#yeah I just made my own tag what about it

[eupheme]

— the season for second third fourth chances

[part v of sugar, sugar] | [masterlist]

wolverine/logan howlett x neighbor!f!reader

rated e - 4.5k

tags: holiday fluff, reader references/celebrates christmas, misunderstandings, light angst, references to canon-typical anxiety, violence, wade's cancer diagnosis, and death, references plot events in DP 1 & 2, sexual innuendos/implied smut, feelings

With the holidays on the horizon, your afternoons are filled with preparations for Wade’s annual holiday party. With baking and cookie decorating, finishing up wrapping presents - and maybe even a little Christmas miracle, when you find yourself running into a familiar face.

"What?"

It slips from you, as your eyebrows shoot up - glancing down at the piece of cardstock. Before you're adding -

"Why?"

Wade huffs, his finger tapping against the text that loops across the top.

"Don't give me that, Sugar. I spent ages picking out the right font, I know the contrast is enough for you to read it clearly."

And he's right. You can definitely read it, even without the coarse coat of glitter making the headline sparkle.

‘Spread Some Christmas Cheer’

The letters arching above a photo of Wade. His suit on, of course, as he lounges across the lap of what appears to be a mall Santa. Dread in the man’s once-twinkling blue eyes, as one of Wade’s legs drapes across the velvet red suit, the other kicked high against the back of the padded red chair.

‘With Wade Wilson's Winter Wonderland’ in script beneath - with dates and time for his party listed below.

"I can definitely read it," You acknowledge, "I was just asking what, as in what made you take this, and maybe even where, because-"

"Oh," He chuckles, "Yeah, I'm absolutely banned from JCPenney, but worth it, right? This is my best-looking card yet."

You can't help the smile, "It's definitely something."

He grins, "So, you'll come? I heard there might be a certain someone there."

"Is that right?" Your tongue pokes against your cheek.

"Mhmm. Pretty sure he sees you when you're sleeping. Definitely know if you've been naughty or nice, and I know for a fact I've seen you in his lap-"

There's a sound of disgust, as your nose wrinkles, "Okay, can you not talk about Logan that way? I don't need a Santa comparison in my head."

"Just thought I'd spice some things up for you. It's nothing to be ashamed of, we've all had a crush on the big man."

"On who?" There's a rough voice behind you - Logan hand fisted around the fleece jacket tugged from the back of the armchair.

"He knows what I'm talking about," Wade points, "I'm just saying, if Santa needs help handling that sack of his, I'm so fucking down."

"Jesus fucking Christ." An arm curls around you, as Logan glances at the invite, "Wait, this is this weekend?"

"Yes, this weekend," Wade sniffs, "We talked about it yesterday."

"Wasn't home yesterday." Logan's eyebrow cocks, "Or the day before."

"Well, I talked about it with somebody." Wade shrugs - another tapped finger at the bottom of the card, "Anyways, blah, blah, blah. It’s all here, proper name, place name, backstory stuff... just be there, because I know where you live-"

"We'll be there." You interrupt, biting back your smile, "Want me to bring anything?"

Wade's look turns pleased, and then thoughtful, "Well, I was going to get some cookies from Yeastie Boys Bakery..."

The words trailing off, as you groan - already so over the new bakery in town, their stupid jingle and 'viral' cupcakes that taste like shit.

"Don't even talk to me about them."

You can feel the way Logan's hands brace on your shoulder. The low, "he's kidding sweetheart-" rumbled in your ear.

"Guilty." Wade's hands spread wide, "Was just trying to rile you up into offering some of your own splendid wares. Al still talks about the ones you brought over last year. If it’s not too much work…"

The sentence trails off, as he bats his brown, pleading, puppy-dog eyes at you.

"Lead with that next time, asshole." Logan sighs.

"It's not." You answer automatically, though you're already mentally running through your schedule.

The presents you still have to wrap. The loose ends of Wade's gift that you still have to weave in. Another trip to the grocery store, for certain - you'll have to bake at home, since it's a favor.

There's a kiss pressed to your temple, as Logan moves around you.

"I know that look. Don't push too hard, honey." He finishes shrugging on his jacket, "I’ll see if Laura and I can help you out tomorrow."

Wade's voice chiming in, “And let it be known I am formally offering to help, but-”

You huff, “Thank you, but you’re still banned from my kitchen, Wade.”

Still not over the surprise of your gingerbread appearing with piped anatomically correct additions, after you had left him unsupervised last year.

The kiss goodbye you share with Logan lingers, a grateful press of your mouth against his. Wondering what you did to deserve such a man, still ready to pinch yourself every day.

A look in his eyes that matches yours, as he steps around Wade, who still lingers.

"Thanks, Sugar." He grins, "And remember - you better be good for goodness sake-"

You groan, as you shove him out the door. Logan's fingers curling around the collar of Wade’s jacket, the other tugging at the handle.

Unable to help adding your usual farewell, “Be careful out there, okay? Come back safe.”

Not that they need it, not with their powers. But it still feels like a charm, tucked carefully into their pockets as they head out together again - off on a new mission.

"I’ll take care of your Sugar Bear.” It's sung out, muffled behind the closed door. “Love you byeee!"

A sigh, as you shake your head.

Guess you have some work to do.

Your pen marks another item off your list, as you inch your cart through the too-busy grocery store.

It’s already half-filled with other last-minute items. Another couple gifts, now that official date of the party looms on the horizon - you can’t leave Peter, Ellie, and Yukio out, after all.

A new decorative Christmas plate for the cookies - you had lost yours in the impromptu disc golf match that Wade hosted at the apartment last year.

Last you heard, it was still on the roof next door.

Molasses, brown sugar, and spices for gingerbread. A fresh box of food coloring, for the sugar cookies - you were out of red, from last year as well.

A pack of powdered sugar drops down into your cart. Reaching for a second, just as another hand bumps against yours.

Twin apologies chime, as your eyes flick to the side.

Instantly recognizing the woman next to you - the sheepish look on your face cooling.

“Oh.” Her eyes widen in recognition, “Hey.”

“Hi, Vanessa.” You offer a half-smile - the last dregs of your annoyance with Wade vanishing, as you rest the second bag on top of the other.

A beat, before you manage, “How are you?”

“Good. Office party,” She wiggles her own bag, before it slips into the basket at her elbow, “You?”

“Um, I’m good, too.” You shrug, “And no, uh… friend’s party.”

Wade seemed mostly over the disaster that happened close to two months ago. More prone to forgiving and forgetting - gracious, in a way that you could be, when you wanted. That you were, most of the time.

After all, it was easier, to let something slide off your back when it came to a personal grudge. You could be an adult and move on, then.

But it was still hard to forget how crushed Wade had been. How you knew that she knew he had been cooking for her the night she stood him up- a drunken confession that he had seen the notification that she had watched the stories he had snapped for his social media stories.

And even if he was over it, you weren’t sure you were.

“Wade’s party?” She guesses, and it makes you blink.

Wondering when and how she had been invited. As far as you knew, her name hadn’t passed his lips in weeks.

“Yeah.” Your eyes search hers - the tightness in them, how she bites the inside of her cheek, “Are… you?”

“Undecided,” Her lips lift. A breath, before she’s asking, “How’s he been lately? Is he…”

You can’t help the small frown, a mark deepening between your brows, “He’s good.”

A half-truth, before you tack a little more on, “Sure he’s appreciating the extra space. Fixed Al up with a Murphy bed, and Logan’s been staying with me a lot lately.”

“Oh. I thought-” Vanessa’s sentence trails off.

She looks lost for a moment. A glance downward, picking at the manicured edge of a nail.

You haven’t seen her like this before. Too used to her confidence, those sharp edges that you lack.

Pity flickers through you.

“I really have to go. If I don’t start these soon, I’ll be up all night.”

It comes out apologetic - and you realize, you actually mean it, “But why don’t you swing by my apartment in a bit? I’m gonna be baking all afternoon, but I make a mean boozy hot chocolate.”

The look she gives you is tinged with relief.

It’s enough to make you wonder what you’re missing.

“Wait, what?” You yelp - for the second time, in forty-eight hours.

There’s a smudge of flour on your sweater. Holiday music pouring through the speaker on your counter. Vanessa carefully inching the gingerbread cutouts an inch apart.

A shoulder lifting, as she repeats herself, “I said I thought he moved on. With you.”

Not knowing, with the way she had come late to the party where you had met Logan. Left early, with her new corporate schedule.

You almost over-pour the ground cinnamon into the second batch. Tipping it back into the jar, as you let the spoon clatter against the counter. Her head tilts, at your expression.

“You haven’t thought about it? I know you’re both close.”

In another world, perhaps.

Another life - one where you hadn’t met Logan when you did. Hadn’t spent months cheering Wade on, those once barely-there flickers of interest fading to something solidly platonic some time ago.

Your head shakes, the words coming slowly, “It’s always been you, Vanessa. Everyone knows that.”

The corner of her lips lift. Fingernails tapping against the aluminum pan.

“I thought so, too.”

You frown, “Is that why didn’t you show? When he asked you over for dinner?”

Vanessa laughs then, rueful.

“The dinner.” Her eyes flick away, going back to a memory - a beat, before the snap to yours, “Yeah. I wanted to go. I uh, just split with Dermot. From work.”

You nod, remembering - overhearing the conversation at Wade’s birthday.

“He wanted me to move in. Said he saw a future with me, but when it came down to taking that step…” Her lips press together, the lift of a shoulder, “I’ve never seen myself with anyone else. Only him.”

Only Wade.

“But… then I saw you with him. The stories he posted. The two of you cooking, dressed up like a date.” It comes in a rush, “I thought, incorrectly, apparently-”

“He was cooking for you.” There’s a furrow in your brow, trying to piece together the way she saw it.

The sundress you wore for Logan. The captions that tipped towards lewd that you had tried to get him to delete - jokes about “getting lucky”, or the chicken not the only thing “being stuffed tonight”.

She nods, “I’m getting that now.”

“I think you still should have gone.” It’s starting to make sense, but you can’t help the reproach in your tone, ”He was devastated.”

The look she shoots you is defensive. Vanessa had always carried an intensity you lacked, and you take the full brunt of it now. Your fingers curl into fists for strength, not letting your gaze drop first. A beat, before she nods.

“I guess it’s just become easier to run.” Vanessa admits, “Defense mechanism. Get out first. Ironic, I know.”

You frown, not knowing, “Has that… has that happened before?”

“Which time?” Her laugh is close to a scoff, as she sighs.

Your eyes drop now, as you go back to your work. Back to measuring, tipping the spices into your mixer. The words coming slowly.

”He hasn’t told me a lot. Just a bit about last time. About…” You search for the words, feeling guilty. “About him not doing enough. That you wanted him to do something meaningful, and then the stuff with the Avengers, and…”

The words die, when you see her face.

Sorrow and anger, with the sharp shake of her head, “I never gave a damn about the Avengers. That was all Wade.”

A sigh, as she collects herself.

“I just wanted him to find his passion again. He changed… a few years ago. Something happened, a really close call. He fixed it, but he wasn’t the same after.”

A breath, before she adding, “He took it hard. Guilt, I think. All I really wanted was for him to talk to me. To let me help him, but he never let me in because he didn’t want me getting hurt again. He shut down, and stopped talking to me.”

The mixer hums. A beep of your timer, as the minutes tick down.

“You know Wade. Always has a joke ready. Never wants to get serious if he can help it. It’s stupid, but we... drifted.” Vanessa’s throat bobs as she swallows, “I was dealing with my own shit, and when he pushed me away, it reminded me of last time.”

She catches your expression again, as the dough tips out of the bowl. The furrow of your brow, as you swap it for a chilled portion in your fridge.

“It’s been a recurring theme,” It comes out blunt.

Her look turning considering, then, when the frown doesn't waver.

“Do you love Logan?”

The rolling pin slips in your grip. Pressing too hard, denting dough.

“I-,” You breathe. The question unexpected, leaving you wholly unprepared, even as your heart beats out the answer.

Her expression softens, “You care about him.”

You nod mutely.

“What would you do, if Logan just - disappeared? No trace of him, just gone in the night?”

Her question hangs. A physical ache in your chest at the mere thought, one that leaves you unable to breathe. Pieces starting to click together - little bits of what you know, forming some sort of photo.

“Is that what Wade did?”

She nods, “It was right after his cancer diagnosis. He was going through a lot, and just - left. For years. I thought… I thought he had died. I mourned him. It crushed me.”

You can’t help but reach across the table - hesitant, in the way you squeeze her arm.

She lets you, a look shot your way. Defending him, unable to help it.

“I get it, though. I get that it was a lot. I’ve forgiven him. But…” Her teeth pinch at her cheek, that guilt coming back, “When he started pulling away, I thought it was happening again. I couldn’t live through that again.”

You finish for her, “So you left first.”

She nods.

Silence lingers. Nails tapping on the countertop, fiddling with the silver rings on her fingers. The heat of the oven curling across your arms, as you swap one tray for another. Setting it aside to cool.

“You should go talk to him.” Your voice cracks through the quiet, when you turn - hands bracing against the counter.

Her eyebrows raise, “And say what?”

”Tell him what you told me. That you were just scared.” Your voice softens, “He invited you to his party because he still *wants* you in his life.”

She blinks, silent.

“I’ll help you,” You coax, “Logan’s already coming over tonight.”

Your eyes flick down to your phone, checking, ”Uh, really soon, actually. I’ll go next door with you, and bring Althea back with me. Give you two some time to catch up.”

Vanessa’s fingers cards through her hair - pushing back the long strands, the words coming slowly, “I don’t know…”

“Wade is crazy about you.” It comes out bluntly, and it’s this that pulls her attention.

You’re already swiping a container off the counter. Filling the bottom with sugar cookies baked this morning - cut into trees and mittens, decorated with buttercream and sprinkles.

The lid snaps on, as you hold it out to her.

“Trust me?”

Her eyes meet yours, and you can see the swirl of emotions across her face.

You smile and finally - she nods.

She follows a step behind, as you leave the apartment. The hallway chilly, the entrance bringing in a dusting of snow across the carpet, with the revolving holiday traffic.

The closing front door downstairs echoes with your own, as you head the next apartment over. Knuckles rapping against the wood, fingers mentally crossed.

A voice ringing out, muffled, “If you’re part of Rudolph and the Red-Hot Reindeers, you’re a day early-”

Opening to reveal Wade, dressed down in a shirt and sweatpants with his Deadpool logo patterned across them.

“Oh, hey Sugar.” He smiles, “What’s up?”

“Well,” You stall for a second, trying to figure out what exactly to say, “Is Althea home? Was wondering if she could help me with something.”

Wade chuckles.

“Fat fucking chance, she’s two episodes into the Golden Bachelor right now and she’s sure as hell not moving-” The words die out as Vanessa moves into view, the container in hand.

He goes silent, for the first time you can remember.

“I have the same streaming apps as you, I’m sure I can convince her.” Your shift - a hand touching at her shoulder, urging her forward, “And maybe you could do me a favor, too. Taste test these for tomorrow?”

For a moment, you think he doesn’t hear you. His eyes lingering on Vanessa, his face bleeding from surprise to confusion to hope, as he takes her in.

“Yeah.” He manages after a long moment - clearing his throat.

“Yeah. I’d love to.”

It doesn’t take much convincing, not with the way Al enjoys a cup of piping hot tea as much as you do - along with the promise she can watch her beloved show in peace. Almost giddy in the way she makes for the door, cane in hand and Dogpool tucked in the crook of her other arm.

The door just shutting behind you before she’s hissing, “What in God’s name was that?”

You shush her, eyes flicking back towards the apartment. Almost jumping out of your skin when it’s followed by another voice, this one pitched low.

“Seconded. Busy afternoon?”

Logan leans against the wall, Laura expression clear with the pull of her brows. Thirded.

“Something like that.” You herd them inside your apartment, before they can be overheard - not that Wade was listening, you’re sure.

The door is barely shut, before they’re rounding on you. Your own hands on your hips - a nod directing them towards the kitchen table, laden with bare gingerbread cookies.

Al tucked in the armchair, spun around the face the bustle of the kitchen, her show long forgotten.

“You’re stalling.” Laura points out bluntly, as you hand her the bag of icing.

Your tongue tucked against your teeth, as you shoot Logan a look. His eyebrows raised in response, eyes sliding over to the brick wall that separates your apartment from Wade.

“I’m not,” The word strings out, “It’s just, like, it’s not a big deal, right?”

She scoffs.

Althea’s cane taps the ground, “Something happened, and you’d better spill.”

“Alright,” Your fingers spread in front of you, “I ran into Vanessa at the store today. And we got to talking, and I invited her back here. I think she regrets what happened between them.”

There’s a snort of derision, and you can feel yourself starting to bristle.

“We all have our opinions, myself included-” You allow, as another noise interrupts you - lower and more gruff this time. You spin, shooting Logan another look.

“But I think she was genuine. I’ve certainly had my fair share of… miscommunications,” His expressions softens at your words, the corner of his lips curling as you shift to face Al.

“And I got some really good advice once from someone. Something about ‘talking about it’, and that’s what I encouraged her to do.”

“Hope you’re right,” Al sighs- but there’s a smile there, hidden in the way her lips press together, “That boy is more sensitive than my left tit in a snowstorm.”

“Jesus.” It’s muttered, at your shoulder. Logan’s head shaking as he joins Laura, the hint of a smirk as she works on piping a set of angry eyebrows.

Your eyes roll, “I am.”

Spinning back to face the table, as you grab your own bag of frosting.

“After all, it’s Christmas,” You can’t help but throw her way, from over your shoulder.

“And isn’t that the best time for a miracle?”

Logan’s arms wrap around you later, as you snap the last lid in place. Finally done with your last-minute idea - decorating each of the gingerbread to look like your friends.

Laura slipping out a few minutes ago, intent on staying until the end. Just as determined as Logan to see things through, even though you tried to get her to leave a few times - worried about the weather, the long drive back to the mansion.

The slight smile as her eyes rolled - with your affection towards her, you forget how impervious she is.

Althea long asleep in the couch, the quilt Logan’s borrowed so many nights before tucked around her. Ambient holiday music still pouring through the speaker, your attempt to drown out the enthusiastic reunion taking place next door.

Can’t bring yourself to mind. More relieved than anything.

And you deserve it, you suppose.

“You did a good thing.” It’s murmured into your hair, as you finally relax into him.

Arms curling beneath his, wrapping around his broad back to embrace him. You hum with contentment as his lips brush your temple.

“Don’t know if I can manage a miracle,” His lips curve when you lean back, eyes flicking up to meet his, “But if there anything else you might want for Christmas?”

Your teeth sink into your lip, as you grin.

The answer is easy, as your face tips towards his.

“Just want more time with you.”

Logan huffs, as his hand dips down. Cupping soft flesh, kneading - as he tugs you the rest of the way. A grin, just before his mouth presses against yours.

“Mm. Hope you don’t mind celebrating a little early, then.”

Red and green have exploded in the apartment next door - the flamingo lights that spill from the kitchen replaced with blinking bulbs. A tree that you’re truly unsure how it fit through the door, much less the narrow hallway, tucked in the corner.

You and Logan had helped decorate it earlier in the month - Wade directing from the couch, as the two of you and Althea arranged the ornaments. A ninja star zip-tied to the top, but with the lights turned low, and the swirl of snow coming down outside - it’s cozy.

It’s familiar - faces you’ve come to know well, known to love, fill the space. The cookies are a hit, sweet exclamations as they find the ones that represent them. Woolen and knitted sweaters, bodies tucked together on a hodgepodge of surfaces.

And perhaps, you do end up on Logan’s lap. His thighs spread wide in an armchair Wade found on the curb, out of place against the brick walls and industrial windows with its floral pattern.

Your eyes meeting Wade’s from across the living room, anticipating the tease.

But he only smiles back.

Something soft - an arm slung around Vanessa’s shoulder. The ‘white elephant in the room’, as he had cheekily alluded to it, addressed with a carefully placed piece of mistletoe.

Side-eyes and stunned silence easing into smiles, when you all saw the way they looked at each other.

And when he corners you to tell you thank you, you know the bone-crushing hug is not just for the handmade red-and-black beanie and scarf that you had gotten up early to finish for him.

The rest of your gifts don’t quite reach the same level, but you’re pleased all the same. Laura’s smile shy as she tries on the Docs you caught her eyeing, ankle twisting as her eyes dip down.

Logan’s arm tightening around your waist when you hand him the wrapped package. His eyes lingering on yours until the paper is loosened, a pleased hum when he sees the lined leather jacket you picked out for him.

“Your first winter with us in New York,” You smile, “Can’t have you catching cold.”

Something to keep in warm, when he tinkers on the bike stashed in the basement. To protect him, when he’s not in his suit. Better than that the faded fleece he’s lifted from Wade’s closet.

And even though you’d been fairly certain he’d given you your gift last night - and again this morning - there’s still a pretty card tucked into your palm. A piece of paper folded inside, next to sentiments that made heat rise to your cheeks.

A photo printed out - a cozy little cabin, the roof lined with snow. Framed with a thick ring of woods and surrounded by wilderness. The reservation dates and details marked out in the text below.

“A vacation?” You can’t remember the last time you’ve been away. Excitement surging at the thought of spending a week tucked away with your boyfriend, “For us?”

“Yeah, sweetheart.” Logan husks, “Found a nice little place up north. Just you and me.”

His fingers flex against your waist, his face tipping up to yours, “Would you like that?”

“I’d love that.” You smile.

You love him.

You’re certain of that - a name for that warm weight in your chest that’s been there for weeks. Since the beginning really, coming to a full flourish with the conversation the day before.

Maybe with the turn of the new year, you’ll pluck up enough courage to tell him.

For now, you beam at him. Pressing yourself close - entwining fingers that squeeze. Hoping he can read the soft look you give him, the words murmured out, in the little bubble you’ve found yourselves in.

“Merry Christmas, Logan.”

His thumb brushes your cheek, before he tugs you down to meet him.

“Merry Christmas, Sugar.”

after part iii, i could not leave our bff wade with a sad ending!!! 💖 for a little bit early on i toyed with the idea of making this series a poly one (before come on and show me) hence a couple little references throughout (and the reason to keep the breakup in the first place) (which I still have beef with in the movie, BUT I did my best). thank you for checking out this series, it might be one of my favorite things I’ve had the pleasure to work on and seeing the love on it has been so amazing 💕

[shut-up-rabert]

Since you used the hindublr tag for the reach, I hope you are rational about followers of the tag approaching your post.

Anyways, what you are saying is undeniably right. Thinking of Palestinian deaths as oppurtunity is low. Very low. The middle meme is hypocritical in that regard. Just because a death is happening outside of the sphere of shared identity does not mean it means any less. Hypocritical to the T, yes.

And yeah, I find that there is a lack of content regarding caste persecution on my blog itself, I never felt there was a lack of awareness content with respect to caste atrocities on tumblr so I am more on Hindublr side which has fewer representatives. Perhaps I will take those issues up too now on.

But do you see the Irony of yourself? How are you doing any different whatsoever? What's your point in dragging the "All Eyes on Hindus in Pakistan" poster? How is it any less valid than the one about Rafah?

Because thousands being kidnapped, killed, handed over to 40 year Olds as slave wives in their teens per year just because of their religion is any less horrific?

If your cause is "But they did it in spite of the Rafah poster", then that's extremely bull. Just because they took the same slogan, or even if someone made it because they wanted Indians to focus on this does not take away the fact that it's true.

Heck, a Pakistani cricketer can see our cause when he tags "All Eyes on Vaishno Devi" along with the Rafah one, but humare desh ke budhhijivi?

"You cannot be oppressed because you are upper class."

Tell me, do you hear yourself?

Do you think every Hindu who perished in Kashmir was asked his identity before being shot?

Do you think the rioters kept a list of names for verifying surnames of passengers before setting the coaches of Sabarmati express on fire?

Do you think Bangladeshi Hindus were asked their caste before they were violated and killed in Bangladesh over and over again? Up until this very year and counting?

Do you think Castes were seen in Nuh? In Pakistan?

Do you think Anti CAA rioters were looking at house nameplates for castes before setting the people inside ablaze? Hell, do you think Pro CAA rioters were checking whether the Muslim before them was a Syed or a Borah before killing them? If not, how come the persecution accompanied by being a Hindu is restricted to lower castes?

And yes, these things have been happening since before 2014. Does raising voice for them ever since BJP came in power make them any less real or horrifying?

I find this so fittingly ironic that a person denying hindu persecution and mad that someone dared take the topic up is the one is talking about how raising the issue is not because we are actually concerned about it but for "dragging others down".

Even when we are speaking about ourselves and our identity, you guys have to make it about other people.

But, what can I say? This is a person tagging Israel for the bloodbath in Palestine, which is true and justified in its own regard, but does not demonize Hamas which is just as responsible in keeping its people trapped where the attacks can get them so that crying foul becomes easier. Of course victimisation based on identity is a thing for you

All right. I'm snapping.

To everyone who's saying shit like this, read the post below.

ONE DAY. JUST FOR ONCE. THINK BEYOND YOURSELF.

TO ALL THOSE CRYING ABOUT HINDUPHOBIA RIGHT NOW, ABOUT HOW NO ONE SPEAKS UP FOR YOU, THINK ABOUT WHERE YOU WERE WHEN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA WANTED TO HAVE A PATENT ON TURMERIC. THINK ABOUT WHERE YOU WERE WHEN SOMETHING LIKE YOGA WAS FETISHIZED COMMERCIALIZED AND SOLD TO FOREIGNERS BY OUR OWN PEOPLE. THINK ABOUT WHERE YOU WERE WHEN ISRAEL INSULTED HINDUS BY CALLING YOU "idolaters" and "cow piss drinkers"

Thik hai.

Woh to Chhodo.

Where were you ten years ago?

Did you even talk about this before 2014, or like. Did something happen after that? Like. Are you getting what I'm saying here?

Thik hai.

Woh BHI chhodo.

The hindus who are truly oppressed today are the ones who aren't from a dominant caste. Are you really speaking up for the oppressed castes, working to end casteism in society? Or do you close your eyes to that?

Thik hai.

woh jara side mein rakhte hai.

Ask yourself, do you really care about hindus, or do you just want to drag others down and drag attention away from this issue? Do you really feel that hindus are oppressed, or do you just want attention? Oh you poor baby.

Arre bhai, sawaal jara kathin tha kya?

Thik hai.

Woh bhi chhodo.

DO YOU NOT HAVE AN OUNCE OF HUMANITY IN YOU? IMAGINE IF your loved one died, but you had to film them to make the world even think about you as humans. Imagine that the world is putting on a show to make everyone forget about you. And if someone told you that you had a chance to fight back, wouldn't you?

I'm sure y'all understand, since you are also "victims of a genocide" according to you, right? RIGHT??

Think before you post. "Why am I doing this?

[touchlikethesun]

TW: sa. Hi! I hope it's okay to talk about it but about your tags in that post about SVSSS and SA being a recurring theme, I agree with a lot of it. I would say that even Bingge can be argued to be have some trauma since his first time was coerced. Someone pointed out Bingge could've become hypersexual as a result of that trauma and that it made me see the whole harem thing in a new light (but it doesn't make him innocent since he forced himself on a bunch of wives). It really is such a recurring theme it's hinted for Shen Jiu and for Su Xiyan and Binghe with the Old Palace Master. Su Xiyan's story is even the catalyst for Binghe's tragic backstory... You made a very good observation OP!

hey anon, yeah it's alright to talk about! i do appreciate you including a tw, but this is a topic i find really interesting, i actually opened my laptop back up to answer you lol

as for luo bingge, i didn't get into it in my tags bc… lowkey didn't expect ppl to read them lol (ty for doing so tho xx) and also he's quite a complicated case. we obviously can't say for certain since we see so little of him and what we do know is told to us thru multiple layers of unreliable narration, but i do think there is enough to suggest many of luo bingge's early sexual experiences were probably coerced or non-consensual, leading to trauma-induced hypersexual behavior. (edit: i am adding this parenthetical a few hours later after writing the rest of this and i didn't know how to fit it in otherwise so apologies, but i think it's worth pointing out that luo binghe - both bingmei and bingge, so i think we can consider it to be a core trait - do naturally have a much higher libido than most people. with bingmei we see how this causes issues for him in his relationship with shen qingqiu, but it's managed with kindness because sqq loves him and is patient enough to teach him boundaries and managed by binghe himself who loves and doesn't want to hurt sqq and who has been taught consent and respect from a younger age. when it comes to bingge, who lacks the sort of safe space provided by sqq and has no education in the matter, i think it's easy to see how he would have a much harder time understanding and managing his libido - again it isn't an excuse for SA, but this is just another convention of the genre that were it to be realised has horrible implications and consequences.)

but also, luo bingge lives in a world where healthy consensual sexual dynamics are so rarely modeled for him (the aforementioned coercive sex, but also constantly being gifted wives by other men, and the normalisation of rape in a world with sex pollen (sorry ik i already said that but like really it is so incredibly fucked up if you think about the implications of sex pollen in a real world)), and where he is being taught that the only way to be safe is to have physical power over others - of course we the reader know this is because it's being written as a venting male fantasy revenge story with a target audience of incels, but concretely this is bad for luo bingge's psyche, and you know, also leads him to do horrible things in retaliation and hurt and innombrable amount of people

and again, i don't know how much of this was really intentional on mxtx's part and how much i am reading into it, but svsss is about making one-dimensional smut novel characters into fully realised people and extrapolating out the implications for what it would mean for that world to be a real one. like, shanq qinghua and especially shen qingqiu have to learn that the people they live with are not as simple as they might have appeared on the screen of the webnovel. and part of the extrapolating, from my read of svsss, involves interrogating the ways characters have and have had their agency infringed upon in the original pidw and finding ways to return their agency to them in svsss. this is perhaps most clearly seen in the way all the "wife" characters in svsss are allowed to be their own people separate from binghe, with different passions and drives and again, agency to direct their own lives, contrary to sqq's expectations of them. however this also involves bringing to light just how pervasive and damaging the sexual violence in the original story really is, by showing the abuse that su xiyan suffered, by showing how binghe is negatively affected by xin mo and the other coercive elements of this world, by subverting expectations with shen jiu and showing how he was also a victim, and by making the only truly irredeemably evil character the old palace master, a disgusting old pervert and sexual harasser.

anyways yeah i think it's a really interesting aspect of svsss, and while i can understand why it might not be at the forefront of everyone's mind (good lord is it a BUMMER to think about), it would be a disservice to the narrative to forget it entirely.

[saryasy]

tagged by @butchdiaz for a 2024 fic roundup but I'm copying them and adding my edits in there too 🥰 this is the most I've written in a year (and by a huge margin) by virtue of me writing my longest two fics ever back to back. so hopefully next year goes similarly because I already miss writing 😭😭

May:

sounds like forever (5k)

No, he doesn't remember falling. He just remembers looking at his best friend one evening, cooping up a sleeping Christopher into his arms, murmuring ‘I got this’ to a half-asleep Eddie who'd made to carry his own son instead. He'd watched as Buck walked quiet but confident steps to Christopher's room, depositing him in bed with a whispered ‘goodnight’, and thought, in his sleepy haze, I love him.

my very first buddie fic!! wrote it a few days after finishing the show for the first time. was still finding the characters voices but it'll always be special to me

August:

Season of Hope (After the Flood) (58k)

Eddie's summer of missing his son, unrepressing more than just his sexuality, and realizing that somewhere along the way he's fallen in love with his best friend and forgot to fall out of it.

And maybe that's okay.

I genuinely still can't believe this fic exists. and the fact that it does is all thanks to @livingincolorsagain. my longest fic ever yet I wrote it relatively quickly. and I still think back on the writing process fondly. getting to figure out where the story's headed. the chapter titles. all the lovely feedback. it was such a lovely journey even the parts where it fought me lol

September:

slow motion, double vision in rose blush (20k)

Eddie has kissed a man.

Eddie Diaz. His friend. His Eddie. Has kissed a man.

Which is strange because Buck is sure as hell he'd remember kissing Eddie. OR Buck is very normal about his platonic friend's kissing habits.

this one was literally a haze. I had an idea for them watching their first kiss through the screen and absolutely ran with it. I think that one scene in there is 12k on its own which is kinda insane. also only realized after posting that's it's my first published E rated fic

November:

merry christmas please don't call

MY VERY FIRST EDIT. my baby. I'd been thinking about getting into editing for a bit back then. but was way too intimidated to take the first step. then I heard this song on tiktok and was possessed by the ghost of shannon. and here we are

my heart is buried in venice

I still don't know how I made this one in such a short period of time. but also not complaining. loved putting the opening montage together so much

futile devices

I do. love you. yeah

December:

drawn to the blood

okay this is the first idea for an edit I ever had! idk how close I got to what I had in mind. plus it gave me hell. but it's out there now so!

What do you do about a haunted house.. (600)

a little tumblr ficlet I wrote half asleep because I was so happy I finally felt like writing again I couldn't let it slip through my fingers and risk forgetting it in the morning

so you are tired

my last edit of the year!!!! wasn't gonna post it but a told me to lol. initially it was more buddie focused. but the song is so buck I had to make some adjustments. absolutely loved cutting the song as I please lol

not to get too sappy at the end here but getting into this fandom and getting back into creating and getting to create new things and making new friends has been so so fun. thank you so much to everyone who's read and watched and said a nice thing in the tags and comments 💕💕💕💕💕

no pressure tagging @livingincolorsagain @sibylsleaves @buick118 @userbuddie @confessionseddie @chronicowboy

[mikuluvu]

A/n: WKWKWKKW, HERES ANOTHER CURLY X READER. I LUV HIM SM. Cuz what if you and him had a daughter? And literally took her into the tulpar?

Curly x fem!Reader

Warnings: none, just its bitsy angst on the end.

“Careful, sweetie,” Curly said, crouching next to her as she lined up her magnetic building blocks on the floor. “You’re gonna trip me on my way to work.”

Your five-year-old giggled, clutching one of the blocks to her chest. “Sorry, Daddy! I’m making a house.”

Curly grinned, his warm brown eyes sparkling with affection. “Well, it’s a very nice house. Just keep it out of the hallway, okay?”

Bringing your daughter aboard the Tulpar had been a controversial decision, one that had sparked more than a few arguments among the crew.

“You really think it’s a good idea?” Marcus, who's one of the guards, (before going on to the ship( had asked when you first brought it up. “Space isn’t exactly kid-friendly.”

“She’s not just any kid,” you had argued. “She’s our kid. Curly and I know how to keep her safe, and honestly, the Tulpar is better than leaving her behind on Earth. At least here, we know what’s happening around her.”

Life on the Tulpar might not have been perfect, but it was safer, more stable.

Initially, the crew had been skeptical. Anya had to say something about it. “What if something goes wrong? How are we supposed to focus on our jobs if we’re constantly worried about a kid running around?”

But over time, your daughter’s presence softened even the most hardened crewmates (Jimmy Lol)

Jimmy... Didn't really enjoy the company of his best friends daughter, his basically an uncle now... But when he got called 'uncle'... A small smile would appear on his face.

Daisuke, ever the gentle soul, quickly became her favorite babysitter. He had a knack for making paper cranes out of old reports, which never failed to make her squeal with delight. He would let him play on his gameboy really. Would play tag w/ your daughter.

“I think she likes me more than you two,” he joked one evening.

“She just likes that you’re a pushover,” you teased, though you appreciated his help.

Anya would teach her how to do some simple first aid.

“She’s got a good eye for detail,” Anya admitted one day, ruffling your daughter’s hair. “Might make a decent nurse one day.”

You and Curly alternated shifts, ensuring one of you was always with your daughter.

Swansea would go instantly soft, cuz your daughter reminds him his own children! Maybe 2nd best being a babysitter, he keeps warning your daughter to not get any closer to the utility room... And your daughter would ask: "why not?" "Because i said so"

One day, during a quiet moment in the cockpit, your daughter climbed onto Curly’s lap, staring out at the stars.

“Daddy, why are the stars so far away?” she asked, her tiny voice filled with wonder.

Curly wrapped his arms around her, resting his chin on her head. “Because that’s just how space works. But you know what? Even if they’re far away, they’re still beautiful. Just like you.”

You couldn’t help but smile at the sight.

That night, as you tucked your daughter into bed, Curly leaned against the doorframe, watching with a soft smile.

“Do you think we made the right choice?” he asked quietly once she was asleep.

You stood and crossed the room to him, slipping your arms around his waist. “Bringing her here was the best decision we could’ve made. She’s safe, she’s happy, and she’s growing up surrounded by people who care about her. What more could we ask for?”

Curly kissed your forehead, his embrace warm and comforting. “I just want her to have the best life we can give her. Even if it’s a little unconventional.”

You smiled up at him. “She’s got us. That’s all she needs.”

All she needs...? Yeah... Isolating her from the world is that it? Maybe... It wasnt a great idea...

A/n: WOOHOO! Daisuke would be the best babysitter for your child. I just know it really :) Please support me through ko-fi

[httpsnali]

WEALTHY CHARADE

CHAPTER TEN: Tensions Pt.1

✬ Pairing: Park Sunghoon x Female Reader

✬ Genre: strangers to lovers!AU, angst!romance

✬ Synopsis: Forced into a union that promises more complications than peace, you must confront the ghosts of the past and decide if you will bend under the weight of family duty or carve out your own path.

✬ C/W: sensitive language, implications of drug abuse, mentions of death, psychological trauma, toxic family, suggestive themes (lmk if i missed anything)

✬ A/N: this is a work of fiction. none of the descriptions of the characters are an actual representation of them in real life. if you wanna be tagged reply or send me a dm...i love reading your comments and interacting with you guys so reblogs, likes and feedback are highly appreciated! xx

✬ W/C: 7.8k

You sat cross-legged on your bed, phone in hand as you scrolled through yet another sting of nasty comments about yourself. Each swipe reveled a fresh wave of vitriol: accusations, rumors and lies. You sighed, your thumb pausing over one particularly disgusting claim about you having an abortion—something you had seen countless times in the past week. Your stomach churned with frustration, but you were too exhausted to react. Your image obsessed mother had given the go to have the articles released claiming that it was going to be good publicity. ‘They won’t be able to twist the story if we release it ourselves, we have more control this way,’ she had said. Rolling your eyes, you tossed your phone onto the mattress beside you.

“Seems pretty twisted to me,” you mumble, stirring the attention of your best friend Aeri.

“I wish you’d get off your phone,” her voice broke thorough the silence. She was perched at your desk chair, carefully applying mascara. “It’s not doing you any good.”

“I know,” you muttered, throwing yourself back against the pillows. “But it’s hard to ignore when people are out here acting like they know my entire life story.”

Aeri glanced over, her brow furrowed with concern. “You don’t have to fight every battle, Y/n. People will say whatever they want to say. Let them talk. Just don’t let it get to you.”

You groaned dramatically, throwing an arm over your eyes. “Do you know they’re saying that Yun’s the father of my imaginary child now?”

Your best friend snorted, but her tone was sharp. “I heard. Jake is absolutely livid about it. If he weren’t so busy with his dad’s campaign, he’d be suing everyone with a Twitter account.”

That earned a small chuckle from you, but it quickly faded. You let your arm drop and stared at the ceiling, voice turning solemn. “How do you think Seungho would have reacted to all of this? The engagement, the charade…everything.”

Aeri’s hand paused mid-application. She turned to you, her gaze softening. “You know he wouldn’t have let it get this far. He would have stopped it before it even started.”

You chuckled lightly, a bittersweet smile tugging at your lips. Your brother, you always believed, was the braver one. You assumed it was tied to his role as the firstborn, a role he played exceptionally well—always coming to your aid when you needed him and defending you during arguments with your parents. In many ways, he was your rock, someone you trusted with your life. You swallowed hard, trying to clear the familiar lump in your throat that always formed whenever you thought or spoke about him. “Yeah, that sounds like him.”

Aeri’s tone softened further. “But I think he’d be proud of you, too. For the way you’re handling all this.”

Your smile faltered. You hoped Aeri was right. There had been so many moments when you felt like you were on the verge of losing it completely. But something kept you hanging on—a stubborn determination, or maybe just the unwavering support of your friends. You didn’t know which. What you did know was how much you hated depending on them so heavily, even though they had assured you time and time again that you weren’t a burden.

You glanced at the bedside clock. The time made your stomach flip. Downstairs, guests were beginning to arrive. The caterers and staff were moving in a flurry, making last-minute adjustments for tonight’s engagement dinner party. The thought of it all—the scrutiny of judgmental eyes, the web of lies you had to maintain, and the overwhelming pressure to perform flawlessly—made you feel like throwing up.

Aeri, ever perceptive, nudged you gently. “Come on, stinky. Time to start getting ready. Your mom’s going to freak if you’re even a minute late.”

Before you could protest, she tugged you up by the arm and practically shoved you into the ensuite bathroom.

“I’m going, I’m going,” you grumbled, shutting the door behind you.

After a quick shower, you emerged feeling marginally refreshed. Aeri was busy unpacking your dresses for the evening, humming to herself. You slipped into your silk robe and settled at your vanity to start on your makeup, trying to force yourself to be present in the moment. It reminded you of the nights you used to spend getting ready together in high school and college, prepping for parties or nights out. The nostalgia was comforting, even if the circumstances weren’t.

Aeri’s phone pinged with a notification. “Is that Yun?” you ask, glancing at her through the mirror. She hums in confirmation. “He says he’s on his way… His dad’s coming too. He hates that he’ll have to stay sober all night.” She scoffs, and you chuckle softly.

You and Jake’s family had always been close. In fact, the two of you first met in the hospital just after you were born—only two hours apart. Your parents were hardworking individuals who barely had time for their kids, so regular playdates became the norm to keep you both entertained. It also helped that you lived less than 20 minutes apart.

Growing up, you shared joint birthday parties, endless sleepovers, and countless milestones. Jake was, in many ways, like your twin brother. You had seen each other at your best and worst. You watched his father rise through the ranks, from prosecutor general to minister, to prime minister, and now, possibly, the presidency.

Despite their busy schedules, Jake’s parents had always been generous with their love for him. His mom, especially, extended that affection to you, filling in the gaps where your own parents fell short. She loved to tease you both, often jokingly calling you her future daughter-in-law.

The thought left a sinking sadness in your gut. You knew she must have been surprised—or even a little disappointed—when she heard the news of your engagement to someone else. You weren’t blind to how people loved to ship you and Jake. At first, it had been irritating to constantly correct them, to remind everyone that you were just friends. Over time, you stopped paying attention and simply ignored the comments. The two of you were just friends, and you loved how Jake understood that, keeping things natural and free of awkwardness.

“Tell him he can sneak up to my room for a few shots later, after everyone’s too drunk to notice,” you say with a grin. “I’ll leave a bottle under my pillow.”

Aeri respond by shooting him a quick text.

“What’s so funny?” you ask, catching the sound of her quiet snicker.

She grinned, “I was just wondering if you’ve spoken to Sunghoon since, you know, since you’re supposed to be all over each other tonight.”

You rolled your eyes, “I haven’t spoken to him since he explained the whole plan to me. Why?”

Aeri shrugged, her expression amused. “It’s just... bizarre, don’t you think? Here’s this guy you barely know, and now you’re tied to him. You’re supposed to love him—or at least act like you do.” She paused, then tilted her head. “What do you think about him?”

You sighed, turning your attention back to your reflection. “I think he’s professional. Responsible. I trust him to play his part.”

Aeri raised a brow. “And?”

“And nothing,” you replied firmly. “This is a contract. If feelings were involved, it would complicate everything. I wouldn’t have agreed to it in the first place.”

She smiled knowingly but said nothing. You noticed the look but decided to let it go, focusing instead on the finishing touches of your makeup.

A sudden knock at the door interrupted you. A maid entered, bowing politely. “Miss Y/n, Mr. Sunghoon Park is requesting your presence for a moment.”

Aeri muttered under her breath, “Speak of the devil.”

You arched a brow and frowned. “Tell him I’m not ready yet. I’ll see him when the party starts.”

The maid hesitated. “He said it’s urgent and promises not to take up much of your time.”

You exchanged a glance with Aeri, who shrugged. With a sigh, you stood and tightened the sash of your robe. “Fine. Lead the way.”

The maid guided you down the hall to a quiet room on the same floor, away from the commotion of the party preparations. Sunghoon stood near the window, hands clasped behind his back, looking every bit the composed businessman. But there was a tension in his posture, a tightness to his jaw that hadn’t been there before.

“You wanted to see me?” you asked, closing the door behind you.

He turned away from the window as he heard the soft click of the door, his eyes immediately landing on you. You froze under his gaze, your breath catching when his eyes raked over your figure. You cursed herself internally for wearing the flimsy silk robe that barely did anything to cover you. Hugging yourself in embarrassment, you became painfully aware of how thin the fabric was and how chilly the room suddenly felt—or maybe that shiver down your spine was from the way Sunghoon hadn’t blinked once, openly studying you.

Clearing your throat, you tried to break the tension. “You wanted to see me? I still have to get ready.”

Sunghoon blinked rapidly, seeming to snap out of his trance. He cleared his throat, his voice low. “Forgive me. I wasn’t trying to…”

“You don’t need to apologize,” you cut him off quickly, your cheeks burning.

He shifted awkwardly, gathering his composure. What the hell is wrong with me? he thought. The exhaustion of the past week must have been catching up to him because he couldn’t understand why he was thrown off balance by the sight of you. Yet he let his gaze linger too long on the curve of your waist, your slender legs, and bare neck, which looked almost too inviting—as though it was begging for something to adorn it. A necklace. His hand. Bite marks…

He gritted his teeth and forced himself to stop. He was being inappropriate. With a deep breath, he focused on why he’d asked to meet you.

“I won’t take much of your time,” he said, taking a hesitant step closer. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small, dainty leather box, extending it toward you. “For you.”

You arched a brow, your curiosity piqued as you took the box. Flipping it open, your jaw dropped. Inside was an exquisite square-cut diamond engagement ring with rounded edges and a diamond-encrusted band. You stared at it for a moment, then looked up at Sunghoon, who stood there with his lips pressed into a thin line, clearly trying to avoid your gaze.

“How… why…” you stammered before correcting yourself. “I mean, I know why, but… why?” You gestured at the ring.

“It’ll help with the ruse,” he said simply.

You blinked, unsure how to respond. “I don’t… I don’t know what to say. I’m not even sure if I can accept this.”

The man stepped even closer, his expression softening as he reached for the box. “May I?”

When you nodded, he carefully removed the ring and gently reached for your left hand. His touch was firm but warm as he slid the ring onto your finger. It fit perfectly.

“It fits,” you murmured, more to yourself than to him.

He hummed in agreement. Standing so close, you couldn’t help but notice the subtle details of his face: the dark circles under his eyes, the faint crease in his brow. He looked exhausted, and for a fleeting moment, you felt a pang of concern. He probably hasn’t been sleeping much since this whole thing started, you thought. You clenched your free hand into a fist, stopping yourself from reaching up to touch his cheek.

“What would you have done if it didn’t fit?” you opted for lightening the mood instead.

“I’d have had it resized,” he replied casually. “Or I’d buy a new one.” his tone so nonchalant that it caught you off guard.

“It’s beautiful,” you say, stretching out your hand to get a better look.

He felt a twinge of satisfaction as he took in your impressed reaction. You seemed like you were doing okay, at least on the surface. His thoughts drifted back to Jay’s suggestion to check up on you after the wave of nasty comments about you online. If he were honest, he had considered it, but the terms of your agreement made him hesitate.

Contrary to what Jungwon believed, Sunghoon hadn’t gone home to rest after clocking out early that day. Instead, he had spent hours combing through online comments, reading old stories about you and your family, and even trying to find you on social media—only to discover that your accounts were private. You guarded your personal life closely now, though it hadn’t always been that way. From what he gathered, you had once been quite active on social media, a rising influencer of sorts, until three years ago when you suddenly disappeared.

He hadn’t found anything conclusive about why you left. There was no proof to support the rumors about your relationships with multiple men or alleged drug abuse. Jungwon had already confirmed that those were nothing more than baseless accusations. Still, there was one lingering mystery that even Jungwon hadn’t been able to find information about: the boy in the picture.

Sunghoon’s thoughts were interrupted when you blinked and pouted, noticing his quizzical gaze. The subtle action caught his attention, drawing his eyes to your lips before he quickly refocused.

“Are you okay?” he asked suddenly, his tone soft but curious.

You looked confused, prompting him to elaborate. “I mean, about tonight. Are you nervous?”

You smiled appreciatively. “This isn’t my first time being the center of attention in front of people,” she admitted. “But if I’m honest, I haven’t been around this many people in a while, so… yeah, I guess I’m a little nervous.”

Sunghoon was tempted to press further, a little curious, but he decided against it. Instead, he opted for reassurance. “Don’t worry too much,” he said with a small smile. “Just follow my lead.”

His calm demeanor had a way of putting you at ease, but it also left you conflicted. There was an air of confidence around him that made you want to trust him, yet Jake’s words of caution echoed in your mind. How much did you really know about him? Other than the fact that he was a workaholic?

Realizing how close you two had been standing, you stepped back, wrapping your arms around yourself again. “Why are you doing this?” you asked, her tone serious.

Sunghoon tilted his head, confusion flickering across his face. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, why are you going along with all of this? It’s obvious that I need you more than you need me. So why are you being so…open-minded about it?”

He watched as you began to pace, your words spilling out faster now. “You came up with this plan—this ingenious plan—which you didn’t have to, by the way. And it feels like I’m the one gaining more than I’m giving.”

Sunghoon’s lips curled into a small smirk as he asked, “Would you rather I demand you give me something?”

The suggestive tone caught you off guard, and your face flushed deep pink. “Th...that’s not what I meant,” you stammered, flustered.

Amused by your reaction, he took a deliberate step toward you. Your breath hitched as he leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “And what would you have to offer me?”

You swallowed hard, placing your hands on his chest to push him away, but he caught your left hand instead. His eyes dropped to the ring now sitting snugly on her finger.

“I have no ulterior motive,” he said, his tone more serious now. “If that’s what you’re worried about.” He paused, his gaze flicking back to your face. “But who’s to say I won’t change my mind later? Three years is a long time. A lot can happen.”

He let your hand fall gently back to your side before stepping away. Sunghoon’s eyes lingered briefly on your exposed neck before he turned to leave. “I’ll see you downstairs,” he said over his shoulder, his voice even.

You stood there for a moment, dazed and confused. You let out a shaky breath, running a hand through your hair as you tried to process what the hell had just happened. What did he mean by that? she wondered. You thought back to the way he’d looked at you, like he… wanted you. No, that’s ridiculous. You shook your head, trying to push the thought away.

It’s just the circumstances, you told yourself. We’re alone in a closed room, we’re both young, and I’m dressed like this. That’s all it is. You groaned, frustrated with yourself. “I mean, what could I possibly even have to give him?” you muttered under your breath. The thought of him wanting something more from you—whatever it was—made your stomach churn. No way. Tensions are just high. That’s all.

Determined to shake off your ruffled state, you rushed back to your room. You leaned against the closed door, exhaling deeply. Aeri, now fully dressed, turned to you with a concerned look.

“What happened? You look like you’ve seen a ghost. And you need to hurry up; we have, like, five minutes.”

Without a word, you slipped out of your robe and into your gown, Aeri helping you with the zipper. As you adjusted the fabric, Aeri grabbed your hand, her eyes widening at the sight of the ring.

“Holy shit! What the hell, Sunghoon? That’s one huge rock! And for a marriage that’s not even real?”

“It is real,” you corrected, “in every way except personally. There will be a contract, and I’ll have to take his last name too.”

Aeri grinned knowingly. “Mrs. Y/n Park, huh? That’s hot. He’s hot for giving you this ring.”

You shot her a stern look, but Aeri didn’t bother hiding her growing smile. She stopped teasing but hummed softly.

As you slipped on your heels, there was a knock at the door. Your mother entered, her expression as stern as ever.

“Good, you’re ready,” she said curtly before spinning on her heel wordlessly beckoning you to follow her.

You exchanged a glance with Aeri whose expression had turned sour. You gathered your composure and stepped out into the hallway.

~~~~~

You descended the grand staircase with her mother and Aeri in tow, your gown flowing elegantly with each step.

At the base of the stairs, Sunghoon was engaged in conversation with Jungwon. However, the moment he looked up and saw you, his words faltered. His jaw went slack, his eyes following your every movement as if entranced. Jungwon noticed Sunghoon’s sudden silence and turned to see what had caught his cousin’s attention. A soft smile tugged at his lips as he saw you.

“You’re staring,” Jungwon whispered, clearing his throat to snap Sunghoon out of his trance.

But Sunghoon didn’t respond. He remained frozen, standing there like an idiot when he should’ve been at your side, playing the part of the doting fiancé. The room’s attention shifted toward the staircase, and the low hum of chatter softened as heads turned to admire you. Your father stood near the bottom, his face beaming with pride as if presenting his daughter to the world. A mixture of sadness and betrayal swelling within you, and your heart clenched. You quickly redirected your focus to Sunghoon, locking eyes with him. Your heart skipped a beat, the memory of your earlier interaction upstairs still fresh in your mind. You silently prayed your face wouldn’t betray your emotions. But perhaps a hint of bashfulness would even add to the act.

Jungwon nudged Sunghoon in the ribs, breaking the spell. “Move. She’s waiting for you,” he muttered.

Sunghoon blinked rapidly, composing himself before stepping forward to meet you at the base of the stairs. He offered his arm, and you took it with a bright smile, your fingers gently curling around him. Your gazes locked briefly, a calculated moment of affection for the audience. Together, you turned to face the crowd. Your grip on his arm tightened, both for support and to play the part of the loving fiancée.

Your father’s boisterous voice broke through the quiet. “Ladies and gentlemen, may I present my daughter and her fiancé, Mr. Park Sunghoon!” The announcement was met with applause and murmurs of admiration. You forced yourself to smile through it all, even as the weight of the lies pressed heavily on your chest.

You and Sunghoon moved through the crowd together, greeting guests and responding to endless comments. “What a stunning couple!” “Your gown is simply exquisite!” “Such a handsome man you’ve got!” “When’s the wedding?” “Your children will be gorgeous!” The compliments felt unending.

Once again, Sunghoon proved himself to be reliable, seamlessly taking the lead and answering most of the questions. You couldn’t help but admire him. His ability to craft convincing explanations and weave believable stories about the two of you on the spot made you feel an odd rush of heat. He sold the narrative of your families being close for years, leading to a natural blossoming of feelings that eventually grew into mutual love. Your heart skipped a beat every time he delivered that line, locking eyes with you like he truly meant it. If the circumstances had been different, you might have believed he actually harbored some affection for you.

Smiling brightly, you maneuvered through the crowd of at least 400 guests. The backyard gardens had been transformed into an elegant hosting area, with tables scattered across the lawn. Caterers and waitstaff weaved between guests, refilling flutes of champagne and offering hors d’oeuvres. A string quartet played softly in the background, their music blending with the hum of chatter and laughter.

Spotting your father in the crowd, you noticed him beckoning you and Sunghoon over to greet the Sim family. Mr. Sim, the prime minister, was undoubtedly the most important guest tonight. While the engagement was technically about you and Sunghoon, you knew many attendees were far more interested in the prime minister’s presence. The whole charade felt absurd, and the weight of the lie left a nauseous pit in your stomach.

You waited as Sunghoon shook hands with Mr. and Mrs. Sim. Jake’s mom surprised you by pulling you into a tight hug. She whispered how happy she was for you, adding that you were always welcome in their home and should never hesitate to reach out if you needed anything. You swallowed hard, fighting the lump rising in your throat and blinking away the moisture threatening to form in your eyes. She had always been like a foster mom to you, filling the emotional gaps left by your own mother.

Mr. Sim offered his congratulations and reminisced about your childhood, recalling a particular incident with chocolate cake. The group erupted into laughter, except for Sunghoon, who looked slightly out of place. Jake, standing beside his father, flushed red and groaned, “Dad, can you not?” Mr. Sim only laughed, clearly enjoying his son’s embarrassment. You couldn’t resist chiming in, mentioning that you still had the picture from that day.

Jake’s eyes widened, and he turned to you with mock horror. “Yah! I thought I told you to get rid of that!” The laughter continued, the group agreeing that such memories were worth keeping. Sunghoon stood beside you, smiling politely, occasionally adding a comment but clearly an outsider to the dynamic.

As the Sim family moved on to mingle with other guests, Jake gave you a subtle nod, silently asking if you were okay. You nodded back reassuringly, and he left with his parents. Sunghoon adjusted his tie and cleared his throat, breaking the brief silence. “I didn’t know you were so close with the prime minister’s family,” he remarked.

You explained that you and Jake had grown up together, that he was your best friend and so naturally, your families became close. Sunghoon nodded, but a flicker of doubt crossed his face. “Just a friend?” he asked carefully.

“Yes,” you assured him, “just a friend. You don’t have to worry about that.”

“Why would I worry?” he replied coolly. “Our relationship isn’t personal, so you’re free to be with whoever you want.”

The reminder of your arrangement stung, but you nodded in agreement. The two of you stood there awkwardly, smiling at guests who passed by, until Sunghoon broke the silence again. “What was that ‘chocolate cake incident’ about?”

You raised an eyebrow, and he elaborated. “If we’re selling this story about being in love, it makes sense for me to know some details about your life—like that, for example.”

Realizing he had a point, you decided to share. You explained how, at your joint fourth birthday party with Jake, you had eaten far too much chocolate cake and ended up throwing up all over yourself. Seeing you in distress, Jake started crying—and then promptly threw up on himself too. Your mothers had to put both of you in the same bathtub to clean up. “I still have the picture of us in the bath,” you admitted with a laugh. “Jake’s crying his eyes out while I’m grinning at the camera.”

Sunghoon chuckled, noticing the fondness in your tone. “Does that mean you have trauma around chocolate cake?” he teased.

You shook your head. “Not at all. I actually love chocolate—chocolate ice cream especially, which, by the way, is controversial to some people. Jake, on the other hand, can’t even stand the sight of chocolate. It’s like he breaks out in hives just looking at it.”

Sunghoon watched you speak animatedly, and smiled at how open you were being with him. When you caught yourself rambling, you apologized, but he grinned. “It’s fine. You’re allowed to do that.”

That odd rush of heat returned, and you quickly looked away. By the time you had made your way around the entire party, your face ached from smiling, your feet throbbed from walking, and your heart felt heavy from the relentless lies. Sunghoon noticed your tightening grip on his arm and glanced down at you. You were leaning into him slightly, your steps faltering. Without hesitation, he wrapped an arm around your waist and guided you to your designated table.

“You okay?” he asked quietly as he helped you into your seat.

You let out an embarrassed sigh, trying to mask your exhaustion. “I’ve had enough already,” you admitted, your voice low.

Sunghoon nodded, his expression understanding. “I’ll get you some water,” he said, stepping away towards the refreshments.

You slumped slightly in your chair, resting your elbows on the table and rubbing your temples. You barely knew half the people in attendance, yet you’d been performing for all of them. The absurdity of it all made you want to roll your eyes.

“Well, well, well,” a familiar voice drawled, cutting through your thoughts.

You looked up to see your cousin, Ningning, leaning over the table with a smug expression. “Look what the cat dragged in,” you muttered, unable to mask your annoyance.

Ningning scoffed. “I could say the same. How was sightseeing in Peru? Or was it Nepal? Honestly, I have a hard time remembering insignificant details.” Her tone was as slimy as ever, laced with mockery. She was referring, of course, to the excuse your mother had given to relatives to explain your sudden and prolonged absence.

Despite being cousins, you and Ningning have never shared a good relationship. There has always been underlying animosity between you, particularly from Ningning’s side. From a young age, you two were often pitted against each other, with you consistently coming out on top—a fact that only fueled her resentment.

Your strained dynamic was further complicated by the tension between your mothers. Your mother and Ningning’s mother, who were sisters-in-law, didn’t get along. More accurately, your mother didn’t trust Ningning’s mother which created an atmosphere of suspicion that clearly trickled down to the next generation.

Your eyes narrowed. “Prague, actually,” you replied sarcastically. “Shouldn’t you be bothering someone else?”

Feigning offense, Ningning sat down beside you. “Can’t I congratulate my dear cousin on her engagement?” The sarcasm was thick in her voice. She leaned in closer, her tone turning cold. “You’re not fooling anyone, Y/n. It’s obvious this is all fake.”

A chill ran down your spine, but you forced yourself to remain composed. “What are you talking about?” you asked evenly.

Ningning chuckled darkly, her eyes narrowing. “Seriously? You’re going to sit there and pretend like you don’t know?”

Your heart raced, but your expression didn’t falter. You knew the danger Ningning posed. If your cousin discovered the truth, it wouldn’t be long before others did too. But then, Ningning’s smirk faded, and she let out a short laugh, leaning back. “Relax, I’m just joking.”

Your muscles remained tense as Ningning added, “It’s just hard to believe someone like you could pull someone like Sunghoon. He’s so proper and poised, while you’re...” She trailed off, giving you a pointed look up and down.

You refused to take the bait. You sighed, looking around desperately for Sunghoon to return. Ningning’s mocking voice pulled you back. “Where is the man who stole your heart, anyway? You’ve been clinging to him all night. One would think you were joined at the hip. Or maybe...” She smirked. “He doesn’t feel the same way?”

Gritting your teeth, you decided to steer the conversation elsewhere. “How’s your mom?” you asked pointedly.

Ningning glanced toward her mother, who was seated nearby, her eyes fixed on the two girls. Raising her glass in a greeting, your aunt returned her attention to her own conversation. Ningning’s voice turned bitter. “Like you care,” she spat, and you rolled your eyes. “She’s never been one for parties, but tonight was mandatory. All board members were expected to attend. Would’ve looked bad if she skipped.”

Ningning sulked, her expression almost convincing enough to stir sympathy. You began to feel a twinge of pity for your cousin. You knew Ningning’s parents had impossibly high expectations for their daughter—in many ways mirroring your own parents—but with one key difference. Where your parents expressed their disdain through cold silence and neglect, Ningning’s parents chose a more physical approach to convey their disappointment. It was hard not to feel bad for her.

But the moment was short-lived. Ningning’s demeanor shifted sharply, venom dripping from her words as she turned to you. “If you think you can just waltz into the company acting like you own the place because you’re married to Sunghoon, think again,” she snapped.

You blinked, taken aback. “What are you talking about?” you asked cautiously.

Ningning’s sneer deepened. “Don’t play dumb. I’ve worked my ass off these past two years to rise through the ranks—through merit, not because Daddy gave me a free pass.”

Your eyes narrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“God, are you thick in the head?” Ningning shot back, her tone biting. “If you think you’re going to outrank me just because your father’s the chairman and you’re now tied to Sunghoon as well, I’ll make your life miserable. Mark my words.”

Your frustration bubbled to the surface. “Do you have a stick up your ass or something? Ranks? That’s what you’re worried about? We’re not in high school anymore, Ningning. We’re all here for the same reason: to see the company improve.”

Ningning’s teeth clenched as her glare darkened. “You might think it’s stupid, but this means everything to me. I’ve sacrificed too much to let you waltz in and ruin it. I won’t hesitate to make sure nothing gets in my way.”

You threw your hands up in exasperation. “In the way of what?”

“Of me possibly becoming heir,” Ningning said coldly. Her gaze flickered toward her mother briefly before quickly looking away. “While you were off sightseeing and doing God knows what for three years, I was here. Working. Proving myself.”

You sat back, stunned into silence. You hadn’t anticipated your cousin becoming a potential obstacle to your plan. Why was she even talking about wanting to take over as heir? Your father was the chairman—he always had been—and leadership was meant to pass directly to his descendant: you. That’s how it had always been. Was Ningning expecting that to change? Had someone told her it might?

Ningning cleared her throat, regaining her composure, but the malice in her tone was unmistakable as she tsked, “Too bad about Seungho, huh? Too much potential, gone to waste.”

The sudden mention of your brother’s name sent a shockwave through you. Your jaw tightened, and your breath grew heavier as rage simmered beneath the surface. Ningning’s eyes gleamed with a cruel glint as she watched you struggle to keep your composure.

She was goading you—bringing up her desire to inherit the company and now mentioning your deceased brother. As if to suggest that if he were still alive, you wouldn’t have to worry about the company slipping into her hands. It was both insulting and utterly ridiculous. The suspicions you had about her nature just in general, grew a tenfold. You needed to keep your guard up around her from now.

Your voice was low and steady, each word a warning. “Don’t you dare talk about my brother again.”

Ningning tilted her head mockingly. “Struck a nerve, did I?”

You were torn between lunging across the table to tear your cousin’s hair extensions out or maintaining your composure. The weight of the guests’ admiring gazes, oblivious to the venomous exchange currently happening, kept you grounded. You gripped the edge of the table, your nails digging into the wood.

The tension was mercifully broken by Aeri’s sharp voice cutting through the atmosphere. “Move along, witch,” she said, her tone dripping with disdain. “Take your ugly face somewhere else.”

Aeri and Jake had appeared just in time. Ningning turned to them, her expression shifting into a mocking smile. “Oh, look. The mediocre bunch.”

Aeri stepped closer, glaring daggers at Ningning. “Say one more thing, and I’ll bite you,” she growled.

Ningning raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “How predictable. Classless, as always.” She turned back to you. “Should we expect you at the office on Monday? Let me know and I can ask them to have a red carpet rolled out for you,” her tone dripped with contempt.

Aeri slammed her glass on the table, sneering at Ningning. “I’ll let you know what you can expect, my Jimmy Choo’s so far up your ass, you’re gonna start seeing stars.”  

Ningning flinched at Aeri’s crudeness. She scoffed, stepping away from all of you. Turning back to you, she blew you a kiss. “See you later, cuz.”

She cast a fleeting glance at Jake, who avoided her gaze entirely, before rolling her eyes and sauntering off into the crowd with a haughty air.

Jake immediately turned to you, concern etched across his face. “Are you okay?” he asked gently.

You nodded, though her clenched fists and tense shoulders betrayed her unease. You exhaled slowly, trying to shake off the encounter.

Aeri took a seat beside you crossing her arms. “What the hell did she want?"

From a few yards away, Sunghoon had witnessed some of the scene. He stood with a glass of water in hand, his jaw tightening as he watched Ningning torment you. On his way back to you, he’d been stopped by Jay and Heeseung, who were animatedly discussing something with wide grins.

“Damn,” Jay had said with a low whistle. “This estate is insane. Look at the size of this yard.” He gestured dramatically around them.

Heeseung nodded, swallowing a mouthful of food from the plate he was holding. “The Ahn family used to host yearly galas here. They were the talk of the town. First one in years, though.”

Jay and Sunghoon exchanged a look of mild disgust as Seung continued stuffing his face.

“What?” Seung asked, mouth still full. “It’s either this or I start downing champagne. Your choice.”

Jay rolled his eyes and turned to Sunghoon. “So, what do you think of Y/n? She’s…” He smirked. “Attractive, right?”

Sunghoon frowned. “You’re being ridiculous.” He had braced himself for the inevitable teasing from his friends about you, but he wasn’t confident he’d be able to keep a straight face if they brought you up. In his defense, it wasn’t his fault he was drawn to you—your pretty smile and those doe eyes that always seemed to soften when you looked up at him, how you looked when you spoke about something amusing and your seemingly stubborn determination. He’d caught himself mesmerized by you more than once tonight, each time leaving him more conflicted than before.

He could tell you’d started to trust him. You didn’t need to say it outright; it was in the way you looked at him, the way you let him take the lead without hesitation. It was in your agreement to this whole act in the first place. And as much as his emotions threatened to cloud his judgment, he knew better than to let them take over. You had expectations of him, and he’d be damned if he ever let you down.

“Oh, come on,” Jay pressed. “We’ve been watching you watch her all night. Either you’re a fantastic actor, or there’s something there.”

Sunghoon’s thoughts drifted back to his earlier interaction with you upstairs. How he’d been drawn to you in a way that felt… unsettling. The way your skin felt warm as he slipped the ring on your finger and how inviting your scent was, leaving him momentarily dazed as he breathed it in. Your flustered reaction to his teasing had been adorable, and he’d found himself smirking at the memory. His friends noticed immediately.

“See that?” Jay pointed, grinning. “He’s smiling. Told you.”

Heeseung leaned casually against the table. “You know,” he began, looking directly at Sunghoon, “Jungwon mentioned something interesting to me earlier. Apparently, you were totally dumbstruck when you first saw Y/n today.”

Sunghoon shot his older friend an agitated glare. “Stop fishing for gossip from my assistant,” he snapped.

At that moment, Jungwon himself approached, beaming with excitement. “Hey, guys—”

Sunghoon cut him off, pointing a finger. “HR. Monday. Be there.”

Jungwon’s smile froze, then quickly dropped. “What? Why?” he stammered, glancing over at Heeseung, who was grinning sheepishly.

“Don’t do that!” Jungwon defended himself. “This guy’s relentless, okay? He’s always badgering me to spill stuff.” He pointed at Heeseung. “I swear, I’ve never said anything too sensitive!”

Sunghoon narrowed his eyes. “What exactly does that mean, Jungwon?”

Jungwon hesitated, then began fumbling with his words. “Uh, you know... nothing, like, serious! Just little things! Things that don’t matter!”

“Oh, so my meeting with my lawyer didn’t matter?” Sunghoon countered, his voice sharp with disbelief.

“You were going to tell us anyway.” Jay defended.

Seung snorted, clearly enjoying the exchange. “It’s not like he told us your deepest, darkest secrets, man.”

Sunghoon turned back to Jungwon, exasperated. “That doesn’t make it okay, okay? Why am I even arguing with you about this?”

Jungwon raised his hands defensively. “I don’t know! I’m just saying, that even when I spill, I’ve got boundaries, okay?”

“Boundaries?” Sunghoon repeated, incredulous. “Clearly, they’re not strict enough.”

Heeseung, unable to contain his laughter, chimed in, “This is the most entertaining shit I’ve seen all week.” He reaches out and grabs a champagne glass from a passing waiter’s tray.

Sunghoon shot him another glare before turning back to Jungwon. As frustrating as it was for Jungwon to share details about him with Heeseung and Jay, Sunghoon couldn’t bring himself to fully resent the guy. Deep down, he understood that Jungwon didn’t mean any harm. The three men standing before him were his closest confidants, and it was almost natural for them to discuss his business—even when he wasn’t involved. Maybe it was because Sunghoon trusted them, knowing they would always come clean if they learned something important. Secrets didn’t last long in their circle; sooner or later, they’d spill, especially if it was something concerning.

Firing Jungwon wasn’t an option either. Despite his occasional lapses in discretion, no one was as meticulous or hardworking. It also didn’t hurt that they were family. In Sunghoon’s demanding line of work, having someone trustworthy to handle important tasks, keep him grounded during moments of weakness, and genuinely look out for him was invaluable. And no one did that better than Jungwon.

Before Jungwon could respond to Sunghoon, Jay tapped him on the shoulder and gestured toward your table. Sunghoon followed Jay’s gaze and immediately noticed something off. Your posture was stiff, your jaw clenched, and your fingers gripped the table tightly as you spoke to the girl seated next to you. Your irritation and discomfort were palpable. Sunghoon’s brows furrowed in concern, and he leaned forward slightly to observe the interaction.

“Man, is her whole family this ridiculously attractive?” Jay asked, his eyes flicking to the girl beside you.

Sunghoon hummed noncommittally, his attention still locked on you and the tension radiating from you. He studied your body language and the way the other girl’s lips curled in what could only be described as satisfaction. Something was definitely wrong.

“Did you see the Prime Minister earlier?” Jungwon chimed in, breaking the momentary silence. “Crazy that her family has ties with him. Just goes to show how powerful they really are.”

Jay nodded, nudging Sunghoon. “Must be intimidating, huh? Being tied to a family like that?”

Sunghoon’s focus wavered, his gaze briefly flickering back to his friends. He’d been so engrossed in watching you that he’d barely registered the conversation. He remembered greeting the Prime Minister earlier, feeling distinctly out of place when the two of you exchanged pleasantries and laughed at a joke he didn’t understand. It had been a stark reminder of how little he knew about you and your family—a gap in knowledge he was beginning to wish he could fill. Not for personal reasons, of course. It was for the sake of the charade.

He gave a vague hum in response, making no effort to hide that he hadn’t been paying attention. The men exchanged amused looks before sighing in unison.

“You should get back to her already,” Heeseung said, swapping his champagne glass for another from a passing waiter.

Sunghoon didn’t respond. His gaze returned to you, whose knuckles had turned white from gripping the table so tightly. Your companion seemed to relish your reaction. He saw two figures approach the table, and moments later, the girl seated beside you stood and left, her expression shifting to one of slight annoyance.

The prime minister’s son placed a hand on your shoulder, his posture protective. Sunghoon’s feet moved before his mind could process it, carrying him toward the group. By the time he reached you, he heard your friends murmuring to, urging you to calm down and ignore the other girl.

Your brow was furrowed in frustration, but your expression softened slightly when you noticed Sunghoon. “Sunghoon?” you said, voice tinged with surprise.

Aeri and Jake turned to face him. Aeri’s face lit up with a bright smile, and she extended her hand. “Hi, I’m Aeri, Y/n’s best friend.”

Sunghoon bowed slightly as he took her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he said smoothly.

He turned to Jake, who hesitated before shaking his hand. “And you’re the Prime Minister’s son? We saw each other earlier, but I didn’t get the chance to say hello. Forgive me.”

“It’s fine,” Jake replied curtly, his attention shifting back to you.

You and Aeri exchanged a glance, immediately sensing the tension between the two men. You wondered if Sunghoon’s standoffishness had anything to do with you mentioning Jake earlier and calling him your best friend. Was he… jealous? You shook the thought away, deciding it was ridiculous.

Aeri broke the awkward silence with an exaggerated scoff. “Alright, this is weird. I’m getting a drink. Jake, come with me.”

Jake started to signal a waiter for champagne, but Aeri stopped him. “No, something stronger. Let’s find the good stuff,” she said with a mischievous grin and a wink.

Your heart sank momentarily. You could already imagine them raiding your parents’ liquor collection. Your parents wouldn’t notice, but you still hoped they wouldn’t make too much of a mess.

“Find me if you need anything, Y/n.” Jake said over his shoulder and Sunghoon narrowed his eyes.

Aeri waved at Sunghoon. “Lovely to meet you. Take care of her, alright?”

Once they were gone you turned to your fiancé who for some reason was still standing. You raised an eyebrow, your voice cutting through the lingering silence. “Are you planning to sit at all?” your tone was light but edged with exhaustion.

He ignored the remark, his gaze softening slightly. “Are you alright?” he asked, his voice low but carrying a genuine note of concern.

You hesitated before letting out a quiet sigh. “My feet are killing me,” you admitted, glancing down at the unforgiving heels you’d been wearing all evening. “I was just thinking about slipping into something more comfortable.”

Sunghoon nodded, noting how your guarded tone and distant eyes betrayed more than just physical discomfort. He didn’t press you; you clearly weren’t ready to discuss what had unfolded earlier. Instead, he extended his hand toward you in a silent offer.

You blinked, momentarily caught off guard, but took his hand. His grip was firm yet gentle as he helped you stand. For a fleeting moment, you were acutely aware of the warmth of his touch. But you pushed the thought aside, reasoning that this was just another example of Sunghoon’s impeccable manners—nothing more.

You began weaving through the clusters of guests, moving past pockets of laughter and animated conversation. The party’s energy had shifted as the champagne flowed freely, with voices rising and laughter growing louder. You clung a little tighter to Sunghoon’s arm, partly for balance but mostly for a sense of steadiness amidst the chaos.

Inside the house, you reached the grand staircase. You paused, staring up at the daunting ascent. Your shoulders sagged slightly, and you muttered under your breath, weighing the pain in your feet against the effort it would take to climb.

Sunghoon watched you closely, his brow furrowing. For a moment, he considered offering to carry you or walking you all the way to your room. But he stopped himself, unsure if such a gesture would be overstepping. Instead, he stayed silent, ready to assist if needed.

Just as you had gathered herself to take the first step, a soft, melodic voice called out your name. “Y/n?”

You turned, your posture straightening in surprise when you saw the source of the voice. Your voice was a mix of shock and warmth.

“Sana?”

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TAGLIST: @domfikeluva @quilevyt @wildtigerlili @enhaverse713586 @tasnemluvs

[yennefer-of-vengerbergs]

Elven Storm - Chapter 4 - The Emerald Grove

First things first, I do apologize for how long it has taken to get this out, I'd been struggling with this chapter so much, it was ridiculous🥲Add life getting in the way and yeah, it was not fun at all. But it's here now, and it's an extra long chapter too😁

I hope you enjoy this, thank you for reading and of course, happy New Year!

Series masterlist and general fic information can be found here

Chapter summary: The group is involved on a goblin fight just outside of the Emerald Grove. Immediately after, they head inside and begin searching for the grove healer, Nettie, and Zorru. Naturally, they then find themselves involved in the issues the tieflings are dealing with. Meanwhile, Syanna still continues to struggle with whatever is inside her mind.

Divider from here

Tags: @iizven | @bg3-fanfic-reblogs

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Read below or on AO3. Comments are appreciated so please feel free to leave them 💖

<- Chapter 3

What a mess it turned out to be. 

The fight had been too sudden, too quick, and yet, it also felt too slow, as if time itself was stretching indefinitely, making it seem entirely too long. 

Syanna had immediately flown up to higher ground, seeking an advantage she could use, her shortsword and dagger quickly disposing of the goblins who were already there. Then, she began making use of her magic, calling down lightning on those who were further away, and making use of thunderous spells on those who came near her.

Immediately after, there was Astarion, swiftly making use of both his daggers, and of the bow and arrows he had, skilled and graceful with both, clearly seeming to enjoy himself as he cut down the enemies in front of him.

Similarly to Syanna, Gale was also casting spells at their attackers, making sure to strike a balance between offence and defence, incapacitating enemies while also protecting allies and those under attack alike. 

Shadowheart too was employing a similar tactic, using her weapons, alongside the protective and healing spells she knew, on those who needed them the most.

Following that was Lae’Zel, obviously at ease and in her element in the middle of battle, her skills and experience being most valuable against the larger enemies that she was fighting. 

Finally, the group at the gate had been joined by another magic user - a warlock, judging by the type of spells he appeared to be using - all of whom were holding their own against the group of foes near them. 

There was no doubt about it, all of their skills and abilities were something that the two groups needed against those who had launched the attack.

Battle cries and shouts could be heard from both sides as the fighting continued.

Blades clashed. 

Arrows were fired and more spells were cast. 

Worgs snarled and growled before attempting to bite and claw those fighting against them.

Then, there were the screams and groans of pain, from injuries and death alike, blood seeping through the ground from the bodies of felled goblins and bugbears. 

And as sudden as the attack had been, it then finally ended.

Indeed, it had all been a mess.

A glorious, bloody mess.

“That was the last of them - inside, all of you! More may follow!” Zevlor had called out from above.

He then turned around, looking towards someone else. 

“Open the gate!”

Once raised, not wasting another moment, everyone ran inside.

“Well, this seems like a lovely little spot. The sense of impending doom aside.” Astarion had been the first to comment on their new surroundings.

As it turned out, he was indeed right; it was a sprawling grove, abundant in nature, a settlement for druids, where tiefling travellers had also gathered, if the numerous carts, crates and chests the latter were busying themselves with were any indication. Still, despite the idyllic location, there was tension in the air, thick enough to cut through with a blade, something made even more obvious by the way Zevlor was shouting at one of the men from the group that had just been attacked - Aradin, if Syanna heard right.

“There are children here, you fool!” The other man was still panting.

“We was running for our lives!”

Zevlor leaned in closer to him, his look one of anger.

“You led them straight to us. And you let them take the druid too. Unbelievable!”

“This place seems remarkably tense.” Shadowheart commented as she noticed the scene in front of them, “Perhaps we shouldn’t linger. But let’s at least see if there’s a healer to be found, first of all.” 

Syanna nodded.

“I think it’s safe to assume this is the camp the other tieflings mentioned earlier. Let’s see if we can find this Nettie here.”

They had barely taken another step to head deeper into the grove, and Lae’zel bristled.

“You seem to forget that it would be far more beneficial to find Zorru, and then my kin and the crèche.”

“And who exactly put you in charge? If there is a healer right here, all the better for it, and for us.” Shadowheart immediately replied, her irritation with Lae’zel even more obvious than before. 

Syanna’s patience was beginning to wear thin, her tiredness and poor mood made all the more apparent because of it.

“Not this again…you two do realize we just got out of one fight, don’t you? Please, do tell me why you’re so eager to start another one already.”

That also seemed to catch the attention of the two men who were still arguing, making them stop, as if they too felt called out by her words. Both of them looked at her, which only added to her foul mood.

“Don’t think this doesn’t apply to the two of you, either!”

“What? I’d be lying dead, next to the goblins, if he stalled any longer!” Aradin protested.

“My duty is to this camp!”

“Gods forbid you risk your precious tail! But I shouldn’t be surprised. Foulbloods ain’t known for courage.”

Both men looked ready to fight each other, the anger and tension palpable. 

Syanna had had enough.

“Children. All of you are acting like children. You two-” she gave both Lae’zel and Shadowheart a pointed look, “-chances are they are both supposed to be here, so we’ll look for them both. And you-” she turned her attention back to Zevlor and Aradin, “-whatever quarrel you have going on now won’t bring back anyone you’ve lost out there. So why don’t you stop and focus on what’s more important?”

Zevlor was the first to calm down.

“You’re right. There’s too much at stake.”

“Worried about your precious hides, the both of you.”

Gods, he was truly beginning to grate on her nerves. Then again, everything was. 

She stared the other man down as Zevlor continued to speak.

“Enough. Squabbling is pointless - the goblins have found us.”

“At least we agree on that.”

They all watched as Aradin left, frustration still obvious in his demeanour. Finally, Zevlor’s attention returned to Syanna as he held a hand up, apologetically. 

“Forgive that display. Aradin’s a blowhard, but that’s no cause for me to join him. Thank you for your help out there. I’m Zevlor.”

Syanna nodded as she introduced herself and the rest of the group. 

“Well met. I should warn you - visitors are no longer welcome in this grove. Whatever your business, I’d see to it quickly - the druids are forcing everyone out. This attack will only strengthen their resolve.”

That certainly struck Syanna as odd, seeing as the two seemed to be unrelated, at least at first glance.

“Why would they force you out? It’s not as if doing that will stop the attacks.”

“That’s precisely it - there have been several attacks by different monsters and the druids blame us ‘outsiders’ for drawing them here.” Zevlor sighed, his eyes closed briefly, “Nobody’s welcome anymore - they’ll be starting a ritual to cut the grove off from the world outside. We can’t stay, but we’ll be slaughtered if we leave - we’re no fighters.” he concluded, seemingly defeated by the situation. 

“Then I take it, you couldn’t convince the druids to not go through with it?” Syanna asked.

“I’ve tried. Kagha - their new First Druid - won’t even see me. You, though…”, he pondered for a moment, “I know it’s not your business, but she owes you for saving this place. Perhaps you could persuade her. For more time to prepare, if nothing else.”

Well, he certainly didn’t waste any time when it came to asking for favors. 

What was he counting on? The goodness of her heart? Pathetic.

Although she did find their situation unfair, if she was being honest. What’s more, a small part of her wanted to help. And if she could barter that favor for information that would make their search shorter, well that, at least, would be a good thing.

“Perhaps, if you could help us find a few people we’re looking for - a healer, and someone called Zorru.”

“Goblin got you? The druid Halsin’s a renowned healer, but he didn’t make it back from Aradin’s expedition.” a brief flash of disgust made its way on his face before continuing, “If it’s not too serious, you could try his apprentice, Nettie. She’s with the other druids, in the inner grove. They’ve withdrawn there to begin preparing this damn ritual of theirs. Zorru should be further up ahead though.”

Syanna nodded. 

“I’ll see what I can do about Kagha then.”

“Thank you. We’d owe you a great debt. I’ll see about getting a reward put together for you in the meantime. Please, make them see sense, before more lives are lost.”

Astarion was the first to say something once Zevlor left.

“So, more goblins could arrive at any moment? And now we’re messengers? Lovely.”

Syanna looked at him, raising an eyebrow.

“Put it this way, we could use whatever reward they’ll put together if we do it. And at least they’re all conveniently close by.”

Lae’zel seemed equally displeased, although it was more aimed at the tieflings themselves.

“Every githyanki has held a sword by age six, and claims their first kill by age ten. Yet these tieflings claim barely a single warrior among them. It’s a wonder they’ve survived even this long.”

“Warriors or not, at least it will be quick to deal with. Either the druids will agree to it or not. Whatever happens afterwards isn’t really our concern.” Syanna concluded.

The tension in the grove appeared to run much deeper than any of them could have imagined, if the argument the group had witnessed was anything to go by - something about someone’s daughter being a thief and awaiting judgement, if the snippets they had heard of it were accurate. Then there was the way the druids were more than ready to threaten them as well, if they tried to enter the inner grove. 

Perhaps agreeing to split up to cover more ground in the grove was not the best idea. Then again, Lae’zel insisted on finding Zorru first, and to conclude everything in the grove as quickly as possible, so split up they did, she and Gale setting off to find the tiefling, while the rest of them went in search of Nettie and Kagha.

Interestingly though, and to their advantage, it appeared that Kagha wanted to speak to the group, a fact which, thankfully, did grant them access inside. Once there, they were face to face with the judgement they had overheard the druids and tieflings arguing about: a young girl apologizing repeatedly, while a woman argued with another druid. 

“This is madness, Kagha! She’s just a-”

“A what, Rath? A thief? A poison? A threat?” Kagha had cut him off, “I will imprison the devil. And I will cast out every stranger.”

Syanna couldn’t help but sneer. 

“Thief? Poison? What did this girl do, steal a sweetroll?” 

Kagha looked at her with contempt.

“Girl? You mean parasite.” she turned her attention back to the girl before continuing to speak, “She eats our food, drinks our water, then steals our most holy idol in thanks!” she then faced the other druid, her attitude relentless, “Rath - lock her up. She remains here until the rite is complete. And keep still, devil.” she leaned closer to the child, an obvious attempt to intimidate, “Teela is restless.”

A snake had begun to make its way next to the girl, hissing. As it moved closer, Syanna recognized it as a death viper, a vague recollection of milking their poison before making its way in her mind. However, or whenever that had happened, she did know one thing - a single drop of it would have killed that child in a heartbeat. 

The snake hissed, as if in approval, revealing its intentions - if the child were to struggle, it would strike, without hesitation.

The death of a child, such a timeless tragedy. It truly never grows old. And all it would take is to simply flick her eyes towards the exit so that the child would try to run…

No!

Focus, just focus!

She snapped out of it. Whatever dark and twisted thing her mind was, that it would want the viper to kill the child, she knew that, deep in her heart, she didn’t truly wish for it. The girl’s life mattered more than satiating the dark fantasies that had taken root in Syanna’s mind. Still, she continued to be in danger.

“I thought that druids were meant to value harmony and nature’s balance. How is this respecting that?” Syanna asked in an attempt to sway Kagha, “Surely this is actually disrupting it?” she then added. 

The druid looked at Syanna curiously, considering her words for a few moments. 

“I hear the Treefather’s spirit in your words. It is as you say.” 

With a wave of her hand, she then called the snake to her.

“Out, thief. My grace has its limits.”

The girl immediately ran away and out of the sanctum. Kagha’s attention was then fully on Syanna.

“Go on. Say it. You think I’m a monster.”

Syanna wanted to roll her eyes. It was clear that there would be no reasoning with the druid. 

“Why don’t we just skip this back and forth and you get to the part where you justify this as you only wanting to protect your own. Which I could understand, when it comes to actual danger. Though I fail to see how a child could be such a threat.”

“Yes, you would say so. I know your kind - you see only victims and villains.” Kagha replied, her temper flaring, “A viper bares her fangs defending her brood - I call her mother; you call her monster.”

Syanna raised an eyebrow at the druid’s reasoning.

“Baring fangs to simply intimidate is one thing. Threatening a child, and being ready to act on that threat, is another.”

Kagha chose to ignore her.

“No matter. I took back the idol of Silvanus and the rite will proceed as planned. We will seal the grove. Free from harm. Free of intruders.” 

“Yes, I’m sure that becoming an isolated community that is completely cut off from the world will work out wonderfully.” Syanna countered. “I would have thought at least that would concern you, if Zevlor’s people perishing on the road doesn’t.”

“And mine perish if they stay!” 

Kagha’s attitude then shifted, trying to appear more conciliatory, more persuasive than before.

“You showed great mettle at the gate - the mettle of a skilled sword for hire. I want you to provide your services to Zevlor. Offer to guide the outlanders out of the grove. I’m sure they’ll reward you well.” she said, before offering up an ultimatum, “They’re to be gone before final prayer. If they are not, the viper must strike.”

Entering the adjacent chamber, Syanna spotted a dwarven woman there, tending to a small bird that appeared to be injured. 

Noticing the group, she acknowledged their presence by speaking, but her attention was still held by the small animal. 

“I see you. Just give me a moment.”

There was a certain determination there, which only told Syanna that she would not be distracted or stop midway her task, no matter what. 

She waited for a few moments more, long enough for the healer to recite the ‘Vis medicatrix’ incantation, healing the small bird as much as she could. Satisfied with the outcome, the woman finally turned towards the group in front of her. 

“Now, what was it you needed?” she asked. 

“We’re looking for Nettie.”

“You found her, but I still don’t know what she can do for you.”

“To make a long story, short, healing. As soon as possible, please.” Syanna replied. 

Nettie nodded, immediately focusing on the newest task at hand.

“Come here. Let’s have a look at you.”

She began by examining Syanna, poking, prodding, asking questions about how she felt, if she had been injured, all standard questions that any healer would have asked. Once finished, she began to relay her conclusions.

“You seem healthy enough. A bit tired ‘round the eyes, maybe.”

Syanna couldn’t help but laugh bitterly. ‘A bit tired’ was an understatement, if she ever heard one.

“Honestly, I wish it would be that easy - there’s been memory loss, exhaustion, the…thing that crawled into my eye...” she trailed off.

Nettie looked at her, more concerned now, paying closer attention to Syanna’s eyes. Nothing stood out to her.

“What exactly was it that crawled into your eye?”

Syanna knew there was no easy way to say it, but still, she tried.

“A…worm?”

“A wor…wait. Did it look like a tadpole? A mind flayer tadpole?” she suddenly seemed startled.

Gods, how Syanna wanted to roll her eyes at the entire situation. If it weren’t happening to herself, and to the group she had found herself in, she would have even laughed in disbelief. Still, the cat…or rather, the tadpole, was out of the proverbial bag. 

“No, a frog hopped into my eye.” she couldn’t help the sarcastic quip, “Yes, it was a mind flayer tadpole.”

“That’s…a serious condition.”

For the second time in just as many days, Syanna wondered whatever in the world could have possibly given someone that particular impression.

Nettie continued to speak as she gestured towards the group to follow her. 

“Come, follow me. I might be able to help.”

Syanna couldn’t help but notice how the determination from before had been replaced by uncertainty, unease, and perhaps, even a certain degree of fear. That was enough to, in turn, put her on alert. 

Even so, the group followed Nettie into a different room. However, the apparent library had obviously been repurposed as a sort of examination room, if the body of a dead drow that had been laid out on a stone table was any indication. 

“This one had the same problem as you. Attacked us in the woods, together with some goblins. Tadpole crawled out of his head soon after.” Nettie explained. 

Syanna raised an eyebrow at the display in front of her.

“So you killed him and laid him out on the table?” she gestured towards the drow, “I won’t lie, I’m hoping for a less grave cure.”

Nettie didn’t say anything as she seemed to be searching for something on a different table nearby. 

Something felt off about her demeanour, even more so once the healer turned around, holding a small branch, coated in something. 

“I’ll do the best I can.” Nettie finally spoke, a defeated expression on her face. 

More and more, Syanna felt that something was definitely off.

“I’m no master Halsin, mind. He’d have your tadpole out-” she snapped her fingers for emphasis, ”-like that. Still, we have options.” 

Despite the healer trying to put on an air of confidence, Syanna still could not shake the feeling that something was about to go wrong. 

“And what options are those? Because it seems to me-” Syanna gestured towards the branch the healer held in one hand as she bristled, “-that you’ll just hack at my eye with a branch.”

Nettie shifted uneasily, clearly hesitant about something. It was all the confirmation that Syanna needed to know for certain that something was indeed suspicious about the entire conversation. She spared a glance towards the others, who had also caught on to what was happening, and were immediately on guard as well. 

“No, not at all. But first things first - tell me about your symptoms. Have you noticed anything strange happening?”

As if Syanna would tell her anything, now that her suspicions had been confirmed.

“I have a better idea - why don’t you tell me what it is you’re so clearly hiding from us?” Syanna countered.

“I’m telling you everything you need to know. Believe me on that. I want to help you, but I can’t, unless you work with me. So: has anything unusual happened to you?”

How hard she tried to sound reasonable, nothing more than a healer who wants to help. Syanna didn’t believe a word of it.

“No, nothing strange.” Syanna lied.

“Nothing? You’re sure?”

It was Nettie’s turn to not believe her.

“Yes, I’m sure. Nothing.” 

“All right. I suppose that makes things easier.” Nettie held out her free hand before continuing, “Give me your arm, please.”

Syanna held back, which only seemed to bother the druid. 

Not to mention that it made no sense to ask for her arm when Syanna’s problem was in her skull.

“You came to me for help. Do you want it or not?”

“On second thought, no. Not anymore. We’re leaving.” 

As they all went to leave, the door through which they had entered earlier was magically shut.

“No! I can’t let you leave - you could transform any second. This is the last time I’ll ask.” Nettie extended her hand again, anger briefly becoming apparent on her face as she gripped the branch tighter. “Please.”

“Oh spare me, you’re not asking. This is a threat.”

And such a pathetic one as well. Why not show her what an effective threat is like? It would be such a delicious irony, a healer - butchered by the one who sought healing in the first place.

Nettie lunged at her, intent on using whatever she had coated the branch with, no matter what. Syanna however was quicker, dodging out of the way. As both women regained their footing, Syanna noticed there was pain in the healer’s eyes.

Let her see actual pain. It’s only fair, seeing as she dared to even consider making such a threat in the first place.

Syanna tried to focus. 

Although whatever urge possessed her mind wanted nothing more than to kill and maim the druid, the more logical part of her, the one that tried fiercely to remain in control, knew that attacking Nettie would not be beneficial in any way.

Instead, it would most likely only mean having to fight off an entire grove of already angry druids, who would have been even more angered by the loss of their only healer. 

The tiefling refugees were also a complication - it quickly became obvious that there was no love lost between them and the druids, if the conversations that went on around them, and what had transpired earlier with Kagha were any indication. 

In turn, however, it meant that they might have joined in to help the group, should a fight break out. Still, that did not mean the tieflings would have all been helpful, with many of them having never picked up a weapon in their life. 

But, at the same time, they could have, just as easily, joined the druids instead, as an attempt to get into their good graces. An attempt which might have earned them the right to stay in the grove, instead of being forced to leave. 

And ultimately, that would have meant being severely outnumbered, an event in which battle wits and knowledge would not have amounted to much in the face of sheer numbers. After all, even the fiercest of fighters could be taken down by a pitchfork, if the mob is determined enough.

So yes, she needed to focus, to try and talk her way out of the situation. 

“I’m sorry, I truly am. But I can’t let you go. If you transform out there, you’ll kill everyone in the grove. Everyone for leagues around.” Nettie explained.

“The drow obviously didn’t transform, and I’m not showing symptoms. Surely you can see how that means there’s still time, that I won’t change either?” 

Nettie looked at her, pondering what Syanna had just told her. 

“Master Halsin did say the drow’s tadpole was dormant. Maybe yours is too.” 

Syanna nodded, glad to use that new piece of information to her advantage.

“It most likely is. Like I said, there have been no symptoms. And I’m sure you already know that those grow worse with each passing day.” she looked towards the others, who confirmed her words as they nodded. “See? Everyone here who is also familiar with the subject knows this.” she continued to explain before playing her final card - sympathy, “In any case, I do just want a chance to find a cure.”

Nettie seemed deep in thought before eventually speaking again.

“All right. But on one condition.” she paused as she reached for appeared to be a vial. “This is a vial of wyvern poison. Swear to me you’ll swallow it if you feel any symptoms.”

Of course she would not be so easily convinced…

“Very well. Hand it over.” she agreed, with no intention whatsoever of using the poison.

“Swear it.”

Once again, Syanna wanted to roll her eyes at the druid. 

But if one small lie is enough to get them all out of that situation, then so be it. 

“If me, obviously agreeing to this isn’t enough, then fine. I swear.”

Nettie sighed, relieved.

“I hope it doesn’t come to that but…thank you. Here.” She handed over the vial of poison to Syanna before continuing, “You know, I’ve spent my life treating folk and never once saw a mind flayer infection. Then suddenly, there’s dozens of you - maybe more. Master Halsin and I were tracking them, studying them, trying to figure out what the hells was going on.”

“Seems risky.” Syanna noted.

“Yes, but we needed to know what was happening. Because you should all be changing - there should be a small army of mind flayers out there! But you’re not…you seem perfectly normal.”

“And did you? Learn something from studying them, I mean.”

Might as well learn what they could about their situation, now that spirits had been calmed, at least somewhat.

“Obviously you’re already familiar with this part, but mind flayers reproduce by infecting someone with their parasite. Seven gruesome days later, the victim transforms, and a new mind flayer is born. The thing in your skull, though? It’s different from anything in our records. It’s one of their worms, for sure. But this one seems to also give those infected with it powers - telepathic connections. And it doesn’t turn you into one of them. Not yet, anyhow.”

Well, hiding that information from her had certainly been pointless, seeing how she already knew what at least some of the tadpole’s effects were.

“All things considered, I suppose that’s good news.” Syanna mused.

“Could be, but there’s a lot we don’t know. Infected - folks like you - have been converging on an old temple of Selûne, and I’ve no idea why. When Master Halsin heard the adventurers were heading that way, he saw a chance to get answers. Joined them on the spot. Whatever he found there, he didn’t make it back.”

“Do you think he’s still alive?”

“I think so. I hope so. I’ve sent birds to find him, but they can’t get close without goblins trying to shoot them down.” Nettie looked at her, as if an idea struck her, “You, though? You’re one of them - technically speaking, I mean. They won’t kill someone carrying their parasite. If you can find Halsin and get him out of there, we can discover what he learned. And perhaps he can save your life. How’s that sound?”

“It sounds like you’re making a lot of assumptions that could kill me.” Syanna replied, her voice clipped.

“The way I see it, you have two options - Halsin, or that wyvern poison. I don’t envy your choice, truly. But this is the hand fate dealt you.”

Or the crèche, or a different healer, maybe even that woman, Ethel, that they had met on their way to the inner grove…Still, it would be better to play at this game for the time being. Or maybe they should look into that temple and what went on there as well. More information on their situation could have certainly been useful.

“Very well, I’ll see what I can do about finding Halsin.” she proposed, neither committing, nor outright declining. 

 “Thank you. It would mean everything to the grove. To me.” 

Syanna couldn’t help but find it all ironic, hypocritical even as Nettie continued to speak.

“I wish I could tell you more, but only those adventurers know what happened out there. All I can say for sure is they all went to the old temple of Selûne and Master Halsin didn’t make it back. Good luck out there. And if things start to go bad - remember the vial. Remember your oath.”

“Pretty bottle, but I wouldn’t take wyvern poison, even if we do begin to turn.” Astarion commented, once they were out of hearing range, something which only amused Syanna.

“And what exactly makes you think I would?” she smirked.

Astarion looked at her, an air of mock indignation and shock already on his face. If he had any pearls, he probably would have been clutching them.

“You sly devil! Lying to save your own skin?” he then dropped the pretense, ”I think we’ll get along splendidly.”

“Won’t we just?” she replied, still amused by his reaction, “Although, let’s keep quiet about this while we’re still here. I don’t know about you, but I’d rather we didn’t provoke an entire grove of druids.”

He groaned at the sudden realization.

“You’re right, that would take hours to deal with.” Astarion said, making himself seem as exasperated and inconvenienced as possible by the idea, “ Let’s just go.” he then continued casually, “Although, that little incident did make me curious…what would you do if you did begin to change? Of course, first sign of it and I’ll have to stop that pretty little heart of yours.” he gestured towards her, as if to emphasize his point. “I am open to suggestions though - knives, strangulation, a different kind of poison - whatever you’d prefer.”

“Well, that’s just cruel, making me choose from so many good options.”

Astarion looked at her, his turn to be amused.

“That’s a little dramatic, don’t you think? Come on, humor me. If you had to choose…” he trailed off.

“If I had to, then I’d go with the knife. Make it quick and all that.”

“Ah, a classic! One good thrust to the heart and you’re gone! We need a good blade, of course. Don’t want to waste time hacking and prodding with a dinner knife…”

Syanna raised an eyebrow.

“You’re putting a surprising amount of thought into this.” she noted.

“I- well, I am getting ahead of myself. This is all a worst case scenario, obviously.” 

She smiled, finding their entire exchange rather humorous.

“Obviously. In the spirit of preparedness then, what about you? How should I kill you in this little scenario?”

“Ha! Oh, my dear, I’d like to see you try.” he purred. “Now, shall we go? The sooner we find someone who can deal with our little…predicament, the better our chances of keeping this hypothetical, wouldn’t you say?”

“Actually, while we’re still here, I was thinking we could get more supplies and gear first, trade some of the goods we’ve found and don’t need, that sort of thing. So if there’s anything you want to get, now’s the time to do it.”

Astarion looked at her strangely for a moment, as if he wasn’t quite sure about something, before composing himself.

“Yes, of course. A spot of shopping sounds wonderful, actually.”

Once they had concluded their trading, and met back up with Lae’zel and Gale, the group went in search of Aradin and the others from his group. It seemed only natural, seeing as they had gone to the temple where others who had been infected were gathering. And where Halsin was last seen. And, especially advantageous for Zevlor and the other tieflings, where the leaders behind the attack on the grove were. It was also much closer than the mountain pass, so it seemed a worthwhile place to investigate, all things considered. But first things first, they would need as much information as possible on the place, before heading there. 

Finally noticing Aradin, the group approached him. 

“If it ain’t the fearless goblin slayers…You sure you want to be seen with me? I ain’t exactly popular with this lot.”

“I’m not too concerned about that.” was Syanna’s reply, “But I did want to ask you about what happened with the First Druid - I heard he left the grove with you?”

“Aye. His name’s Halsin, and if he’s still alive, he’ll be cursing the day he laid eyes on me. We’ve got a contract to track down some relic and he wanted in on the job. Eyes lit up when he heard about it. Didn’t work out, though. Goblins got him when we were turning tail. He’s either diggin’ latrines or boilin’ in a cookpot by now.”

“So you ran away from a few goblins, they followed and that’s how the attack happened?” she asked.

“Wasn’t no few goblins, mate. There’s an entire hive of ‘em. Contract failed to mention that part.” 

“Well, getting rich isn’t the easiest thing to do, I suppose.” 

“Hm, dunno what I expected. That much gold for some long-lost relic, and from a wizard too. I shoulda known.” he mused, “Gold probably turns to lead the moment you leave Baldur’s Gate. Stupid thing to die for.” he concluded. 

“Seems that way.” Syanna nodded, “One more thing though - where is this temple?” she then asked.

“Itching to meet Kelemvor? I won’t stop you. I’d give you the map we had, and wish you a happy funeral, but my mate Brian kept hold of it like his own todger. Goblins made short of the fat old chunk.” he then stopped to grab something, “All I’ve got’s the contract. It’ll show you where we turned back, if you feel like dying.” he then handed her the contract itself. 

Thanking him, the group then left.

The campsite had been a most welcome sight after the events of the day, with each one of them keeping themselves busy in one way or another.

Astarion had retreated to his tent, making himself comfortable on the stool he had found lying about at some point, book in hand, pretending to be absorbed by its contents, when in reality, he was watching the others. 

Lae’zel had promptly claimed her own spot in camp and began to set up her own tent. 

In the meantime, Gale had begun dinner preparations, eager to include the few ingredients they had been able to trade for while in the grove.

Syanna had improvised a desk out of a boulder that appeared flat enough to properly house maps of the area, papers and notebooks, as well as a few books and writing instruments. Sitting down on an old chair, she then began to look over the maps she had purchased from one of the grove’s merchants, most likely trying to come up with a route that made sense for the group to follow in the upcoming days. 

Finally, Shadowheart had also gone back to her tent, which just happened to be out of sight from everyone else, affording her more privacy than the others. 

Several hours passed in much the same manner, until Gale finally called the group to dinner, handing out bowls of stew to everyone. Once everyone was settled around the campfire, conversations naturally shifted towards what they would do next in the following days. 

Lae’zel was the first to interject.

“It is as I said before - we must find the crèche where my people are. It is the only way to cure ourselves of the tadpole.”

Shadowheart clearly - and unsurprisingly - disagreed. 

“Yes, because wandering the wilderness in search of this place is so much more preferable to the option that is much closer by, and just as promising.” 

“By all means Shadowheart, do go after the empty promises of help that this druid can offer, if that is what you wish.” 

Syanna interrupted the two women, lest the back and forth of jabs between them continue.

“Both options are promising, and the way I see it, we shouldn’t settle for investigating only one of the two.”

“Indeed, it would be most unwise to put all of our proverbial eggs into only one proverbial basket.” Gale agreed. 

Nodding, Syanna continued.

“We obviously still don’t know the exact location of the crèche, or just how far away it is. That’s not the case with the goblin camp where Halsin is supposedly being held captive.” she looked at Lae’zel, who seemed ready to protest, “And yes, I’m aware that we don’t know for a fact whether he is still alive or not. But almost the same can be said about the crèche - we don’t know whether the Githyanki there will even be willing to help the rest of us, or if they will even still be there once we do find it.” 

“It will not be deserted, that much I know.” Lae’zel countered, “A crèche is too important to abandon completely, as you seem to be implying. We will find my people there. And they will help you, but only if I ask.” 

Syanna sighed. It sounded awfully close to an ultimatum.

“I’m not denying that possibility, I’m only saying that we can be practical about it and start with the option that’s closest and work our way from there.” 

While obviously displeased, if the irritated ‘chk’ she let out was anything to go by, Lae’zel did relent in the end, although not without a warning.

“Very well. But take too long with this, and I will go to the crèche myself.”

And there was the ultimatum.

[solplease]

meet cassian :]

close ups and more info under the cut!

gloomiest guy you’ll ever meet

pathetic loser

he’s an artist 

comes from a rich family

he barely leaves his house, he stays inside a LOOOOOT

insane attachment issues

clingy and dependant yandere

he guilt trips a lot (isn’t really aware of it lmao) can be really manipulative without trying unfortunately

texts you constantly but if you don’t answer back in like 5 minutes he starts freaking out 

sometimes he’s normal enough but if you take too long he WILL lose it

doesn't like it when you talk to other people, why can't you just talk to him? is he not good enough for you? what's so interesting about other people anyway?

he hates stairs (he's fallen down and up the stairs WAYYY too many times)

shy (lmao ok) and introverted (has a really hard time talking to people)

has a mascot! (his name is PopUp :] he made him for a school project and just ended up liking him a lot lol)

sopping wet cat

don’t be mean to him, he doesn’t like it, even as a joke

doesn’t get much social interaction cause he stays inside a lot

WAYYYY more comfortable texting, he’s like a totally different person when you’re texting him

spams a lot. like a lot

used to be a lot more outgoing and social

wishes you could be by his side 24/7

he’s sad a lot of the time

feels unloved, please shower him in love

really pessimistic when it comes to himself

he’s really passionate about art

you and art are the two things that make him extremely happy

if you thought nox was tired, meet cassian! he has an even worse sleeping schedule than nox

he’ll do ANYTHING to keep you by his side

so he can and will kidnap you! lol!

is also a stalker… great..!

has probably installed a camera somewhere in your room (um??)

you’re probably one of the only people that can convince him to leave his room

really loves shoujo manga, has fantasized about being the perfect male lead for you (he really wants a romance like that, only with you) 

he's a huge romantic, he wants the two of you to have a happy life together

so please don’t leave him. please

takes a lot of walks at night, don’t worry he doesn’t spend ALL of his time inside (he wishes he could tho.)

he wants to have his happy ending with you <3

[daisybell-on-a-carousel]

Still very wild to me when people try to gotcha Jason with the whole "if you can kill other people for being evil why can't they kill you" when jason is like. One of the most passively suicidal characters I've ever seen. What if man

[sacchiri]

Hellsing 2002 calendar illustration.

Ein wunderliche und erschröckliche Hystori von einem großen Wüttrich genant Dracole wayda Der do so ganz unkristenliche marrter hat angelegt die mensche, als mit spissen als auch die leut zu Tod geslyffen

A wondrous and frightening story about a great berserk called Dracula the voivode who inflicted such unchristian tortures such as with stakes and also dragged people to death

[soupmanspeaks]

you ever wonder if the Glamrocks's face tracking acts up when they look at Glamrock-Freddy, like they'll look at his face, and the recognition will register as Freddy, but their systems for whatever reason or another think that there is a face overlapped on Freddy's do you think they see two small squares next to him, at his side, roughly child sized, but no one is physically there.... right...?

[hauntingblue]

Last arcane episode ever..... here we fucking go....

[hopeinthebox]

tagged by my beloved no.1 chappell roan stan @cordiallyfuturedwight thanks my darling <33 i can only apologise for the lack of ms roan here... i swear good luck babe has been on repeat i don't know what happened

tagging the usual suspects, apologies if i've already missed yours: @aprylynn @jiminsproof @thvinyl @cosmicdreamgrl @visionsofgideontheninth @hoseeok @kimchokejin @jihopesjoint @monismochi <333 and you dear reader

oh and see here for more of my self-proclaimed songs of the summer if you're interested in that kind of thing

[schizowitchic]

also like i partially found out i might be intersex because i was looking at trans stuff and there was like "(however many) months on t and finally seeing some bottom growth" and like pictures of t-dicks and i was like.... um.... that's kind of just what my clit looks like anyways. so i was like "hey google give me a quick rundown on this" and learned what clitoromegaly was and then i was like. hm. intersex resources. and it's like a sign? symptom? side-effect? of certain intersex conditions

[thenixkat]

Anyway, if you aren’t Black don’t use any variation of woke. I don’t care what conservatives are calling fuckers/using as the new sjw/political correctness/what have you.

If you know what fuckers mean use what they mean, and if you don’t why are you copying what people are saying?

Woke ain’t for you. If the discussion isn’t about Black people being aware of and/or educating other Black people about racism/antiblackness/structural inequality/all the other bullshit then it doesn’t need to be used in the discussion.

[pineapplefulfillseveryneed]

The Revenge Of Two Hands One Mouth - O2 Academy Bristol (November 27, 2013) by Adam Gasson