have to be Ohhhh when Raoul asked why he would force her to choose a lie this time it enraged the Phantom so much he grunted loudly and looked like he was about to actually strangle him when he lunged at him. SEH Christine was brave about blocking his path and he stormed off again because he couldn't hurt her. But it's kind of funny to me that Ju-taek said the aggression from HGH Raoul triggers more anger from him (that was clear), but when facing SWG Raoul he almost feels bad for him. He also said putting the noose on SWG Raoul is easy, but then HGH Raoul is kinda scary and angry. Personally, I think that putting a noose on HGH Raoul is the equivalent of putting a chihuahua leash on a tiger and hoping it'll hold. The way he gave his "믿었다... 날 믿었다고... / Trusted...you trusted me" reply was sharp, almost sarcastic and he shouted for her to make her choice looking seriously anguished. She looked wounded and sobbed before she began to respond. The kiss was similar to the one with SJS and SEH Christine really didn't want to leave him either. She was trying to stretch her hand out to him while HGH Raoul kept insisting they needed to leave. When he called himself the angel of death she was shaking her head. Hadn't she just expressed something different to him? It looked like it hurt her to still hear those kinds of words from him. But the weight of his guilt was really crushing him so much that he couldn't take it. He fell to the ground crying hard when he chased them away. Upon seeing Christine return, he sighed a little. She was whimpering and sobbing as he told her that he loved her and she nodded slowly in return. He really tried hard to make it look like he was at peace with letting her go, but it was clear he wasn't ready. The moment her hand left his, he let out a shaky sigh like she was his very breath being taken away from him when she ran off crying. But he didn't try to stop her in any way. He just kissed the ring softly and walked picked up the veil on the ground. He quietly repeated her name into the veil over and over again lovingly before he did the same action with the veil singing his final lines. Even though SEH Christine doesn't look at her Phantoms, she sounded mournful and shaky on the way out. I don't think she'd even be able to handle looking at him again

Here's yet another special commemorative audience photo woo! Ceci and I stretched into the aisle so we could find ourselves later and not just be a blur in the crowd and well...there we are. I think he took like 3 different poses before deciding the last one was the right one heh

I think in general the cast was on fire! There was a lot of good energy since it was another special performance. Part of the multiple reasons I chose to attend! After this I could say with confidence that Kim Ju-taek has now ended up being in my top favorite Phantoms. I know he had performance experience from opera, but I still can't believe he's been able to come up one of the most unique perspectives I've seen for this role for his first musical. Now my friends and I have all sorts of future role ideas, so I hope he continues to do musicals in the future! Just one more review left now~

It's promo time enjoy some performances to cleanse your ears!

[theosang3ls]

When you know, you know

inspired by “Margaret” by Lana Del Rey

pairing: Theodore Nott x F!Reader

summary: Theo had asked you out on a date, and though hesitant at first, you agreed. What began with uncertainty soon unfolded into something quietly profound—an afternoon that made you realise how deeply you longed to be truly seen, and made Theo realise he didn’t want anyone else but you.

warnings: pure fluff, reader talks a lot

A/N: I was literally giggling and kicking my feet while writing this, this is my favourite work that I’ve ever written. Dedicated to all my girlies who get called weird and are hopeless romantics���� I’m kind of honouring the arrival of late spring through this fic as well, I just love how nature wakes up again at this time of year. English is not my first language, I’m sorry for any grammatical errors!

𖤓°⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𖤓°⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𖤓°⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𖤓°⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𖤓°⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𖤓°⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

You were currently out on a date with Theo.

Even now, as the afternoon sun spilled like liquid gold across the foothills and warmed your skin, it didn't feel entirely real. Just days ago, he had asked you out—his voice soft, steady, almost shy. The memory of it still sat like a folded letter in your mind: unexpected, delicate, something you hadn't dared imagine opening. It caught you so off guard you almost laughed. Theo, asking you out? It seemed impossible. Not because he was distant or arrogant—he never had been—but because you had never thought of him that way, never considered the possibility that he might be thinking of you like that.

And yet, he had. And now here you were—sitting cross-legged on a thick carpet of grass that had just returned to life after the hush of winter, your back resting against the smooth bark of a fallen yule log, as if nature had prepared the seat just for you. Across from you, Theo mirrored your posture, tracing the fresh, supple blades of grass with slow, deliberate fingers. His gaze kept drifting to you, unguarded, soft as a sigh, as if he couldn't quite believe you were real.

You had hesitated when he asked you out. Something inside you had told you to be cautious, to hold back. Maybe it was doubt, or maybe fear—the kind that creeps in when something good shows up unexpectedly, and you worry it might vanish just as fast. You'd even considered canceling the date. Told yourself it would be easier, cleaner, safer. But you hadn't. Something kept you from backing out—something in the way he looked at you when you weren't paying attention, or maybe the steadiness in his voice when he spoke to you like you mattered.

So you said yes. And now the world was draped in a kind of magic you hadn't expected.

The place he brought you to felt like it had been waiting for you. It was a hidden pocket of paradise tucked beneath the arms of the mountain's lower slopes, just far enough from Hogwarts’ castle to feel secret, sacred. The forest around you had awakened in vibrant celebration—leaves the color of fresh emeralds trembled in the soft breeze, catching sunlight like fragments of stained glass. The trees stood tall and proud, their bark still dark with winter's memory, but their branches bursting with life. Tiny wildflowers had erupted from the soil in chaotic, joyful colors—brilliant golds, purples like bruised dusk, whites soft as snow—and they danced when the wind passed, as though the earth was laughing quietly to itself.

The air was rich with scent—warm moss, young grass, the faint sweetness of blooming buds and petals still unfurling. Birds sang from the canopy above in a chorus that seemed improvised, but somehow perfectly orchestrated. Somewhere nearby, a brook whispered its way through stones, its voice threading through the wind like a lullaby. The sunlight filtered through the leaves in golden shafts, casting gentle shadows that shifted as the breeze stirred the treetops. You could feel it all—the hum of life, the pulse of the earth beneath you—as if the land itself was exhaling after a long, still winter.

"So... you come here regularly?" you asked, your voice quieter than usual, reverent. You tilted your head as you looked around, eyes trying to take in every inch of the place, to memorize it the way you wanted to memorize the feeling blooming in your chest.

Theo was watching you with that same quiet intensity, a softness behind his smile like he was letting himself fall and wasn't afraid to. "Not too regularly," he said, his voice just above a murmur, "but it's kind of perfect this time of year."

You smiled at that, a small, slow smile that tugged at your lips like sunlight creeping through morning curtains. "It really is." Your eyes drifted upward, to the wide open sky above, so bright and blue it looked endless. The sunlight dazzled your vision and made you squint, but you didn't look away. You wanted to feel it—to let the light pour into you and settle deep in your bones.

"You really love nature, huh?" he asked after a moment, his voice laced with curiosity, but also admiration. You weren't looking at him, but he was definitely looking at you.

"There's nothing more beautiful," you said, your gaze still tethered to the vast sky above, your voice laced with a gentle wonder that curled around Theo's heart like ivy. "The way the wind brushes through the trees... it doesn't just move the leaves—it gives them a soul for a moment, makes them twirl and flutter like they're dancing for the sheer joy of being alive. Or how the birds begin to fly lower when rain is near, like they carry the sky's secrets beneath their wings. And even the tiniest creatures—those you'd barely notice any other time—they emerge now, drawn out by the hush and bloom of spring, as if the earth itself is putting on a play, and not a single living thing wants to miss a moment."

He looked at you, completely stunned—not just by what you had said, but by you. There was something in the way your words fell from your lips, unfiltered and vivid, like soft rain over dry earth. You were a poetic soul in a world that often only celebrated silence. And it made his heart ache in the best possible way. Like hearing a song he didn't know he'd needed. Like remembering something he thought he'd forgotten.

He didn't speak—not at first. He just looked. Let the silence between you swell and breathe. He needed time to absorb it, to let your voice echo inside him where it mattered most. You weren't just speaking thoughts; you were offering pieces of yourself, and he received them with a reverence he didn't quite know how to articulate. Every word you'd said still hung in the air like pollen—delicate, golden, alive.

It wasn't simply attraction—no, this was something older, deeper, something that felt like it had been written into the marrow of his bones long before he ever knew your name. You didn't have to do anything. You just were—sitting there in that patch of spring sunlight like the season itself had bloomed just to wrap around you. You were effortless. Unaware of the spell you cast, how the mere tilt of your head or the way your lashes caught the light had him caught in a current he didn't want to escape.

There you were: back pressed gently against a weather-worn yule log, your hair dancing with the breeze like it was part of the wind's design, your eyes bright and open, reflecting the sky's soft blue and a curiosity he found endlessly magnetic. And you smiled—just a little. That hesitant, confused smile you wore when you didn't quite understand why he was staring at you like that, like you were the last beautiful thing in a world that had long gone dim. It was a fragile thing, that smile. Tentative and sincere. And to him, it was sacred.

But he wasn't just staring.

He was studying, memorizing, revering. Every detail of you was a verse in a poem only he could read. You weren't simply a person—you were a constellation, a collection of light and wonder and soft chaos that made his heart quiet and wild at the same time. Your presence overwhelmed him in the gentlest way. He had never believed in soulmates, never believed in fate. But sitting there, watching you exist so unselfconsciously in the middle of blooming earth and golden air, he was almost convinced that maybe, just maybe, the universe had placed you here on purpose.

You spoke to him then, your voice light but alive, and it wrapped around him like a melody made only for his ears. The way your thoughts unfolded, vivid and full of color—your passion for the smallest details, the way your eyes lit up when you described things you loved—he drank it all in like a man starved. Your words weren't just sounds to him; they were sunlight and soil, things that rooted into him and bloomed. He was enchanted by how you moved through the world, how you gave meaning to things that others might overlook. You didn't just see beauty—you named it, shaped it, gave it life. You turned a simple breeze into a love song.

He longed to touch you. To feel the warmth of your skin beneath his fingertips. To press his lips to yours, not out of some shallow desire, but out of reverence. He didn't want to kiss you just to have you. He wanted to kiss you as a way of saying thank you for existing. He wanted to pour all his silent awe into that single moment, to let you feel in one soft collision everything he couldn't yet say aloud. But he didn't. He couldn't. Because to kiss you meant closing his eyes, even for just a breath—and he wasn't ready to lose sight of you. Not yet. Not when your face was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

So he just watched.

He watched the sunlight draw delicate patterns across your cheeks. He watched the shadows shift beneath your lashes when you blinked. He watched the way your expression changed with your thoughts, subtle but alive, like weather over a quiet field. And with every passing second, he carved you deeper into his memory, desperate to hold onto the way you looked right now. If his eyes burned from not blinking, he would have welcomed the sting. If night fell and stole the light from your features, he would have begged the stars to shine brighter just so he wouldn't lose you to the dark.

In you, he saw something beyond beauty.

He swore he would remember the exact way you looked in that moment until the end of his days. Because to him, you weren't just a girl on a hillside. You were everything. You were the pause between heartbeats. The hush before the dawn. The whisper of something holy.

In you, he saw poetry.

“You see the world so differently,” Theo said at last, his voice barely above a whisper, as if anything louder might shatter the sacred stillness between you. There was awe in his tone—not just admiration, but a kind of reverence, like he was saying a prayer. “You don’t just notice it… you feel it. You let it move through you. It’s like you carry the world inside you, and everything you see, you let it stay.”

Your smile wavered, and something in your eyes flickered—not surprise exactly, but something softer. Recognition. As though he’d just pulled a thread loose inside you that no one had ever dared to touch before.

“No one’s ever said that to me,” you murmured, your voice quieter now, laced with something unspoken. “Not like that. Not like it’s something good.”

You tried to laugh it off, but the sound came out small, wistful. “I get that a lot,” you added, eyes locked onto his with a gaze so steady, so unflinching, it made Theo feel like his heart had stumbled into a sprint. “But not as a compliment.”

There was a pause—a heartbeat stretched between two souls—and then you smiled again. This time it was warmer, more open, tinged with gratitude. The kind of smile that made something ancient in him sigh.

“Thank you,” you said simply, and those two words carried more weight than most people’s whole conversations.

You turned your gaze toward the trees again, watching how the sunlight filtered through the canopy and painted soft gold across the grassy earth. Then your voice shifted—took on that thoughtful, drifting cadence Theo had come to recognize. The sound of you diving deep, without fear, into another ocean of thought.

“I just think… people get so tangled in the noise of their own lives. They obsess over things that don’t matter—deadlines, mirrors, numbers on screens—things that don’t feed the soul. They forget to just… be. To breathe. To look around and realize the world is alive. That we’re alive. They walk past trees without seeing them. They hear birds and think of alarms. They smell rain and only worry about their hair. It’s like they’ve been taught to ignore the symphony the earth plays for them every day.”

You paused, not for dramatic effect, but because you were genuinely overcome by the weight of what you were saying. Your fingers ran gently through the grass beside you, the gesture slow, reverent, like you were grounding yourself to the very soil.

“But nature…” you continued, your voice softer now, almost like you were confiding in the air itself, “Nature doesn’t ask anything of us except presence. And still, people treat it like background noise. But it’s everything. It’s truth, in its rawest form. It’s the wind reminding you that you’re small, but not insignificant. It’s the flowers blooming without applause, the way the earth forgives us each spring. It’s the silence between birdsong, the hush of the forest, the sound of your own heartbeat when you really, really listen.”

Theo was silent, completely still, utterly caught in the gravity of your words. You didn’t even notice the way he was looking at you—like you were both flame and shelter, like he could spend forever listening to you and still not have enough. The way you spoke stirred something in him he hadn’t known he’d been missing—an ache, a longing, a sense that maybe this was what connection was meant to feel like.

You stared back at him, puzzled by his stillness. Your brow furrowed gently, your nose crinkling ever so slightly as your mind spun in quiet worry. You'd seen this kind of silence before. It usually came right before someone pulled away.

"Am I annoying you with my rambling?" you asked, voice dipping into uncertainty. "I'm being weird again, aren't I?"

There it was—your vulnerability, soft and sharp all at once. You tried to smile through it, to laugh it off like you always did, but it didn't quite reach your eyes. You were too used to being misunderstood. Too familiar with the way people got overwhelmed by the way your thoughts spiraled into beauty. You'd spent years trying to tame that part of yourself, trying to fit inside quieter boxes, but the truth was: your mind was a garden that grew wild and lush and unapologetic. And somewhere deep down, you feared that would always be too much for people to handle.

Theo's gaze softened even more, as if your worry had reached out and touched something in him.

"You're not weird," he said gently, and his voice felt like a warm hand on your shoulder. Steady. Sincere. "You're just... different." The way he said it made you pause. There was no judgment in it. No edge. Just admiration—pure and quiet, like a secret he was honored to carry. You bit your lower lip, a nervous gesture, your cheeks blooming into a pale, rosy pink. The kind of blush that wasn't born of embarrassment, but of something softer—hope, maybe. Surprise. You tilted your head slightly, trying to read him more clearly, your voice careful but curious. "Should I take being 'different' as a compliment?" you asked, your tone playful, but your eyes searching his face for something real, something rooted. 

He didn't look away. Neither did you.

It was as if the two of you had unknowingly stepped into a quiet challenge—some unspoken game of stillness and gravity, where neither one wanted to be the first to look away. But it wasn't a contest. It was longing. It was connection. You were caught in his eyes—those deep, endless oceans of cobalt and storm—and you didn't want to be rescued. You wanted to fall further in. Drown in them, willingly.

And Theo... he felt the same. Your presence had a magnetic pull. It was like standing in sunlight after a long winter—comforting and blinding and overwhelming all at once. Every inch of you drew him closer. Not physically, not yet—but spiritually, energetically, irrevocably. You were the kind of different that made the world feel bigger, richer, more alive. And he didn't want to look away—not now, not ever. So you sat there, suspended in a silence that said more than words could. Something delicate and infinite passing between you. Something that tasted a little like fate.

The mountains held their breath around you. Even the wind seemed to hush, threading softly through the tall grass, brushing against your skin like an unseen hand offering comfort. The warmth of the afternoon sun spilled golden over the clearing, catching the edges of your hair and setting it aglow like a halo made of firelight and softness. You looked like something sacred, something the earth had cradled into being and placed carefully in front of him.

Theo couldn't speak—not yet. Not without unraveling. So he simply watched you, as if memorizing wasn't a choice, but an instinct. The kind of reverence usually reserved for art or prayer shone in his expression. And perhaps that's what you were to him—living poetry, the kind that bled truth with every breath. "yes," he replied, barely more than a breath. "Being different... that's the most beautiful thing about you." The words hung there, suspended in the golden stillness. You didn't move. You weren't sure you could.

It had always been a sore thing inside you—how easily people turned away from the parts of you that felt too much. You'd always been aware of how you overflowed: in thought, in feeling, in wonder. You tried for years to fold yourself smaller, quieter, into the shapes other people expected. But even then, your heart had a way of spilling out, uninvited. You loved too deeply, thought too loudly, cared too visibly. You noticed things—how the petals on early spring flowers trembled in the wind, how people's voices changed when they were holding back tears, how the world seemed to pulse with quiet meanings no one stopped long enough to hear.

And for most of your life, that had been your loneliness.

Until now.

Until Theo.

"You don't hide from things," he said, his voice low, trembling with something he didn't dare name yet. "You don't numb yourself the way most people do. You let the world move you. It terrifies me how rare that is."

His hand, still half-buried in the grass, found yours. This time, not by accident. His fingers brushed the back of your hand like a question. You didn't pull away. You turned your palm to meet his, and the moment your skin touched, the world shifted—softly, imperceptibly, but deeply. Like something had clicked into place, and the universe exhaled around it.

"I always feel like I'm too much," you whispered, your voice cracking around the edges. It wasn't a confession meant for pity—it was a truth, worn and tender, carried inside you for years. "Too intense. Too curious. Too sensitive. Too... loud, I guess. People don't usually stay."

Theo's fingers closed around yours with gentle certainty, as if your pain was something he could hold and soothe just by being steady. "Then they were never meant to," he murmured, and his tone held no bitterness, only truth. "Because anyone who asks you to be less than this... doesn't deserve to be near you."

Something in your chest gave way. You didn't cry—but it felt like you might, if you let yourself breathe too deeply. There was a pressure behind your ribs, not from sadness, but from recognition. From being seen, finally, not just for your beauty or your kindness or the words you put together like constellations—but for everything. The wild, radiant chaos of your inner world. The boundless storm of your empathy. The way you never stopped feeling.

"I just want to be understood," you said, and your voice cracked on the last word. "Not explained away. Not tolerated. Just... understood."

"I do," he said, instantly, and there wasn't even a pause. "I do understand."

He said it like a promise. Like a vow carved into the air between you.

Your eyes met his again, and there was no more hiding in them—no fear, no overthinking, no pretending. Just two souls, open and trembling and unafraid to fall. You stared into the storm-blue of his gaze and felt yourself being pulled deeper, caught in the gravity of someone who chose you exactly as you were.

The light changed around you, slow and golden, the kind of fading light that casts long, soft shadows and turns everything it touches into something mythic. The air carried the scent of early blossoms and damp earth and sun-warmed wood. Somewhere nearby, a bird trilled a low, steady song, and in the far distance, the hum of a stream curled through the silence like a secret.

And in that moment, nothing else mattered. Not the past. Not your fears. Not even the future.

Only this.

Only him.

Only you—exactly as you were, more than enough, with your messy thoughts and uncontainable wonder, your heart that never learned how to beat quietly.

Theo leaned in slightly, not to kiss you yet, but just to be closer. Just to feel the space between you get smaller. His forehead nearly touched yours, and you felt the warmth of his breath mingle with your own.

"I don't want you to quiet down," he said, barely a whisper. "I want to hear everything."

And for the first time, you believed someone meant it.

𖤓°⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𖤓°⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𖤓°⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𖤓°⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𖤓°⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𖤓°⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

I’d love to hear your feedback on this one!

!Reblogs and Likes are highly appreciated¡

…until next time lovelies💋

[janecafe]

future spouse's pac: how they will confess their love for you

uno - dos

tres - kwatro

paid reading is available here.

masterlist

don't expect much, this is a very short and simple read. you can just ignore and continue to scroll if you don't find it interesting.

©janecafe 2025

˚⊱🍀⊰˚

₊˚ʚ 𝐔𝐍𝐎 🪷 ₊˚✧ ﾟ.

their confession is a pressure and realization about the connection you'd have with them. it's like a realization about how significant your presence is in their life. the confession will leave a satisfied feeling about you. the day of the confession, they may be thinking about kneeling on their knees to you with their hearty and sincere poetry love. despite, the fact they doubt because they don't have an actual idea about your response. they still be waiting for that uncertain reply.

it's also juggling their thoughts about how they love you. this can be their first sentence before confessing; "i want to ask you before i assume anything". it's like a magical word. i was visualizing the place where they confess, it's a place where bougainvillea flowers is present and with an enchanted pavilion. this period is a magical and epoch times for both you. this is an enticing energy togetherness with pure emotions of two magnificent souls.

★ check the previous pac

₊˚ʚ 𝐃𝐎𝐒 🪷 ₊˚✧ ﾟ.

it brings them emotions; in denial and repression. they don't want to admit it because there's a conflict between you and them. this is a feeling of hatred that turns into something special, i don't think you're gonna like each other at first that was the sight of the cards are giving me.

the day they confess? it will be the first time you two will share a kiss. they're the one who's gonna kiss, forgive them it was because of their madcap action. it was because all of their feelings for you were bottled up and they can't hide it anymore, they felt your lips are raw and kissable; it taste sweet and has another description that "they're seeing stars". it's corny but a mystical. but to retract this idea, is that you two used to love someone else.

i don't have any idea how this deep rooted hate came from but i think it's a normal that sometimes we used to hate someone without us even knowing where that come from. this is a real life reflection. where the two used to loved different people before having connection with each other. it's also a confirmation you two are capable to love again. it's like; we love, we failed and we learn and love again.

★ check the previous pac

₊˚ʚ 𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐒 🪷 ₊˚✧ ﾟ.

this person will let their feelings confess in a romantic and traditional way to express what they truly feel towards you. writing love letters and poems might be one of their ideal confessions, it can also be through a song that's how they're gonna express their affection to you. they may want to be modest but also be respectful with your feelings, somehow they consider about what you feel, they have where in their mind it's okay for them to get rejected or even turn down after their confession. they want to ensure that their intentions is pure and empathetic.

although, they are somehow timid about their feelings towards you. you will able to witness their love for you with their gifts giving like chocolate or flowers and act of service actions.

in my imagination, it is like an impression of giving a beautiful gift with a hidden hand letter where is holding their own words and feelings to express on a simple, clean and white colored paper leaving their outstanding perfume.

★ check the previous pac

₊˚ʚ 𝐊𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐑𝐎 🪷 ₊˚✧ ﾟ.

confessing is one of this person's fear. imagining it, leaves them in a total fear of feeling. i think this confession will be planned so carefully, they may ask you for a date first. but their confession will end up being funny and chaotic this is because of their nervous they felt, they can't handle your presence and themselves. but after their calm themselves, i think you were leave on shock about their confession. it's a very heartfelt with so much adoration in it. this is a bond for you and them to have foster a better relationship.

that their love is so strong. so mature and not all that naive love is like a shallow attraction. this is a real love. and the thing that every song becomes like you and it's haunted them real bad. that you are the person they prayed for.

yeah, each word is true and honest the time they'll confess their love for you.

★ check the previous pac

˚⊱🍀⊰˚

[starmaidengarden]

kalim : vil : x gn!reader. no cw/tw. soft relationship headcanons. pt2!

kalim al-asim ༉⋆｡˚

Dating Kalim Al-Asim is like basking in sunshine, spontaneous adventures, and pure-hearted affection. He’s the kind of boyfriend who loves hard and loudly—he’s affectionate, generous, and genuinely wants to make you happy every single day. Loving Kalim is easy, because he makes it so easy to love him back.

Getting Together

• Kalim is super obvious when he likes you. He gets so excited whenever he sees you—waves like crazy, calls your name, drags you into conversations, and literally glows with happiness.

• He probably confesses in the most spontaneous and chaotic way. You’re walking with him one day, and he just stops and blurts out: “you truly amaze me! lets go out, just you and I. What do you say?!” he’s jumping up and down with joy

In a Relationship

• Affection overload. Hugs, hand-holding, cuddles—he does it all, anytime, anywhere. He loves being close to you and will grab your hand mid-conversation just because he wants to. he Always wants makes you feel special. If you enter a room, he lights up. “There you are! I was waiting for you!”

• Spontaneous date ideas. magic carpet, a party, going swimming. You never know what’s coming next, but it’s always fun.

• Buys you gifts all the time. He sees something pretty? He buys it, always saying it “reminds me of you.”. If you say you like something, he’ll get you ten of it the next day. If you tell him he doesn’t have to spoil you, he’ll just pout and say, “But I want to!”

• He’s not subtle at all—expect bright smiles, constant compliments, and sudden gifts. hes loud about his love. Will 100% introduce you as “My amazing, incredible, most wonderful partner ever!” to anyone who will listen.

vil schoenheit ༉⋆｡˚

Dating Vil Schoenheit is like being in a relationship with a gilded blade—sharp, elegant, and breathtakingly intense. He holds himself (and you) to high standards, but behind the polished exterior is someone who will cherish you with quiet loyalty and fierce pride. He doesn’t fall easily… but when he does? You become his entire world.

Getting Together

Vil doesn’t fall easily. He is always surrounded by admirers, so when he starts to pay extra attention to you, he will first observe you from a distance. He needs to be certain that you are worthy of his heart.

He definitely teases you before confessing—subtle compliments, pointed glances, lingering touches. He’s testing the waters.

When he decides to confess, it’s beautiful and deliberate. Candlelight, a private setting, and a direct look into your eyes as he says, “I do not give my time or heart lightly. But I’d offer both to you, if you’ll have them.”

In a Relationship

High expectations, but for your benefit. Vil pushes you to be the best version of yourself—not to change you, but because he genuinely believes in your potential.

Loves showing you off. Whether it’s through stylish couple photos, exclusive events, or simply walking together, he wants the world to know you’re his.

Morning routines together are sacred. He will absolutely do your skincare with you and insists on matching eye masks. (“You’re glowing, darling. That’s my influence.”)

Affection is subtle but meaningful. He’s not one for over-the-top PDA, but he’ll fix your collar, adjust your posture, and softly brushing hair from your face—any excuse to touch you subtly.

[emptywires]

OOHHHHH!! TO END THIS POST WITH THE FIRST SENTENCE OF "JACKET"!! THATS SO COOL!!

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THESE PAST TEN YEARS!! PLEASE CONTINUE YOUR YAPPING TO YOUR HEARTS CONTENT!!

HAPPY TEN YEARS TO THIS BLOG AND JACKET

if you've been here as long as this blog's existence then, know i'm finna yap:

sorry but warning for me and my mental health and my journey here...

smiles i am only human after all <:3 without further ado—

i've put off this post for... many reasons (hoildays, stress, perfectionism, anxiety) but maybe i'll keep this rendition and not chicken out or delete it because it's not perfect?

i really still can't believe i missed the anniversary for this! nov 29th huh? (yes i can actually !!! at the time i had just started a new job and that's where all my willpower has been.) but i fondly remember those ten years ago, that nov 29th is just as close to december anyway. so i always lead myself to think it's dec and not nov! details !!!

i don't think it'd make a difference but i do so want to get this in before the new year... (adding unnecessary stressors to myself smh)

it's been quite a ride through addhell. it's weird... to think how much has happened here. it's insane to think about how this one white hair anime boy changed my live in ways i could never fathom

picture it with me, a no one in a group of friends. with nothing but... the ambition of friendship, and the love of writing to fuel him, and a new username ready to take on the world: mymastermine.

that group of friends holds three: me, my would be DIE, and my would be LP. (does... does anyone remember those days of us three causing chaos laughs - tho mostly two, i suppose) we would make our way into the fandom, make tons of things, meet some people, make things with those people and make friends, lose some people, and grow, grow, grow...

there's just been... so much in ten years. ten years guys !!! that's a lot !!! i was a proud senpai and kouhai all at once! i'd found a really cool sensei. i ran into artists who drew things for me and i wrote for them!

i watched the rise AND fall of void els (raise your hand if you're an oger), in real time watched vMM became a cultural phenomenon (you're lying to yourself if you dont think he was - ykb did something irreversible to the add fandom that day i fear 😂 he's still relevant to this day lmFAO thank ykb for ur service), i watched the top LP/bottom LP debates :/, i'd poked my head into the els tag to see yall fighting but then i'd see some cool things too! i've seen so many cool projects and zines -- hell, got to actually take part in one! (cringe as it was - our writing, not the zine but still proud of doing that !!!)

addcest/hellsword (tumblr) isn't what it use to be though. (hell tumblr itself isn't what it use to be, let's be real LMAO) but... i think that i love that hasn't stopped some of us for cherishing and/or still loving add to this day.

i think if you'd told past me i'd be doing this, writing for one (1) singular anime boy, i wouldn't be surprised - couldn't expect it to go any other way i think

i'm not sure how to feel that ten years later i am still writing for him - it's been quite obvious where i felt it wane (but that was more my life and mental health (was in quite few depressive episodes - still am lmao), and joy - or lack thereof at the times - of writing and placing my joy momentarily elsewhere) but... wow i'm still here? LMAO

but i've met so many amazing people because of him... i've made connections, some not quite lasting, but then... there's always someone else there isn't there?

(i met dez and rain-kouhai for the first time recently! i've met more people for add hell between now and maybe 2-3 years ago! can you imagine that??? people still interacting, still wanting to talk about add - i literally can't! i go on twitter kr/jp and go "wow new add fanart" and feel so lucky !!!)

it's just little joys like this that makes me appreciate such things

i guess what i'm trying to say... thank you add for all the connections i've had and made.

thank you to my original trio

thank you to addhell tumblr... ! (literally would have never known some of yall)

thank you to void els (for gay add marriage lmao but also some more cool friends and mutuals)

thanks discord for hosting gay add ramblings and ao3 for letting me put my gay shit there

thank you - to anyone and everyone who has ever read my work and supported me - friends, mutuals, strangers, anons - and to anyone who's drawn/wrote for or with me! (yes, i think about your comments, your kind words, your support! yes your comment, you!) 😭😭😭 it is the simple act of creating and sharing/encouraging that seriously drives me forward in every word i type... and this alone feels like it's not enough!

but mostly, thank you add, for everything, really

where da hell would this bnuuy be without you?

i was going to... add a more emotional spiel but i think this is good enough, don't nya'll think? :')

"i'm so glad you're still here even after all these past ten years"

you know what? i think i might just be too

thanks for the one whole decade everyone wahoo !!!

-

"they shared a bed together." - jacket, nov 29th 2014

[dramioneasks]

Top 10 Most “Kudos-ed” (Completed) Fics on AO3 of 2024:

BLOODY, SLUTTY, AND PATHETIC by WhatMurdah - E, 21 chapters, Words: 195,969 - “In my humble opinion there’s only three things that men should be and that is bloody, slutty, and pathetic.” And, on a good day, Draco Malfoy can be all three. When war heroine Hermione Granger and Azkaban-tattooed war criminal Draco Malfoy are forced to wed as part of Shacklebolt’s controversial Reconciliation Act, they openly fight the match and each other—their public brawls breathlessly reported by the press. Secretly, a deeply traumatized Draco delights in Hermione’s attention and pines for a real marriage with her—even as her forced proximity to the Black family magic irritates the cursed scar Bellatrix left on her arm, reminding her why she can never truly trust or forgive him. Then Hermione discovers that Draco’s blood will soothe the scar . . . and Draco is willing to trade his blood for her body. (With post-war blood purity politics, black market potioneers, Pansy Parkinson’s career advice, the Malfoys blackmailing Hermione’s Wizengamot opposition, BDE Neville Longbottom hunting Death Eaters, a slutty Theo Nott serving as Draco’s right-hand man, and Crookshanks loose in Malfoy Manor.)

The Gallows by gillianeliza - E, 23 chapters, Words: 47,332 - Five years after the Battle of Hogwarts the Ministry of Magic has one more wizard to bring to trial: Draco Malfoy. However, it's not a trial they're after, it's a spectacle to celebrate the end of the Death Eater regime with the execution of their final prisoner. When Hermione realizes their plan, she halts the trial and invokes The Gallows Law — an ancient law that pardons any pureblood male without an heir if a witch will marry him. What Hermione isn't ready for is the reality of bonding a broken, shell of a wizard and her new life as she moves into Malfoy Manor as the new Lady Malfoy.

Meet Me In Dreamland by sinflower81 - E, 39 chapters, Words: 229,631 - If there’s one thing Hermione Granger is good at, it’s using magic to fix her problems. And this time, her problem is sex. Luckily, she has the perfect solution: a locket enchanted with the Patented Daydream Charm. Whenever she opens it, she’ll find herself in Dreamland, where she can live out all her filthiest fantasies risk-free. The magic is a bit tricky, though. For some reason, Malfoy keeps showing up there with her. Thank goodness it’s only an illusion—if that was really him, she would never live it down. Meanwhile, Draco is determined to figure out who the fuck is cursing him to suffer through highly realistic, erotic hallucinations of his secret childhood crush. When he finds the culprit, there will be hell to pay.

The Missing Sister by singularritae - M, 75 chapters, Words: 652,727 - The owl appeared late at night and left just as suddenly, he recognised the handwriting immediately and ripped open the envelope. She is yours. If something happens to us, I want you to hide her. Name her Hermione, for she will have my last libation before I sleep and be the messenger of dreamers. Moony and Mary know. Three words. Three words that forever changed the course of the war.

A Gallows Marriage by MilaBelle - E, 31 chapters, Words: 162,244 - “Glee was the last thing she felt staring into the empty eyes that should have been a bright grey. His face had always looked pointed and sharp, but now that gave way to gauntness. His hair, which he had been so particular about in school, hung long and limp. It reminded her of how his father had looked in his mugshot. How he had wanted to be just like his father growing up. And now he was, maybe more than ever. A ghost.” After doing more than her fair share in saving the Wizarding World and bearing the scars of what it cost, Hermione Granger thinks she has earned herself a little respite. But when a charismatic albeit chaotic Theodore Nott convinces her to use an old law to save a dear friend who is about to meet the Dementor’s Kiss, she simply cannot stand by and watch. Follow Hermione as she navigates a world that still believes in blood status, a marriage to save the life of an old enemy and the hurt that comes with surviving.

an ever-fixed mark by ninepiecesofcrait - E, 28 chapters, Words: 208,118 - It was a comedy of errors how Hermione Granger ended up engaged to Draco Malfoy, really. A series of unfortunate events. // Malfoy looked at his bloodied hand and the ring on the cobblestone floor, and sighed. “Well, Granger.” Grey eyes finally raised to look at her. “Now look what you’ve done.” // [while working to break a curse in malfoy’s cellar, hermione accidentally touches an enchanted betrothal heirloom from the noble house of black. things rapidly fall apart from there.]

The Best Mistake by Chels_Writes_a_Fic - E, 26 chapters, Words: 127,444 - Hermione Granger does not make mistakes, at least not often. After making the biggest, dumbest, most horrible mistake of her life, Hermione must deal with the repercussions while keeping her relationship with her Auror partner, Draco Malfoy, strictly professional. He, of course, has other plans. Amidst a resurgence in Death Eater activity, the likes of which Britain hasn’t seen since the First Wizarding War, Hermione will come to realize that the mistake she’s made with Draco might not be so bad at all. It just might be the best mistake.

disparate by Stars_in_motion - E, 4 chapters, Words: 40,708 - au where omegas who go neglected by their alpha for a long time often go into breakthrough heats when being around a different, compatible alpha who displays one (1) caretaking trait around them "You– you brought me supper?" Malfoy eyed her warily. "Don't look so stricken. Do you think I haven't noticed you've been starving yourself for days? You were at your desk when I arrived this morning and haven't moved since." He opened the box of fruit and plucked out a single grape with his sinfully long fingers. Still seated in her desk chair, Malfoy loomed over her entirely so she couldn't look anywhere else. Sometimes it was easier to forget how large he really was. "Now eat."

Mind the Bump by Soap1 - E, 28 chapters, Words: 84,050 - Hermione Granger and her colleague (and, though she sometimes hates to admit it, her friend) Theo Nott, are busy at the Research Institute for the Alchemical Sciences, working together on an innovative, though secretive, project that more than one person might like to get their hands on. She doesn't have much time for dating, and certainly isn't ready to think about starting a family. But after an exciting, though unexpected, one-night stand, she finds herself pregnant. With Draco Malfoy's baby. As her research continues, as her pregnancy progresses, will she be able to make room for Draco in her life?

Détraquée by Hystaracal - M, 108 chapters, Words: 728,097 - "All her growth was the conveying of a corpse of hope." (From 'The Rainbow', D.H. Lawrence) This is a story about coming into one's own, a meditation on the twilight of girlhood and the violence of crash-landing into womanhood. Follow Hermione as she navigates through the quagmire: Saving the world, getting top grades, falling in love, lust, and a whole lot of trouble, and comes out of it hopefully (at least) partially sane.

[terraswallows]

Diary of an Awkward trans-girl : Day 11

Dear Diary,

You know what I’ve come to realize more and more lately? There’s just something so magical about being around other trans girls. Like, it’s not even a conscious thing anymore—it’s just easier. There’s this kind of unspoken understanding, this soft and chaotic rhythm we all seem to share, and being in it feels like I can finally breathe without thinking about how I’m breathing.

It’s just always been easier with trans folks. Whether it’s voice chats in the dead of night or flopped on my bed wrapped up in a blanket, I don’t feel like I have to censor myself. There’s no need to explain why I feel weird about my voice that day, or why I haven’t had the energy to shave, or why I might randomly burst into tears over a dumb childhood memory that just hit different. I can just... be.

And the conversations we have? Oh my gods. They’re wild in the best way. Like, one minute we’re talking about how sore our tits are (which—yes, mine are killing me today), and the next it’s “so anyway, what did you eat this morning?” or “remember that time I accidentally flashed my bestie?” And it’s normal. It feels normal. And honestly, that’s what makes it sacred.

Like—this one friend of mine, sweet chaos incarnate—she randomly asked me the other night, totally deadpan, “So how big are you down there now?” And it wasn’t weird. It wasn’t lewd. It was pure, curious trans girl energy. Like, we both know that estrogen changes things, especially with disuse and, well, not exactly having the urge to use it. So we joked about it, laughed, and yeah... I may or may not have gone to check just to satisfy both our curiosity. (Still hung, by the way—But that’s a different diary entry entirely 😘)

There's a kind of intimacy in these exchanges. Not always romantic, not always sexual, but always tender. The way we curl into each other’s words, overshare without fear, and toss jokes back and forth like warm little affirmations. It’s the kind of closeness where I can say, “God, my tits hurt, coz I accidently punched them by opening something wrong,” and the only response is, “Mood.” followed by a casual confession about dysphoria from earlier.

I don’t think cis people will ever truly understand how healing it is to exist like that. How beautiful it is to be soft and loud and weird and real with other trans girls—girls who have walked similar paths, who know the ache of being unseen, and the ecstasy of being understood.

God, I love trans girls. I love the way we flirt without meaning to, tease like it’s our native language, and accidentally say the most unhinged things in the middle of talking about Pokémon (Example: Did you know that in terms of male human and female Pokémon breeding, Vaporeon is the most compatible Pokémon for humans...). I love how we casually nuzzle into conversations about trauma and tit growth like it’s the weather.

And maybe… just maybe… I love that I’m finally one of them. A little awkward, a little messy, but learning to be soft in ways I didn’t think I could be. And maybe—just maybe—one day I’ll find a girl who teases me while we cuddle under a blanket and I pretend I didn’t steal it just to keep a piece of her warmth with me.

We’re weird. We’re wonderful. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

[jyoongim]

Okay, so

This idea has been (lol hazbin) rotting in the back of my mind for, forever now

Basically, reader and alastor are besties, but also damn dense. They both like, like each other, BUT reader is too nervous, and fearful of rejection to confess, and al is just in denial, and partly scared of rejection too.

And Charlie noticed this (of course), thinking they would get together any day now, but of course she was wrong, because the two are tip toeing around anything related to romance with each other, not realizing they both feel the same.

So Charlie basically ships them, and the rest eventually notice it too, some frustrated because they won't just get together already, while others are more patient,

Until, one day reader or Y/N, and alastor are just chatting in the lobby on a couch, when Charlie decides she had enough of this, yelling something along the lines of "you two kiss right now, or I'll make you!" Of course with the best intentions, because she's just a sweet little donut.

Unfortunately my mind goes blank here, somehow they do end up kissing, and like admittedly I'm a huge ass simp, could it end up with them making out? Of course not in front of everyone, because um... Al is affectionate behind closed doors, like no doubt, of course subtle things in public, but that doesn't matter right now.

If you could do this it would make my absolutely day <3

Love your writing :3

Title: Awkwardly In Love

The Happy Hotel was buzzing with its usual chaotic energy. The lobby, with its eclectic mix of neon signs, mismatched furniture, and the distant hum of otherworldly voices, felt like a home away from home for Y/N. They were lounging on one of the couches, a half-drunk cup of coffee in hand, chatting with their best friend, Alastor.

Alastor, with his impeccable posture and the eerie air of someone who always had control over the situation, looked particularly… well, Alastor today. His pinstripe suit shimmered in the soft glow of the hotel���s lights, his eyes dancing with the usual manic gleam.

“I’m telling you, Y/N, the culinary world is truly one of the most thrilling frontiers for artistic expression,” he said, his voice thick with enthusiasm. He leaned forward just a bit, hands gesturing as he spoke with the kind of passion that could make even the most mundane topic sound exciting.

Y/N snorted, the familiar sound of Al’s voice breaking through their nervous haze. They shifted a little, trying not to stare too much. God, when was it going to stop feeling like their heart was in their throat every time he looked at them?

“That’s a really dramatic way of putting it,” Y/N teased, their lips twitching into a smile. “It’s food, Al. It’s not a battle royale. No need to get that worked up about it.”

Alastor’s smile widened, a touch of something mischievous flickering in his eyes. “Ah, but you see, my dear friend, where others see food, I see magic. True magic.”

Y/N was about to respond when they were interrupted by an overly enthusiastic voice calling their name.

“Y/N! Al!” Charlie burst into the lobby, practically bouncing on her heels. Her eyes immediately locked onto the two of them sitting so close together. She had that gleam in her eyes—like she was about to make a suggestion that was probably going to be the worst idea ever.

"Hey, Charlie," Y/N greeted with a wave, momentarily relieved to have something other than Alastor to focus on.

“Oh my god, you two are so cute together,” Charlie said, plopping down beside Y/N without so much as a glance at the couch's actual armrest. “I mean, it’s so obvious!”

Y/N felt their stomach drop. “C-Charlie, what are you—?”

Alastor, as ever, maintained his dignified smile, but there was a slight twitch in his eye. “Charlie, what are you implying, exactly?”

“You two, come on! You’ve been practically inseparable for weeks now, and it’s honestly adorable how much you’re both trying to pretend that you don’t like each other,” Charlie said, clearly not holding back her excitement.

Y/N froze, feeling their face go beet red. “N-No, we’re just friends!” they stammered, shifting uncomfortably in their seat.

Alastor made a sound of mild amusement, but there was something unreadable in his expression. “Yes, yes. Friends,” he echoed, his voice a little too smooth, like he was trying to convince himself of something.

Charlie gave them a pointed look, crossing her arms. “You two are so obvious,” she said dramatically. “It’s like watching two people try to avoid a train wreck. It’s painful.”

Before anyone could respond, Charlie’s face lit up like she’d just found the solution to a very obvious problem.

“That’s it!” she declared, practically standing up in her excitement. “You two need to kiss. Right now.”

Y/N’s eyes widened in sheer panic. “W-what?!”

Alastor’s expression stiffened, but a flicker of something—maybe confusion or surprise—showed through. “Charlie, I believe you’re misunderstanding—”

“Nope!” Charlie cut him off with a dramatic flourish, hands on her hips. “I’m done watching this nonsense. The sexual tension between you two is palpable! If you won’t do it yourselves, I’ll make you!” She threw her hands in the air like a showman unveiling the grand finale.

Y/N almost choked on air. “I—No—Charlie, you’re crazy—”

“I’m serious!” she pressed. “Kiss right now, or I’ll make you both do it!” She grinned, clearly pleased with herself.

Y/N was on the verge of sinking into the couch in pure embarrassment, but before they could even process what was happening, Alastor—Alastor—took a breath. He stood up suddenly, straightening his jacket with an almost mechanical precision.

“Very well, then,” he said, his voice still smooth but with a slight edge to it. His crimson eyes locked onto Y/N’s, and for the first time, they could swear they saw something like nervousness behind that cool, collected exterior. “I believe, if this is truly your wish, we should get this over with.”

Y/N's heart slammed in their chest. "A-Alastor, no, we—"

Alastor wasn’t listening. With a swift movement that left Y/N breathless, he stepped forward, cupping their face gently in his hands, his thumb brushing across their cheek with surprising tenderness. The touch, so warm and close, sent a jolt of electricity through Y/N's entire body.

There was a heartbeat of silence—just the two of them, standing so close, the entire world falling away. Y/N’s breath caught in their throat. Was this really happening?

And then, without further hesitation, Alastor leaned in.

Y/N’s world tilted as their lips met. It was… soft at first. Hesitant. A bit unsure, like neither of them had quite figured out how to be more than what they were—friends, best friends, who'd danced around this moment for far too long.

But it didn’t stay tentative for long. The kiss deepened, and suddenly, it was like they were both starved for this closeness, this connection they hadn’t dared name before. Y/N’s heart pounded in their ears, their hands moving on their own to rest on Alastor’s chest.

Alastor was warm—so warm, the heat of his touch spreading through them in a way they didn’t know they craved until now.

When they finally pulled apart, both of them were breathing heavily, eyes wide, unsure how to even process what had just happened. Y/N blinked rapidly, their face burning.

“I—I don’t—” Y/N began, but the words stuck in their throat.

Alastor cleared his throat, but the faint flush on his face betrayed him. “That was…” He paused, then smiled—a small, knowing smile that held a little more than just their usual banter. “Interesting.”

Y/N laughed nervously, not entirely sure whether to laugh or cry. “I—yeah. That was… something.”

Charlie, still seated on the armrest, beamed from ear to ear, clearly pleased with herself. “I knew it! Took you two long enough.”

Y/N glanced at Alastor, and for the first time, saw a small, playful glint in his eye. “I suppose… it’s a start?” he said, his voice a little warmer than usual.

Y/N nodded, still reeling. “Yeah. A start.”

As Charlie clapped happily in the background, Y/N couldn’t help but feel like maybe, just maybe, this was the beginning of something much more than they had ever expected.

And for once, they didn’t mind that it took a little push from their overly optimistic princess to get them there.

The End

[eahtheramblings]

Legacy Day, as told by archived mirror net post's

The goal of the Revamp au is to take what already existed in the series and pull it towards its darker or more logical conclusions, and as such, Legacy Day and the resulting consequences end up playing out a lot more chaotic here than in the original series. For starters, most of the parents are there, and the entire thing is not only being broadcast across normal mirror television, which was forced to cut out after Ravens rebellion, but also Blondie's livestream, which crucially didn't cut out after Raven refused to sign and thus captured the aftermath. The news discusses the 'Legacy Day Fiasco' (as it had been dubbed) furiously, and social media spends weeks debating if Raven went up to the roof afterwards to sic her dragon onto the crowd or to truly ... free herself from her destiny, as Headmaster Grimm seems to believe. Apple and others who signed the book prior had to be quarantined for a full day as Grimm and other sorcerers checked them to make sure the tearing of the book didn't have any negative magical impact on them, which fueled conspiracy theories for a good few hours that they were dead or had "poofed". Several of the parents refused to leave the school afterwards, and a closed-door meeting was held for nearly ten hours over night at the school including every monarch in attendance to the ceremony. All in all, a day to remember indeed.

Bonus image:

[solxamber]

hello!! I really love your writing and if I may, may I request malleus with m/gn reader who can make plum blossom petals from the tip of his sword? The petals are as sharp as a knife(If you're confused you can search '24 plum blossom sword technique' <3) and the reader challenged him into a spar, and if you can can you make the reader from RSA?? Thank youu!!

Malleus x 24 Plum Blossom! reader

I read return of the blossoming blade a long time ago and I got really excited when I saw this request. I kept it gn, I hope you like it!

You weren’t sure if anyone had ever willingly challenged Malleus Draconia to a spar before. As a student from Royal Sword Academy, you knew better than most about the reputations of the magical creatures who lurked within the halls of Night Raven College, but you’d never been one to shy away from a challenge.

After all, you were known for your own swordsmanship, a master of the “Twenty-Four Plum Blossoms Sword Technique,” a skill passed down to you within the walls of RSA—impressive enough that you were confident in your abilities. And if anyone could handle facing off against a fae prince, it was you… probably.

That didn’t mean you weren’t nervous, though. It wasn’t every day you sparred with someone who could probably incinerate you with a sneeze.

No pressure.

You’d heard all about Malleus Draconia: heir to the Valley of Thorns, rumored to be one of the most powerful magicians in existence, and, well, a fae who could turn you to cinders if he felt like it. Still, when you caught wind of his presence during a diplomatic visit between Night Raven College and RSA, you couldn’t resist the idea of testing your own strength against his. He wasn’t just an ordinary opponent—he was someone who could truly push you to your limits.

So, naturally, you challenged him.

And, even more naturally, he accepted.

Malleus stood before you, his own sword elegantly drawn, as if he were preparing for a leisurely dance rather than a potentially dangerous spar. “You’re certain about this?”

“Of course,” you say, though your voice betrays a slight tremble. “A little sparring never hurt anyone… right?”

Malleus smirked, his fangs just barely showing. “Very well. I shall not hold back.”

The wind gently stirs around you as you grip your sword tighter, focusing your magic. At the tip of your blade, soft, plum blossom petals begin to bloom, swirling gently at first before they solidify into sharp, knife-like forms. The blossoms scatter in the air like a dangerous flower storm, and you smirk with satisfaction. Beautiful and deadly, you think. Just like me—

But before you can finish your thought, Malleus gracefully side-steps a flurry of petals with the ease of someone avoiding a pesky mosquito. His calm, amused smile remains as he raises his sword, parrying your next wave of attacks with frustrating ease.

“Is that all?” he taunts lightly, his voice so smooth you almost forget he’s mocking you. Almost.

Okay, plan B.

You spin on your heel, twirling your sword, and send out another barrage of petals. But this time, you angle them in a way that forms a dazzling, seemingly random pattern. You notice Malleus’s gaze narrow slightly, as if trying to follow the chaotic movement. Perfect, you think. He’s confused.

“Are you… trying to impress me?” Malleus asks as one of your petals grazes his sleeve, leaving a thin cut. He looks down at the tear in his clothes, amused more than anything else. “Because it’s working.”

You stumble slightly at the compliment, nearly losing your footing. “Wh-what? No! I’m just trying to win!”

Malleus chuckles softly, the deep, velvety sound sending an unexpected warmth through your chest. “Then allow me to show you a counter.”

He waves his hand, and with a single, smooth stroke of his sword, he sends out a dark, glowing mist that swirls around your petals, dissolving them in a flash of violet sparks. You gape at him, trying to figure out how exactly you were supposed to compete with that level of magic.

“Impressive technique,” he remarks, taking a leisurely step toward you. “But perhaps a bit too gentle for someone of your talent. Why hold back?”

You glare at him, trying to ignore the fluttery feeling his proximity is giving you. “I’m not holding back,” you huff. “You’re just… impossible to hit!”

Malleus hums thoughtfully. “Then allow me to make this more… interesting.”

Before you can react, Malleus vanishes in a puff of magic, only to reappear directly behind you. You jump, your sword slipping slightly in your grasp. He leans in, voice a low murmur near your ear. “You dropped your guard.”

Your heart skips a beat, and in a moment of sheer panic—and possibly stupidity—you react instinctively, swinging your sword behind you. Plum blossom petals explode from your blade, swirling around the both of you in a dizzying flurry.

Malleus raises an eyebrow, not moving an inch as the sharp petals brush against his skin. “Ah,” he says, almost leisurely, “plum blossoms. How charming.”

You blinked at him. Charming? You were trying to defeat him in battle, and all he could think to say was that your deadly technique was "charming"?!

"I—what?!" you sputtered. "You’re not supposed to enjoy this!"

"Why not?" he asked, his smile deepening. "A spar can be quite enjoyable."

"Not for me!" you huffed, sending out another wave of petals. "I’m actually trying here!"

You try to focus on the fight, but it’s hard when Malleus is so infuriatingly calm and… well, handsome. You force yourself to snap out of it. Focus, focus!

Your petals scatter once again, and you curse under your breath. This was supposed to be a serious spar, but it’s turning into a flirty back-and-forth, and you’re not sure how to handle it.

In one final act of desperation, you let loose a massive wave of petals, sending them spiraling in every direction, hoping that at least one of them will land.

But instead of fighting back, Malleus raises a hand, and the petals slow mid-air, gently floating down like harmless flowers. He steps closer to you, his eyes glowing faintly with amusement.

“You’re holding back,” he says softly. “But I won’t.”

Before you can comprehend what he means, Malleus swiftly disarms you with a quick flick of his wrist, sending your sword clattering to the ground. You stand there, momentarily stunned as he gazes down at you with a smirk that’s far too pleased for your liking.

“I believe that makes me the victor,” he says, his voice a soft purr.

You glare at him, trying to mask the growing heat in your cheeks. “Fine, you win. Happy?”

Malleus steps even closer, so close that you can feel his breath against your skin. “Very,” he murmurs. Then, with a surprising amount of gentleness, he reaches out and brushes a stray petal from your hair, his fingers lingering just a moment too long.

You swallow hard, your heart pounding in your chest. “I… uh… I guess that’s fair…”

He chuckles softly, his gaze lingering on you with an intensity that makes your pulse race. “Perhaps we can spar again sometime. I find our duels quite… stimulating.”

Oh no. Oh no, no, no. Your brain short-circuits for a moment, and you can barely form a coherent response. “Y-yeah. Sure. Spar. Again. Totally.”

Malleus gives you one last, knowing smile before stepping back, his form disappearing into the shadows as effortlessly as he arrived.

You stand there, swordless and blushing like a fool, as the petals from your own attack flutter gently to the ground around you.

Great, you think, mentally kicking yourself. Not only did I lose, but now I’m probably going to be thinking about that smug dragon fae for the rest of the week.

Still… when you glance down at the petal he brushed from your hair, you can’t help but smile.

Masterlist

[sweetsaladpainterranch]

The Rival (Chapter 3)

(Summary: Alastor sought to possess one of the only does in Pentagram City for the rut season, however, you wanted a mate, not a master. But what happens when a handsome new buck shows up one day and tries to capture your attention away from the Radio Demon. Who will you choose?)

<BE AWARE OF VIOLENCE AND GORE TOWARDS THE CONCLUSION>

***

Both bucks could feel the scrape of steel as their massive crowns clash against each other with enough force to level the entirety of the city and, if not for Alastor’s already-in-place barriers around the hotel, everything surrounding them would’ve been blown away. Feeling the impact straining the wards momentarily distracts Alastor, however, James takes advantage of his loss of focus and uses the grip of their antlers to toss the Radio Demon into the air. The glass of the greenhouse ceiling felt like falling through a frozen lake’s surface as Alastor caught himself just before landing on Charlie’s apple tree saplings. He took a moment to sense his foe’s location before snarling out a warning when the feeling of something wrapping around his massive legs startled him. With a sickening crack, he whipped his head downwards in an instant to find that the small trees were embedding themselves into his legs and crawling up his thighs.

Alastor immediately slashed at the constraining foliage only to have them grow back twice as fast and aggressively before he could take action to leave the greenhouse. Even the surrounding smaller plants broke from their pots as they grew at such a rate to join their comrades in seizing Alastor, and he could feel his magic being siphoned with every touch. A deep, condescending laugh drew his attention towards the entrance of the greenhouse.

“What’s the matter Alastor? Are you gonna let a few plants take down the great Radio Demon?”, James cackled smugly, “From that big mouth of yours, I thought I’d actually have a fight on my hands, but you're just another bloated ego that needs to understand your true place.”

Alastor had already tried and failed to phase out of his ever-tightening floral restraints as his magic was being siphoned at an alarming rate and he was even straining to keep up his demonic form. Despite all of this, though, he knew that his smile was carving his face with maniacal excitement at this unexpected challenge and his mind, already clouded with possessive rage to eliminate a mating rival, truly focused with gleeful abandonment on his opponent. He let out a deep, and chaotic growl that shattered the heavy, glass windowpanes from the overwhelming static released within the Radio Demon’s chest.

 The large shards of glass tore through the plant's hold and Alastor didn’t even notice how his own body suffered the same damage as he shot toward James the instant that the cervitaur was in sight with a thundering blow to the abdomen. The crack that sounded out, accompanied by a pained grunt, was music to Alastor’s ears and only fueled his bloodlust. Oh, how he’d missed letting his muscles flex and allowing his inner demon to run as wild as it liked. The attack had knocked James backwards several feet where he caught his footing before rearing back on his hind legs to mightily stomp into the ground. Once again, a stream of foliage erupted from the surrounding area winding its path towards Alastor’s tall form before trying to aggressively capture him once more.

“Ah Ah Ah~”, Alastor sang out in a barely discernable demonic voice and wagged his finger condescendingly, “I won’t fall for the same trick twice, young man.”

With a shudder throughout his body, a wave of dark purple energy appeared to flow out from his very being that wafted over the incoming plants, which shrunk and wilted immediately coming to a dead halt just feet from the cackling Radio Demon’s shoes. James could only curse, still holding his injured ribs, as he reached up and snapped off one side of his black antlers with a hiss of pain and a river of blood flowing from the wound. Alastor could only stare in amused interest towards the reindeer’s sudden self-mutilation, but his eyes widened when a flash of white vines shot out from the root of the severed antler and braided together to create a long hilt that James gripped tightly with a look of determination.

The smell of fresh tissue hit Alastor’s nose and he realized that James had regrown his lost antler in a flurry of blood and black vines. Oh, this will be fun! James flexed his torso and coiled his muscles before launching himself forward, sword raised, and swiped towards the red demon yet narrowly missing his target’s shoulder. Alastor allowed himself to shrink to normal and reappeared behind his opponent in an instant, “You’re far too slow, chum.”, He again ducked out of the way of another slice against his chest and twirled around with a flourish as if the men were simply dancing, “And you seem to just mindlessly swing in whatever vague direction you believe your target to be while not even thinking where I may pop up next.”. The big brute only blared out an angry, “FUCK YOU!”, as Alastor seemed to effortlessly dodge the sloppy attack, but he felt the growing fatigue from having his magic plundered earlier.

“Such poetry.”, sneered the Radio Demon, “Whatever happened to the brazen young bull who began this tussle? How confident and, I dare say, even bold. Standing tall before me. However, these reindeer games are growing tedious, and I must bid you adieu.”

And that’s when James cracked a smile.

***

You stood stock still on the back porch watching the buck’s terrifying fight while a cold chill crept up your spine as the realization of what was happening washed over you with fresh horror. They were going to kill each other if you didn’t stop them, but your doe’s instinct didn’t dare allow you to run in between their blows. However, you didn't miss how their clash ignited something primal and thick within you, but you needed to concentrate.

I’ve got to get Charlie!, you thought worriedly.

Just as you turned to find the princess, the greenhouse suddenly exploded and the blast force knocked you into something fluffy, yet firm, “What the fuc-“, the gruff, disgruntled voice was cut off after another shockwave sounded. You were unceremoniously thrown to the ground and felt soft feathers envelop you protectively as a rain of debris and broken glass whizzed through the air where you were just standing. A sharp hiss of pain caught your attention as you sat up to look at your rescuer. Husk was kneeling above you, trying to dislodge glass from his outer feathers, but when he spoke, he kept a wary expression trained in the direction of the now laughing Radio Demon. “I see that the ceiling finally gave away between those two damn idiots. I haven’t seen the boss so worked up since before his last fight with Vox”, he turned his gaze towards you accusingly, “and I bet I know just what’s got his static so stirred up.”  

You could only look away knowingly as you watched the two bucks continue their battle and (holy Moses! Did James just rip off his own antler??!) noticed how sluggish Alastor seemed to move despite the excited mirth on his face.

“Where’s Charlie, Husk?! She’s the only one who has a prayer of breaking up this fight without losing an arm!”, you asked the cat demon, but he sighed in frustrated annoyance and answered, “We all thought that the boss wouldn’t be around today so she and her girl left to do some advertising for the joint.” He cast a wary look back towards the Radio Demon, “We thought that things wouldn’t boil over while he was gone, but…”, Husk trailed off.

All the both of you could do was watch helplessly. Whatever happened, happened. You thought worriedly but couldn’t help the warm bloom of anticipation that took root within your belly at the thought of two powerful partners fighting for your hand. It was a sickening yet thrilling thought at the same time that made you aware of just how feverish you had suddenly become. Almost as if...

***

Alastor narrowed his eyes at the sudden smile widening over his opponent’s face as if this fight was already decided but he just didn’t know it yet. What was the reindeer planning?  No matter, some immature stripling couldn’t possibly hope to beat The Radio Demon when it seemed like he barely even understood his demonic abilities yet. However, just when he had geared himself up to make good on his promise to end this game, Alastor’s throat was suddenly caught as searing pain shot throughout his body and ebbed into every limb. He couldn’t move one inch.

All he could do was fight to remain standing while casting a questioning gaze toward a smirking James with an aggravated growl. His energy was all but gone but how? Alastor was beginning to feel the strain of exhaustion from the battle’s turnabout, sure, however, it wasn’t to this degree just a few moments ago. Just a few moments ago? When that brute was haphazardly waving around…oh.  

“Finally caught on have we, old man?”, laughed the reindeer demon cruelly, “Why don’t yous take a gander at your fine form you so expertly flung around my sword?”

It took some effort, but Alastor was able to slowly look down to scan his front, only to feel the shock of surprise and curse at himself for letting his guard down enough to be taken for a fool. Lining nearly every inch of his suit jacket and torn dress pants was a plethora of tiny buds that had sprouted and wound their way around all that they could reach. If that wasn't enough, sharp thorns had also seen fit to line each of the small vines that ensured their hold on his skin making each movement accompanied by blazing pain.

“But how?”, Alastor grunted out, “You never touched me.”

James scoffed in the red demon’s face as he trotted closer, clearly assuming the fight had been finished, and answered, “You older fucks with the giant egos can never resist putting younger demons in their place. Demons you believe to be beneath you simply because we are from a later time, but none of you ever think that maybe that impenetrable confidence will be your eventual downfall.” The cervitaur took a moment to laugh heartedly as he continued, “Sure you dodged my slices, but I sure did touch you. Or at least the spores blooming off my antler did.”, he smiled with vicious enjoyment, “I knew a vain soft serve like you wouldn’t hesitate to show off just how easily you could beat me, especially in front of our sweet doe watching, and present yourself as the better male.” He was inches away from an immobilized Alastor’s snarling face, “You thought that you’d humiliate me by not even offering returning blows. As if I were a child with a wooden sword and you were a chuckling parent just humoring my effort. Well, that sure bit you in the ass, huh? Mister big bad Radio Demon.”

Towards the end of his monologue, James had straightened up and lowered his voice so that only Alastor could hear him. “Speaking of that sweet little cunt~”, James whistled admiringly and took a long sniff in the direction of their girl. “Yeah, that sweet little piece of ass will do just fine for me. She wants genuine love so badly that she doesn’t care where it comes from. I mean, I’m basically a fucking stranger, and, with just a few pretty words, the whore was ready to be spread out and fucked right here in the garden!” He had caught Alastor’s right ear and held it uncomfortably to his mouth’s level and laughed loudly into it while the deer demon winced and shook with barely contained hostility. "You smell her right? I know you do, brother, how could you not? Such a ripe fucking pussy."

“How dare you…”

“Yeah yeah big boy.”, James winked and patted Alastor’s cheek condescendingly, “Don’t worry bud, I’ll take care of your former favorite cocksleeve. But first”, he raised his makeshift sword and didn’t hesitate to quickly stab into the red demon’s shoulder and smile wider when Alastor’s face twisted into what he assumed was a look of pain. However, what he didn’t know was that Alastor had failed to even register that he was injured as the air around him began to pop and crackle in time with his raising anger and he merely stared at the demon in front of him with hateful disgust. He managed to raise his hand and snap his sharp-clawed fingers once. At first, the still-gloating James scoffed at the seemingly desperate motion but immediately went silent as a dark hue grew up his strong body in what looked like a couple of black shadows snaking up his torso and neck. Within another moment, the reindeer could only gasp sharply in surprise as he was met by a grinning silhouette of a ghostly Radio Demon now restraining his entire form and holding his mouth open. A large funnel of growing darkness then seemed to erupt from Alastor’s heaving chest, his head turning up and laughing with insanity.

“You’d forgotten about my little friend here, eh?”, Alastor spoke as he looked up at the red sky of Hell, “But it was you who oh so generously invited him over when you helped yourself to my magical energy and he saw fit to stuff himself to what his host offered.”

The Radio Demon looked back towards his prey, his widely hanging mouth opened in a grinning maw as he continued in barely discernable speech, “Not to worry, dear boy, I don’t mind sharing with a fellow buck, however…”

It was then that James noticed, with horrifying clarity, how his energy-draining buds had also turned into darkness and were slowly melting into Alastor’s form and mending the places that had been ripped and torn as if they had never been there at all. “You’ve just made the most foolish of mistakes any who walk in my line of sight could…”. Forced, now, to his four sets of knees by his spectral bondage, the reindeer suddenly became aware of just how little fear he’d ever felt in his life as compared to the increasing terror that was clawing its way up his throat. “You have insulted my mate! AND YOU SHALL PAY!!”, the deer demon finished with another wave of hysterical laughter and a grand flourish of his elongating limbs into a horror James knew no one sees and lives to describe later.

The shadow grew bigger and darker around the helpless deerling until all he could see was a twitching, churning void lit only by the sharp yellow teeth that were closing the distance separating them. Gone was the lush backyard of the hotel and all he could hear was the predator’s heavily static-laced voice (or what could be assumed to be a voice) a bit above the multitude of hallowing screams in the darkness. Unseen claws, hands, teeth, and limbs began tearing into his flesh, but he could utter no screams of his own because a hand had already been thrown down his, still held open, throat.

“You know, I believe that you have more to offer than just meat for my shadow hive. A manner of social recompense for the DISGUSTING way you spoke of my darling doe…YES… after all, you did come to this hotel so intent on giving your HEART for the path to redemption, I will help you accomplish just that…MY WAYWARD FRIEND.”

Alastor couldn’t hold back the excited jilt in his voice or the blood that drooled down his chin from biting his lip in anticipation for this most primal of kills. His blood sang as he felt his claws easily shred the soft tissue of the lesser male’s esophagus and a sort of fever took him over once he cracked open the firm muscle surrounding the sternum. By this point, the beta had ceased all forms of struggle and could only hang limp at the mercy of Alastor’s arm as it picked the still-beating heart from its nest like an apple on a tree.

Making sure to keep the connections to the major arteries intact, The Radio Demon withdrew the organ from its host’s unhinged maw and held it out for him to see in all its bloody glory. He spoke with the giddiness of a child, “How would you like to know that I will present this to my love and I’ll use it to feed the seed that I’ll plant within her? Oh yes, women from my time were known to consume such choice cuts of meat to ensure healthy fetus growth and I believe that such a strong bull like yourself would make for a fine meal as the last act of your pathetic existence.”

James could only weep for himself as the red deer continued in a much more poised demeanor, “No? Well then, how about a…deal?”

***

I'm so sorry that this part took so long 😅 my partner's family matters took longer than I thought they would but I tried to work on this on my phone when I had a second lol

I've never written such a complicated scene and I hope that you enjoyed reading it as much as I liked writing it. I really live for protective deer daddy with a dash of insanity ❤️❤️

-SSPR

@Xalygatorx, @songbirdpond, @bitter-rabittt, @sakuraluna2468, @cinnamon-galaxies, @speedycoffeedelight, @diffidentphantom, @wtf-why-do-i-gotta-do-this, @eris-norwega, @anngray1369, @ladyadrasteia666, @wends, @prime-in-time-and-space, @supeersimpeer, @sirens-and-moonflowers, @type-ink, @fantasyhopperhea, @martinys-world, @apad-ravya, @galaxywolf3, @thoughfullovercreator, @Boogiemansbitch, @helluva-simper, @alastorsgirl48, @ohmylovewhereartthou-blog, @need-a-life-or-grass, @michi-keinz, @milkissesx, @ari42, @valerie-is-in-the-cupboard, @lil-glum, @amariskygal, @strawberryoverlord1893, @cherry-cola-100, @noellebellq, @lettuce-frog16, @junieshohoho, @phoephan-123, @dreamraven13 @sweet-radio @littlebluefishtail @ohmylovewhereartthou-blog

[dare-to-dm]

My players have broken my Pathfinder campaign to the point where I have to learn actual Pathfinder lore for the first time.

I set up a campaign in which they were trapped in a hellish demiplane from which they could be summoned by evil cultists to serve as Summoned Minions, where they would fight monsters and complete various challenges. I made it this way to be an easy game to run whenever we have a missing player. There is an over arching goal and plot (escape the demiplane), but an individual session is generally a series of random encounters curated by your truly.

But I allowed one of my players to play a Fiend of Possession, and he finally became powerful enough to possess one of the evil mages who summoned him and the rest of the group. Which means the cultist can't dismiss them, so for the moment they are running free on Golarian. Which means I have to actually research what Golarian is, which I've never really bothered with.

I randomly chose their location from a Pathfinder map, and they've come out close to Nantambu in the Mwangi Expanse. Which cursory research seems to suggest is a lot like a fantasy version of Wakanda. Pretty nifty actually, and a lucky break for them since it has a major magic university and a Pathfinder's Lodge. The clock is ticking, though. They only have 6 days before the duration of the spell that summoned them naturally ends (they don't know this). It's fun being the only person who knows all the rules of this game I've set up and watching my players respond as chaotically as possible.

[gwynweekofficial]

Hello, everyone! Gwyn Week is approaching soon, so here’s a quick explanation of each prompt to help you out in case you need it.

Art by cedakotes

Day 1: Phoenix - The Spirit Of A Warrior

Gwyn was a warrior from the moment she saved the children in Sangravah. Though the loss and grief she faced brought a pause, she fought and rose like a phoenix, becoming the first Valkyrie Reborn.

Tell us, what’s your vision of Gwyn as a warrior? Share your favorite headcanons, art inspirations, and stories.

Day 2: Songbird - The Soul Of A Singer

While Gwyn's voice is described as ethereal and beautiful, what's even more beautiful is the happiness singing gives her. She is truly at peace when she sings.

Today, let's honor the part of Gwyn that finds peace and joy in song.

Day 3: Tethers - Bonds That Heal

Bonds can come from friendship, family, or the heart.

Which of Gwyn's past or present bonds do you love the most? Share your theories, quotes, art, fanfic, moodboards, or headcanons—we’d love to see it all.

Day 4: Nymph - The Magic Of The Naiads

Gwyn is a quarter river nymph and the way she is described is akin to the Naiads in mythology, water spirits known for their healing abilities, grace, and their role as protectors of children.

Do you think Gwyn inherited any water related powers? Could her connection to the river and her hauntingly serene presence hint at dormant abilities tied to the element of water? Let's explore.

Day 5: Destiny - The Path Ahead

Gwyn is now a Blood Rite winner, a warrior in her own right. While she has returned to the library, she’s made it clear she doesn’t intend to stay there forever.

What do you think lies ahead for Gwyn? What hidden possibilities might she explore? Share your ideas with us.

Day 6: Unlikely Pairings - Star Crossed Connections Across SJM's Cosmos

With the multiverse wide open and crossovers in full swing, we thought it’d be fun to imagine the unexpected. Which characters across SJM’s worlds could complement Gwyn in surprising ways? Who do you think would make a fun, chaotic, or compelling match for her? Get your creative juices flowing and share your ideas with us

Day 7: Free Day

For the last day you're welcome to post anything and everything related to Gwyn, given it's positive about the character. Show us your creativity and let your love for the character shine.

[seafoamreadings]

week of march 9th, 2025

these are written predominantly for the *rising* signs but they are also intuitively "channeled" enough that they should work for any dominant energy you have! (try your sun if you don't know rising, or more advanced readers can try moon, anywhere you have a stellium, etc and see what works best for you!)

aries: let all this week be a reminder to you of the sacred in the mundane, and the sacredness of your own physical vessel as a spiritual entity. it's not aligned to be an *easy* week but it is set to be worth any trials you face!

taurus: not to frighten you but you may be facing what is sometimes called a dark night of the soul. and/or some serious escapism issues, especially by the end of the week. while it's tempting to hide from all the chaos, especially as such a stable, stolid creature, this is not the time for it. it's the time to be the unstoppable force yourself.

gemini: there's a lot going on but you personally (unless you have dominance in virgo or pisces.....) can get away with mostly focusing on mercury retrograde maneuvers. do this well and you will prosper, even if it starts off a bit rough.

cancerians: while you are certainly sensitive to eclipses it's also a time when you shine - you live in the volatility of the moon as your home. for everyone else, it's a rare shakeup. for this week's variation, after filling your own cup and affixing your own oxygen mask, help anyone you can. near you or far.

leo: joining venus retrograde, mercury retrograde in aries means delays favor you, tedious though they may be. have all the patience you can muster. at the same time, this week's eclipse is about money, worth, and values for you. plus all the resources you draw from including time, which is never linear anyway.

virgo: there's no getting around the fact that this is an intense week. intense is a little bit of a euphemism for pretty tough. as always, wonderful things can and will happen! but be ready for the hard parts.

libra: the appearance that certain relationships take hit after hit is, really, more appearance than anything else. some damage may be real, but the projection of 'reality' you are seeing is particularly warped at this time. most things are not what they seem, especially in your 6th and 7th houses. your mundane tasks and your partnerships.

scorpio: be prepared for a week in which nothing seems to go according to plan. it is meant to be a time of chaos, so lean into that and don't try to force order where it doesn't want to and cannot be. your daily affairs and your friend groups see the main mishaps.

sagittarius: both private and public realms get a shakeup this week and you may feel stricken with writer's block or just like you can't force anything through that needs through. in that case, slow down and turn inward, and live magically instead of logically, just for a little while.

capricorn: frankly you're not hit as hard by the eclipse this week as many will be although you may find it easiest to stay at home for a few days. on the other hand, mercury (and still venus) retrograde do affect your home life too. this makes it a good place for introspection and recharging, but not as good a place for productivity and action.

aquarius: you're not hit as hard as many by the (very intense) chaotic vibes of this week and yet of course, as always, certain realms of life are always affected. a full moon eclipse does you few or no favors financially, so exercise caution with money and resources - especially ones you share. mercury retrograde crosses some wires but it's nothing you can't handle with a little patience.

pisces: you may find yourself forgetting mercury is even going retrograde with the eclipse in your 7th house affecting you (and the sun in your sign) so strongly. your self-relationships axis is highlighted - or on fire. learn all you can from it and know that nothing is truly permanent unless you make it so.

watch the transit posts in real time to have the best guide through your week. want a little more? have a look at my patreon or ko-fi.

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[moonselune]

I love your writing and especially how you write the dark companions! If you could, could you write the Dark Companions with a Chaos Magic! Tav (willing) causing a big and destructive accident at their homes? Tav likes to get experimental with how their magic works but sometimes they play with the settings too much and boom.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Dark!BG3 | Chaos

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

For: Conqueror!Minthara, MotherSuperior!Shadowheart, God!Gale, Ascended!Astarion, Naturist!Halsin, GrandDuke!Wyll

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

CW: Controlling, manipulation, coercion, injury, forced memory loss

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Conqueror Minthara:

The training yard was quiet, too quiet for someone like you. You thrived in chaos, and the humdrum of Minthara’s disciplined soldiers drilling and training day in and day out was suffocating. What harm could a little experiment do to liven things up? After all, wasn’t chaos what she admired most about you? So, with a mischievous grin and sparks of chaotic energy dancing at your fingertips, you began to weave your spell.

Your goal was simple—or so you thought. Enhance the soldiers’ abilities, make them faster, deadlier, maybe even a touch more intimidating. A few tweaks here and there, and you could gift Minthara an army like no other. But chaos magic, as always, had its own ideas.

The air crackled with unstable energy, and the spell spiraled out of your control faster than you could react. The soldiers began to shift, their bodies contorting grotesquely. Limbs multiplied, eyes emerged in clusters, and chitinous armor replaced skin. Within moments, Minthara’s proud warriors had been transformed into a horde of spiders—some small and quick, others massive and terrifying, their mandibles clicking menacingly.

You stared at your handiwork, equal parts horrified and impressed. They certainly were intimidating, and you couldn’t help but marvel at their newfound monstrous beauty. Still, this wasn’t exactly what you’d planned, and the sound of heavy footsteps approaching—accompanied by Minthara’s unmistakable booming voice—snapped you out of your reverie.

“What in the Abyss is going on here?!” her voice rang out, sharp and commanding. Before you could even think of an excuse, Minthara stormed into the clearing, her eyes widening at the sight of her mutated soldiers.

Her gaze snapped to you, fiery and accusing, and you barely had time to react before she grabbed you by the front of your robes and slammed you against the nearest wall. The impact knocked the air from your lungs, but you quickly plastered on your sweetest, most innocent smile.

“My love,” you purred, your tone honeyed, “I can explain.”

Minthara’s grip tightened, her strength as fearsome as ever.

“I don’t want explanations,” she hissed, her face inches from yours. “I want to know what you’ve done to my soldiers!”

“It was an accident!” you protested, your voice laced with faux sweetness. “I was experimenting with ways to make them... better. Stronger. More terrifying for your enemies. Just look at them!” You gestured toward the scuttling mass of spiders with a flourish. “Aren’t they magnificent?”

Minthara’s eyes narrowed, her expression caught somewhere between fury and disbelief.

“Magnificent? You turned my warriors into monsters! How am I supposed to lead a campaign with this?” she demanded, though her gaze flickered briefly to one particularly large spider, its glossy black carapace shimmering in the torchlight. You leaned in as much as her hold allowed, your voice softening.

“But they’re your monsters, my dear. Your favorite little creatures, aren’t they?” You gave her your most winning smile, as though that would smooth over the utter chaos you’d unleashed.

Minthara glared at you, her lips pressing into a thin line. For a moment, you thought she might truly lose her temper, and your heart raced as you scrambled to think of something—anything—to defuse the situation.

Tentatively, you leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek, testing her resolve. “You’re not mad at me, are you?”

Her eyes softened, just a fraction at the bewildrerment of your audacity to just kiss your cheek at a time like this, and she let out a long, exasperated sigh.

“You’re lucky I tolerate your madness,” she muttered, releasing her grip on your robes. “But do not mistake my patience for leniency.”

Feigning a wounded look, you placed a hand over your heart. “You wound me, Minthara. I thought you loved me for my chaos.”

She turned away, her gaze sweeping over the mutated soldiers with a mixture of disgust and reluctant acceptance.

“I do,” she admitted, her voice low, “but there are limits.”

You stepped closer, emboldened by her words, and wrapped your arms around her waist, pulling her into a possessive kiss. Your lips pressed against hers with a fervor that made her stiffen for a moment before she melted into your embrace. When you finally pulled back, her expression was conflicted, her eyes alight with a mixture of annoyance and something deeper.

“Don’t push it,” she warned, her voice steady but softer now.

You smirked, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “I wouldn’t dream of it. But admit it, my love—you wouldn’t want me any other way.”

Minthara’s lips quirked into the faintest of smiles, and though she rolled her eyes, you could see the flicker of affection in her gaze. As she turned her attention back to the chaos you had created, you couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride. She might grumble and scold, but deep down, you knew she loved you for the chaos you brought into her life—even if it meant turning her soldiers into spiders.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Mother Superior Shadowheart:

The dimly lit chamber had been alive with reverence and devotion just moments ago, the Sharran faithful gathered in solemn worship. Their low chanting filled the air like a dark melody, a display of absolute obedience and purpose that you knew Shadowheart valued deeply. Of course, where she saw discipline and grace, you saw an irresistible opportunity for chaos.

Experimenting with your magic was practically second nature, and the rigid solemnity of the scene practically begged for a little disruption. A flick of your wrist, a whispered incantation, and—boom.

The room was consumed by a flash of violet and black light, and when the smoke cleared, the kneeling Sharrans were gone. In their place was a scattered array of glittering obsidian jewelry—rings, pendants, even a particularly elegant brooch—all lying where the devotees had once been. You tilted your head, inspecting the results with a mixture of pride and amusement.

“Well,” you said, breaking the heavy silence. “That wasn’t exactly what I was going for, but look at the craftsmanship! Stunning.”

Behind you, Shadowheart’s sharp intake of breath was the only warning before she whirled to face you. Her expression was a tempest of shock, anger, and disbelief.

“What,” she hissed, her voice dangerously low, “have you done?”

You turned to her with a wide grin, holding up a particularly intricate pendant.

“Relax, darling. They’re not gone, not really. They’re just... improved! Look at this one—it’s gorgeous.” You turned the pendant toward the dim torchlight, admiring the way it caught the faint glow. “I mean, it really brings out the essence of Shar, don’t you think?”

Shadowheart pinched the bridge of her nose, muttering a prayer to Shar under her breath, though you had a feeling it was less about devotion and more about patience.

“Fix it,” she demanded, her tone steely. You picked up another piece—a delicate obsidian ring—and turned to her with a playful smile.

“This one, though. This one would look incredible on you.” You held it up, as if presenting a gift. “Go on, try it. You’d look like the embodiment of Shar herself.”

Her gaze hardened, though a flicker of amusement danced behind her stern expression.

“Fix it,” she repeated. “Now.”

You sighed dramatically, leaning against the altar and turning the ring in your fingers. “Only if you say please.”

Shadowheart’s lips pressed into a thin line, her eyes narrowing. “The Mother Superior does not say please.”

You grinned, letting the ring clink softly back onto the altar.

“Good,” you said breezily, “because I have absolutely no idea how to turn them back.”

Her expression faltered, a flicker of disbelief giving way to a sigh that was equal parts exasperation and reluctant fondness.

“Why am I not surprised?” she muttered, stepping closer to you.

“Hey,” you protested lightly, holding your hands up in mock innocence. “In my defense, this was a very high-level experiment. And,” you added with a sly smile, “if you think about it, this is a kind of devotion. They’re serving Shar eternally now, as fashion statements. I call that commitment.”

Shadowheart let out a soft laugh, shaking her head as she looked at you.

“You are insufferable,” she said, but her tone had softened, a glint of affection warming her words. “And yet... I can’t seem to stay angry with you.”

You straightened, your grin widening. “That’s because you love me.”

She rolled her eyes, but the corners of her mouth lifted ever so slightly. “Don’t push your luck.”

“Come on, admit it,” you teased, leaning closer. “You adore me and my chaotic ways.”

Shadowheart’s hand reached up, surprising you as she cupped your cheek gently.

“You’re reckless and infuriating,” she murmured, her thumb brushing over your skin, “but yes, I adore you.”

The words sent a thrill through you, and you leaned into her touch, savoring the rare affection she offered so freely in this moment.

“See?” you said, your voice soft and teasing. “You’re not so scary when you’re being sweet.”

“Don’t test me,” she warned, though her smile betrayed her. “Now, fix this—or try to.”

You hesitated, your mind already buzzing with a dozen excuses, but before you could respond, the obsidian jewelry began to glow faintly, vibrating where it lay. Slowly, the shimmering forms of the Sharrans began to reappear, their chanting resuming as if nothing had happened.

“Well,” you said, stepping back with a satisfied grin. “Problem solved. See? I didn’t even need to lift a finger.”

Shadowheart raised an eyebrow, her gaze lingering on you. “You’re lucky it resolved itself.”

“Lucky?” you repeated, feigning indignation. “Please. That was all part of my brilliant plan.”

Shadowheart shook her head, but this time she pulled you closer, her arms wrapping around your waist.

“You’re reckless and foolish,” she murmured again, her lips brushing against your forehead. “But you’re mine. Just... try not to turn my acolytes into accessories again.”

“No promises,” you teased, leaning in to steal a quick kiss.

Her laughter was soft, but her hold on you tightened briefly, as if grounding herself in the chaos you brought to her world.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

God of Ambition Gale:

It started as one of your more ambitious experiments, a blend of chaos magic and raw creativity, designed to bring a spark of inspiration to the mundane, dull mortal realm. You thrived in chaos, but there was something uniquely satisfying about crafting chaos that could be useful—or so you told yourself as you conjured a small, shimmering creature into existence.

Its body glimmered like liquid starlight, constantly shifting and pulsing with energy, and its eyes sparkled with a mischievous intelligence. It was a muse made manifest, a creature designed to inspire boundless creativity in anyone it touched.

You held the little beast in your hands, its soft purring vibrations tickling your palms.

“Perfect,” you murmured to yourself, admiring your handiwork. “This little guy is going to change the world.”

Your first test subject was a sleepy mortal village nestled in a picturesque valley. With a wave of your hand and a whispered incantation, you sent the creature spiraling down to the mortal plane, watching with eager curiosity as it darted between homes and into the lives of the unsuspecting villagers.

Gale stood beside you in his domain, his arms crossed, his expression a mix of skepticism and intrigue.

“You do realize these things never go as planned,” he said, his tone laced with dry humor.

“Oh, ye of little faith, God of Ambition,” you replied, grinning as you conjured an ethereal window to observe your experiment. “Watch and learn.”

The results were immediate. The villagers, once ordinary and unimaginative, became suddenly, brilliantly creative. Paintings adorned walls, melodies filled the air, and intricate sculptures sprang up seemingly overnight. The drudgery of daily life transformed into a vibrant tapestry of artistic expression. Gale raised an eyebrow as he watched, his lips quirking into a reluctant smile.

“Well,” he admitted, “I must say, I expected worse.”

“See?” you said smugly, leaning back and gesturing toward the scene below. “I’ve created something wonderful.”

For a moment, you basked in the glory of your creation, the little muse flitting about the village like a benevolent sprite, igniting inspiration wherever it went. But then... something shifted.

One by one, the villagers began to grow pale, their vitality waning as their art became more fevered, more frantic. Their joy turned to obsession, their creations taking on a dark, almost desperate edge. You leaned forward, your grin fading into a frown.

“Uh-oh,” you muttered.

Gale let out a long-suffering sigh, already anticipating what was to come.

“Let me guess,” he said, his tone heavy with resignation. “It feeds off them.”

Before you could respond, the first villager collapsed, their body withering into nothingness as the muse absorbed the last of their life force. The creature grew larger, its shimmering body now tinged with ominous hues of red and black. It moved on to the next villager, then the next, its hunger insatiable.

“Well,” you said with an awkward laugh, scratching the back of your neck. “I mean... no experiment is perfect.”

Gale gave you a withering look, his fingers already crackling with power. “You’re lucky I’m here to clean up your messes.”

“Wait, wait!” you protested, grabbing his arm. “It’s not that bad! Maybe they’re fine? Or—or maybe this is just part of its process! Artistic sacrifices and all that? Ambition demands a price.”

Gale didn’t dignify your excuses with a response. With a sharp snap of his fingers, a beam of radiant energy lanced from his hand, striking the creature below. It let out a piercing, otherworldly cry before disintegrating into a shower of harmless starlight. The villagers who remained collapsed in exhaustion, their lives spared, but their inspiration gone.

You pouted, crossing your arms as Gale turned back to you. “You didn’t even let me try to fix it.”

He raised an eyebrow, his expression unimpressed. “And how exactly were you planning to fix a creature that consumes its muses? By giving it a snack and hoping for the best?”

You opened your mouth to argue but found yourself at a loss for words.

“Well... maybe,” you admitted finally.

Gale sighed again, rubbing his temples. “Next time, perhaps test your creations somewhere a little less populated. Or better yet, not at all.”

You smirked, leaning closer to him. “Admit it, though. It was kind of brilliant.”

“It was chaos,” he replied, though his lips twitched with the faintest hint of a smile. “But then again, that’s why I keep you around.”

You beamed, wrapping your arms around his waist. “See? You can’t resist my brilliance—or my chaos.”

He chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “One day, your chaos is going to be the end of my immortal existence.”

“But not today,” you teased, already conjuring ideas for your next experiment.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Ascended Astarion:

The moment the radiant sphere erupted in your hands, you knew you had made a catastrophic mistake. Warm, golden daylight spilled out, illuminating the room in a way the Underdark had never seen before. For a heartbeat, it was beautiful, shimmering rays glinting off the stone walls like a living masterpiece. And then you heard it—the anguished screams and hisses of Astarion’s vampire spawn as the light enveloped them.

You turned slowly, your heart sinking as you watched them disintegrate into heaps of ash, one after another, their forms crumbling away until all that remained was silence and piles of fine, gray dust scattered across the floor.

The sphere flickered and faded, leaving you standing in the aftermath of your chaotic magic experiment, the air heavy with the acrid scent of burning. You winced, the gravity of what you’d done crashing down on you.

Before you could even think of how to explain yourself, you felt it—Astarion’s piercing gaze. Slowly, you turned to see him standing in the doorway, his face a picture of perfect, seething stillness. One elegant finger raised, stopping you in your tracks before you could utter a single syllable.

“Not. A. Word.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but his crimson eyes narrowed, a dangerous glint warning you against testing his patience.

“But—” you tried, your voice small and hopeful.

“Not.” He took a step closer, his voice dropping to a velvet growl that could freeze the very air. “A single word.”

Your shoulders slumped, and you glanced down at the ash piles surrounding you.

“It wasn’t intentional,” you murmured, unable to resist defending yourself.

“Hush!” Astarion hissed sharply, his hand cutting through the air like a blade. His tone was less a command and more a promise that any further protests would be deeply unwise.

You bit your lip, trying to look contrite, though your inherent nature made it difficult not to fidget. “I mean, technically—”

“Technically?” Astarion’s voice dripped with incredulity, and his perfectly arched brow shot up. “Technically, my beloved spawn are now piles of ash. Technically, you just obliterated potential centuries of loyalty and power. But by all means, technically explain yourself.”

You winced, taking a small step back, only to realize that you were leaving a footprint in what was once one of his favorite lieutenants.

Astarion noticed too, his gaze dropping to the ashes before rising back to meet yours with an expression so icy it could freeze the very sun that had caused this debacle. He exhaled slowly, a hand coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose.

“You are,” he began, his tone eerily calm, “so incredibly, unbelievably lucky that I love you more than anything else in this wretched world.”

You blinked, momentarily stunned by the declaration, but before you could bask in it, he continued.

“Because if anyone else—and I do mean anyone—had dared to incinerate my progeny, they would have found themselves meeting the same fate without hesitation.”

You couldn’t help but grin, your chaotic nature sparking in your expression. “So you do love me more than anyone else.”

“Do not test me.” His tone was flat, but there was no missing the faint twitch of amusement at the corner of his lips.

You stepped forward cautiously, brushing some ash off your hands in an awkward attempt at tidying up.

“To be fair,” you began, choosing your words carefully, “it was an accident. I was trying to conjure something... atmospheric.”

“Atmospheric,” he repeated, his voice dripping with disdain.

“Yes,” you said, nodding fervently. “Like... ambiance! Who doesn’t love a little sunlight?”

Astarion’s eyes narrowed, his patience visibly wearing thin.

“Darling,” he said, his voice dangerously sweet, “you are the only person in existence who could accidentally decimate my inner circle and then attempt to justify it as an improvement to the mood lighting.”

You shrugged, managing a sheepish smile. “Well, you did give me sun resilience. So really, this was a sign of my gratitude!”

Astarion let out a sharp, humorless laugh, shaking his head as if trying to make sense of the chaos that was you.

“I don’t know whether to throttle you or kiss you senseless,” he muttered.

You tilted your head, a mischievous glint in your eyes. “I’d vote for kissing. It’s a much better use of our time.”

For a moment, Astarion simply stared at you, his expression torn between exasperation and adoration. Finally, he stepped forward, his cold fingers tilting your chin up as he leaned in close.

“You,” he whispered, his lips brushing against yours, “are an absolute menace.”

“And yet,” you replied, your smile blooming as you kissed him softly, “you love me for it.”

Astarion sighed against your lips, his arms winding around you despite the mess you’d made. “Unfortunately for me, I do.”

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Naturist Halsin:

The spell had seemed like a good idea at the time. You had been sitting in the heart of the grove, surrounded by nature’s endless beauty, and your chaotic mind had begun to itch with ideas. Surely, a little magical boost could elevate this place even further—make it a sanctuary unlike any other. A burst of inspiration struck, and you channeled your chaotic magic with all the finesse you could muster, shaping it into something you hoped would enhance the grove's splendor.

The result, however, was not quite what you intended.

Flowers erupted from the druids around you—not sprouting from the earth, but from their very bodies. Roses tore through flesh with violent grace, twisting stems of ivy coiled around limbs like serpents, and delicate petals unfurled from places they were never meant to grow. It was horrifying and beautiful all at once, a grotesque display of life overtaking life.

The grove now stood transformed into a macabre garden, vibrant blooms swaying gently in the wind as if proud of their horrific origins. You stared at your work, hands still outstretched, your eyes wide.

“Oh... oh no,” you muttered under your breath, already bracing for the inevitable lecture.

It didn’t take long for Halsin to appear, striding through the chaos like a wolf stalking its prey. His presence was a calming one, though it only made your heart hammer harder in anticipation of the reprimand you surely deserved. You turned to him, words of apology tumbling to your lips before you could even think them through.

“Halsin, I—I was trying to make the grove more beautiful! I didn’t mean for... this,” you said, gesturing helplessly to the floral carnage. “I can fix it, I swear—”

He cut you off with a raised hand, his expression unreadable as he surveyed the scene. For a long, agonizing moment, he said nothing, his piercing gaze moving over the flower-covered remains of the druids who had once called this grove home. You expected anger, disappointment, perhaps even sorrow. What you didn’t expect was the low chuckle that rumbled in his chest.

“Fix it?” Halsin repeated, his voice rich with amusement. “Why would you want to fix this?”

You blinked, unsure if you had heard him correctly. “Wait... you’re not mad?”

He turned to you, his green eyes alight with something you couldn’t quite place—something possessive, primal.

“No, I’m not mad. If anything, I’m impressed. This garden...” He stepped closer, his hand brushing lightly against one of the flowers blooming from a former druid’s shoulder. “...is stunning. A testament to your power.”

Your jaw dropped slightly, a mix of relief and disbelief flooding you. “But... they’re... they’re dead.”

“Yes,” Halsin said simply, a faint smirk playing at his lips. “And they were annoying me anyway.”

You stared at him, unsure if he was serious or merely teasing. “Annoying you?”

“Always looking at you as though they had a chance,” he said, his tone darkening just enough to send a shiver down your spine. “As if they could ever be worthy of your attention. Of your heart.”

His words sent a flush of warmth through you, though you couldn’t help but feel slightly unnerved by the intensity in his gaze. “Halsin... you know my heart belongs to you, right? There’s no competition.”

“I know,” he said, his large hand cupping your cheek as he leaned in to press a kiss to your temple. “But it doesn’t mean I enjoyed their little fantasies. It seems your chaos has solved that problem for me.”

You laughed nervously, still unsure whether to feel flattered or alarmed. “So... you’re okay with this? The whole... accidental flower massacre?”

“More than okay,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your cheek now, warm and reassuring. “You’ve made the grove a better place, and you’ve shown those fools exactly where they stand—beneath us.”

You raised a brow at him, your own chaotic nature bubbling up as a mischievous grin spread across your face. “You’re not just saying that because it’s... convenient, are you?”

Halsin chuckled again, pulling you closer until your bodies were flush. “I’m saying it because it’s the truth. You are powerful, unpredictable, and utterly mine. Why wouldn’t I admire your work?”

His lips found yours in a possessive kiss, and you melted into him, the tension from your magical mishap finally ebbing away. As his hands tangled in your hair, you couldn’t help but think that perhaps chaos wasn’t such a bad thing after all—especially when it made Halsin look at you like that.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Grand Duke Wyll:

The garden ball was in full swing, an opulent display of noble finery and delicate laughter echoing under the twinkling stars. Lanterns hung from the trees, casting a warm glow over the meticulously kept grounds, and the scent of blooming flowers mingled with the sweet aroma of wine. You couldn’t help but feel a little restless, your chaotic magic itching under your skin, desperate for an outlet.

“Just a little experiment,” you whispered to yourself, your fingers twitching with barely contained energy.

The spell you conjured was harmless—or so you thought. It started as a whimsical idea: wouldn’t it be delightful if the nobles could see the garden from above? You shaped your magic with care (or as much care as your chaos-addled mind could muster), releasing it into the air with a flourish.

At first, it worked beautifully. One by one, the nobles began to rise gently from the ground, their laughter turning to gasps of astonishment as they floated higher and higher. You clapped your hands, delighted with your handiwork, until you realized two very important details:

This was an open-air garden ball.

The nobles were not stopping.

“Oh no,” you breathed, watching as they began to drift, their jeweled gowns and tailored coats flapping in the night breeze like gaudy, oversized kites.

Panicked shouts began to replace the initial awe as the nobles realized they had no control over their ascent. Wine glasses were dropped, fans fluttered uselessly, and more than one monocle was lost to the growing chaos.

“Darling!” Wyll’s familiar voice cut through the din, and you turned to see him striding toward you, his noble bearing still intact despite the absurdity unfolding above. His expression was one of exasperation laced with fondness, a combination you had grown all too familiar with.

Before you could explain yourself, he held up a hand, silencing your excuses. “Let me guess,” he said, his tone light but edged with amusement. “You thought this would be enchanting?”

“It is enchanting!” you protested, gesturing to the nobles now gently spinning like celestial decorations against the dark sky. “Look at them! They’re having a... unique experience.”

Wyll raised an elegant brow, his gaze flicking upward. “Unique is certainly one word for it.” He sighed, shaking his head, though there was a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“Only because you love me,” you said, flashing him a cheeky grin.

He chuckled, his frustration melting as he reached for a nearby tablecloth. With a flourish, he spread it over the grass, its once-pristine edges now brushing against the earth. Then, to your surprise, he lowered himself onto it, patting the space beside him.

“Come on,” he said, his voice softer now. “If we’re going to watch the nobles drift into the heavens, we might as well do it comfortably.”

You hesitated for a moment, unsure if he was serious, but the warmth in his eyes reassured you. Smiling, you joined him, lying back against the makeshift picnic blanket. The two of you gazed upward, watching as the nobles continued their unintentional journey, their cries growing fainter with distance.

“You know,” Wyll mused, his arm brushing against yours, “this might actually be one of the more amusing spectacles I’ve seen at a ball.”

“You’re welcome,” you said smugly, earning a soft laugh from him.

He turned his head to look at you, his expression tender.

“You’re trouble, beloved” he said, leaning in to brush a kiss against your temple. “But you’re my trouble.”

You nestled closer to him, your chaotic heart settling in the comfort of his presence. Together, you lay under the stars, watching the nobles fade into tiny specks against the vast expanse of sky, the garden ball below forgotten in favor of the strange and unexpected beauty you had created.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

I don't know why but it got weirdly wholesome at the end. I do love writing for this series and it was a good one to get back into the requests queue again. I am going to try and get back to regular posting but this virus is killing me as is being a corporate girlie at the same time ahaha. Anyway I love you all and I hope you guys enjoyed it! - Seluney xox

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[itsbensart]

Burnt Out but Not Alone

Pairing: Fiyero Tigelaar x Male Reader | Part 2

Summary: Y/N feels overwhelmed by his demanding workload and the pressure of looming deadlines. Despite his exhaustion, he refuses to take a break, even as concern grows from friends like Elphaba—and even the Winkie Prince. When Fiyero sees just how much Y/N is struggling, he offers unexpected help, proving that sometimes, even the most carefree people can provide the support needed during times of stress.

Warnings: Excessive teasing and playful banter, Subtle romantic tension, Themes of academic pressure and burnout, Light physical touches (e.g., arm grabs), Vulnerability in moments of exhaustion, and Heartwarming support from an unexpected ally.

A/N: Y/N is an Architecture Student specializing in Ozian Architecture at Shiz University, known for its demanding curriculum.

Word Count: 1,743 words

The lecture hall buzzed with the soft hum of conversations, the rhythmic tapping of pens against desks, and the occasional shuffle of papers. Y/N sat in the middle row, staring at his open notebook but not truly seeing it. His thoughts were elsewhere, replaying Fiyero’s smug grin and that low, teasing voice that seemed to follow him even now.

“You know what to do if you want to shut me up, doll.”

The memory sent an involuntary flush to his cheeks. He quickly ducked his head, hoping no one noticed. Shaking his head, he tried to dispel the distraction. This was no time to get flustered. An endless list of tasks awaited, and Professor Solennia was already notorious for her high standards.

Y/N’s chosen course, Ozian Architecture, wasn’t for the faint of heart. It was one of the most demanding programs at Shiz University, known for its rigorous workload and the precision it required. Students delved deep into the rich architectural history of Oz—an eclectic mix of styles balancing the grandeur of Emerald City’s gleaming towers with the rustic charm of Munchkinland’s cottages and the imposing, fortress-like structures of Winkie Country.

Today’s lecture focused on the integration of natural and magical elements in building design, a cornerstone of Ozian architecture. The topic would have been fascinating under other circumstances, but Y/N found himself struggling to concentrate. Between looming deadlines and the lingering echoes of Fiyero’s remarks, his mind was a chaotic mess.

Professor Solennia’s voice cut through his thoughts. “As you can see, the inclusion of enchantments in structural integrity was not merely aesthetic but practical. Now, who can tell me how the dragon clock influenced the design of Emerald City’s central spire?”

Y/N froze as the professor’s gaze swept across the room. He usually prided himself on being prepared for questions like this, but today, his mind was blank. He prayed someone else would answer, his heart pounding as he stared down at his notes—frustratingly empty.

By the end of class, as students filed out, Y/N realized just how little he had retained. The weight of his responsibilities crashed back down on him, amplified by the realization that he was now further behind than before.

He decided to head to the university’s library to tackle his pending tasks—especially the scale model due next week. Though he was exhausted, he had no choice. The output would determine whether he passed this semester.

As he walked through the hallway, he almost bumped into Elphaba, who had been waiting for him to catch up. She noticed his drooping posture and the dark circles under his eyes immediately.

"Y/N," she said, her voice softer than usual, "You look like you haven’t slept in days."

Y/N gave a half-hearted shrug, trying to brush her off. "I’m fine, Elphaba. Just... busy, you know? I have a lot to do."

She narrowed her eyes, not buying his response. "It’s more than just being busy. You’re running yourself ragged. You need rest."

"I don’t have time for rest," Y/N replied, his tone more tired than he meant it to be. "There’s too much to do."

Elphaba hesitated for a moment, clearly concerned. "I get it, but this—" she gestured to him, her eyes lingering on his fatigued form, "—isn't sustainable. You’re only going to burn out."

Y/N gave a small, dismissive smile. "I’ll be fine. I just need to get through this week."

Elphaba didn’t look convinced but didn’t press the matter further. "Alright, just don’t overdo it. Take care of yourself, Y/N."

He nodded quickly, not meeting her eyes, and made his way toward the library, eager to escape the conversation.

Unbeknownst to Y/N, Fiyero Tigelaar had been wandering the campus, casually searching for his favorite “doll” to tease. His natural charm and carefree demeanor had earned him a reputation for showing up wherever and whenever he pleased, and today was no different.

As he strolled into the library, his piercing eyes immediately spotted Y/N in his corner.

Fiyero smirked. This was too perfect. He sauntered over, his footsteps deliberately light. “There you are. Hiding in the library, huh? Didn’t think this was your kind of hangout spot.” As he slid into a seat beside Y/N, he leaned closer, his voice low enough to only reach him. “Still thinking about me, doll?”

Y/N clenched his jaw, his ears burning as he hissed, “You wish.”

Fiyero chuckled, clearly pleased with the reaction, and leaned back in his chair. “You’re awfully red for someone who’s not thinking about me.”

Y/N barely looked up, his pencil pausing briefly before resuming its work. “Not now, Fiyero. I’m busy.”

The lack of reaction made Fiyero blink in surprise. Usually, his remarks earned him a flushed face or an exasperated retort. Instead, Y/N’s tone was flat, his focus unbroken.

“Busy?” Fiyero peered down at Y/N’s sketches. “What’s got you so tied up? Another one of those fancy projects?”

“Yes,” Y/N responded curtly. “So please, not now, Fiyero.”

Fiyero, however, seemed unbothered. “So, what’s next, doll? More lectures? Or maybe some of that architectural magic you lot are so obsessed with?”

Y/N let out an exasperated sigh, his patience worn thin. “I have too many tasks to finish. Does that answer your question?”

Fiyero tilted his head, studying Y/N’s face with uncharacteristic seriousness. “You look exhausted.”

“Thanks for noticing,” Y/N muttered, packing up his materials before leaving the library, hoping the prince wouldn’t follow him.

At first, Fiyero assumed it was just another one of Y/N’s quirks—being too serious about academics and all—but as the hours turned into days, he couldn’t ignore the change. The playful teasing he usually dished out with ease seemed to fall flat, met with a tired smile or a quiet nod instead of Y/N’s usual fiery retorts. Fiyero had tried to brush it off, but the concern gnawed at him, growing stronger with each passing day.

One afternoon, while they were in the cafeteria, Fiyero noticed Y/N in line. With a tray in hand, Y/N seemed oblivious to his surroundings, swaying slightly from exhaustion. Just as it seemed Y/N might stumble, Fiyero reacted quickly, grabbing him to prevent a fall.

"Alright, doll," he began, keeping his tone light, though concern lingered beneath the surface. "You’ve been looking like you’re one step away from collapsing. What’s going on?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing?"

Y/N glanced at him briefly, then lowered his gaze to the ground. "Just… school stuff. You wouldn’t understand."

Fiyero frowned, his usual teasing grin replaced with a concerned expression. "Try me."

Y/N sighed long and heavy, adjusting the strap of his overburdened bag. "There’s just too much. Drafts, models, presentations… I can’t keep up. And Ozian Architecture isn’t an easy course. It feels like I’m drowning, and no matter how hard I try, I can’t keep my head above water."

Fiyero came to a stop, gently grabbing Y/N’s arm and halting him in his tracks. "Why didn’t you say anything sooner?"

Y/N shrugged, avoiding his gaze. "What good would it do? It’s not like anyone can help. This is my workload. My responsibility."

Fiyero didn’t respond immediately, instead narrowing his eyes at Y/N’s exhausted face. "How much have you slept? Or even rested?"

The silence that followed was answer enough.

Fiyero’s usual smirk softened into something more like genuine concern. "Alright, doll. Time to take a break."

"I don’t have time for a break," Y/N snapped, his tone sharper than he intended.

Fiyero stood firm, the command in his voice unmistakable. "Then you don’t have a choice. Let’s go," he said, pulling Y/N toward the courtyard with surprising insistence.

"I’m serious, Fiyero. I have so much to—"

"And I’m serious too," Fiyero interrupted, his voice firm but not unkind. "You’re running yourself into the ground, and you know it. If you collapse, you’re not going to finish anything."

Y/N frowned, but the warmth of Fiyero’s hand on his arm and the determination in his eyes made resistance feel futile.

They walked in silence, the noise of the cafeteria fading as they headed for the quieter courtyard. Once there, Fiyero led Y/N to a bench, underneath an oak tree. "Sit," he ordered, dropping his own bag onto the ground.

Too tired to argue, Y/N complied.

For once, Fiyero didn’t joke or tease; instead, he looked thoughtful. After a moment, his gaze sharpened. "Alright, here’s what we’re going to do."

Y/N blinked up at him, still a bit disoriented. "What?"

"I’m going to help you."

Y/N let out a dry laugh, shaking his head. "You? Help? No offense, Fiyero, but this isn’t exactly your area of expertise."

Fiyero smirked, though it was softer than usual. "Maybe not. But I can still do something. I’ll carry your books, keep you company during late nights, or even distract you when you’re on the verge of a breakdown."

Sitting beside him, Fiyero leaned back, as if the weight of the world didn’t rest on his shoulders. "Look, I might not understand all your architectural mumbo jumbo, but I can help in other ways. You don’t have to do this alone, doll."

Y/N opened his mouth to respond but paused. The sincerity in Fiyero’s eyes caught him off guard. For the first time in days, a small, genuine smile tugged at his lips. "You’re serious?"

"Dead serious," Fiyero replied, his grin widening. "Starting now. So, what’s first on the agenda, Mr. Burnt-Out Architect?"

Y/N hesitated, then admitted, "I have to finish a scale model for tomorrow, and I still need to draft the base plans."

"Easy," Fiyero said, slinging an arm around Y/N’s shoulders. "You draft, I’ll cut and glue. I’m not completely useless, you know."

"You’re really going to help me?" Y/N asked, feeling the weight on his shoulders lighten just a little.

Fiyero chuckled. "What can I say? You’re growing on me. And besides, I can’t have you walking around looking like a zombie. It ruins my fun."

Though exhaustion still pulled at him, Y/N couldn’t help but laugh softly. "Alright, Tigelaar. Let’s see if you can keep up."

As they made their way toward the studio, Y/N felt a strange warmth spreading through his chest. Maybe, he wouldn’t have to face the chaos alone after all.

And maybe, just maybe, Fiyero Tigelaar was more than just a cocky prince of charm.

To be Continued.....

A/N: Hello! Here’s the second chapter of my series, (I don't have a title yet, so..... yeah). I’m so happy you’re sticking around to see where this story goes—it means a lot!

There’s definitely more drama, love, and emotions coming your way, so keep an eye out for the next chapters. I’d love to hear what you think, feel free to leave a comment. Thanks for reading, and see you in the next one! 😊