#you feel the tug of the folklore and the culture

[outfoxt]

save me eshet chayil...eshet chayil...eshet chayil save me...

[velting]

Blood Lock

CHAPTER 5

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⚠️WARING⚠️: THIS CHAPTER HAS SOME NOT SAFE CONENT! PLEASE READ WITH YOUR OWN CAUTION!! IF YOU DON'T ENJOY IT! THEN PLEASE SKIP IF IT MAKES YOU UNCOMFORTABLE! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED EVERYONE!

:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

The weekend arrived with a quiet hush over the campus. The corridors were emptier than usual, save for the occasional cluster of students enjoying their free time. [Name], however, couldn’t shake the events of the night before. Every time her mind wandered back to Yoichi’s kiss, her cheeks flared a deep crimson. She had spent half the morning pacing her dorm room, trying to make sense of her feelings.

"Why am I like this?" she muttered to herself, her hands tugging at the sleeves of her oversized cardigan. She shook her head as if trying to physically rid herself of the thoughts. "Focus, [Name]. You’ve got stuff to do."

With a determined nod, she decided to head to the library. Studying always helped clear her mind, and with exams looming, she had the perfect excuse to dive into research. The crisp autumn air nipped at her cheeks as she made her way across campus. Leaves crunched under her feet, their golden hues scattered across the pathways like nature’s own confetti.

The library was quiet when she entered, the faint scent of aged paper and ink enveloping her. She walked past rows of shelves, her fingers brushing against the spines of books as she searched for the ones she needed. Stopping by the history section, her gaze fell upon a particular title: “Vampires: Myths, Legends, and Truths.”

Her brow furrowed. “Vampires?” she murmured under her breath.

The book seemed almost out of place among the historical texts, yet its bold title called to her. She hesitated, glancing around the library. No one seemed to be paying her any attention, so she pulled the book from the shelf, the old leather cover cool against her fingertips.

Curiosity prickled at the edges of her mind as she searched for a secluded corner to read. She found an empty table tucked away near the back of the library, surrounded by towering bookshelves that created a cocoon of solitude. Sitting down, she opened the book, the pages crackling faintly as she flipped through the introduction.

The dim lighting above cast a warm glow on the aged pages as [Name] began to read. The text delved into the origins of vampire myths, citing historical events and folklore from different cultures. She skimmed through sections on ancient beliefs about blood-drinking spirits and their evolution into the modern vampire archetype.

“Immortality,” she read aloud in a hushed tone. “Enhanced senses, strength, and speed… but also vulnerability to sunlight, holy objects, and wooden stakes.”

She paused, tilting her head. “Garlic, though? That just sounds dumb.”

The book continued to describe vampires as both seductive and predatory, their charm often used to lure unsuspecting victims. [Name]’s lips pressed into a thin line as her eyes skimmed over the descriptions.

"Sounds like some people I know," she muttered dryly, thinking about certain individuals on campus.

But then, her heart skipped a beat. One passage described vampires' ability to compel or influence others, bending their will through eye contact or touch. Her mind flashed back to Rensuke—his piercing gaze, the way her body felt immobile under his touch.

“No,” she whispered, shaking her head. “That’s ridiculous. He’s just—he’s not…”

Yet, the seed of doubt was planted. She continued reading, her fingers tracing the delicate script as she learned about vampire hierarchy, their weaknesses, and signs that someone might be one. Myths and truths were separated, yet the lines blurred in a way that left her unsettled.

Hours seemed to pass as [Name] lost herself in the book. The library’s quiet atmosphere felt heavier now, the stillness amplifying the creak of the floorboards and the occasional shuffle of other students in the distance. Her eyes darted over another passage.

“Symptoms of a vampire attack: fatigue, weakness, dizziness, puncture wounds…”

Her thighs twitched instinctively as her mind went to the still-visible mark. The memory of that night, the way her body had screamed in pain, sent a shiver down her spine.

“No,” she said more firmly, closing the book for a moment. She leaned back in her chair, rubbing her temples. “It’s just a coincidence. Stuff like this doesn’t happen in real life.”

Yet, her mind betrayed her, piecing together fragments of moments and people.The Raichi incident, Rensuke’s strange behavior. Sae’s almost predatory aura. The cryptic warnings about Ruka and the way Ego seemed to watch everything unfold with an omniscient air.

“What if…” she began to think, but immediately stopped herself.

“No,” she said aloud, this time firmer. Her voice echoed faintly in the empty section of the library, startling her. She glanced around, heart pounding, before returning her gaze to the book.

Still, curiosity won out. She reopened the text, flipping to a section on detecting vampires among humans. As she read, her breath hitched.

“Red eyes during heightened emotions… an aversion to mirrors…” Her voice grew softer as she recited the words. “Cold skin… a hunger that never quite subsides…”

Her mind once again betrayed her, conjuring images of people she knew. Raichi’s sharp teeth, Rensuke’s smoldering red gaze. Ruka’s icy hands when he pulled her away. The way Michael and Lorenzo seemed to devour everything with their eyes, as if nothing could satisfy them.

[Name] slammed the book shut, the sound reverberating through the quiet library. She stood abruptly, clutching the book to her chest as she glanced around nervously.

“No way,” she muttered, her voice trembling. “This is ridiculous. They’re just people. Normal people.”

But even as she tried to convince herself, the uneasy feeling in her chest refused to subside. She placed the book back on the shelf, her hands shaking slightly, and quickly gathered her things. As she walked out of the library, the sensation of being watched prickled at the back of her neck.

[Name] didn’t turn around. She didn’t want to see if anyone—or anything—was there.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

The streets of town buzzed with a lively weekend energy as [Name] wandered aimlessly, the chill autumn breeze biting at her cheeks. Her stomach growled, snapping her out of her spiraling thoughts about vampires and unsettling campus drama. Spotting a cozy sandwich shop tucked between a bookstore and a boutique, she made her way inside, grateful for its warmth and inviting smell of freshly baked bread.

She approached the counter, scanning the chalkboard menu. "Grilled cheese with tomato soup, please," she said to the cashier, offering a small, polite smile. As she waited for her order, she found a quiet table near the window and settled in, pulling out her phone.

The warm golden light from the overhead bulbs glinted off her glasses as [Name] scrolled through Instagram. A series of funny cat videos managed to coax a few chuckles out of her, the tension in her shoulders slowly easing. By the time her food arrived—a perfectly crisp sandwich paired with steaming tomato soup—she felt like she could almost push the events of the past week aside.

Almost.

She took a bite of the sandwich, savoring the buttery crunch and the gooey cheese. But as soon as she dipped it into the soup, a voice broke through her momentary peace.

“Well, if it isn’t [Name]!”

She froze mid-bite, slowly looking up to see Kuon Wataru standing by her table, his signature cocky smile plastered across his face. He waved casually, a sandwich in one hand and a drink in the other.

“Oh, uh… hey,” she said hesitantly, swallowing her food.

“Mind if I join you?” he asked, already pulling out the chair across from her.

[Name] glanced around the shop, noticing the multiple empty tables he could’ve chosen. Her eyebrows furrowed. “There’s, uh, plenty of other spots,” she said carefully.

Kuon shrugged, setting his food down. “Yeah, but none of them have the pleasure of your company.”

She sighed. Something about his presence made her wary, but she wasn’t in the mood to argue. “Fine,” she muttered, waving a hand toward the chair.

He sat down with a satisfied grin, leaning back in his seat. “Thanks. So, how are you holding up?”

[Name] raised an eyebrow. “Holding up?”

“Y’know,” Kuon said, leaning forward slightly, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial tone. “After that whole assembly thing. Heard it got… intense.”

Her grip on her spoon tightened, and she avoided his gaze, staring into her soup. “It’s fine,” she said curtly.

“Fine?” Kuon echoed, his tone laced with disbelief. “Come on, [Name], I saw the way Ruka dragged you out of there. And then you—” He mimicked the motion of her slap, his hand snapping to his cheek dramatically. “That was wild. I mean, I didn’t think you had it in you to—”

“Kuon.” Her voice cut through his chatter like a knife. She finally looked up at him, her expression sharp. “Can we not talk about that?”

He held up his hands in mock surrender, a smirk still playing on his lips. “Alright, alright. No need to bite my head off.”

[Name] sighed, running a hand through her hair. She took another bite of her sandwich, hoping the act of eating would put an end to the conversation.

But Kuon wasn’t done. “Still,” he said, leaning his elbows on the table, “you gotta admit, Ruka can be… a bit much, right?”

Her eyes flicked to his, narrowing slightly. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, come on,” Kuon said, his tone light but pointed. “The guy’s always hovering around you. Like, does he even give you space to breathe? He acts more like your shadow than your cousin.”

[Name]’s jaw tightened. She set her sandwich down, her appetite suddenly waning. “He’s just protective,” she muttered, though even as she said it, the words felt hollow.

“Protective?” Kuon snorted. “More like controlling. Seriously, [Name], the way he acts—dragging you away, trying to micromanage your life—it’s not normal.”

She clenched her fists on the table, the frustration that had been simmering inside her finally bubbling to the surface. “You think I don’t know that?” she snapped, her voice low but fierce.

Kuon blinked, surprised by her outburst.

[Name] took a deep breath, her hands shaking slightly. “I’ve told him a million times to back off, but he doesn’t listen. He just keeps… smothering me. Like he thinks I can’t take care of myself.”

Her voice cracked on the last word, and she quickly looked away, her cheeks flushing with a mix of anger and embarrassment.

Kuon watched her for a moment, his smirk fading into something softer. “Hey,” he said, his tone unusually gentle. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

She didn’t respond, staring down at her hands as they twisted in her lap.

“For what it’s worth,” Kuon continued, “I think you handled yourself pretty well at the assembly. Ruka needed to be put in his place, and you did that. You’ve got guts, [Name]. More than most people around here.”

She glanced up at him, her expression conflicted. “It didn’t feel like guts,” she admitted quietly. “It felt like… like I lost control.”

“Maybe,” Kuon said with a shrug. “But sometimes losing control is the only way to make people listen.”

His words lingered in the air, and for a moment, [Name] felt a flicker of understanding pass between them. She picked up her spoon, swirling it in her soup as she mulled over his statement.

“Thanks,” she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper.

Kuon leaned back in his chair, his smirk returning. “Anytime. Just remember—if you ever need someone to vent to, I’m your guy.”

[Name] gave him a small, reluctant smile. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

As Kuon finished his meal and excused himself, she watched him go, her thoughts a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. Despite his brash personality, he had given her something to think about. Maybe, just maybe, she didn’t have to deal with everything on her own.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

The sandwich shop was beginning to clear out as [Name] finished the last sip of her tomato soup. She felt a small sense of relief after venting to Kuon, even if the conversation left her with mixed feelings. Packing her things, she made her way to the counter to pay, bowing slightly to the cashier.

“Thank you. That was delicious,” she said sincerely, handing over a few bills.

The cashier smiled. “Come back anytime!”

As [Name] adjusted her bag on her shoulder and headed toward the exit, she instinctively reached into her pocket to check her phone. Her heart sank when her hand came up empty. She stopped in her tracks, patting her other pocket. Nothing.

Frowning, she opened her bag and rummaged through it carefully, checking every compartment. Maybe she had misplaced it. She scanned the table where she’d been sitting, her eyes narrowing as she retraced her steps.

‘Okay, no big deal,’ she told herself. It’s here somewhere.

But the longer she searched, the faster her composure crumbled. She ducked under her table, checking the floor. Nothing. She went back to her chair, lifting it to see if her phone had slipped underneath. Still nothing.

“Where is it?” she muttered, her voice growing more frantic.

Her heart raced as the worst-case scenarios flashed through her mind. What if someone stole it? What if she dropped it? What if it’s gone forever?

She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. ‘Stay rational, [Name]. Think.’

She thought back to the last time she’d seen it—when she was scrolling through Instagram while eating. Maybe she’d left it there. She went back to the table again, scanning it meticulously. Still, her phone was nowhere to be found.

Her stomach churned with dread. No way… Kuon wouldn’t, would he?

The idea made her blood boil. She hoped it was just a coincidence and not a cruel joke at her expense.

As she stepped outside, she spotted an old payphone across the street. She sprinted over, fumbling through her bag for spare change. Sliding the coins into the slot, she dialed her own number, the metallic beeps of the phone ringing loud in her ears.

“Please, please, please,” she whispered, holding her breath as it rang.

After a few moments, the line connected, and a voice came through.

“Well, well, look who’s calling,” came the familiar, smug tone of Kuon Wataru.

[Name]’s eyes widened, her grip tightening on the phone. “Kuon?!”

“That’s right. Lose something, [Name]?” His voice dripped with mockery.

Her blood ran cold. “Where’s my phone?” she demanded, her tone sharp.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Kuon replied, his smirk audible through the receiver. “Look across the street.”

Her head snapped up, scanning the area frantically. Then she saw him. Standing casually across the road, leaning against a lamppost, was Kuon. In his hand, he held her phone, waving it teasingly in her direction with a smug grin plastered across his face.

[Name]’s jaw clenched as a wave of anger surged through her. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” she muttered under her breath.

Kuon raised the phone to his ear, still watching her. “Relax, [Name]. I was just keeping it safe for you. You should really be more careful with your things.”

Her knuckles turned white as she gripped the receiver. “You took it, didn’t you? While I was eating.”

“‘Took’ is such a strong word,” Kuon said, feigning innocence. “I prefer to call it… borrowing. You know, as a friend.”

“Friend?” [Name] hissed, her voice rising. “What kind of ‘friend’ steals someone’s phone and then taunts them about it?”

Kuon laughed, the sound infuriatingly casual. “Oh, come on. You’ve been so stressed out lately. I figured I’d give you a little distraction. You can’t take everything so seriously.”

“This isn’t funny, Kuon,” she snapped, her voice shaking with anger. “Give me my phone back. Now.”

Kuon sighed dramatically. “Alright, alright. No need to get your glasses in a twist. Meet me over here, and I’ll give it back.”

She slammed the payphone down, her teeth grinding as she stormed across the street. The cold wind nipped at her face, but she barely noticed, her focus locked on Kuon’s smug expression.

When she reached him, she held out her hand, glaring at him. “Hand it over.”

Kuon twirled the phone in his hand, smirking. “You’re no fun, you know that?”

“Kuon,” she said through gritted teeth, her patience wearing thin. “I’m not in the mood for games. Give. It. Back.”

Finally, he relented, placing the phone in her hand with an exaggerated flourish. “There you go. Safe and sound.”

[Name] snatched it from him, checking to make sure everything was still intact. Her fingers itched to slap the smirk off his face, but she took a deep breath, trying to compose herself.

“Next time,” she said coldly, “keep your hands off my stuff.”

Kuon held up his hands in mock surrender. “Message received, loud and clear.”

She turned on her heel and began walking away, her grip tight on her phone.

“Hey, [Name],” he called after her.

She stopped but didn’t turn around.

“For what it’s worth, you’re cute when you’re angry.”

Her fists clenched at her sides as she walked away, her heart pounding with frustration. Of all the nerve…

But as infuriating as Kuon was, she couldn’t shake the unsettling thought that there was more to his actions than just playful teasing. Something about the way he’d smiled at her—the glint in his eyes—made her feel like she was a pawn in a much bigger game.

The sound of bustling traffic filled the air as [Name] stopped at the curb, waiting for the light to change. Her fists were clenched so tightly that her knuckles turned white, her phone gripped protectively in her hand. She inhaled deeply, trying to steady her nerves after the infuriating encounter with Kuon.

But then, she felt it—hot, shallow breaths against the back of her neck. Her entire body stiffened as a shiver raced down her spine.

"You smell… delicious," came Kuon’s low, almost predatory voice, the words dripping with sinister amusement.

[Name]’s eyes widened, her stomach churning as she instinctively stepped forward. Her pulse quickened, and her breath caught in her throat. The moment she turned her head slightly and caught the faintest glimpse of his smirk, her fight-or-flight instinct kicked in.

Without a word, she bolted across the street, weaving through honking cars and startled pedestrians. Her heart pounded in her chest as adrenaline surged through her veins. She didn’t dare look back, but she could feel Kuon’s presence like a shadow looming behind her.

“Where are you going, [Name]?” His voice carried through the air, playful yet dripping with menace. “You know you can’t outrun me.”

She didn’t stop, didn’t respond. Her only thought was to get away. Her trembling fingers reached for her phone, desperate to call someone—anyone—for help. But as she unlocked the screen, her heart sank.

No SIM card.

Her footsteps faltered, panic overtaking her. “No… no, no, no!” she whispered, tears stinging her eyes. 'He must’ve taken it. He handed my phone back, but he took the damn SIM card!'

Her vision blurred as fear clouded her mind. She didn’t know where she was going anymore—just away. Away from Kuon. Away from the overwhelming dread building in her chest.

Her frantic running led her to an old, abandoned church. The worn, wooden doors creaked as she shoved them open, the sound echoing in the hollow space. Dust swirled in the air as the faint moonlight streamed through the cracked stained-glass windows, casting eerie, fragmented patterns on the floor.

[Name] stumbled inside, her breathing ragged. She looked around desperately, her mind racing for a plan. Hide? Block the door? Call for help?

Before she could decide, the doors creaked again behind her.

She froze, her blood turning to ice as Kuon stepped inside. His pace was slow, deliberate, almost mocking. His smirk grew wider as his dark eyes locked onto hers.

“Well, well,” Kuon drawled, his voice echoing in the empty space. “Running to a church for sanctuary? How… poetic.”

[Name] backed away, her steps uneven as she struggled to keep her composure. “Stay back,” she warned, though her voice betrayed her fear.

Kuon chuckled, his fangs glinting in the dim light as he stepped closer. “Oh, [Name]. You should’ve known by now… there’s nowhere you can run from me.”

Her back hit the cold, stone altar, and she flinched. The realization that she was trapped sank in, and her knees threatened to give out.

“Y-You’re one of them, aren’t you?” she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper. “A… vampire.”

Kuon tilted his head, his grin widening as he flashed his fangs fully. “Smart girl. I was wondering when you’d figure it out.”

Her hands trembled as she gripped the edge of the altar, trying to steady herself. “Why me? What do you want from me?”

He stepped closer, his movements slow and calculated, like a predator cornering its prey. “Why you?” he repeated, his tone turning almost reverent. “Do you have any idea how special you are? Your scent… your blood… it’s intoxicating. I’ve been watching you for a long time, [Name]. Dreaming of this moment.”

She shook her head, her breathing shallow as tears welled in her eyes. “You’re insane,” she whispered.

Kuon laughed darkly, his gaze never leaving hers. “Maybe. But you can’t deny it, can you? There’s something between us. You feel it too.”

Before she could respond, he lunged forward, slamming her body against the altar. The force knocked the air out of her lungs as she gasped, her hands instinctively trying to push him away.

“Let go of me!” she cried, her voice breaking.

But Kuon was unrelenting. He pinned her wrists above her head with one hand, his strength overwhelming. His face was inches from hers now, his smirk replaced by an almost animalistic hunger.

“You can struggle all you want,” he said, his voice low and rough. “It just makes you even more irresistible.”

Tears spilled down [Name]’s cheeks as she shook her head. “Please… don’t.”

Her vulnerability only seemed to excite him more. His free hand trailed down her neck, his fingers brushing against her skin with a chilling intimacy.

“You have no idea how hard it’s been to resist you,” he murmured, his voice laced with desire. “But now… I don’t think I can anymore.”

As his lips brushed against her neck, [Name] squeezed her eyes shut, a sob escaping her lips. She prayed for something—anything—to save her.

With sharp Fangs, Kuon forcefully sank his fangs deep into [Name]’s neck, she gasps from the pain as Kuon begin to greedily gobble her blood, in distraught pain she screamed from the top of her lungs, the pain triggering to thrash but Kuon restricted her movements.

The sound of tasteful moans coming from the male while hearing the girl in distress made him drink more, “Please! Stop! AAAHHH!!” She began to beg him to quite, her vision becoming blurry from all the tears streaming down her face.

With last gulp, he finally retired back and wiped the blood off his lips while having a sadistic smirk on his lips.

The church was silent except for the sound of her ragged breathing and Kuon’s whispered promises of indulgence. But in the quiethe a sigle blodd drops on the floor.

[Name] remained motionless, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps as Kuon’s sinister gaze bore down on her. The oppressive weight of his presence was suffocating. She desperately searched her surroundings for a way out but found none. Her mind raced, yet her body refused to move, frozen in terror.

Kuon smirked, his crimson eyes glowing faintly in the dim, moonlit church. "You know," he said casually, his voice laced with mockery, "you make this too easy, [Name]. You're so predictable, so... human." He teased, taking his hands off her wrist, replacing it on her neck.

[Name] swallowed hard, her throat dry as sandpaper. "Why... why are you doing this?" she managed to stammer, her voice trembling.

"Because I can," Kuon replied simply, tilting his head as if the question amused him. "And because you're special. Don’t you realize how irresistible you are? That sweet blood of yours..." He trailed off, licking his lips as if savoring the blood.

[Name] clenched her fists, forcing herself to stand tall despite the quivering of her knees and the lack of iron in her body. "I’m not some... some thing for you to toy with!" she snapped, her voice rising with a mix of fear and defiance.

Kuon laughed softly, a low, unsettling sound that reverberated in the hollow space. "Oh, [Name]. You’re so much more than that. You're a puzzle, a prize... something worth possessing.” He emphasized the last word, his tone dripping with obsession.

The intensity in his gaze caused her to take a groan in pain, bumping her head onto the altar behind her. She felt the cold marble press against her spine, trapping her. Kuon advanced slowly, savoring her helplessness.

"You can’t run forever," he whispered, his voice almost tender. "Sooner or later, you’ll realize there’s no one else who can protect you. Not your friends, not your roommate, not even Ruka. They're all just distractions. But me? I’ll keep you safe... in my own way."

[Name]’s heart pounded in her chest as she tried to think of a way to stall him. "You're wrong," she said, her voice wavering but steady enough to convey conviction. "They care about me. They’re not like you."

Kuon’s expression darkened for a fleeting moment, a shadow passing over his handsome features before a twisted smirk returned, contorting his face into something almost monstrous. “You think you know them so well,” he muttered, his voice dripping with condescension. “But you’ll see. They’re just as selfish as I am—just as hungry for you.” 

He leaned in closer, his breath hot against her skin, sending a shiver down [Name]’s spine. His lips brushed near her ear, and she could feel the weight of his words wrapping around her like a suffocating shroud. “I’m just the only one honest enough to admit it.”

[Name] flinched at his words, the cold steel of his twisted logic digging into her psyche like a dagger. Each syllable echoed in her mind, casting shadows over her thoughts and causing her resolve to falter. She struggled to maintain her composure, but the unsettling truth of his statement gnawed at her, chipping away at her defenses.

Kuon’s hand reached up, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. His touch was unexpectedly gentle, yet it churned a storm of fear within her. The contrast between his softness and the darkness in his eyes was unnerving, as if he were a predator toying with his prey. 

With a strange mix of tenderness and menace, Kuon slowly knelt down before her, his presence looming as he pried her legs apart. The movement was deliberate, almost reverent, as he took hold of one of her thighs. [Name]’s breath hitched in her throat as she felt the heat radiating from him, a palpable intensity that made her skin crawl. Her body shivered involuntarily, a reaction to the mingled sensations of fear and a strange, helpless vulnerability.

Not a moment longer, Kuon sank his fangs into her thigh, the sharpness of his teeth piercing her flesh with a sudden, excruciating pain. 

A scream erupted from [Name]'s lips, raw and desperate, echoing through the stillness of the night. “Please, stop! Get away from me!” she begged, her voice trembling as she writhed in agony, tears streaming down her cheeks.

But her pleas fell on deaf ears, swallowed by the darkness that enveloped them. Kuon was lost in his primal instinct, feasting on her blood with a fervor that sent shockwaves of terror coursing through her. Each gulp he took was a reminder of her helplessness, a stark contrast to the life that was ebbing away from her.

As he savored the rich flavor of her blood, his red eyes glinted with amusement and an obsessive hunger, reflecting a twisted joy that sent chills down her spine. The more he consumed, the more he seemed to revel in the power he wielded over her, as if her suffering was the very essence of his existence. 

[Name] could feel herself slipping away, the darkness creeping in around the edges of her vision, but Kuon remained, a haunting figure of twisted desire and insatiable hunger, consuming both her blood and her very spirit.

Suddenly, the heavy wooden doors of the church creaked open, the sound reverberating like a thunderclap. Both Kuon and [Name] froze, his head snapping toward the entrance. A dark silhouette stood in the doorway, illuminated by the pale moonlight.

"Step away from her," a low, cold voice commanded, cutting through the tension like a blade.

Kuon’s smirk faded, replaced by a scowl of irritation. "Oh, great. Another hero," he muttered, turning to face the intruder.

[Name]’s breath hitched as she recognized the figure. It was Barou, his eyes glinting dangerously in the dim light. His expression was unreadable, but the simmering anger beneath the surface was palpable.

"You're interrupting something private," Kuon sneered, his cocky demeanor returning as he crossed his arms. "Why don’t you leave before you get hurt, selfish king?"

Barou stepped forward, his movements deliberate and controlled. "Let her go," he repeated, his tone colder than ice.

Kuon tilted his head, clearly enjoying the challenge. "And if I don’t?" he asked, baring his fangs slightly in a subtle threat.

Barou’s eyes narrowed, and for a moment, the air in the room seemed to crackle with tension. "Then you’ll regret it," he said simply.

[Name] watched the standoff with bated breath, her fear momentarily eclipsed by the hope that someone had finally come to her rescue. But the question remained—would Barou be able to protect her from Kuon’s monstrous strength, or was she simply trading one danger for another?

Kuon chuckled, the sound low and mocking, as he stepped away from [Name] with deliberate slowness. "Regret it, huh? Big words, Barou. But let’s see if you can back them up." His fangs glinted as he smirked, his crimson eyes narrowing with amusement and challenge.

[Name] clung to the altar behind her, her knees trembling as she glanced between the two. Barou’s presence was commanding, his aura exuding raw power and authority. But even with him here, the tension between the two vampires was suffocating, their power pressing against her like a physical force.

Barou's expression was sharp, his red eyes boring into Kuon with a mixture of disdain and restrained fury. "Step away from her," he repeated, his voice calm but laced with a deadly edge. His towering figure loomed over the space, a silent promise of retribution.

Kuon sighed dramatically, throwing his hands up as if conceding. "Fine, fine," he drawled, taking a step back. "I’ll let her go… for now." His gaze flicked to [Name], his eyes softening into something disturbingly tender. "But remember, [Name], I’ll always be watching. You can’t hide from me."

Her stomach churned at his words, and she clenched her fists to stop her hands from trembling. She didn’t trust herself to speak, afraid her voice would betray her fear.

As Kuon turned to leave, he paused, throwing one last smirk over his shoulder. "Oh, and Barou? You might have won this little round, but don’t think for a second that this is over. I’m not done with her yet." With that, he vanished into the shadows, leaving an oppressive silence in his wake.

[Name] exhaled shakily, her legs finally giving out as she slumped against the altar. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, but she forced them back, refusing to let the fear consume her.

Barou approached her slowly, his heavy steps reverberating through the hollow church. His sharp eyes softened slightly as he crouched down to her level, his large frame casting a shadow over her. "Are you hurt?" he asked, his voice gruff but quieter now.

She shook her head, though her body still trembled and exhausted. " I’m… I’m okay," she stammered, avoiding his gaze. "I didn’t think anyone… would come."

Barou’s jaw tightened at her words, his golden eyes flickering with a dangerous light. "You think I’d let that scum get away with this?" he muttered, more to himself than to her. His tone was low, but the anger in his voice was unmistakable. "Ruka wouldn’t forgive me if I didn’t step in. And neither would I."

Her eyes widened slightly at the mention of her cousin. Of course, this was Ruka’s doing—his way of keeping her “protected.” But Barou's tone held something more than obligation; there was an undercurrent of personal resolve.

"He’s not going to stop, is he?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Barou exhaled sharply, his frown deepening. "No," he admitted bluntly. "But that doesn’t mean you have to deal with him on your own." He glanced away, his expression tightening. "You’re under my watch now. No one’s touching you—not Kuon, not anyone."

[Name] blinked up at him, her lips parting slightly in surprise. Despite his gruff demeanor, his words brought a small measure of comfort, a flicker of hope in the midst of her fear.

Barou stood and extended his hand to her. His large palm hovered in front of her, steady and resolute. "Come on," he said. "Let’s get you out of here."

Hesitating only for a moment, [Name] took his hand. His grip was firm, grounding her as he helped her to her feet. Standing beside him, she felt dwarfed by his presence, but for the first time that night, she didn’t feel entirely vulnerable.

As they walked out of the church, the moonlight casting an eerie glow over the ruins, [Name] couldn’t stop herself from glancing at Barou. His silence was heavy, his focus locked straight ahead, but his protective stance gave her a strange sense of security.

A question nagged at her, though. "Barou," she murmured hesitantly, "how did you know where I was?"

He didn’t look at her, his gaze still fixed forward. "I didn’t," he replied gruffly. "Ruka’s been keeping tabs on you, and I’ve been keeping tabs on him. When I heard Kuon was lurking nearby, it wasn’t hard to figure out the rest."

Her lips parted in surprise, but no words came out. She looked down, her fingers tightening around the fabric of her skirt. "Thank you," she said softly. "I mean it. I don’t know what would’ve happened if you hadn’t come."

Barou stopped walking, turning to look at her with an unreadable expression. "You’re safe now," he said simply. "That’s all that matters."

As they continued down the quiet streets, Barou’s towering presence beside her, [Name] felt the weight of the night’s events begin to lift—if only slightly. But deep down, she knew this was only the beginning.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

The sunlight filtered through the tall windows of the quiet cooking club room, casting a soft glow on the polished counters and neatly arranged utensils. [Name] stood at the sink, humming quietly to herself as she washed the last of the dishes. The aroma of freshly made takoyaki lingered in the air—a comforting blend of savory batter, octopus, and a hint of seaweed.

The club room was hers today, a rare escape from the chaos of her usual life. Sundays meant no official club activities, which gave her free rein to cook to her heart's content. Today, takoyaki had been on her mind, and she'd spent the last hour perfecting the crisp yet tender spheres, carefully plating them with drizzle patterns of sauce and mayonnaise.

The peaceful atmosphere was interrupted by the sound of the door creaking open behind her. [Name] paused, her hands still submerged in soapy water, and glanced over her shoulder.

Standing in the doorway was none other than Eita Otoya. He leaned against the doorframe with a casual confidence, his sharp, fox-like features accentuated by his ever-present smirk. His white hair  with green bang was slightly tousled, giving him a roguish sly charm that he undoubtedly used to his advantage.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" Eita drawled as he stepped inside, his voice smooth and playful. "I didn’t think anyone would be in today, but I guess I’ve been blessed with some unexpected company."

[Name] blinked in surprise before offering a polite smile. "Oh, Otoya. I didn’t expect anyone else either. Just… cleaning up after cooking."

Eita’s smirk widened as he approached, his hands slipping casually into his pockets. "Cooking, huh? Let me guess—you made something amazing, didn’t you? It smells too good for it to be anything else."

She chuckled softly, shaking her head as she returned her attention to the dishes. "I made takoyaki. Nothing fancy."

"Takoyaki?" Eita repeated, feigning astonishment. "Come on, [Name], don’t sell yourself short. Knowing you, it’s probably the best takoyaki anyone’s ever tasted."

[Name]’s cheeks warmed slightly at the compliment, though she quickly brushed it off. "I wouldn’t go that far. I was just experimenting with the recipe."

Eita leaned against the counter beside her, his sharp eyes watching her intently as she worked. "Experimenting or not, I’d bet money it’s better than anything I could make." He leaned in a little closer, his voice dropping to a flirtatious murmur. "You know, you could always teach me. I wouldn’t mind a private cooking lesson from someone as talented—and cute—as you."

[Name] glanced at him, her lips twitching into a faint smile. "You? Cooking? I can’t imagine you having the patience for it."

"Hey, I’m a quick learner," Eita said with a playful grin, placing a hand over his heart as though wounded by her doubt. "Especially if it means spending more time with you."

Her smile widened slightly, though she rolled her eyes at his attempt to charm her. "You’re impossible."

Eita chuckled, clearly pleased that he’d managed to draw a reaction out of her. His attention shifted to the counter, where the plate of takoyaki sat neatly arranged. His eyes lit up as he reached out and plucked one of the golden-brown spheres from the plate.

"These look amazing," he said, holding up the takoyaki as if appraising it. Then, with a sudden idea, he turned back to [Name], the smirk returning to his face. "Say ‘ah.’"

She blinked, caught off guard by the gesture. "What?"

"You heard me," Eita said, stepping closer and holding the takoyaki out toward her. "Come on, let me feed you. It’s only fair—I mean, you made these, right? You deserve the first bite."

[Name] hesitated, her cheeks flushing slightly at the forwardness of his actions. "I… I can eat it myself, you know," she said, attempting to deflect his playful gesture.

"But where’s the fun in that?" he teased, leaning in just enough to make the distance between them feel charged. His tone was light, but his gaze was sharp, studying her reaction with an almost predatory curiosity. "Come on, [Name]. Just humor me a little."

She sighed, realizing he wasn’t going to give up so easily. Reluctantly, she leaned forward and took a small bite of the takoyaki he held out. The savory flavors melted on her tongue, and she had to admit it was pretty good.

"See?" Eita said triumphantly, his grin widening as he pulled the rest of the takoyaki back and popped it into his own mouth. "Delicious. Just like I thought. You really are talented, [Name]."

She shook her head, half amused and half exasperated by his antics. "You’re ridiculous, Otoya. But thanks, I guess."

He leaned against the counter, his expression softening slightly as he watched her. "You know, I don’t get why you don’t join us more often. You’re way more fun to hang out with than half the people I know."

[Name] raised an eyebrow at him, her skepticism clear. "Is that supposed to be a compliment?"

"It’s the truth," he said, his tone surprisingly earnest. But then, true to form, his smirk returned. "Besides, it’s not every day I get to see someone so cute getting all flustered."

[Name] rolled her eyes again, though she couldn’t completely hide the small smile that tugged at her lips. For all his shameless flirting, Eita’s company wasn’t entirely unwelcome.

The two fell into a comfortable rhythm after that, with Eita occasionally sneaking more takoyaki from the plate and [Name] half-heartedly scolding him for it. Though she wasn’t completely swayed by his charm, there was something oddly relaxing about his presence—like a distraction from the chaos that had defined her life recently.

As the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting warm hues across the club room, [Name] found herself grateful for the moment of normalcy, however fleeting it might be.

The comfortable rhythm of their conversation continued as Eita leaned lazily against the counter, his fox-like grin never wavering. [Name], still skeptical of his intentions but amused by his antics, picked up another takoyaki from the plate with her chopsticks.

“Alright, your turn,” Eita said, pointing at her with a playful gleam in his eyes.

[Name] raised an eyebrow. “My turn for what?”

“To feed me,” he replied smoothly, crossing his arms as though the idea was entirely natural. “I fed you, so it’s only fair you return the favor, don’t you think?”

[Name] stared at him, momentarily dumbfounded. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Do I look like I’m kidding?” Eita’s grin widened, his tone carrying a mock innocence. “Come on, [Name]. Don’t leave me hanging. It’s only fair.”

She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose in exasperation. “You’re unbelievable. Fine, but don’t make this weird.”

Eita’s smirk deepened as she begrudgingly raised the takoyaki to his mouth. He leaned forward slightly, biting into it with a satisfied hum. “Delicious. But you know what makes it even better?”

“What?” she asked, already regretting indulging him.

“The fact that you’re the one feeding me,” he said, his voice dipping into a teasing lilt.

[Name] rolled her eyes, setting the chopsticks back on the counter. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

Before she could grab another piece of takoyaki, Eita suddenly reached for [Name]’s hand with a speed that left her breathless. His movements were smooth and deliberate, an elegant predator in a world that had suddenly narrowed down to just the two of them. He pulled her toward him, and the sudden shift caught her off guard, causing her to stumble slightly. Her free hand instinctively landed on his chest, the warmth of his body radiating through the fabric of his shirt, and their faces drew alarmingly close.

“O-Otoya!” she stammered, her voice a mix of surprise and annoyance, her heart racing in a wild rhythm against her ribcage. “What are you—”

“Shh,” he interrupted, his voice a low murmur that seemed to envelop her like a shroud. His fingers gently tilted her chin upward, forcing her to meet his gaze. His eyes, sharp and sly, held a glint of something deeper—something calculating that sent a shiver down her spine.

Before she could fully comprehend his intentions, Eita leaned in closer, his breath brushing against her skin. 

The world around them faded into a background hum as he closed the distance, and she could feel the tension crackling in the air. 

“You’ve been so tempting, [Name],” he whispered, his voice laced with a mix of desire and something darker. “I’ve waited too long for this moment.”

Panic surged within her as she realized what was about to happen. “No! Otoya, don’t!” she pleaded, trying to pull away, but his grip on her wrist tightened, anchoring her in place. 

The playful facade he wore melted away, revealing a hunger that was both intoxicating and terrifying.

In an instant, Eita sank his teeth into her flesh, the sharpness of his fangs piercing her skin with a sudden, brutal force. A gasp escaped her lips, quickly morphing into a cry of agony as pain shot through her throat. 

The sensation was a jarring mix of searing pain and an overwhelming rush of vulnerability as he began to drink her blood, his lips curling around the wound as he savored the taste.

[Name] struggled against him, her instincts screaming for her to escape. She kicked her legs, trying to push him away, but he was relentless, his strength far surpassing her own.

 “Let me go!” she cried, the desperation in her voice rising as she felt the warmth of her life ebbing away. But her pleas were met with silence, swallowed by the intensity of his feeding.

Eita drank deeply, his eyes closing in pure ecstasy, a low growl emanating from his throat as he reveled in the warmth of her blood. Each gulp sent waves of weakness coursing through her body, and she felt herself slipping. 

The world around her blurred, the vibrant colors dimming as darkness crept in at the edges of her vision.

“[Name],” he murmured between drinks, his voice thick with satisfaction. “You taste even better than I imagined. I want you” 

With each word, the weight of his obsession pressed down on her, suffocating and intoxicating all at once. She felt a mix of despair and confusion, her body betraying her as she fought to stay conscious. 

But with every heartbeat, Eita’s hold on her tightened, and she could feel the pull of oblivion beckoning her closer.

For a moment, [Name] froze, her breath catching as his expression softened into something almost tender. Yet, the sly edge to his grin remained. “You know, [Name],” he began, his voice low and smooth, “you really don’t realize how beautiful you are, do you?”

She blinked, heat rising to her cheeks as she quickly tried to push him away. “Otoya, stop it. This isn’t funny.”

“I’m not joking,” he said, his grip firm but not forceful. “I’m being completely serious here.”

“Otoya—”

He cut her off again, his voice turning playful. “You have no idea, do you? How much competition I have?”

“Competition?” [Name] repeated, her brow furrowing. “What are you even talking about?”

Eita chuckled, the sound low and almost predatory. “You’re seriously clueless, aren’t you? Do you know how many guys are after you, [Name]? The New Generation 11? Every single one of them.”

[Name]’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Wait—what?”

“Not just them,” he continued, his tone becoming more intense, as if he were listing off names for dramatic effect. “The U-20 team, too. Even Hiori, your childhood best friend, and Karasu, your precious senpai. They’re all in love with you. You’re like… this impossible prize everyone’s fighting for.”

Her mouth opened, but no words came out. The weight of his statement left her stunned, her mind racing to process the absurdity of it all.

Eita took advantage of her momentary silence, leaning in even closer until their faces were mere inches apart. His voice softened into a whisper, dripping with false sweetness. “But none of them can appreciate you like I do, [Name]. None of them can make you feel like I can.”

Before she could respond, Eita closed the distance between them, his lips capturing hers in a sudden, forceful kiss that sent shockwaves through her entire being. The world around them faded into a blur as the warmth of his mouth enveloped hers, igniting a fire that pooled low in her stomach.

[Name]’s eyes widened in shock, her hands instinctively pressing against his chest, trying to push him away. But Eita held her firmly in place, his grip unyielding as he deepened the kiss, his lips moving against hers with practiced ease. There was a raw intensity in his touch, a confidence that was both thrilling and terrifying. The warmth of his breath mingled with hers, each exhale a tantalizing invitation that overwhelmed her senses.

Panic surged through her as she struggled against him, her mind racing with a mixture of indignation and bewilderment. “Otoya, stop—” she managed to gasp, but he was relentless, his mouth claiming hers with an urgency that left her breathless. 

The kiss was a whirlwind of sensations; the softness of his lips contrasted sharply with the firm way he held her, as if he were marking his territory. She could feel the heat radiating off him, the undeniable chemistry crackling in the air around them. It was intoxicating, yet it sent a jolt of rebellion coursing through her veins. How dare he?

When he finally pulled back, his smirk returned, though his gaze was more intense now, a spark of possessiveness lighting his sharp eyes. “See? No one else can get this close to you, can they?” His voice was low, dripping with a mix of triumph and challenge that made her pulse race.

[Name]'s hand shot up, wiping her lips as she glared at him, her cheeks flushed with a mix of anger and something she refused to acknowledge. “You’re unbelievable! How dare you—”

“Relax,” he interrupted, raising his hands in mock surrender, though the teasing glint in his eyes remained, infuriating her further. “It was just a kiss. Nothing to get so worked up about.” 

She stepped back, desperately trying to put some much-needed distance between them as she fought to steady her racing heart. “You’re out of your mind, Otoya!”

“Maybe,” he admitted with a casual shrug, his grin unwavering. “But at least I’m honest about how I feel. Can any of the others say the same?” 

[Name] didn’t respond, her mind too clouded with frustration and confusion to come up with a retort. The air around them felt charged, electric with a tension that lingered like a storm ready to break. It was a heady mix of anger, attraction, and the undeniable connection that seemed to draw them together despite her better judgment.

Eita finally stepped back, giving her space as he casually grabbed another piece of takoyaki from the plate. “Thanks for the snack, [Name]. You’ve got talent, both in cooking and… other areas.” He winked, popping the takoyaki into his mouth with a playful flourish, the casualness of his demeanor contrasting sharply with the intensity of their earlier exchange.

Before leaving, he glanced over his shoulder, his smirk softening into something more genuine—though no less mischievous. “Think about what I said, okay?” His words lingered in the air, a haunting reminder of the kiss and the implications behind it, and that terrible blood sucking. How. Dare. He.

And with that, he was gone, leaving [Name] standing in the club room, her emotions a whirlwind of confusion, saddened, and an undeniable anger that she couldn’t quite name. The taste of him still lingered on her lips, a reminder of the moment that had shaken her to her core, and as she leaned against the wall, her heart raced with the realization that things could never be the same again.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

The cooking club room felt stifling now. The air seemed heavier, and [Name]’s thoughts swirled like a storm. Eita’s words replayed in her head, his confident smirk etched in her memory.

"You have no idea… how much competition I have. The New Gen 11… U-20… even Hiori and Karasu…"

She huffed, shaking her head as she walked down the hallway, her footsteps echoing in the quiet building. “He’s just trying to get under my skin,” she muttered to herself, gripping her bag tightly. “There’s no way. He can’t be serious.”

But despite her attempts to dismiss his claims, a seed of doubt lingered. Could it be true? Did so many people really feel that way about her? And if they did, why hadn’t she noticed?

“I need some air,” she said aloud, her voice firm as if to push her doubts away. The rooftop had always been her refuge—a place where she could think clearly without interruptions.

Reaching the staircase, [Name] ascended quickly, her mind still clouded. She pushed open the heavy metal door to the rooftop, the fresh breeze instantly greeting her. The scent of autumn leaves lingered in the air, and the city skyline stretched out before her.

The rooftop was quiet, save for the distant chirping of birds and the occasional rustle of wind. [Name] walked over to the edge, placing her hands on the cool metal railing as she let out a sigh.

“Ridiculous,” she said under her breath. “As if half the world is obsessed with me. Otoya’s full of himself.” She shook her head, her lips pressing into a thin line. “I shouldn’t have let him get to me.”

Just as she closed her eyes, trying to center her thoughts, a sound broke through the silence.

It was deep, smooth, and hauntingly beautiful—a hum that resonated through the air like the call of an ethereal being.

[Name] froze, her breath catching. The melody carried a strange allure, tugging at something deep within her. It was unlike anything she’d heard before, yet it felt oddly familiar.

“Is someone… singing?” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the haunting tune. She turned slowly, her eyes scanning the empty rooftop.

No one was there.

The melody continued, weaving through the air like silk, growing more mesmerizing with every passing second. It felt almost otherworldly, as if it didn’t belong to this realm.

[Name] stepped away from the railing, her heart pounding. The hum seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once, enveloping her in its mysterious embrace.

“Who’s there?” she called out, her voice trembling slightly.

The sound stopped.

A sudden silence fell over the rooftop, so absolute it made the air feel heavier. [Name]’s pulse quickened as she glanced around, her eyes darting to every corner of the space.

She walked slowly, her shoes clicking softly against the concrete as she searched for the source. “Hello?” she called again, her voice echoing faintly. “Is someone here?”

Nothing.

Her brow furrowed. She could’ve sworn someone had been there—someone just out of sight. The sound had been so clear, so close, yet there wasn’t a single soul in sight.

“Am I imagining things?” she muttered to herself, her voice shaky. “It felt so real…”

Her eyes landed on a shadow near the far corner of the rooftop. It was fleeting, barely perceptible, but it sent a shiver down her spine. She took a step closer, but when she reached the spot, there was nothing there.

“Great. Now I’m seeing things,” she said, trying to steady her breathing.

Still, the hum lingered in her mind, its haunting beauty etched into her memory. It wasn’t something she could simply dismiss. It felt like a call—like whoever, or whatever, had been there wanted her attention.

But why?

Shaking her head, [Name] stepped back toward the railing, gripping it tightly as she tried to make sense of the situation. The wind picked up, ruffling her hair as she stared out at the horizon.

“I need to stop overthinking,” she told herself firmly. “It’s probably just the wind or… or something stupid like that.”

And yet, deep down, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she wasn’t alone.

As she turned to leave the rooftop, her steps hesitant, she cast one last glance over her shoulder. The space was empty, the stillness almost unsettling.

But as she reached the door, she thought she heard it again—a faint, lingering note, as if the melody was bidding her farewell.

[Name] paused, her hand on the doorknob. For a moment, she considered staying, waiting to see if the mysterious presence would reveal itself.

Instead, she shook her head and opened the door. “I’m just imagining things,” she whispered, stepping into the stairwell. “That’s all it is.”

As the door closed behind her, the rooftop fell silent once more, the haunting hum fading into the wind as if it had never been there.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

The library was quiet, save for the faint rustle of pages being turned and the occasional soft hum of the air conditioning. [Name] walked through the rows of bookshelves, her bag slung over her shoulder and a determined look on her face. Tomorrow was the start of exams, and despite her confidence in most subjects, history loomed over her like a shadow. It wasn’t her strongest suit, and the thought of it threatened to ruin her plans for a carefree fall break.

She found an empty desk near the back of the library, away from prying eyes, and set down her things. The desk quickly filled with books—massive, intimidating tomes about wars, treaties, and ancient civilizations. “Alright,” she muttered to herself, cracking open the first book. “Let’s do this.”

For the first hour, her focus was sharp. She jotted down notes, underlined important details, and tested herself on key dates. But by the second hour, the words on the pages started to blur. [Name] yawned, covering her mouth as her eyes watered slightly. “No, no, no,” she whispered, shaking her head. “Stay awake. You have to get through this.”

She stretched her arms over her head, twisting her neck to the side to loosen the stiffness setting into her shoulders. The peaceful silence of the library made it harder to stay alert, and she found herself stifling yet another yawn.

Just as she rubbed her eyes and tried to refocus, a shadow fell across her desk.

“You look like you’re drowning in history,” a familiar voice teased.

[Name] blinked up, her vision adjusting to see Reo standing there, a charming smile playing on his lips. His violet eyes gleamed with curiosity as he looked at the mountain of books surrounding her. He was dressed casually, his blazer slung over one shoulder, but he still had an air of effortless elegance about him.

“Reo?” she asked, her voice laced with surprise. “What are you doing here?”

“I was passing by and saw you through the window,” he explained, pulling out the chair opposite her and sitting down. “Thought I’d check in. You looked pretty intense.” He glanced at her stack of books and raised an eyebrow. “History, huh? That bad?”

[Name] let out a small laugh, leaning back in her chair. “Let’s just say it’s not my favorite. I’m fine, though—just tired.”

Reo rested his chin on his hand, studying her carefully. “You sure? You look like you’re about to pass out.”

She waved him off, offering a tired smile. “It’s nothing I can’t handle. I just need to power through a bit longer.”

Reo smirked, clearly unconvinced, but he didn’t press the issue. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, his posture relaxed. “You’ve got a strong will, I’ll give you that. I don’t think I’d survive if I had to study all of… this.” He gestured vaguely at the pile of books.

“Believe me, I don’t want to,” [Name] admitted, tapping her pen against her notebook. “But I need to pass this exam. I’m not letting history ruin my fall break.”

Reo chuckled, his laughter light and melodic. “Fair enough. So, after exams, any big plans for your precious fall break?”

She shook her head, a small shrug accompanying the motion. “Not really. Just want to relax and maybe catch up on some shows. Nothing too exciting.”

Reo tilted his head, his violet eyes narrowing slightly as a sly smile spread across his face. “Well, in that case, how about you hang out with me and Nagi? We’ve got tickets to Central Point Tower, but he decided to ditch at the last minute, so I’ve got an extra spot. It’d be fun.”

[Name] blinked, caught off guard by the sudden invitation. “Central Point Tower? Isn’t that the fancy new observation deck downtown?”

“Exactly,” Reo said, leaning forward slightly. “It’s got everything—an amazing view, great food, and even a VR game section. It’d be a shame to let the extra ticket go to waste.”

She hesitated, glancing at her notes before meeting his expectant gaze. Despite her initial reluctance, she found herself nodding. “Alright, I’ll go. Sounds like fun.”

Reo’s smile widened, his satisfaction evident. “Good choice. You won’t regret it.” He stood up, smoothing out his blazer. “Now, I’ll let you get back to your history dump of knowledge. Good luck, [Name].”

“Thanks,” she said, waving as he walked away. “See you after exams.”

He gave her a casual salute before disappearing around the corner, leaving her alone once more.

[Name] exhaled, a faint smile lingering on her lips. Reo’s visit had been unexpected, but it had lifted her spirits. She turned back to her books, feeling a bit more energized as she resumed her studies.

But even as she tried to focus on the intricacies of historical events, her mind occasionally wandered to his invitation. ‘Central Point Tower, huh? It might be a nice change of pace after all the stress of exams.’

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

The classroom was filled with the quiet rustling of papers and the faint hum of the overhead lights. [Name] sat at her desk, her brows furrowed in concentration as she worked through her Mathematics exam. The equations sprawled across the pages before her, each one demanding her full attention. She carefully wrote out her work, glancing occasionally at her calculator to ensure every number was precise. Her pen moved swiftly but methodically, the sound of it scratching against the paper blending into the background noise of other students doing the same.

[Name]’s mind was laser-focused, her heart steady. This was one subject she had prepared extensively for, having spent the morning drilling formulas and problem-solving techniques into her brain. Still, she double-checked every answer, unwilling to leave anything to chance.

The large digital clock on the board buzzed, signaling the end of the exam period. Mr. Lavinho’s authoritative voice cut through the silence. “Alright, time’s up. Pencils down, everyone.”

A collective groan erupted across the room as students reluctantly set their pencils aside.

“Finally,” Kira Ryosuke muttered, leaning back in his chair with a relieved sigh. He ran a hand through his sandy hair, glancing at [Name]. “That was brutal. At least the first part is over.”

[Name] exhaled deeply, the tension in her shoulders easing as she placed her pencil on the desk. “Yeah,” she agreed softly, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “But it wasn’t as bad as I thought. Studying this morning helped a lot.”

Across the room, Gagamaru Gin had his head down on his desk, his hair tied messily around him. He groaned loudly, muffled against the surface of his table. “Math is not my strong suite” He spoke monotonous way.

“Math isn’t supposed to be your friend,” [Name] teased gently, packing up her calculator and notebook. “It’s just supposed to make sense.”

“Yeah, well, it doesn’t,” Gagamaru retorted, lifting his head slightly to eye at her, though his expression was more pitiful than intimidating.

Mr. Lavinho began walking between the rows of desks, collecting exams from each student. His cheerful yet commanding presence lightened the tense atmosphere. “Good work today, everyone. I know Mathematics can be a tough one, but I’m proud of the effort I saw. Keep it up for the rest of the week, alright?”

His words elicited a mix of grumbles and murmured thanks from the class. [Name] felt a small flicker of relief at his encouragement.

Kira stretched his arms over his head, letting out a groan of his own. “One down, seven to go,” he said, his voice filled with exhaustion but also a hint of optimism. “I just hope the Business exam isn’t as bad as this.”

[Name] glanced at her schedule in her planner, confirming the next exam. Business wasn’t her favorite subject, but she felt confident enough in her preparation. “At least it’s multiple choice,” she offered, trying to sound reassuring.

“That’s what they always say,” Gagamaru interjected, slumping further into his seat. “But then you get hit with all those ‘choose the best answer’ questions. It’s a trap, I’m telling you.”

[Name] chuckled softly at his theatrics, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of her notebook. “You’ll survive. You always do.”

“Barely,” he mumbled, finally sitting up straight. His eyes glanced toward the clock. “When’s the next exam?”

Kira checked his phone, his brow furrowing slightly. “We’ve got about fifteen minutes. Enough time to stretch or grab some water.”

[Name] stood, smoothing out her skirt and gathering her materials. “I’m going to head to the vending machine. I need something to keep me going.”

“Grab me a water?” Gagamaru called after her.

[Name] turned back briefly, nodding with a small smile. “Sure thing.”

As she made her way out of the classroom, she overheard snippets of conversations from her classmates. Some were venting about tricky questions, others were already moving on to discussing the next test. The tension in the air was palpable, but [Name] allowed herself a moment to enjoy the temporary reprieve.

The vending machine stood in the corner of the hallway, and [Name] carefully inserted a few coins, punching the buttons for a bottle of green tea and a sports drink for Gagamaru. As the drinks clunked into the tray below, she exhaled softly.

“Just one down,” she muttered to herself, gripping the bottles tightly. “I can handle this.”

With renewed determination, she returned to the classroom, ready to tackle Economical Biology head-on.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

The atmosphere in the classroom was tense as the students tackled their Economical Biology exams. [Name] sat at her desk, her pen moving steadily as she filled in the blanks with precise answers. This section relied heavily on memory and understanding of key definitions, and she thanked her early-morning study sessions for her confidence. Each question seemed like a test of focus and clarity, but [Name] remained composed, jotting down her explanations for the biology problems in detailed, neat handwriting.

To her left, Aryu Jyubei wrote with a flourish, his pen gliding across the paper as though the exam was a work of art. Every motion of his wrist exuded elegance, and even while answering scientific questions, he maintained an air of sophistication.

To her right, however, Isagi Yoichi was visibly struggling. His brows were knit in frustration as he stared at the fill-in-the-blank section. His pen hovered uncertainly above the page before retreating to scratch his head, and he muttered to himself as he tried to recall the definitions that seemed just out of reach.

Ms. Bogdanova loomed at the front of the room, her sharp gaze sweeping over the students like a hawk searching for prey. The stern look in her eyes made it clear she wasn’t tolerating any distractions or wandering eyes. She crossed her arms and leaned against the teacher's desk, her presence alone enough to keep everyone glued to their own papers.

[Name] finished her exam a few minutes before the timer beeped but didn’t immediately set her pen down. Instead, she meticulously went through each question, double-checking her answers and making sure she hadn’t overlooked anything. Satisfied that everything was accounted for, she leaned back slightly, allowing herself a small moment of relief.

As the timer on the board beeped, Ms. Bogdanova’s voice cut through the silence. “Time is up. Pens down.”

There was a collective exhale as students reluctantly put their pens aside. Aryu leaned back in his chair, stretching with a graceful motion that somehow made even exhaustion look stylish. “Ah, the exam is over,” he said with a content sigh. “Not bad. My answers were as perfect as my hair.”

[Name] chuckled softly, appreciating his flair even in a stressful situation. She packed up her materials while glancing at Yoichi, who looked far less relieved. He groaned, slumping forward onto his desk with a defeated sigh.

“I didn’t even finish,” Yoichi mumbled, staring despondently at his partially blank exam paper as Ms. Bogdanova began collecting them. “Why do they have to make these so long?”

[Name] offered him a kind smile. “Hey, it’s not the end of the world. You can always finish it on Friday during the make-up session.”

Yoichi looked up at her, his expression still glum but slightly less so. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Thanks, [Name].”

Aryu, ever the picture of poise, chimed in. “Indeed, Isagii-kun. A temporary stumble does not define your elegance. You’ll recover splendidly, I’m sure.”

Yoichi blinked at him, not entirely sure how to respond to that, but eventually nodded. “Uh… thanks, Aryu.”

With the exams collected and the second part of the day officially over, the students began gathering their belongings. The energy in the room shifted from tense to relaxed as the realization that they were free for the day set in.

[Name] slung her bag over her shoulder, stretching her arms to shake off the stiffness of sitting for so long. “Two down, six to go,” she said lightly, her tone filled with cautious optimism.

Yoichi managed a small smile. “Let’s just hope tomorrow’s subjects are kinder.”

“Psychology and History,” [Name] mused, already mentally preparing for another long night of reviewing. “It could be worse.”

Aryu adjusted his scarf with a flourish, smiling as if exams were nothing more than a minor inconvenience. “No matter the challenge, always face it with style. Now, I’m off to reward myself with a protein smoothie. Farewell!”

As Aryu glided out of the room, Yoichi shook his head, amused despite himself. “That guy really doesn’t change, does he?”

[Name] laughed softly, waving goodbye to both boys as she made her way out of the classroom. The day wasn’t over, but for now, she allowed herself a moment of peace, knowing she had done her best.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

The soft hum of the vending machines filled the quiet campus gift shop as [Name] stood in front of the soda display, deciding between a lemon-lime soda or an iced tea. Her throat felt parched after the day’s exams, and she needed something refreshing. Finally settling on the soda, she grabbed one and turned to see Nijiro by her side, cradling a bottle of peach-flavored water in his hand.

“Want me to grab one for you too?” [Name] asked, smiling.

Nijiro blinked, caught off guard by her offer, before sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. “Oh, uh… you don’t have to.”

“Come on, it’s no big deal,” she said with a grin, heading to the counter. Nijiro followed closely, offering a quiet thanks as [Name] paid for both their drinks.

As they walked out of the shop, cracking open their bottles, Nijiro took a long sip before letting out a sigh. “AP English today? It was brutal. Some of those essay prompts made my head spin.”

[Name] tilted her head sympathetically. “It was tough, but you’ve got a good grasp of analysis, Nanase. I’m sure you did great.”

He chuckled nervously, glancing at her. “I don’t know about that, but thanks. I mean, compared to you, I probably bombed it. You make everything look so easy.”

[Name] laughed, shaking her head. “Trust me, it’s not as easy as it looks. And tomorrow’s going to be rough. History is… not my strong suit.”

Nijiro frowned, sensing the worry in her voice. He took a moment to think before smiling softly. “You’ve got this, [Name]. Seriously. You’re one of the hardest-working people I know. History doesn’t stand a chance against you.”

She glanced at him, his genuine encouragement warming her nerves slightly. “Thanks, Nanase. I needed that.”

As they continued down the pathway, sipping their drinks, the two chatted lightly about the exams and their plans for the upcoming fall break. The day had taken on a calm, almost peaceful rhythm—until they were interrupted.

A tall figure blocked their path, and both [Name] and Nijiro stopped in their tracks. Standing before them, with an unnerving grin spread across his face, was Don Lorenzo.

“Ah, it's the little rabbit,” Lorenzo drawled, his deep voice filled with mockery and amusement. His golden grills linted in the sunlight as he tilted his head, observing her like a predator studying its prey.

[Name] felt an icy chill crawl down her spine as her grip tightened around her soda bottle. Nijiro, sensing her unease, shifted slightly closer to her, his brows furrowing.

Lorenzo’s grin widened as he took a step forward, his eyes flickering between the two of them. “Finally, we meet. I’ve been dying to see the girl who’s got everyone so... enchanted.”

“What do you want, Lorenzo?” [Name] asked, her voice steady despite the unease bubbling inside her.

Lorenzo didn’t answer right away. Instead, he reached out, casually taking a strand of her long black hair between his fingers. “You know, you’re quite the enigma, [Name]. This hair, this scent—” he leaned in slightly, inhaling dramatically, “—no wonder everyone’s losing their minds over you.”

[Name] froze, her discomfort visible in the way she stiffened. Nijiro, standing beside her, stepped in almost instinctively, moving to shield her from Lorenzo.

“Hey, back off,” Nijiro said firmly, his usually soft demeanor replaced with surprising determination. “She’s clearly uncomfortable.”

Lorenzo’s grin didn’t falter. If anything, it grew sharper, more sinister. He dropped [Name]’s hair and turned his full attention to Nijiro, mockingly clapping his hands. “Oh, look at you. Playing the hero. How noble.”

Nijiro didn’t back down, keeping himself between [Name] and Lorenzo. “I’m just looking out for my friend.”

“Friend, huh?” Lorenzo sneered, his voice dripping with condescension. “How cute. But let’s not pretend you’re anything more than a little sidekick, Little Hero. Do you really think you can keep her safe from people like me? Or Ruka? Or the rest of us?”

[Name] had heard enough. Her patience snapped as she grabbed Nijiro’s hand and started walking away, pulling him with her. “Come on, Nanase. Let’s go.”

Lorenzo didn’t stop them, but his laughter followed them down the path, dark and unsettling. “Run along, little rabbit. But don’t think this is over, [Name]. You and I, we’ll have our time.”

[Name] didn’t look back, her hand tightening around Nijiro’s as they hurried away. Her heart pounded in her chest, not just from Lorenzo’s words but from the way he had looked at her—as if she were something to be owned, to be broken.

Nijiro, sensing her distress, spoke gently. “Are you okay? I should’ve done more back there…”

“You did enough,” [Name] said, her voice soft but resolute. She let out a shaky breath, trying to steady herself. “Let’s just… let’s just stay away from him. From all of them.”

Nijiro nodded, his own unease clear in the way he glanced over his shoulder. Lorenzo might’ve let them go for now, but there was no mistaking the predatory hunger in his gaze. It wasn’t over.

Nanase Nijiro called after [Name], his pace quickening to catch up. “Wait, [Name]! Are you okay?” His voice was gentle, but concern laced his tone. He could see the tension in her shoulders as she walked ahead, gripping her soda tightly in one hand.

When she didn’t respond, he slowed his approach, not wanting to overwhelm her. But as he got closer, he noticed her trembling. “[Name]…” He stepped in front of her path, only to see the tears silently streaking down her cheeks.

“[Name]…” he said again, softer this time, his voice breaking with sympathy. He instinctively placed a hand on her shoulder, only for her to shake her head and look away, unable to meet his gaze.

Nijiro’s heart ached. “Hey, it’s okay,” he said gently. “You don’t have to say anything right now.” Without hesitation, he pulled her into a comforting hug, wrapping his arms around her as if shielding her from the world. [Name] stiffened at first but then sank into his embrace, her quiet sobs muffled against his chest.

“I hate it…” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “I hate how people treat me. Like I’m… like I’m some kind of prize to be won.”

Nijiro clenched his fists behind her, his jaw tightening. “You’re not a prize,” he said firmly, his voice filled with conviction. He pulled back slightly, enough to look down at her tear-streaked face. “You’re [Name]. You’re kind, hardworking, and strong—stronger than anyone gives you credit for.”

She sniffled, looking up at him through her glasses. “I don’t feel strong.”

“You are,” Nijiro said with a small smile, reaching out to gently wipe away her tears with his thumb. “You’re standing tall despite all of this, aren’t you? That’s strength. And if it ever gets too heavy to carry alone, I’ll be here to help you.”

His words seemed to calm her, and she nodded, her grip on her drink loosening. Nijiro’s heart swelled with relief, though a pang of guilt followed. He’d always admired her—loved her, even—but he knew he couldn’t compete with the others vying for her attention. Still, seeing her like this, all he wanted was to protect her.

“Come on,” he said, forcing a lightness into his tone. “Let’s get out of here. How about we go to the garden? You could use some peace after… all that.”

[Name] hesitated but eventually nodded. “Okay,” she said softly, her voice still shaky but steadier now.

Nijiro smiled and held out his hand. She took it, her fingers wrapping around him hesitantly. Together, they walked away, leaving the tension of the moment behind.

But unbeknownst to them, Alexis Ness stood in the shadows, his phone raised, recording every second of their interaction. His lips curled into a smirk as he stopped the video. “Interesting…” he muttered, tucking his phone away. His mind was already racing with the possibilities of how to use this newfound piece of information.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

[Name] Sanzuku sat at her desk in the Psychology exam room, her pencil gliding smoothly across the paper as she worked through the written responses. The test covered everything from identifying psychological terms and parts of the brain to analyzing how humans react to various scenarios. Each question sparked confidence in her; she’d spent the last few weeks ensuring she understood the material.

She paused for a moment, tapping her pencil against her chin as she reviewed one of her answers about the limbic system’s role in emotional regulation. Satisfied with her reasoning, she moved on to the next question.

To her right, she could hear the faint muttering of Tokimitsu. He was hunched over his paper, his pencil scribbling furiously while he mumbled under his breath.

“C-come on, Aoishi. You studied for this,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. His hand trembled slightly as he worked through the problem, his nervous energy filling the air.

[Name] glanced at him, her expression softening. Poor guy, she thought. He’s so hard on himself.

On her left sat Itsuki, his typically calm demeanor strained by the exhaustion etched into his face. The dark circles under his eyes made it clear he’d been up all night studying. Yet, his focus never wavered, his pencil moving methodically as he tackled each question with precision. [Name] admired his determination, though she wished he’d taken better care of himself.

Her eyes wandered further down the rows of desks, spotting Kenyu Yukimiya sitting near the back. He had already finished his exam and was now engrossed in a book, his posture relaxed as if this was just another day for him. His calm aura was almost enviable. Nearby, Reo Mikage was also done with his test, though he wasn’t relaxing. Instead, he was jotting something in a notebook, his brow furrowed in thought. [Name] could only imagine he was strategizing or planning something, as usual.

The timer on the board ticked down, and [Name] turned her attention back to her paper. She carefully rechecked each of her answers, scanning for any mistakes or questions she might’ve overlooked.

When she was sure everything was in order, she put her pencil down and let out a quiet sigh of relief. One exam down, and she felt good about it.

A few minutes later, the timer buzzed, signaling the end of the exam.

“All right, pencils down!” Mr. Luna announced, his voice cutting through the tension in the room. “Pass your exams forward, please.”

[Name] collected the papers from her row and handed them to the student in front of her. As the exams were gathered, she leaned back in her seat, stretching her arms overhead.

Tokimitsu let out a shaky sigh beside her, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. “Oh man… I think I messed up on, like, half of that,” he muttered anxiously.

“You probably did better than you think,” [Name] said encouragingly. “You always overthink things, Tokimitsu.”

“I-I guess… but still…” He rubbed the back of his neck, clearly unconvinced.

On her other side, Itsuki closed his exam booklet and leaned back in his chair, letting out a long breath. “I don’t know if I’m relieved or just running on fumes,” he said, his voice tinged with exhaustion.

“You need sleep,” [Name] said pointedly. “You’re going to burn out if you keep this up.”

“I’ll sleep when the exams are over,” Itsuki replied with a faint smile.

[Name] shook her head but couldn’t help smiling back. “Just don’t collapse before then.”

As the students began to file out of the room, [Name] gathered her things and slung her bag over her shoulder. She cast one last glance at Yukimiya, who gave her a polite nod before returning to his book, and at Reo, who seemed lost in his own thoughts.

With her spirits lifted by the sense of accomplishment, she headed for the door, ready to tackle the next challenge that awaited her.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

The library was a quiet sanctuary in the heart of the bustling academy, its towering shelves filled with books that whispered of history, science, and imagination. [Name] Sanzuku sat at one of the farthest tables, her red glasses perched delicately on her nose as she scanned the open textbook in front of her. Her notes were spread out in a chaotic, yet strangely organized manner, and her fingers occasionally tapped the side of her pen against the table as she tried to commit the endless stream of dates and events to memory.

Her heterochromatic eyes moved swiftly across the page, absorbing every word. The faint smell of aged paper and the hum of the library’s air conditioning created a calming backdrop, one that momentarily masked her rising anxiety over the upcoming history exam.

Suddenly, her phone vibrated, a low buzz breaking the tranquil silence. Startled, [Name] fumbled to grab it, nearly knocking over a stack of flashcards. She glanced at the screen: Incoming Call - Koji. Her heart softened, and a small smile tugged at her lips.

“Koji?�� she whispered, answering the call and holding the phone close to her ear.

“Hey Sis!” came her little brother’s surprised voice, loud enough that she instinctively glanced around to make sure she wasn’t disturbing anyone.

“Koji, keep your voice down,” she admonished softly, though there was no real annoyance in her tone.

“Oops, sorry,” Koji said, quieter now but still carrying his usual demeanor. “What are you doing? Are you studying? You always study too much.”

[Name] chuckled lightly, adjusting her glasses. “Of course I’m studying. Exams are in session you know. I can’t slack off like you always do.”

“Hey! I don’t slack off,” he defended, though his sheepish laugh gave him away. “Anyway, you won’t believe what I found!”

Her brow furrowed. “What are you talking about?”

“Your poster!” he exclaimed proudly. “The one you said was lost forever. It was behind your desk this whole time. Guess I’m smarter than you, huh?”

[Name]’s mouth fell open in disbelief, and she nearly laughed out loud. “Koji! You were going through my stuff again, weren’t you?”

“Uh... maybe?” he admitted, not sounding the least bit guilty. “But it’s fine, right? I mean, you’re not even here to use it, and I was bored.”

Shaking her head, she leaned back in her chair, her hair brushing against her shoulders. “You’re incorrigible. But thanks for finding it, I guess.”

“See? You should thank me more often. I’m a great little brother.”

[Name] rolled her eyes, though a fond smile lingered on her lips. “You’re something, all right. So, what do you want, Koji? Besides rummaging through my room.”

His tone shifted slightly, becoming more earnest. “I just wanted to annoy you. It’s been kinda boring without you around, you know? The house is too quiet.”

She rolled her eyes at his comment but her heart ached a little at his words, and she softened her voice. “I miss you too, Koji. But I’ll be back soon. Fall break is only a few weeks away.”

“Promise?”

“I promise,” she said firmly.

There was a pause, and then Koji spoke again, quieter this time. “Take care of yourself, okay? I know you’re always so busy, but don’t overdo it.”

“I will,” she assured him, her voice warm. “And you stay out of trouble, got it? No more snooping through my stuff.”

“No promises,” he replied cheekily, and she couldn’t help but laugh.

“Bye, Koji. I’ll call you later.”

“Bye, [Name]-chan. Good luck with your exams”

The call ended, and [Name] stared at her phone for a moment, her smile lingering. She placed it back on the table, letting out a soft sigh. The brief conversation had been a welcome distraction, a reminder of home and the people who cared about her.

But the clock was ticking. The library’s clock chimed faintly, signaling that the break was nearly over. Taking a deep breath, she straightened her notes and dove back into her studies. The words on the page seemed to blur together, but she forced herself to focus, repeating dates and facts under her breath.

Just as the next bell rang, signaling the end of the break, [Name] felt a renewed determination. She closed her book with a quiet snap, her resolve stealing. ‘I’ll make you proud’, she thought, gathering her materials and preparing for her next class.

The library emptied quickly, but [Name] lingered for a moment longer, savoring the calm before stepping back into the whirlwind of academic life.

The school hallways were bustling with activity as students moved between classes, the sound of chatter and hurried footsteps echoing off the walls. [Name] Sanzuku walked briskly through the corridor, her mind racing as she mentally reviewed the key points for her upcoming history exam. The weight of her textbooks in one arm and her notepad in the other added to her sense of urgency, her hair  swaying with every step.

As she turned a corner, a small clattering noise reached her ears. She paused, looking down to see that her pencil had slipped from her grasp and rolled a few feet away. Muttering under her breath, she crouched to retrieve it.

Just as her fingers were about to close around the pencil, a shadow fell over her, and a hand—larger and calloused—picked it up first.

"Looking for this?" a deep, composed voice asked.

[Name] straightened, blinking as she took in the figure before her. The young man was strikingly unique, with light-colored hair styled into dreadlocks that framed his sharp, slanted eyes. His lean frame carried an air of quiet intensity, and his piercing gaze seemed to cut through her like a blade. His strong, masculine presence was undeniable, making him stand out even in a crowd.

The pencil rested in his hand as he held it out to her, his expression calm yet unreadable. "You should watch where you're going," he said in a low tone, his words clipped and deliberate. “The tide doesn’t wait for anyone.”

[Name] blinked in confusion, taken aback by his cryptic phrasing. Quickly recovering, she reached for the pencil. "Uh, thanks," she began, her tone polite but wary. However, his comment lingered in her mind, and she frowned slightly. "Wait a second. What’s that supposed to mean? Are you saying I’m clumsy?"

Kairu’s expression didn’t change, though the corners of his lips twitched slightly, as if he found her reaction mildly amusing. "It’s not about clumsiness," he replied, his voice as calm as the lapping waves. "It’s about awareness. If you don’t keep an eye on the shore, you’ll get swept away."

[Name] narrowed her eyes, feeling a flicker of annoyance rise within her. "Okay, Mr. Surfing Philosopher," she said, crossing her arms, "maybe try handing back someone’s pencil without throwing in unsolicited life lessons next time."

For the first time, something flickered in Kairu’s sharp gaze, though it was impossible to tell whether it was amusement, irritation, or something else entirely. He inclined his head slightly, his voice still calm. "Fair enough. But you should hurry. The bell’s about to ring."

Her heart skipped a beat as she glanced at the clock on the wall. Her eyes widened in panic. "Oh no, you’re right! I’m going to be late!" she exclaimed, her frustration with him momentarily forgotten.

Clutching her pencil tightly, she darted past him, her hurried footsteps echoing down the corridor. "Thanks again, I guess!" she called over her shoulder before disappearing around the corner.

Kairu remained where he stood, watching her retreating figure with an unreadable expression. His hand lingered in the air for a moment before dropping to his side. His gaze followed her, lingering on the way her thair swayed with every frantic step.

"Like a fish swimming against the current," he murmured to himself, the faintest hint of a smile curving his lips. His sharp, slanted eyes glinted with something deeper, something primal, as he turned on his heel and walked away. The noisy hallway seemed to fade into the background as his thoughts lingered on [Name].

Kairu Saramadara’s movements were slow and deliberate as he exited the hallway, a predator savoring the thrill of the chase.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

The history classroom was unusually quiet, save for the faint scratch of pens on paper and the occasional sound of someone shifting in their seat. The overhead clock ticked ominously, its hands creeping closer to the hour. The tension in the room was palpable as the students focused intently on their exams, each immersed in their own battle with the questions before them.

[Name] sat in the middle of the classroom, her red glasses slipping slightly down her nose as she hunched over her paper. Her hair hung limply by her shoulders, almost as if mirroring the growing sense of defeat she felt. The first few questions had been manageable, but as she progressed, the historical dates and significant events blurred together in her mind. By the time she flipped to the middle of the exam, a bead of sweat had formed on her temple.

She glanced up at the whiteboard, where the countdown timer ticked mercilessly closer to zero. Fifteen minutes left. She swallowed hard and forced herself to focus. Come on, [Name], she thought, gripping her pen tightly. ‘You studied this. You know this! Just think!’

But the harder she tried to recall the answers, the more elusive they seemed. Questions about key historical treaties and landmark battles stared back at her mockingly, their blank answer spaces a stark reminder of her faltering memory. She tapped her pen against her paper nervously, earning a soft "shhh" from someone behind her.

“Ugh, sorry,” she whispered, her face heating up in embarrassment.

She glanced at the next question, her eyes scanning it rapidly: "What was the main objective of the Treaty of Kanagawa in 1854?"

Her mind blanked. Was it trade? Diplomacy? Something else entirely? She couldn't remember, and the weight of her indecision pressed down on her chest like a stone.

Five minutes left.

Her heart pounded in her ears as she flipped to the last page. The sight of the final questions almost made her cry in frustration. She scrawled out a hasty answer to one, then hesitated on the next, the seconds slipping away far too quickly.

“Time’s up!” Mr. Prince’s booming voice shattered the silence, and the sound of the timer hitting zero followed immediately. “Pens down, everyone. That’s it.”

A collective sigh of relief and frustration swept through the room. [Name] froze, staring at the unfinished final questions on her paper. She let out a defeated groan and slumped forward, resting her head against her desk.

“Why am I like this?” she muttered, her voice muffled against the wood. “I totally flopped that. There’s no way I passed…”

Mr. Prince strode around the classroom, his unkempt blond hair bouncing slightly as he collected the exams. “Thank you, mates,” he said with his usual mix of charisma and confidence. “Now remember, history doesn’t care for excuses. Either you know it, or you don’t. Let’s see how many of you make me proud this time.”

As he walked by, [Name] shoved her paper toward him without lifting her head.

Akira, seated beside her, leaned over slightly, his soft voice breaking the silence. “Hey, don’t beat yourself up, [Name]. This is just one exam,” he said, offering her a reassuring smile. “You’ve still got time to prepare for the make-ups on Friday. Think of this as practice.”

[Name] turned her head slightly, her cheek still pressed against the desk. “I don’t know, Akira,” she sighed. “It feels like I’m drowning in a whirlpool of dates and names. I thought I studied enough, but clearly not.”

Reiji, sitting a row behind, twisted in his seat to face her. His eyes were calm and understanding as he rested his chin on his palm. “[Name], stop being so hard on yourself,” he said in his smooth, almost melodic tone. “You’re not alone in this. A lot of us struggled, and it’s not like you didn’t try. Effort matters, too.”

She lifted her head slightly, her glasses crooked on her nose. “You guys make it sound so easy,” she grumbled. “But this exam was brutal.”

Reiji chuckled softly. “Trust me, I didn’t breeze through it either. But that’s the thing about challenges—they’re meant to push you. You’ll do better next time.”

Akira nodded in agreement. “Exactly. And if you need help reviewing, you’ve got us. We’ll make sure you’re ready for Friday.”

[Name] sat up fully now, their words beginning to chip away at the dark cloud of self-doubt hanging over her. She adjusted her glasses and managed a small, grateful smile. “Thanks, guys,” she said softly. “I appreciate it. I just… don’t want to fail.”

“And you won’t,” Akira said firmly. “You’ve got the determination. Just take this as a lesson and move forward.”

Reiji’s expression softened further, his voice lowering to a gentler tone. “Besides, no one’s perfect, [Name]. Not even you. So stop putting so much pressure on yourself.”

The warmth in their voices was enough to lift her spirits, even if just a little. She nodded, straightening her posture. “Alright,” she said, her voice steadier now. “I’ll try to focus on improving for the make-ups. But you guys better not let me slack off.”

Akira grinned. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Reiji smirked. “Good. We’ll hold you to that.”

The tension in her chest eased as they shared a brief laugh. As the classroom emptied out for the next period, [Name] couldn’t help but feel a flicker of hope reignite within her.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

The hallway was bustling with students as they left the classroom, chattering about the exam or their plans for the next break. [Name] walked beside Akira, her mood still dampened by her performance on the midterm but uplifted slightly by his earlier words of encouragement. Reiji had split off to head to his club, leaving the two to share a more casual moment.

Akira, ever the observant friend, noticed the lingering worry on [Name]'s face. “You’re still thinking about that exam, aren’t you?” he asked, his tone lighthearted as he pulled his phone from his pocket.

[Name] sighed, adjusting her glasses. “It’s hard not to. That exam was brutal, Akira. And I know Mr. Prince is going to roast us when he hands them back.”

“Well, if you’re that worried, maybe I can distract you for a second.” He grinned and unlocked his phone with a quick swipe. “There’s someone I want you to meet—virtually, at least.”

[Name] blinked, tilting her head. “Someone I should meet? Who?”

“An old friend of mine. He’s transferring here in the spring term.” Akira tapped through his gallery and turned the phone toward her. On the screen was a picture of a tall, tan boy with blonde hair that had dark stripes and a toothy sharp grin that seemed larger than life. His pose was exaggerated, with both thumbs pointed at himself as if to say, “I’m the man.”

“This,” Akira declared with a playful flourish, “is Taiga Tsunzaki. Certified disaster of a human being.”

[Name] raised an eyebrow, a smile tugging at her lips. “Disaster, huh? He looks... spirited.”

“Spirited is a generous word. This guy couldn’t charm his way out of a wet paper bag. And believe me, he’s tried.” Akira scrolled to another picture—this one showing Taiga with a bouquet of flowers, looking utterly dejected as a girl in the background walked away. “Case in point.”

[Name] couldn’t hold back a chuckle. “Oh no, poor guy. He really puts himself out there, doesn’t he?”

“Puts himself out there is an understatement,” Akira said, laughing. “Taiga has a long, illustrious history of crash-and-burn moments. You’d think he’d stop after the fifth—or fiftieth—rejection, but nope. The guy’s got a heart made of titanium.”

“Sounds like someone who doesn’t give up easily,” [Name] said, though she couldn’t help but giggle again at the ridiculousness of it all.

“Oh, he doesn’t. But his flirting is so bad it’s almost an art form. Like, one time, he tried to impress a girl by juggling oranges in the cafeteria. He only made it through two tosses before they all hit the floor. He still called it a win, though.”

[Name] burst out laughing, earning a few curious glances from passing students. She quickly covered her mouth, her cheeks flushing. “You’re kidding!”

“Dead serious,” Akira said with a smirk. “And just when you think it can’t get worse…” He swiped to another photo, this one showing Taiga mid-bite, his face smeared with marinara sauce as he aggressively attacked a plate of spaghetti. The sheer intensity of the image was enough to send [Name] into another fit of laughter.

“What—what is he doing?” she managed between giggles, clutching her stomach.

“Survival of the fittest,” Akira said with mock seriousness. “When it’s you versus the spaghetti, you gotta show no mercy.”

[Name] shook her head, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. “I can’t. This guy is unreal. Are you sure you’re not just showing me memes you found online?”

Akira grinned. “Nope. This is 100% authentic Taiga. He’s like a walking sitcom. You’ll love him when you meet him.”

“Well, he’s already making a strong first impression,” she said, handing the phone back to Akira. “I’ll be sure to brace myself for his... unique energy.”

Akira chuckled, sliding his phone back into his pocket. “He’s a handful, but he’s got a good heart. And hey, maybe he’ll be just the distraction you need when spring rolls around.”

“Maybe,” [Name] said, her tone lighter now. “But for now, I think I’ll stick with surviving today.”

“Fair enough,” Akira said with a nod. “But just you wait. Taiga’s coming, and life as you know it will never be the same.”

[Name] rolled her eyes playfully but couldn’t help the small smile that lingered on her face. Despite the stress of the day, moments like these made it all feel a little more manageable.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

The soft glow of the desk lamp illuminated [Name]'s dorm room as she sat cross-legged on her bed, a history textbook open in front of her. Notes were scattered around her in organized chaos, and her glasses had slid slightly down her nose as she focused on the lines of text. The silence of the room was punctuated only by the faint rustling of pages and the occasional scribble of her pen.

Her phone vibrated, breaking her concentration. She leaned over, picked it up, and saw a message from Ikki Niko:

Ikki > "Can we meet at the campus gates? I need help with the English exam on Thursday."

[Name] blinked at the screen before smiling. Finally, a break. She quickly typed back:

[Name] > "Sure, I could use some fresh air! Be there in 10."

Slipping her phone into her pocket, she hopped off the bed and stretched. "Studying can wait," she muttered, pulling a sweater over her head and swapping her lounge shorts for jeans. As she slipped on her sneakers, Hitomi, her roommate, glanced up from her own desk.

"Heading out?" Hitomi asked, twirling a pen between her fingers.

"Yeah," [Name] replied. "Ikki asked me to help him with the English exam. Meeting him at the gates."

Hitomi tilted her head, her expression turning slightly concerned. "You know it’s going to rain soon, right? You should take an umbrella."

[Name] froze mid-step. "Ah, crap," she muttered. "I left my umbrella at Ruka's place last time."

Hitomi sighed, already standing up to grab her own umbrella. "Here, take mine. I’m not going anywhere tonight."

[Name] took the umbrella with a grateful smile. "You’re a lifesaver, Hitomi. I owe you one."

Hitomi smirked. "You always do. Now go, before it starts pouring."

[Name] chuckled as she left the room, umbrella in hand. The air outside was crisp and cool, the sky a deep gray hinting at the storm to come. She hurried to the campus gates, where Ikki was waiting.

Ikki stood near the lamppost, his hands shoved deep into his hoodie pockets. His dark hair fell slightly over his eyes, but even so, he kept glancing around nervously. When he saw [Name] approaching, he straightened, his posture stiff with apprehension.

"Hey, sorry for the wait," [Name] greeted him with an easy smile. She noticed how he fidgeted, his gaze darting everywhere except her face.

"N-No, it’s fine," Ikki stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. "I, uh, I just... needed some help with the English exam."

[Name] tilted her head, sensing his discomfort. "Of course. But first," she said, glancing up at the ominous clouds, "let’s grab something warm. There’s a café nearby, and I could really use a coffee."

Ikki hesitated for a moment, his shoulders tensing as if considering retreat. But then he gave a small nod. "O-Okay."

The walk to the café was quiet, save for the soft crunch of leaves underfoot. [Name] tried to strike up a conversation to ease the tension. "So, English, huh? Not your strong suit?"

Ikki scratched the back of his neck, his eyes fixed on the ground. "Not really. I can... understand it okay, but writing essays is a nightmare."

[Name] chuckled. "Well, you’ve come to the right person. I’ll have you acing it in no time."

Ikki glanced at her briefly, his cheeks tinged pink. "Thanks... for agreeing to help. I don’t usually... ask people for stuff."

[Name] smiled warmly. "No problem. That’s what friends are for, right?"

Ikki’s steps faltered for a second, his heart skipping at her casual use of the word "friend." He ducked his head, his bangs obscuring his face as they entered the café.

Inside, the warm aroma of coffee and baked goods greeted them. The cozy atmosphere, with its soft lighting and wooden furniture, seemed to relax Ikki slightly. They approached the counter, and [Name] quickly ordered a cappuccino for herself and a hot chocolate for Ikki, teasingly insisting that he needed something sweet to keep his brain fueled.

As they sat down, Ikki’s nerves began to show again. He fiddled with his cup, his fingers tapping against the ceramic. [Name] noticed and decided to lighten the mood.

"So, Ikki," she began with a mischievous grin, "is this your first time asking a girl for help? Or are you secretly some kind of smooth operator?"

Ikki nearly choked on his hot chocolate. "W-What? No! I’m not—" He broke off, his face burning as he stumbled over his words.

[Name] laughed, the sound light and genuine. "Relax, I’m just messing with you." She leaned forward slightly, resting her chin on her hand. "But seriously, you don’t have to be so tense. We’ll go over the material, and you’ll be fine."

Ikki finally managed a small smile, his nervous energy slowly fading under [Name]’s easygoing presence. "Thanks," he said softly.

The two began discussing the exam, [Name] breaking down the material into simple explanations while Ikki listened intently, occasionally jotting down notes. As the storm outside began to drizzle against the café windows, Ikki found himself grateful—not just for the help but for the unexpected warmth of [Name]’s company.

The café’s cozy ambiance was suddenly disrupted by the jarring click of boots on the wooden floor. [Name] and Ikki, engrossed in their study session, barely registered the figure approaching their table until a smooth, taunting voice broke through their focus.

“Well, well, what do we have here?” Himizu rawled, his split tongue flicking out briefly as he smirked down at them. His sharp, serpentine features were framed by his hair, and his eyes gleamed with a predatory glint. He was dressed in a sleek black jacket and ripped jeans, a casual yet deliberate choice that exuded confidence.

[Name] sighed, recognizing the mocking tone instantly. “Himizu,” she muttered under her breath, already bracing herself for his antics.

Himizu ignored her tone, his focus entirely on [Name]. “Fancy seeing you here, [Name]. Didn’t know you were into babysitting introverts,” he said with a sly glance at Ikki, who stiffened at the remark.

Ikki’s grip on his pen tightened, but he kept his gaze fixed on his notebook. [Name], however, wasn’t as willing to let Himizu’s comments slide.

“Himizu, it’s not nice to dig into people’s business,” she said sharply, folding her arms and glaring up at him. “Don’t you have something better to do than bother us?”

Himizu chuckled, a low, sinister sound. “Oh, but bothering you is my business,” he replied, leaning against their table. His split tongue flicked out again, as if tasting the air for her irritation. “Besides, you’re far too entertaining to ignore. That sour little look on your face? Priceless.”

[Name] scowled, her patience wearing thin. “Do you ever get tired of being a pest?”

“Never,” Himizu said with a grin, leaning in closer. His voice dropped to a teasing whisper. “And you make it so easy. Tell me, [Name], do you always get this flustered when someone gives you attention? Or is it just me?”

Her cheeks flushed with anger, and she slammed her palm on the table. “You’re unbelievable! If you’re done being obnoxious, why don’t you—”

Before she could finish, Ikki finally spoke, his voice low but firm. “Leave her alone.”

Himizu’s head turned slowly toward Ikki, as if noticing him for the first time. His smirk widened. “Oh? And what’s this? A knight in shining armor? Or coward in calling?” He straightened and crossed his arms, regarding Ikki with mock amusement. “You’re braver than I thought, Niko. I didn’t know you had it in you.”

Ikki’s jaw tightened, but he refused to back down. “We’re trying to study. If you’ve got nothing useful to say, then go.”

Himizu’s laugh was cold and sharp, cutting through the quiet murmur of the café. “Oh, how noble. But let me give you a little tip, Niko. Playing the hero rarely ends well. Especially not for someone like you.”

[Name] glared at him, her voice sharp with exasperation. “Are you done yet? You’ve made your point—whatever it was. Now leave us alone.”

Himizu tilted his head, pretending to consider her words. “Hmm. I suppose I’ve had my fun for now.” He stepped back, his split tongue darting out once more in that unnerving, snake-like manner. “But before I go...”

He leaned in close to [Name], his lips near her ear. His voice dropped to a low, almost seductive tone. “You smell absolutely delicious.”

[Name] froze, a shiver running down her spine. She instinctively pulled back, her heart pounding in her chest. Himizu straightened with a chuckle, clearly satisfied with her reaction.

“See you around,” he said lightly, giving them both a mock salute before sauntering off, his laughter echoing behind him.

[Name] sat stiffly for a moment, her hands clenched into fists. “That guy is the worst,” she muttered, her voice trembling with anger.

Ikki, still tense, glanced at her. “Are you okay?”

She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just... creeped out.”

Ikki nodded, his own frustration evident in the tight set of his jaw. “Next time, I’ll make sure he doesn’t get the chance to bother you.”

[Name] managed a small smile, grateful for his support. “Thanks, Ikki. Let’s just get back to studying. I need something to distract me from... that.”

Ikki nodded again, and they returned to their books, though the lingering tension from Himizu’s presence weighed heavily on their minds.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

Exam Part 1/2

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𝙸𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚘𝚙𝚒𝚌𝚜, 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝙸'𝚖 𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚢, 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢 𝚒𝚜𝚗'𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞. 𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚜 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝙲𝙾𝙻𝙻𝙴𝙶𝙴 𝙲𝙰𝙼𝙿𝚄𝚂!! 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝙰𝙱𝙾𝚅𝙴 𝟷𝟾 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚕𝚍𝚎𝚛!!!

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

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© 2024 Ｖｅｌｖｅｔｅｅｎ 平和な目覚め— do not repost, copy, translate, modify, etc my work on any platform without my permission!

[unnursvanablog]

The books I read in 2023 / part 2

and what I thought of them...

Lessons in Chemistry - Bonnie Garmus: ★★ Such a tiresome read, the characters got on my nerves and just the way the story was told and even just the subject of it didn't feel strong, well thought out or deep enough and I was just bored.

Bound Feet - Kelsea Yu: ★★★★ I so enjoyed the horror and folklore elements here and the story drew me in from the very first page. The plot was thrilling and well laid out even for such a short story, the characters felt real and interesting and the sadness that is the main theme is beautifully woven into the story.

A Closed and Common Orbit - Becky Chambers: ★★★ This is a real cozy read but the two timelines that intermix within the story felt very confusing to me at first and the jump between them really made it so that I could never really immerse myself in either. But the ending, and just when the two plots start to connect is lovely, tugs at your heartstrings and feels so incredibly well earned.

The Familiar - Leigh Bardugo: ★★★ The book starts off promising, it has an interesting premise, but the story itself just kind of drags, it takes such long for things to happen and by the middle I really just didn't about what was happening. The romance didn't grab me, the main characters didn't stand out and the others were just weak, but the history that inspired this was interesting.

The Tatami Galaxy - Tomihiko Morimi: ★★★ There is fun humor present within the story, the writing has its own style and the idea behind it is really interesting. The juxtaposition between all these different dimensions and how the characters are the same and yet not at the same time is very smart, but I got quite bored of it as I got further into the story, and I think it’s just because the characters weren’t engaging to me. They are intentionally made unlikable, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing in fiction, but it doesn’t quite work here in my opinion.

Idol, Burning - Rin Usami: ★★★ An easy read with an interesting premise. The story grabs you easily, but I was expecting a much bigger or deeper examination of fandom culture and the people who engage in those things. It was more of an observation than anything else, lacking a bit of depth in parts and overall, I wanted the character to go on a bit more of a journey and come to a more impactful conclusion at the end.

DallerGut Dream Department Store - Lee Mi-ye: ★★★ I would have liked a bit more from this story. This whimsical little tale feels a bit like a fable or fairy tale that goes by just a little too quickly and really doesn't linger in my mind at all after reading it, and I think that has something to do with the depth of the characters or lack thereof.

Welcome to the Hyunam-dong Bookshop - Hwang Bo-Reum: ★★★★ An ode to literature, the space and community that is created around it. Slow and cozy, but an enjoyable read. Really captures how these small little details moments shape our lives, who we are as human beings and the theme of how we need to recharge and relax with things that give us joy during the the busyness of life is very nicely done.

Hamingja þessa heims - Sigríður Hagalín Björnsdóttir: ★★★ Although the story starts off well and the text manages to put you well into both the timeframes that appear in the book and the plot is interesting, it all becomes rather tiresome by the middle of the book. And although the historian's interpretation of the story or the sources he found is the essence of the story, as well as how these readings gradually make him gain a new perspective on things, I felt the progress and the approach of that reveal in the book comes too slowly and the story is just too repetitive, so the theme and the ending don't feel deserved or satisfactory.

A Crane Among Wolves - June Hur: ★★★ I enjoyed it the most when the pace of the story was a little slower, like it was in the beginning. As soon as the story seems to go into a different gear, I felt like I distanced myself a bit from the story and the characters because there was too much going on or crammed together into the narrative. There was not room for the story to breath. I wanted a little more emotion and more scenes that built the spark between the main characters, both while they were investigating the mystery and preparing for the coup, but also just outside of it. There was too much plot, so the romance that came towards the end didn't feel earned because of lack of buildup. However, I enjoyed how unafraid the author seemed to be highlighting the corruption that seemed to have crept into society within the story and the historical aspects and how it never felt too overwhelming or too gritty.

Squire - Nadia Shammas, Sara Alfageeh: ★★★★ Fantastical little tale that managed to show quite well how imperialist propaganda seeps into various parts of society and what it takes to break away from it in a concise, yet simple way. A great little adventure with fun characters and an important message, but I felt like the pacing was just a bit too quick at times. I wish there would be a sequel.

Skuld - Emil Hjörvar Petersen: ★★★★ A sharp and exciting final chapter to a series that has only grown and gotten better with time, just as the characters involved in it. The story is engaging, although it hits a bit of lull for a while towards the middle, but the ending is emotional and satisfying for a story like this. Icelandic folklore is carefully interwoven with the exciting modern thriller in a fun and original way.

[neonlights92]

Flip & Reverse It (I)

Your relationship with resident fuckboy Jung Hoseok is anything but simple. Sitting somewhere between hate and genuine friendship is the fact that you’ve always secretly, sort of wanted him.

And then one day you wake up and you’re in Hoseok’s body. And he’s in yours. Things just got a whole lot more complicated.

Genre: rom-com, body swap, (sort of) enemies to lovers

Word count: 10k

Warnings: language and future smut

A/N: Heeeey guys. So in the end, I decided to split this story into two parts as it is MAMMOTH. Hope you enjoy the first part, and I’m hoping to post the second part soon xxx

Jung Hoseok is, officially, the dumbest person you’ve ever met.

“You want to do our end of semester project on what?”

It is your first period of the day- Introduction to Ancient Cultures - and a Monday Morning. You’re quite proud of yourself to be honest. Hoseok is, of course, already driving you nuts and you’ve somehow managed to stop yourself from lunging at him from across the table.

“Look it’s meant to be about ancient rituals, right?” He tugs a hand through his freshly dyed cherry red hair, “So why not a sex ritual?”

You feel something like a migraine coming on. You squeeze your eyes shut for a moment of respite and when you open them again Hoseok is still looking at you with that almost smug grin on his face.

“You’re just a fucking horn dog.”

“That I am.” His grin only grows, “C’mon. I’m a senior in college and a hot blooded male. If I didn’t suggest writing a report on an ancient sex ritual it would be weird.”

All you can do is glare. The look on his face only serves to stroke your anger and you fight the urge to grunt.

He just… He looks so self-satisfied. As though what he’s just said is clever and funny. As though you should somehow fall to your feet and worship him like every other doe-eyed freshman on campus does.

No. No. Maybe once upon a time you had a microscopic crush on Jung Hoseok but three years later and you know exactly what kind of person he is. You won’t bite.

Hoseok rolls his eyes at your stoic expression and leans back in his chair.

“Fine. What do you want to do the report on?”

You answer without missing a beat.

“A body swap ritual.”

Hoseok raises a dark brow. He cocks his head to the side, and you take that as your cue to continue.

“It dates back to the Silla Kingdom. They reigned the Korean peninsula for almost a thousand years-”

“I know about the Silla Kingdom Y/N. I’m a history major too, y’know.” He scoffs playfully and you roll your shoulders back.

“Then you know about their body swap rituals?”

His eyes flicker. He knows that you know that he doesn’t know.

God. The look on his face is satisfying.

“Well… No…” He grumbles, leaning forward slightly when you pull out one of the many textbooks you’ve spent the last week scouring through.

“Not much is known about them - however there are a few reports on it actually working. One is the story of a rich noblewoman and her handmaiden,” You hear the excitement in your tone and you try to tamp it down but you just can’t. This kind of stuff is so interesting to you, “So of course the noblewoman was a grade A bitch-”

Hoseok snorts, “Classic.”

“And the handmaiden had fallen in love with her mistresses betrothed. So she performed the body swap ritual with the help of a witch doctor and apparently… It worked. They both died of old age… In each other’s bodies.”

You know the story is folklore - a fairytale spun by the spiritual to give rituals like this legitimacy - but you can’t help the thrill that travels up your spine as you recount what you’ve researched.

Hoseok raises a dark brow, “So… Why this ritual, then?”

“Because it’s different. Everyone in class will end up doing human sacrifices and even sex rituals but something like this…” You shrug and bite your bottom lip, “It will be a challenge. And there may even be limited information out there about it but… It will be fun.”

Hoseok’s lips split into a grin, “Fun?” “Yeah y’know learning something new.” You answer rolling your eyes, “Have you ever tried that? Learning?”

Hoseok watches you for a moment. Maybe you took it too far with that last jab. But fuck if he doesn’t push every one of your buttons all at the same time.

“You won’t be happy until I say yes, will you?” Hoseok leans his cheek against one of his palms, eyes scanning your face carefully.

“Nope.”

You pop the ‘p’ for emphasis. You mean business baby.

“Alright, alright fine. I’ll do it,” He shrugs, “As long as it gets us a good grade.” You grin, “Believe me. It will.”

He reaches a hand towards you and you stare at it, one eyebrow raised.

“We should shake on it,” He tells you, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, “So we’re both on the same page. It’s how me and the boys agree on things.”

The boys are Hoseok’s obnoxious frat brothers. Beta Theta Sigma. You shiver. It’s not that you hate fraternities - it’s that you abhor almost everything they stand for.

Okay, so maybe you hate them. But the truth is, most frat boys are assholes. Present company included.

“Fine. Whatever gets you to shut up,” You grab the hand that’s pointing towards you and shake it once, firmly, before pulling away.

You don’t think about the fact that Hoseok’s palm was warm and big and kind of soft. No you can’t think about that.

“Pleasure doing business with you.” The toothy grin he shoots you almost makes you gag.

You wish you could say the same.

//

“So you’re telling me,” Your roommate Sana stands in the doorway of your bedroom, “That you’ve teamed up with Jung Hoseok for your biggest partner project of your entire degree?” You roll your eyes at the disbelief in her tone.

“It wasn’t my choice. We were randomly assigned together.”

“The universe hates you,” Sana wrinkles her cute little button nose, “Hoseok is kind of a meathead.”

Sana is, in many ways, just like you. She’s pre-med and probably the hardest worker you know (after yours truly of course) and she holds just as much disdain for fraternities as you do. There’s just one tiny little difference.

She’s also dating one of Hoseok’s frat brothers, Kim Namjoon.

You have to admit he’s the only guy in Beta - hell the only guy on this entire campus - worth taking a second look at.

But it does kind of soften the blow of her insults because well, Sana’s kind of friends with the rest of Beta Theta Sigma too.

“You can’t say that when you’re his friend.” You reply, raising a brow at the look she pulls.

“Actually I can say that because I’m his friend,” She shrugs, “He’s not the asshole you so fiercely think he is… But he is a bonehead. They all are. Even Joonie.”

You snort, “Joonie is not a bonehead. He’s the smartest guy I know.” “Whatever. The point is the two of you don’t always get along,” She frowns, “And I know how much this grade means to you.” “We’re going to ace it,” You answer immediately, “Plus I hate to admit it but Hoseok’s smart. Much smarter than I probably give him credit for. We’ll be fine.”

Sana’s eyes widen in that way they always do when you say anything mildly positive about Hoseok. She smirks and you know what’s coming.

“Oh is he smart?” Her tone pisses you off.

“Shut up, Sana.” “No c’mon you said it first not me,” She waggles her eyebrows, “You think he’s smart. Do you think he’s cute too? Do you want to hold hands with him and discuss history together?”

“Will you stop it?” Your cheeks flush because yes, obviously you’re annoyed at Sana’s insinuation - but the fact that once upon a time it might have been true only serves to annoy you even further.

“I’m just saying,” She grins widely this time, coming to perch on the end of your bed, “I think you two would make a cute couple.” You gag dramatically at her words.

“Don’t be like that,” She nudges you playfully, “You said it yourself. Hoseok’s smart.” “And you said it yourself…. he’s also a bonehead.” You retaliate, crossing your arms, “And a meathead. We barely get along on the best of days. Why would you want me to date someone like that?” Sana shrugs and sighs heavily.

“He’s a good guy,” She tells you sincerely, “He just gets a bad rep because he’s kind of a slut. But I think he would settle down for the right girl. Plus I know you secretly have the hots for him.”

You scoff, “I do not have the hots for Jung Hoseok.”

“Oh come on,” She pulls a face, “You’d have to be blind not to see how stunning he is.” “That doesn’t mean I’m into him.” You point out, hating the fact that she’s obviously right.

Hoseok may be an obnoxious prick, but he is gorgeous.

“I don’t know. I think there’s something there. Be it sexual tension or something more…”

“Try just regular tension,” You deadpan, “Seriously. How can you go from calling him a brainless slut one second to trying to set him up with me the next?”

“Because I have eyes Y/N. I’m not dumb. You two have chemistry. Plus he’s not brainless. Just a slut.” You laugh then.

“You are ridiculous.”

“Is it so wrong that I want my friends to be happy?” Sana purses her lips at your disdain, “I think you two could do that for one another.”

You refrain from mentioning that you are probably the only girl on campus - hell, the only girl in this entire city Hoseok refuses to flirt with.

Maybe it’s because you don’t want to hurt her feelings, or maybe it’s because you don’t want to hurt your own (it’s definitely the second one) but you think it’s better Sana doesn’t know.

Whatever chemistry she insists she sees is just something stupid her loved up brain imagines to make her feel better about the fact that she essentially abandoned you for a frat boy. “Look I’m not saying he’s the devil. I just - I want to get on with this project, survive this very last semester, graduate with a 4.0 and get into the school’s masters programme. That’s all I want.”

“And you will. Of course you will Y/N. You’re the smartest person I know.” You pull a face then, “You have to say that, you’re my friend.” “Maybe. But it’s still true.”

Sana stands then, making her way out of your bedroom and asking what you’d like for dinner. You reply with something non-committal and tell her she can decide for the both of you.

But her words stick with you.

Hoseok… A good guy?

It can’t be. No. No.

You shake your head furiously.

You’ve been down this path once before, and you won’t do it again. Not this time.

You’re going to ace the project, you’re going to graduate, and you’re never going to see Jung Hoseok again.

It’s for the best.

Right?

//

“No.”

Hoseok crosses his arms and pseudo glares at you. The pile of books sitting comfortably in front of you almost blocks your view of his face.

“What do you mean, no?” You raise a brow at him.

Hoseok is nothing if not stubborn. But two can play at that game.

“I am not spending my Saturday evening at the library researching.” His eyes flick from the textbooks to your face, and he looks less than impressed, “Don’t you have better things to do, Y/N?”

“This is better things to do.” You answer eagerly, “C’mon Hoseok. Don’t you want to ace this project?”

“Not at the expense of all my free time.” “Stop whining,” You roll your eyes and pull up the chair next to you, “Besides. This will be fun.”

Hoseok reluctantly sits down and gives you the grumpiest look he can muster.

“Fun? You’re kidding, right?”

He pulls one of the books towards him - Life in the Silla Kingdom - and groans, “Taehyung invited a model to the party tonight, Y/N. A model.” You roll your eyes at this. Kim Taehyung is one of Hoseok’s frat brothers - a poor excuse of a man if you are being absolutely honest. Taehyung is a man-whore. He wears the label loud and proud - and you hate the fact that the majority of girls seem more than willing to drop their panties for a taste of his apparently legendary dick.

“Well I’m sorry to tear you away from your evening of slutting around, but this is more important.”

You try to keep the bitterness away from your tone.

It’s not that you’re actually slut-shaming Hoseok and his friends. It’s only that you’ve spent three years sharing most of Hoseok’s classes and he’s never once tried to hit on you.

And you hate to admit it - you really, really do but that pisses you off.

You used to think Hoseok hung the stars and the moon for you. You used to watch him from the back of lecture rooms wishing he would flirt with you like he seemed to flirt with the other 99.9% of the female population.

But he didn’t. He was nice enough to you. Smiling and polite. But he never flirted. He never smirked or winked or made you feel special.

And that hurt. It still hurts.

“Y’know you should come to one of our parties some time. Let loose a little,” His eyes scan your appearance quickly, “You’re always so stiff.” You click your tongue.

And there it is. The reason, apparently, Hoseok won’t flirt with you.

You’re stiff. You’re boring.

God forbid you came to university to learn and not to party.

“Fuck off,” There’s a little more bite to your words than you probably intended, but at this point you’re not sure you care, “You don’t even know me.”

“Of course I know you.” Hoseok’s smile is devious and you feel another migraine brewing, “You’re Y/N Y/L/N. You’re twenty-one years old. You sit at the back of all the classes we take together, and you know the answers to every single question asked. You live for this shit,” He gestures to the piles of books around the both of you, “Researching. Learning. You love it all… You’re a historian at heart aren’t you? A true academic.”

You feel your cheeks heat at his description. Okay so some of it is true - you do love history and books and learning - but that doesn’t make up your entire personality.

“There’s more to me than all of that.”

“Of course, how can I forget the sweater vests, and ponytails?” His smile isn’t cruel, but it’s not kind either, “Admit it Y/N. This is where you feel at home.”

You push the book you were reading to one side, “Can you stop psycho-analysing me, please? And do what we’re meant to be doing.”

“Which is….?”

“Researching.” You bite out, pulling a face at the ‘gotcha’ look that flickers across his features.

“I told you,” He grins, smugly, like the cat who got the cream, “You live for it.”

You decide to ignore him because really, what good would it do to punch your project partner in the face on your first day working together?

Hoseok - thank god - decides to shut up, and you take this opportunity to finish the paragraph you were reading before you got so rudely interrupted.

The people of the Silla Kingdom were incredibly spiritual. They enjoyed performing rituals for almost every milestone in their life - and spent much of their time praying to their deities for good luck and prosperity.

One of these rituals, of course, was the body-swap ritual. Something usually reserved for very special or dire situations, this ritual was rarely ever actually practiced. Most witch doctors refused to take part as they believed the magic used to complete the ritual was dark.

What we know of the ritual itself was that-

“I found something important.”

Hoseok, of course, rips your attention away just when things are getting interesting. You look up, raising a brow at the man who sits across from you, pretending that the last fifteen minutes didn’t happen. As though he didn’t just basically call you the walking stereotype of a geek.

“What?”

He raises his own brow, “Who pissed in your cornflakes?”

You feel something akin to rage creeping up your spine. You want to smack him. No… You want to spit on him. No you want to pick on all of his own insecurities. Make him feel as small as he tried to make you feel.

“Are you fucking serious?”

He pouts, “Is this about what I said before?”

You’re furious. Why is he acting like he hasn’t done anything wrong? Is he really that dumb?

“What important thing did you find?”

“This is a step by step explanation of the ritual itself,” Hoseok chooses to ignore the obvious tension between you, “We should try it.”

You look at him like he’s crazy, “What?” “Yeah why not? We can include it in our project. Maybe we can even record ourselves doing it.”

Something pulses behind your eyes.

“You want to perform the body swap ritual with me?” The words sound so ridiculous you almost laugh.

“Well yeah,” Hoseok shugs, “It’s not actually going to work, is it? So why not?”

You know he’s right. The rational, logical side of your brain tells you that body swap rituals and magic are not real. That it doesn’t matter what you and Hoseok do you won’t actually swap bodies.

And yet…

“I just don’t want to do it.”

Hoseok smirks then - one eyebrow raised teasingly, “Oh right…”

His tone annoys you.

“Why are you saying it like that?”

His smirk only grows. You ignore the stupid part of you that finds that look on his face attractive, and narrow your gaze at him.

“Just admit you’re scared,” He laughs a little, “And I’ll drop it.”

“I am not scared,” Your glare intensifies, “I just think performing the ritual would be stupid. And a waste of time.”

“You’re a chicken. I get it.” Hoseok’s tone only serves to annoy you further, “Stick in the mud and a scaredy cat.”

At this point you’re seething.

“Stop that.” “Stop what?” He smirks like the cat who got the cream and you resist the urge to lean forward and flick his nose.

“Stop acting like you know me, okay? You don’t.”

You don’t get it. You don’t understand why all of a sudden Hoseok seems hellbent on upsetting you. He’s always been at least agreeable.

“Hey,” His tone softens, “Hold on. I didn’t mean to piss you off…” The apology only strokes your anger. He didn’t mean to piss you off? You scoff.

“Fuck off, Hoseok.” “No seriously.” He frowns then, pushing the tower of books between the two of you to the side, “I was just teasing.” “Okay whatever. Let’s just keep researching-” “I didn’t mean any of it.” You lift your eyes then, connecting gazes with him - his soft and almost apologetic - yours sharp and angry.

“Yes you did,” You answer harshly, “You did so don’t pretend you didn’t. I know exactly what you think of me.” You don’t care that Hoseok never flirted with you. You don’t care that he isn’t into you - you don’t even care that he thinks you’re a stick in the mud.

But you hate that he thinks he knows you. And you hate that he’s looking at you almost like he… Pities you.

You hate that.

“Y/N-” “Hoseok forget it.” Your eyes narrow, “I don’t care. I just want to do well on this project and get this degree over and done with. Do you think we can do that?”

He shuts his mouth then. His eyes are still soft, and his expression is guilty, but you don’t care.

Good. Let him feel bad.

“I’m sorry.”

The words are quite possibly the worst thing he could say to you. You snap the book you were reading shut and stand up abruptly.

“Fuck you,” You’re furious now, “You don’t get to just say whatever you want to me, whenever you want, and then expect me to be cool with it because you said sorry. That’s not how this works.”

Hoseok stands too.

“I honestly thought-” “What? That you could sit here and say all those cruel things about me and think I wouldn’t care?” You laugh, but there’s no humour to it, “I’m not a fucking robot. I have feelings too.”

“I didn’t say that,” He tries again, coming round to your side of the table.

You step away quickly, wanting nothing more than to get out of there.

“I thought you knew I was joking.” “Well I didn’t,” You bite back, “And you weren’t joking. I know exactly what you think of me now.”

And then, because suddenly all you want to do is to hurt him back you scoff and gesture towards him.

“Besides. Do you want to know what I think of you?” His eyes widen then, “Y/N…” “No seeing as you gave your lovely description of me, why don’t I do the same?” You smile cruelly, and you can feel something hot and angry climbing up your spine, “I think you’re a shallow, vein, brainless slut who only thinks with his dick. You don’t care about anybody but yourself and you certainly don’t care about all the girls whose hearts you break. You’re an asshole.”

Hoseok pauses. The dynamic shifts, and suddenly you’re the villain.

You don’t care.

“Fuck you.” He spits.

You straighten your spine, “You started this. Now deal with it.”

There is a tense moment between the two of you. Like you’re held by a piece of taut string that might snap at any time.

You think maybe Hoseok is going to shout at you. Maybe you deserve it.

Something like guilt niggles at the pit of your stomach but you push it to the side. He started this.

After a beat, he sighs heavily and straightens his shoulders.

“I think we’re done here.” His tone is cold, “We’ll talk when we’ve both cooled off.”

“Whatever.” You mumble the word - refusing to drop eye contact.

Something flickers across his face for a moment - something vulnerable and tender - but it’s gone before you can properly register it.

He grabs his backpack and swings it over his shoulder, nodding at you stiffly.

Without another word, he leaves, and the moment he’s gone, you deflate. You’re suddenly aware of the very public argument the two of you just had, and something like embarrassment flashes through you.

You look around quickly, relieved when you notice there’s nobody else around.

And why would they be? It is, after all, a Saturday.

You feel sick. You feel hot and cold and angry and even a little bit guilty.

After a moment, your phone lights up. It’s a text from Sana.

SANA: there’s a party tonight at the beta house. wanna go????

You stare at the words. You mull them over. You consider all your options.

And then, for reasons you’re not proud of, you text her back. One word.

Yes.

//

Sana is surprised of course when you say yes.

You’re surprised too. But you know exactly why you agreed to go. You know why you’ve stuffed yourself into one of Sana’s tiny little crop tops.

To prove a point. You’re not boring. You’re not stiff. You’re not just sweater vests and ponytails. You can let loose.

Jung Hoseok is wrong. And you’re going to show him exactly how wrong he is.

But the moment you walk through the front door to the Beta house, you immediately regret your decision.

“Stop fiddling,” Sana tells you, gesturing towards the hem of the top you keep pulling down, “You look good. Great, even.”

“I feel dumb.” You mutter, eyes scanning the room for a certain head of bright red hair.

You hate yourself for looking but you can't help it. You want him to see you. You want him to realise he’s wrong.

“Well you don’t look dumb. You look hot,” Sana smacks your ass gently, “Enjoy yourself. You look like you’re about to throw up.”

You roll your eyes at her and follow as she cuts her way through the crowd of people clustered around the living room.

“You want a beer?” She shouts over her shoulder.

You hesitate. It’s been a while since you’ve drank any alcohol. But you suppose one beer won’t hurt.

“Yeah alright,” You answer back, as a particularly beefy guy in a football sweater steps on your foot.

He doesn’t even bother to apologise, and you’re suddenly very aware of why you hate parties.

When the two of you finally make your way to the kitchen, Namjoon is already there, leaning against the counter talking to Park Jimin - a freshman and one of Namjoon’s friends.

“Sana!” Namjoon smiles, nice and wide when he spots his girlfriend, “Oh! Y/N!” His smile grows when he sees you.

“Hey Joonie. I finally convinced Y/N to come to one of your infamous ragers,” Sana kisses Namjoon briefly and smiles at Jimin, “Hey Jiminie.” Jimin grins, “Hey there.” Park Jimin is one of Namjoon’s childhood friends and a firm believer that fraternities and sororities for that matter, rot the human mind. Both Hoseok and the rest of Beta have tried to rush him so many times, but Jimin refuses to be swept up in it. So, of course, you think he’s a pretty cool guy.

“Hello,” You smile politely, “Long time no see Namjoon. Nice to see you again Jimin.”

“You too. I heard you and Hoseok are partnered up for your big end of grade project.” Your blood boils again at the mention of him, and your smile turns tight.

“Ah. Yeah we are.” Jimin smirks, “My condolences.”

You snort out a laugh. Yeah, Jimin’s not bad at all really.

“Whatever do you mean?” You lay on the sarcasm nice and thick, “Hoseok is so agreeable.” Jimin scoffs, “Isn’t he just?”

“He was in an awful mood today,” Namjoon adds, rolling his eyes, “Made it very clear his intention was to get absolutely shit faced tonight.” You feel a lick of satisfaction (and maybe a little bit of guilt) at the revelation that Hoseok is in any way negatively affected by what happened earlier on at the library, but you decide not to mention the conversation.

After all, Jimin and Namjoon are his friends and it would just be putting them in a weird position. If Hoseok doesn’t want to tell them himself, then neither will you.

Sana grabs a few beers from the plethora of drinks stacked to her left and passes you one.

“Doesn’t Hoseok always get shit faced?” She pulls a face, “That man is unstoppable when he starts.”

Jimin rolls his eyes taking a swig from his own beer, “D’you guys remember at the Christmas party last year? He used my Nike Airs as a throw up receptacle.”

Namjoon shivers and groans.

“The bathroom smelled like puke for weeks. Jesus. He really doesn’t have an off button, sometimes.”

“That sounds horrific,” You mutter, scoffing a gentle laugh, “I can’t believe you guys let him get away with that shit.”

“We didn’t let him get away with it. Didn’t you hear Sana? He’s unstoppable.” Jimin’s eyes flicker towards the doorway of the kitchen, “Shit. Speak of the devil, and he shall appear.”

Your eyes move to follow Jimin’s and when you settle on a shock of cherry red hair, something in your stomach turns.

Shit. This was a bad idea.

Hoseok is flanked, of course, by resident fuck boy Kim Taehyung - and one of the older frat members, Kim Seokjin. You’ve only met Jin a handful of times but you’ve come to rank him on nearly the same level as Taehyung.

He is equally as obnoxious and bone-headed.

His one saving grace? Jin secretly volunteers at the Big Brother programme your college offers to underprivileged kids in the city. You’ve seen him at the middle school, on Saturday mornings, and his little brother Changkyun thinks the sun and moon rise with him.

Seokjin asked you very discreetly, once, if you could keep what you had seen to yourself, and you obliged. After all, the last thing you want is for Jin to drop out of the programme and leave little Changkyun without a big brother.

So you shut your mouth, and suffer through his frat boy persona, in silence.

Hoseok’s eyes scan the room slowly, and after a moment, you lock your gaze with his.

Shit. He is furious. His brow furrows and he turns to shout something to Taehyung over the music, before making his way out of the kitchen quickly. You hate to think it, but you know he left because he’d seen you.

Taehyung’s eyes dip towards you and he raises a singular brow, before shrugging his shoulders and turning to follow Hoseok. Jin doesn’t even bother meeting your eyes.

You feel something sting in your chest. Your heart turns.

It shouldn’t have bothered you but it does. Hoseok is avoiding you.

You take a long gulp from your beer to tamp down the disappointment curdling in your chest and try to tune into the conversation Namjoon, Sana and Jimin are currently having about whether or not it is possible to make contact with aliens.

Shit.

This is going to be a long night.

//

It is several hours later when you realise you are drunk.

You can count on one hand the amount of times this has happened. You never usually like getting drunk, but for some reason tonight is different.

The beer helped relax you, and then it helped you forget the awkwardness with Hoseok, and then it helped you ignore why you hated the awkwardness with Hoseok so much.

Your heart doesn’t ache so much now that you are drunk.

“Woah there,” Sana catches your arm, “You’re a little unsteady on your feet cowboy.”

You are currently trying to dance to some remixed early 2000’s EDM hit. Maybe you should feel embarrassed - both at your inebriated state, and your complete lack of coordination - but you can’t bring yourself to care.

Sana’s smile is a little weary as she grabs your shoulders gently, “Are you okay?” You throw up a peace sign with one hand, and a thumbs up with the other.

“Just peachy,” A hiccup slips out, “I wanna daaaaaance.” Sana seems dubious at your reply.

“We should get you some water.” She turns to Namjoon, who is still debating the existence of aliens with Jimin, “Can you get Y/N some water?”

Namjoon gives you a look of pity.

Jimin shakes his head, “Oh how the mighty have fallen.” You summon up the best glare you can manage, and Namjoon scurries away, followed quickly by Jimin, who brings up the possibility of life on mars for the third time that night.

You turn to Sana, and notice there’s two of her standing in front of you.

Strange.

“Y’know Hoseok hates me,” You suddenly need to get it off your chest, “He hates me and he’s never flirted with me. I don’t know why you think we’d make a good couple because… We wouldn’t.”

You hiccup again, and Sana frowns deeply.

“He doesn’t hate you, Y/N.” “Yes he does,” You feel something like tears prick your eyes, “I called him a brainless slut.”

Sana’s eyes widen. She seems stunned.

“What?” “We had a fight,” You wipe your eyes harshly. When did you start crying?, “In the library. And I said he was a heartless asshole who only thinks with his dick.”

Sana is silent for a moment. Then she sighs heavily.

“Well that was a little harsh.” You pout, “He deserved it.”

Before Sana can say anything more on the matter, you spot that same head of red hair. You set your jaw determinedly and start to make your way across the room.

Hoseok hasn’t seen you yet, and you consider the element of surprise your friend, in this situation.

Sana, however, has different plans. She pulls you back by your elbow and raises a brow.

“What are you doing?” She asks plainly.

“Going to talk to Hoseok.” She shakes her head, “No you’re not. You’re gonna sit right here,” She leads the both of you over to a ratty couch pushed into the far left corner of the room, “And you’re going to wait for your water.” You feel tears well again.

“I need to talk to him.” “Y/N you don’t.” Sana is firm, “You need to sober up and then you can think about having a conversation with him.”

Just as Sana finishes her sentence, a tall, skinny freshman barrels into her out of nowhere. They’re both knocked down, and Sana is disorientated as she stares up into the freshman’s apologetic eyes.

“Oh my god!” The freshman scrambles up, “I’m so sorry. I should’ve looked where I was going. Are you okay?” She offers Sana a hand, and against your better judgement you use this as your moment to escape. With Sana distracted, you stand quickly, making a beeline for Hoseok, and ignoring Sana’s eventual cries to stop.

She’s too slow, and before she can physically pull you back, you find yourself standing in front of Hoseok. His dark eyes fall on you, and he raises a brow.

For some reason, you really expected him to be drunk, but instead his eyes are startlingly clear. He hasn’t had a drop of alcohol, it seems.

“Y/N.” His voice is rough.

You feel Sana grabbing your elbow and you shove her away.

“Hoseok.” You lift your chin, “You’ve been avoiding me.” A muscle in his jaw ticks. He’s pissed.

Well. So what? So are you.

“Sorry Hoseok,” Sana tries to apologise on your behalf, “She’s really drunk.” Hoseok throws her a terse smile, “It’s okay Sana. Let her talk. She’s clearly got something she wants to say.”

“No this is a really bad idea…” Sana tries to pull you away again but you stand your ground, despite your drunken state.

“Y’know,” You point an angry finger at Hoseok’s chest, “We should perform that body swap ritual. You wouldn’t last a day with my responsibilities,” You scoff angrily, “And what would I have to do? Get drunk and act like a massive dick.”

You know you’re taking it too far. Hoseok’s eyes darken and you’re struck by the thought that you shouldn’t be saying things like this.

Why are you provoking him?

“Sana’s right.” He grits his teeth, “You are drunk. So I’m going to forget everything you just said.”

Your eyes widen. He’s giving you an out.

He’s giving you what… Mercy?

No. No way. He’s not about to stand there and somehow act like he’s above all of this. You narrow your gaze.

“Fuck you,” You spit, “After everything you said earlier… You want to act like I’m the bitch now?”

You feel bile rising to your throat but you shove it down. You’re not going to throw up. And you’re definitely not going to throw up on Hoseok.

“I’m saying you’re drunk Y/N. It’s late.” His eyes flicker, “Go home.”

Namjoon has somehow made his way over to you, Jimin in tow, and they too try to stop whatever the fuck is going on between you and Hoseok.

Jimin touches your elbow gently

“Hey, Y/N c’mon…”

You shrug him off and take another step towards Hoseok - nose almost brushing his.

“Do it.” Your eyes challenge him, “If you’ve got any balls I dare you to do it. Perform the body swap ritual.”

Hoseok’s nostrils flare. He’s so angry at you.

Maybe any other time you’d care. But right now you just want him to react. You can’t stand his stony glare - or the way he’s acting like you’re somehow in the wrong, here.

You hate that he’s trying to take the high road. You want him down here with you - bitter and venomous.

“I’m not going to do anything.” He arches a brow, “Listen to your friends.”

You take a big gulp of breath in. He seems determined not to let you win this one.

And then somewhere, deep inside your gut, you pull something out. Something you know will cause irreparable damage. And yet… You can’t help it.

You’re like a woman possessed.

“Fuck. You really are a loser.” The words are like acid, and they burn your mouth, “Brainless slut with absolutely no ambition. Bet your parents are so proud of you.” Somewhere in the recesses of your mind, you remember Sana telling you something about Hoseok’s mom. You think on it for just a second, and then your chest tightens.

Shit, shit, shit.

“What the fuck, Y/N?” This comes from Namjoon, who pulls you back from Hoseok harshly, “That was a low blow.”

Your mind reels.

“Oh my god Hoseok.” You turn to him, “I’m so sorry-”

“Fuck you,” He answers venemously, “Fucking bitch.”

And without another word he storms off. For the first time since your altercation began, you notice Jin hovering to the left of where Hoseok was standing. He frowns.

“Y’know his mom’s sick right? Like… Really sick.” He sighs heavily, “I know Hoseok can be an asshole. But that was a dick move.”

Without another word Jin slinks after his friend and you turn to Sana, feeling sick to your stomach.

You open your mouth to tell her that you need to leave… And before you can say a word, you're throwing up.

Great.

Could this night get any better?

//

You wake the next morning with a banging headache. Your eyes peel open slowly, blearily, and for a moment you’re struck by how dark your room is.

Your blinds have been broken for nearly six months. How is it that you’ve somehow managed to block out all sunlight this morning?

You groan and turn to the side, wondering if it might still be night time, but the sound of cars and people outside quickly proves that theory wrong.

Fuck. This is why you don’t drink.

You remember, all too vividly, your awful, horrendous conversation with Hoseok and suddenly you want to vomit again.

You know you crossed the proverbial line in the sand. There’s no way he’s ever going to want to speak to you again, and the truth is you understand why not.

Why the fuck would you say something like that?

So cruel and angry?

Your chest hurts, and your headache is splitting, and all at once you feel like the worst person on the planet.

The guilt gnaws away at your heart, and you wonder if it will make a home there for a while. You decide you probably deserve it.

With a groan, you roll over, reaching for your bedside table to grab your phone, and finding, instead, air.

What?

You try to find your furniture in the darkness, and when nothing turns up, you quirk a brow. What the fuck. Did you move your bedside table around in your drunkenness too?

Your headache intensifies at the thought and you press a hand to your temples, trying to force it away.

After a moment you push yourself off your bed, rising to your feet and reaching for the light switch that usually sits just to the left of your bed. But you don't find it.

You stumble around in the dark - wondering just how hungover you truly are that you’ve suddenly forgotten the entire layout of your bedroom - when the door swings open. You turn quickly, ready to reprimand Sana for entering without knocking and finding instead that Kim Taehyung stands before you.

And not only is he standing before you. He is also currently incredibly topless.

“Morning,” He holds a bowl of cereal, “How’s it cracking?”

You stare at him incredulously. And then, of course, you do the only normal thing you can think to do.

You scream.

But when you scream your voice doesn’t sound like your voice. It sounds low and gravelly and… Why the fuck is Kim Taehyung in your house?

And why is he so chill about it?

“What the fuck?” Taehyung jumps, and a splash of milk hits the ground, “What are you screaming about dude? It’s like nine AM.”

And then you notice the full length mirror standing just to the left of Taehyung. The room is still dark - illuminated only by the open door Taehyung is standing in front of - but you see your reflection staring back at you clearly enough.

And the two dark eyes blinking at you are not the eyes you grew up knowing.

Because looking back at you through the reflection of the mirror is Jung fucking Hoseok’s body.

It takes you approximately ten seconds before you faint and his body hits the ground.

//

You wake up less than a minute later surrounded by the boys of house Beta. Taehyung is blinking down at you - as are Jin and Namjoon - and you notice Min Yoongi too (the most elusive Beta member) snapping his fingers in front of your face.

“Dude I told you not to drink so much last night.” Taehyung seems relieved when you - or well when Hoseok - sit up, “Fuck that Y/N chick. She’s a bitch.”

You can barely hear him over the fuzziness in your brain.

You’re asleep, right? You must be asleep.

There’s no way you’re sat on the Beta Theta Sigma house floor, in Jung Hoseok’s body nursing the worst hangover of your life.

You pinch yourself. You pinch yourself so hard you yelp and Taehyung arches a brow.

“Hoseok. What the fuck is going on man?” He lowers his face towards you, “You’re acting weird.”

Hoseok. He called you Hoseok.

Suddenly you want to hyperventilate. No you’re sure you’re going to hyperventilate.

“He needs coffee.” Yoongi moves just as Taehyung and Jin help you to your feet, “I’ll go make some.”

He hovers away and when you stand you look around Hoseok’s bedroom - basketball posters on the wall - a simple bed without a frame (of course) and a wardrobe the size of a box, almost.

It’s clean at least. And neat.

Shit. Fuck. This can not be happening.

“Listen Hobi, I know what Y/N said last night was really shitty,” This comes from Namjoon, whose eyes are serious but kind, “But she was just drunk. She felt awful afterwards.”

You swallow thickly. Something like a lump settles at the bottom of your throat.

You need water.

“She means well.” He continues, “She’s just a little….”

“Bit of a bitch,” Taehyung finishes for Namjoon, shaking his head furiously, “Fuck her. She ruined your night. You don’t need that shit in your life.”

“He's got to finish the end of term project with her,” Jin reminds Taehyung almost studiously. He turns to you, “I think it would be a good idea to find some middle ground.”

You know you have to say something. You have to.

Jin, Namjoon and Taehyung are staring at you. Or well at Hoseok.

You have to say something before they think you’ve completely lost it.

You clear your throat.

Well you clear Hoseok’s throat, but at this point the semantics don’t matter.

“Okay.” You say slowly. You hear Hoseok’s voice - deep and gravelly and broken up from sleep and drinking, “I’ll talk to her.”

“Atta boy,” Namjoon steps towards you and claps you good-naturedly on the shoulder, “She really is a great person-”

And then somewhere to your left, Hoseok’s phone starts to ring. You recognise the opening notes to ‘Anaconda’ by Nikki Minaj and bite back an eye roll.

Definitely not the time for that. Instead, you turn sharply, suddenly sensing the person on the other side of the phone is Hoseok.

Or well, it’s you. But it’s Hoseok in your body.

Oh God this was going to give you another migraine.

You scramble to grab the phone that has been tossed unceremoniously to the foot of the bed and pick it up quickly, swiping to answer.

“Hello,” You sound breathless.

“Y/N?” It’s your voice speaking back to you and suddenly everything is so strange and surreal that you’re worried you might faint again.

“Uh yes. Yeah. It’s me.”

“What the fuck is happening?” Hoseok sounds bewildered, “What the fuck happened last night?” “I don’t remember,” You hiss, turning slightly to see that the other boys have left you to your own devices. You walk towards the door and slam it shut, just as Taehyung throws you a middle finger from across the hallway.

He’s still eating that damn cereal.

“All I know is that I woke up this morning… And I was you.” The words sound so ridiculous and yet somehow they’re true.

“This is my literal worst nightmare,” Hearing your voice like this is weird, but you suppose in the grand scheme of things it’s not the worst thing to happen to you this morning, “What the fuck. I don’t know what to do. I’ve avoided Sana as best I can, but she’s insisted on bringing me coffee from the cafe by campus.”

You're pacing Hoseok’s room, trying very hard to avoid eye contact with the expanse of hairy pale legs sticking out from the pyjama shorts Hoseok is wearing.

“I keep thinking this is some horrible dream,” You mutter, tugging a hand through Hoseok’s incredibly short hair, “What the fuck.”

Hoseok makes a sound of disbelief from the other side of the phone, and then sighs deeply.

“You need to come over.”

“What?” “You need to come over, Y/N,” He tells you matter of factly, and you try to focus on anything other than the fact that you’re hearing your own voice talk to you in real time, “We need to figure this out.”

You know he’s right of course.

“What do I tell your friends?”

His throat clears.

“Tell them you’re going to see Jisoo.”

Jisoo?

You bite back the urge to ask who that is, because you’re pretty sure you already know the answer.

“Okay.” You feel sick again, “I’ll see you soon.”

He hangs up the phone without another word and you finally turn to look at yourself properly in the mirror. Hoseok’s big brown eyes stare back at you, and you feel so strange you have to blink several times to clear the feeling.

You’re topless. Hoseok’s abs are cut to perfection and you feel bad for momentarily ogling them.

You hate to admit it but fuck he’s hot.

You know you have to put clothes on - Hoseok can’t walk around the streets topless - but you feel weird rooting through his things. Like you’re overstepping a boundary.

You try not to think of the very horrible boundary you overstepped last night, and instead force yourself to open the closet door and pull out the first sweater your fingers come into contact with. You decide to keep the pyjama shorts on - your brain cannot currently deal with a pantless Hoseok - and slip on a pair of sneakers.

It’s an awful look, but if anybody asks you’ll blame the hangover.

You grab Hoseok’s phone and slip it into the pocket of the sweater you’re wearing, opening the door and slipping out into the hallway.

Taehyung is still standing in the hallway, just outside the kitchen, nursing that same bowl of cereal. He quirks a brow at your appearance.

“Where are you going?” He asks bluntly.

You take a deep breath.

“Jisoo’s.” Taehyung’s eyebrow arches all the way towards his hairline.

“Right now?” His eyes scan your appearance, “Looking like that?”

You try to act debonair, throwing Taehyung a smirk.

“Not like she cares what I’m wearing,” You answer, adding on a chuckle for full asshole effect, “Right?”

Taehyung’s eyes narrow for a moment.

You worry that you said the wrong thing. Shit. But then his face breaks out into a boxy grin and he chuckles.

“I don’t know how you do it man.” Taehyung’s grin widens, “Girls flock to you even when you turn up looking like that.”

“Right,” Your chest tightens at the thought of girls flocking to Hoseok, but you push it down and try to grin, “Well. Y’know me. I’m a regular casanova.” Taehyung snorts a laugh and Yoongi appears behind him, holding a flask.

“Your coffee.” He tells you seriously, “You’ll need it to get through the day.”

Oh. How right he was.

//

You turn up to your own front door less than twenty minutes later, pressing the buzzer and wondering for a moment what the fuck you’re going to say if Sana opens the door.

How the hell are you going to explain a very hungover Jung Hoseok turning up to your apartment first thing on a Sunday morning? Especially when the two of you didn’t exactly end things on good terms last night.

But when the door swings open and you’re faced with yourself you breathe a sigh of relief. Then a wave of anxiety and sickness passes through you, reminding you once again that you’re in Hoseok’s fucking body.

“Come on. Quickly,” Hoseok pulls you inside the apartment, and you try to ignore being faced with your own body - that you’re not inside.

Has anybody in the history of the world ever had to deal with this?

You follow Hoseok wordlessly into your own room, and try not to think too hard about the implications behind that. Hoseok is in your room. The bed isn’t made (why does that not surprise you?) but everything else is tidy, thank God. And despite all the fucking weirdness today has brought on so far, you’re thankful at least for that.

“What the fuck,” Hoseok stares at you - widening your eyes, “What the fuck is happening. You’re me. And I’m you.” He tugs a hand through your unruly hair and you wince.

“Ow.” He grunts and you give him a sympathetic smile.

“You can’t just run your fingers through it,” You tell him, “You need to condition first. Then brush in the shower.” The look on your face is absolute disbelief when Hoseok turns to you.

“You’re kidding, right?” You bite your bottom lip, “Sorry. Just trying to help.”

Hoseok softens the lines around your eyes and sighs heavily, sitting at the edge of your bed and placing his head in his hands. He makes a strangled sound.

“This can’t be happening.”

You join Hoseok on the bed, feeling your own shoulders deflate.

“We have to go through the events of last night,” You start slowly, trying to find something - anything - that might help you explain what the fuck is going on, “Maybe we can figure out a way to… Reverse it.” You feel so useless. Hoseok blinks at you.

“Reverse the fact that we have somehow swapped bodies?”

The reality of the situation slaps you across the face again. You feel winded.

“Yeah,” You conclude, “We can’t just live like this forever.”

Hoseok takes a deep breath, “After our little… Altercation last night…I got wasted. All I can remember is telling Jin again and again how,” He shifts a little, and your eyes meet for a moment before he drops contact, “Awful I thought you were. He kept telling me to forget it but I wouldn’t.”

You suck in a sharp breath. You feel terrible for what you said last night and you want to apologise again.

“I am sorry,” You say as sincerely as you can, “Really, Hoseok. What I said last night was incredibly shitty and you didn’t deserve that.”

He sighs heavily, and the atmosphere thickens.

“You’re right I didn’t deserve it. But none of that matters right now,” He stands abruptly - and for the first time you notice what Hoseok has chosen to dress you in. Sweats and a t-shirt.

God. If Sana saw you looking like that she would definitely think something was very wrong.

“I think… Maybe…. In my drunken anger,” Hoseok paces the length of your room and then pauses, turning to face you, “I think I might have performed the ritual.”

There is a beat. Then you clear your throat.

“What do you mean?”

He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes.

“I think I performed the body swap ritual. The one you kept insisting I did.” The words fall like concrete between the two of you, “I think I got back to my room and I was so fucking pissed off at you that I thought you actually deserved it. Living as me for a while.”

He gestures towards you - stuck in his body - and shrugs.

“I guess it worked.”

“Oh my god,” You feel sick again, “So you’re saying an ancient Sillan ritual that bares absolutely no solid evidence in the real world has somehow worked and that’s why the two of us have swapped bodies?” You feel lost.

“Yeah.” He scoffs, “It sounds fucking insane. But it’s the only explanation I have.”

You want to tell him he’s being ridiculous. Want to tell him that there has to be some logical, rational explanation for all of this but the truth is - there isn’t.

You woke up this morning in Jung Hoseok’s body. He woke up in your body.

And apart from some stupid drunken ritual he apparently performed last night, there’s absolutely no other explanation for this. You lick your bottom lip and stand.

“Okay. Fine. We have to go then.”

Hoseok raises one of your brows, “Go?” “To the library.” You clarify, “We need to figure out how to switch us back.”

Hoseok winces. Then he nods.

“Yeah. Yeah okay. Let’s go.”

But of course, the moment you stand to make your way over to the door, it is thrown open quickly and a very dishevelled-looking Sana greets you. You almost forget how to breathe.

Sana’s face drops quickly, as her eyes move between the two of you. She raises a brow all the way up into her hairline, and her gaze widens.

“Oh my god,” She whispers holding two takeaway cups of coffee, “Hoseok? What the fuck are you doing here?”

You realise all at once that she’s looking at you of course - because for all intents and purposes you are Hoseok - and you clear your throat quickly, trying to push down the dread building it’s way towards the surface.

“Good morning to you too, Sana.”

You try to play it nonchalant, but Sana isn’t having any of it.

“If I had known Y/N had company I would have offered you a coffee too.”

You try to smirk, “It’s alright. I already had mine.” You hold up the flask of coffee Yoongi made you earlier and Sana’s eyes narrow. She bites her bottom lip.

“Did you stay the night?”

The question immediately causes you to flush. She grins.

“Oh my god you did-”

Hoseok, of course, stops this thought right in its tracks.

You try not to think about why the thought of the two of you sleeping together seems to cause him so much disgust, and focus instead on the fact that he’s trying to help you out.

“Stop being stupid Sana,” He speaks in that clipped tone of yours, and suddenly you hate how prim and proper you sound, “Hoseok is only here for the project.”

Sana frowns.

“But aren’t you guys hungover? Why the fuck would you choose to do work on today of all days?” She eyes you both suspiciously, “You’re not hiding something from me, are you?”

You look to Hoseok, who shakes his head.

“We’re hungover. But there’s no rest for the wicked right?” He smiles and you can see how awkward it is - you’d never smile like that, especially not at Sana - but there’s nothing you can do about it, “We want to ace this.”

Sana turns to you next, eyes softening as she lifts the side of her mouth gently.

“So you two are okay after last night?”

The question is directed at Hoseok but of course he can’t answer it. Instead she’s looking right at you because you woke up this morning and somehow you were Hoseok.

“Yeah uh, Y/N apologised,” Hoseok’s voice sounds gruff and you cough slightly, “We’re fine now. She was really sorry and she was drunk. But that’s the devil’s juice for you.” The devil’s juice?

What the hell is wrong with you?

Sana sighs, “Well as long as you two are okay…”

Hoseok steps forward quickly, grabbing the second coffee cup from Sana’s hands and sliding past her quickly.

“We’re fine,” He assures her, smiling briefly, “We really need to go now Sana. The library awaits.”

You feel lost all over again. Your best friend nods and moves out of the way to let you pass through, when all you want is a big, fat hug from her.

But you can’t ask her of course, because that would mean getting Sana to hug Hoseok. And that would bring with it a whole load of questions. Instead you smile at her softly, and follow after Hoseok, watching the back of your own head as he cuts straight towards the front door.

“Don’t study too hard,” Sana’s voice follows you as Hoseok throws the portal open, “And make sure you’re back for dinner. Namjoon’s coming over for games night. And he’s bringing Jungkook.”

You internally groan at that.

When Sana’s not trying to set you up with Hoseok, she’s trying her hand at matchmaking by attempting to set you up with Namjoon’s little brother, Jungkook. He’s a sophomore at a different university and he’s nice enough but you just don’t have time for any of that.

“Uh… Yeah sure.” Hoseok throws back, “I’ll see you then.”

You both step out into the hallway and once the door slams shut, he turns to you carefully, gaze intense.

“I would just like you to know,” He takes a swig from the coffee Sana brought, “This is the worst hangover of my life.” You groan in agreement.

“Ditto.”

//

.

[kikuism]

here are the books i've read lately that i want to talk about!! all of them are debuts too.

the witch's heart: a story about the giantess angrboda, whose union with loki produces three unnatural children: the wolf who will swallow the sun and moon, fenrir; the world serpent, jormungandr; and the keeper of the realm of the dead, hel. they live their life at the edge of the world, away from prying eyes, in domestic idyll bliss...until angrboda’s visions plague her, and she sees her children responsible for a large part of the destruction that ragnarok—the end of times—will bring about. are her children monsters? how far does a mother's love go to protect her unnatural children destined for destruction? these are the questions at the heart of the book and they really truly tugged at my heartstrings. i wasn't prepared for how emotional this book made me feel. at its heart it is a story about family, about motherhood most of all. my budding interest in norse mythology also greatly upped my enjoyment of this book. i'm definitely going to keep an eye out for more books by this author in the future. i can't believe this is her debut!

these feathered flames: inspired by russian folklore, twins asya and izaveta are thrust apart by two separate destinies: asya trains to become the firebird that keeps magic in check in the realm, and izaveta trains to be the next queen. however, tragedy brings them back together: the death of the queen. suddenly izaveta is crowned the new queen, and asya prematurely must take on the role of the firebird. tensions rise between the sisters, who not only have not seen each other in years, but whose new positions have never really worked in tandem with each other before. the sisters must navigate growing political tensions as well as try to figure out what—or who—killed their mother.

in my personal opinion this book promised more than it delivered, and i think if the execution were a little sharper I'd have enjoyed it more. i wanted to get more of a feel for the characters. it was there, but i wanted more. i admit i enjoyed izaveta's parts more than asya's—i think i have a thing for ice queens trying to navigate their new roles (god....not to bring up frozen, but i was so excited for elsa's character and....they just didn't do anything with her). izaveta reminds me of what elsa would be like. also, i'm sorry, but...the f/f enemies to lovers romance that was a big part of this book’s hype absolutely failed to do anything for me. i so wanted to like it, but unfortunately i couldn't care for it. and i know it's because i didn't care enough about the characters that i couldn't get invested in their romance. if i can't care about them as individuals, how can i care about them together? also, the pacing of their relationship was just not it. i also expected this book to be steeped in russian folklore and culture the way the bear and the nightingale was—with that book, i felt like i had truly stepped in medieval russia; it was dripping with culture. but with these feathered flames, it felt like just a little dip into what should have been a richer world. yes, there is russian food and clothing and names, but i still felt the impression i was reading about some vague european setting rather than a fully established russian one. all in all, it wasn't terrible, but it didn't really do much for me. i give it a generous 3.5/5. i might pick up the sequel.

ariadne: ariadne and her sister phaedra are princesses of crete, who have grown up hearing the thunderous bellows of their brother, the minotaur, in the massive labyrinth underneath the palace. every year fourteen tributes are brought over from athens to be sacrificed to the beast. until one year, one of the tributes turns out to be the legendary theseus, who vows to defeat the minotaur and end this cycle of violence and bloodshed (yes! suzanne collins was inspired by the myth of theseus and the minotaur). ariadne falls in love with theseus and aids him in killing her brother. but what does this mean for her—is this betrayal worth it?

i enjoyed this book. i think by now i have a soft spot for mythology retellings (thank you madeline miller 🤍), and the writing in these kinds of books is close to my own style, so i love that. i had originally thought the entire book was going to be about the maze and the minotaur, but it's just the first part! i won't say what happens, but...things happen. like all mythology retellings, this story too takes place over the course of the subject's life, so there's a sense of the passing of time. i must say that the writing is gorgeous and so expressive. it was a real treat to read. i think the overall reason i don't Love this book though is because 1) the ending was rather abrupt, and 2) the main theme, to me, really just boiled down to 'men ain't shit'. which....yeah, valid, but also i sort of wish it was a little more substantial than that. i wish it had something more to say too. i remember sometime around the middle of the book i just paused and was like, ‘okay but what's the point? what is this book trying to say?’ but regardless, i really and truly sympathized with the women in these book, mortal and immortal alike. they had it rough....we still have it rough....the universal timeless experience of being a woman.

the poppy war: *shrieks* i'm so glad i gave this book another chance. i could not put this down. it's the better 'orphan goes to boarding school' story. in fact, the first part tricks you into thinking it's going to be cutesy boarding school antics. but holy shit....no. no. this is a horrific story about war.

the poppy war is a historical military epic inspired by the second sino-japanese war and overall china’s bloody twentieth century. knowing a bit about east asian history myself i could actually recognize some of what was going on in this book. main character rin aces the keju, a nationwide exam that seeks to root out only the most talented youth—and is accepted into the most prestigious military academy, sinegard. however, tensions are fraught just across the sea as the federation prepares to make its move against nikan, her home. rin soon realizes she has an affinity for shamanism, a mythical power that calls upon the gods, and which might just be the key for winning this war and saving her people. but is this great power worth the even greater cost?

the best way i can describe the writing in the poppy war: it's a shounen anime come to life. the action is so amazingly written and explosive, from the swords to the magic, especially the way it's interspersed with the emotional moments. the way everything is written, i can see everything happening so clearly in my mind's eye. it's such a visceral experience. the writing just flows.

but this book is about war, first and foremost, and all the horrors that come with it, down to every last garish detail. it takes a lot for a book to unnerve me, but this one did and more. it made me uncomfortable and disturbed and horrified. this book delves into war intimately, not a small dip but rather a full submersion. there's a section detailing carnage in a city that's just going to stay with me forver. it's like that scene in mulan where they abruptly fall silent as they reach the massacred village, except every inch of that carnage is described in full intimate detail. it's not for the faint of heart. at one time i clapped my hand over my mouth because i couldn't believe what i was reading.

and it asks questions about war, too. who's right, who's wrong? is any of this justified? is vengeance the way to go? and the thing is....it's not. duh. venegance is Not the way to go. we all know this. but oh my god the way r. f. kuang writes, you want Nothing more than pain and death for rin's enemies. you want to see them suffer in the worst way possible. like rin, you want to get back at them in the worst possible way. and it's like...yes venegance is not the answer but you want her enemies to hurt So Badly. you start thinking, maybe it's okay, because they're so horrible and vile and inhumane, retaliation is the only possibly course. vengeance Must be served. but then.....what does that make you? what is the cost of vengeance? can you pay it? can you ever? is it worth it?

this book is insane and epic in the best way possible. i'm so glad i gave it another chance. the world building is so rich and lavish and the cast of characters is huge and i care for each and every one of them and i'm just. So Invested in what's going to happen next. SO MUCH happened in this first book, i'm still reeling, i feel like i've read two books in one sitting. i can't even predict what's waiting for me in the next book, which is a whopping 650 pages....i'm going to be fed so well.

also, here is a list of triggers. please exercise caution going into this book as it deals with some very dark themes:

[theowhy]

[thiam] following footsteps

2.4k / g / oneshot

note: hello friends :’) long time no post, i just never have any free time these days. my writing brain cells are rusty but here’s a short thing that was meant to be a, uh, christmas fic but that i couldn’t wrangle into shape until now. it’s not terribly contingent on the christmas season and i hope it’s enjoyable even two months late lmao

The cold is the worst thing when Liam finally comes to. Everything bombards him at once: the bruising ache in his back, the smell of dirt and pine and damp clothes. But the cold—that chills him straight to his bones.

“Shit,” Liam says.

“‘Shit’ is right,” says Theo, a disembodied voice somewhere off to Liam’s left because Liam can’t even bear to open his eyes yet. He’d recognize Theo’s presence even if blind or dead.

How annoying. Though in this moment, it gives Liam a weary sense of comfort, knowing he’s not alone.

“What happened?” he groans, bringing a hand up to gingerly touch his temple where a headache currently pounds.

“You got your ass handed to you,” Theo says. He shifts, clothes rustling, a crunching sound beneath his feet.

Ice? Liam opens his eyes.

They were in the forest, he finally remembers. And sure enough, they’re surrounded by dark trees and a white landscape, grey clouds beyond them, a hard ground beneath. There are rocks, too: Theo must have found some kind of outcropping in the hills to shelter from the snow flurrying through the air. Had he dragged Liam under here after… whatever happened before he was out?

“Yes, I dragged you here,” Theo says, then rolls his eyes. “Don’t look at me like that, your face was obvious.”

Liam grimaces. “Did I get hit?”

“Thrown through a tree, actually.” There’s way too much pep in Theo’s voice when he says it. He points out away from them, towards a splintered tree stump in the distance. Its other half lies not far past it, slowly being buried beneath the snow. “That one.”

“Ouch.” Explains why Liam’s back is killing him. “What was it?”

“You don’t remember?”

“I got thrown through a tree, cut me some slack.” Liam gingerly moves to sit up and rub some warmth back into his arms.

“It was… I don’t even know how to describe it.” Theo frowns as he remembers. “I’ve never seen anything like it before. This big white ball of… energy. Ice. It got mad when it saw us and blew you into that tree. There’s been a snowstorm ever since.”

“Did you… kill it?” Liam asks apprehensively.

“Hell no, I grabbed you and hauled ass. You’re lucky it didn’t follow.”

“So it’s still out there? We have to tell the others.”

Theo wordlessly digs into his pocket and pulls out his phone. He taps the home button. The screen doesn’t light up.

Liam gapes. “Did you seriously bring an uncharged phone out into the middle of nowhere?”

“It’s not my fault you were out for an hour, okay?” Theo snarls. “We were supposed to take a quick look around and go back, I didn’t know some mythical snow spirit whatever the fuck was going to attack us. At least my phone is still in one piece.”

“What?” Dread sinks into Liam’s stomach. He digs into his back pocket, pulls out a mess of circuits and glass and dented metal. He squeaks, “Oh no.”

“Yeah, nice.” Theo sighs. “What is that, your second phone this year?”

“Third.” Liam buries his head in his hands. “My parents are going to kill me.”

It was hard enough convincing them to let him go on this trip to the mountains, where Scott and the rest of the pack had rented a cabin for the weekend. Ostensibly it was to investigate reports of sudden blizzards and extreme snowfall, something Deaton had thought concerning enough for them to check out. But in actuality, none of them expected it to be anything more than some random meteorological weirdness. Scott brought his Nintendo Switch and Mario Kart. Lydia brought wine.

But they’d hardly settled into the cabin before Scott suggested they take a look around before dark, just to get some work in before Mario Kart and chill. Figures Liam didn’t even get the chance to kick Theo’s butt at Mario Kart before the universe decided to screw him over and make his parents ground him forever. It’s not his fault his life suddenly became full of a whole lot more fighting than Liam ever expected, even into his senior year of high school.

“There’s no way I’m gonna try and find my way back in this blizzard,” Theo says, with the finality of a nail into a coffin. “So I suggest you get comfortable.”

Liam sighs, watches the white puff of his breath fade into the air. The wind howls in long, drawn out tones. His whole backside is wet from lying on the ground. His head still hurts.

“Yeah, real easy,” he mutters, pulling his knees up and wrapping his arms around them. First things first, try to get his body to stop shivering.

There’s quiet for a moment. Liam’s so preoccupied finding any vestiges of warmth in his body that he startles when something soft is pushed onto his head. He turns his gaze towards Theo.

Theo, whose beanie has now been placed on Liam’s head.

“It ain’t much, but take it,” Theo says, hardly more than a murmur, nearly lost to the sound of the wind. But Liam hears him.

“I’m fine,” he says.

Theo rolls his eyes. “Liam, just take it.”

“But what about you?”

“I can handle a little cold.” Theo crosses his arms tighter, breathes a big exhale that sends a shroud of white around him, thick as smoke. It hides him for a moment but fades away soon enough. His hair is mussed from tugging his beanie off. His nose and cheeks are red, and there are stray snowflakes on Theo’s shoulders, caught in strands of his hair.

It’s more than just a little cold. The beanie helps, in a small way; Theo had given what little he could. That matters, Liam thinks.

It must be that—along with instinctual, human need—that compels Liam to scoot closer until he’s pressed up against Theo’s side.

Theo goes rigid.

He doesn’t say anything. Neither does Liam.

Finally, Theo says, “What are you doing?”

“It’s cold,” Liam says simply. “You said get comfortable.”

“Comfortable does not mean sitting on top of me.”

“I’m not on top of you,” Liam scoffs. “We gotta huddle for warmth.”

“Sure, huddle. Not cuddle.” Theo pointedly scoots away. Liam follows. “Liam.”

“Theo, come on. I’m not dying out here.”

“I’m not dying out here, either,” Theo says, then shuts his mouth.

Liam laughs.

“Glad you find this funny,” Theo grumbles, but this close together, Liam can feel the way he relaxes, the way he presses in by one reluctantly given inch. But it’s something.

Liam tugs the beanie more snugly onto his head, trying not to smile. Yeah. It’s something.

It doesn’t change the fact that they’re stuck out here until whichever happens first: the blizzard goes away (not looking likely), the pack finds them (even less likely, given that Liam hopes they have the wisdom to stay out of the blizzard, too), or God intervenes. Liam’s never had much luck with the last one.

So he takes in his surroundings instead. There isn’t much to see, really, besides trees, trees, and more trees. The occasional bush. Plenty of snow. And—

“Oh!” Liam says, sitting up straighter and pointing. “Mistletoe!”

Theo doesn’t even look and says, “Nice try, Liam. If you wanted to kiss, you could just ask.”

Liam sputters and shoves Theo hard on the shoulder, which hardly budges him. Theo smirks. “No, dude, ugh. Christmas was like a month ago, anyway. I mean there’s literally mistletoe growing on the trees.”

“Riveting,” Theo drawls, but humors Liam anyway. He looks out to where Liam’s pointing at a bushy mass growing in the branches of one of the trees ahead of them. “That it?”

“Yeah.” Liam squints. He can see its leaves rustling with the wind, how different they are from the leaves of the oak tree it rests in. “Phoradendron villosum. Pacific mistletoe. Don’t eat it.”

“I know that.”

“Did you know mistletoe is a parasite?”

“It’s poisonous, that doesn’t surprise me.” Theo looks mildly interested anyway, and Liam feels a small thrill of victory over it. It’s not often that he gets to share some biology knowledge that Theo doesn’t already know. “So why are people obsessed with hanging it in doorways and stuff?”

“Why do people do anything? Superstition. Folklore.” A particularly strong gust of wind sends a branch of the mistletoe flying. It lands in the snow a few feet ahead of them. “Some cultures saw it as a symbol of fertility. I guess the white berries remind them of—er.”

An awkward beat of silence.

Theo says, “I hope the snow kills us soon.”

Liam’s face burns. At least he feels a little less cold now.

He clears his throat. “Anyway… It’s also associated with protection from witches and demons and stuff.”

“I never took you for a mistletoe nerd.”

“I wrote a report about them in freshman bio. It was kind of interesting. Makes it a little less romantic to know they actually kill the trees they grow on.”

“How beautiful,” Theo says flatly. “You’re still a nerd, though.”

“Shut up.” Liam nudges his shoulder against Theo’s. The corner of Theo’s mouth tugs up just slightly.

Liam’s never done it before, kissed someone under the mistletoe. Hayden came and went too quickly for them to ever reach Christmas, and there hasn’t really been anyone since. There was never any time. And, more honestly, no one else has ever made him feel quite the same.

Well. Almost no one else.

But that’s only ever been a passing daydream, one that’s plagued him in random moments. On an elevator ride back down to the first floor of Beacon Hills Memorial. In the passenger seat of a truck. In sparse texts, shared late at night long after pack meetings have ended.

In a snowy forest, surrounded by no one else.

“Hey, Theo,” Liam says.

Theo grunts and turns towards him.

“What?” he says.

Liam presses their lips together. Theo stops breathing.

A kiss would describe it generously. Liam breathes when it becomes evidently clear that Theo won’t. That’s fine. Taking him by surprise is pretty nice. In any case, the kiss ends almost as soon as it began, and Liam pulls away from the corner of Theo’s mouth. The warmth lingers afterwards.

“W-What the hell was that for?” Theo stammers—Theo, stammering—and brings his hand up over his mouth.

“Mistletoe,” Liam says.

“You—idiot.” Theo brings his other hand up to cover his face, but it’s not enough to hide the red lingering at the tips of his ears. It’s a nice color. “You are so… You…”

“Yeah, you too,” Liam says, not bothering to suppress a grin.

Theo gives him a look through the gaps between his fingers, and Liam expects him to grind out another poorly executed insult when Theo drops his hands, his eyes widening, mouth falling slack.

“What?” Liam says.

Theo just grabs him by the shoulders and tugs him back, further into their little shelter.

“What?” Liam says again, more irately. He turns to look where Theo keeps gaping over Liam’s shoulder.

He finds a great, big ball of blue. Liam’s voice dies in his throat.

His first thought is of ball lightning, something he and Mason had spent one sleepover watching way too many videos of on YouTube. In truth, they didn’t care for the science of it rather than the fact that it looked super fucking cool. Just a sphere of pure energy and light, sweeping through open plains or swathes of sky. This doesn’t feel quite like that, but on the surface it seems the same: crackling, blue-white energy, swirling in a sphere that must be a meter wide, at least. Its core is opaque, like hard ice, and there’s a strange hum about it as it drifts closer to them.

It is frighteningly close. Theo draws an arm out across Liam, pushing him against the rocks at their back. But the sphere doesn’t attack them, doesn’t whip them with a sharp slice of wind like Liam was hit with earlier.

It only drifts over their hiding spot, passing by like an elk through the woods. Calm and constellated with flecks of ice and snow. Something about it feels as old as time itself.

Both of them hold their breaths as it passes. It disappears over them, drifting over the hill. The winds calm. The snowfall begins to diminish until it ceases completely.

It’s quiet.

They stay still for one, two, three heartbeats. Then Theo drops his arm. They both exhale.

“Holy shit,” Liam says, panting like he ran a marathon. “Was that it?”

“No, it was a different big blue ice ball,” Theo says. “Of course that was it.”

“That… was awesome.” Liam crawls out of their shelter to look around for any sign of it. It’s long gone, not even a trail left in its wake.

“I see you’ve already forgiven it for trying to kill you.”

“I don’t want to get thrown through a tree again, but it didn’t attack us this time. We probably spooked it earlier. And look, it stopped the blizzard.”

“You’re way too chipper for seeing something that unreal,” Theo says, following Liam out.

The newly returned sunlight falls over Theo’s shoulders, making him that much easier to see. Theo turns his face up to the sun. His damp hair curls at his temples.

Despite Theo’s griping, Liam can see the wonder in his eyes, the way they glow. He looks alive. Liam thinks about how the blood inside him and the blood inside Theo must be the same, despite everything.

Liam says, “Hey. Thanks.”

Theo frowns. “Why?”

“For saving me earlier.” And the time before that. And the time before that.

Theo scoffs, and where Liam usually sees shutters falling over his face, a mask piecing back together, now he sees a hint of a smile. Something brighter, underneath.

“Whatever,” Theo says, and snatches his beanie off Liam’s head so he can ruffle his hair aggressively.

“Dude!” Liam yelps. 

Theo laughs and whirls away, tearing through the snow in a direction Liam will have to trust is home.

There’s no hesitation at all before Liam chases after him.

--

note: big ice ball inspired by the leschach entite of ffxii. because..... im a nerd :p 

[a-skirmish-of-wit-and-lit]

Book Review: The Wolf and the Woodsman by Ava Reid

It's easy to understand why this book has been likened to those by Katherine Arden and Naomi Novik. Similar to those novels, The Wolf and the Woodsman is immersive. Transportive. Comprised of lush atmospheric mythology and dark mature themes that are tinged with magic and folklore, that explore real human pangs, sufferings, failures, and longings through its fantasy constructs, the story itself is one of brambles. It pinches then prickles. It cuts you open in places you didn't know existed. Its beauty is to be found in the darkest recesses, from beneath the deepest layers. The book itself features two main characters, Évike and Gáspar, who, despite being reared at the center of a violent nation-building society where they've been imbued with conflicting beliefs, with pronounced prejudices, are thrust together in odyssey. It all starts when she's taken from her village. The Woodsmen have come to collect, looking for a seer for the king, and she is offered up as sacrifice despite having no magic of her own, which is only revealed after the fact. Though the two start off as enemies, as nothing more than wolf-girl and Woodsman respectively, they soon grow to depend on each other for survival, saving each other not only from nature's elements but from monsters that live in the woods. Little pieces of themselves start to fall away to reveal something softer, kinder, and more tender behind their ideological differences. Once they arrive to face the king, though, their evolving feelings are truly put to the test. That's also when the enthnoreligious horrors and their individual searches for identity start to tick up. The prose of this book tugs readers along with its rich brutality. Each brushstroke is laden with sensuous metaphor, imagery; every new location in the plot is carved out with exquisite precision and care; and the characters themselves all shimmer with recognizable, yet mystical, qualities. I shivered at certain turns of phrase throughout because they hammered at the reality of what it must feel like to be persecuted for religion. Or ethnicity. Or culture. Or anything. I thought Reid did a good job of making that believable in the fantasy world she crafted. With descriptions that sparkle and ambiance that engages all five senses, The Wolf and the Woodsman evokes a keen sense of awareness in the reader that had me paying attention to every fleck of detail. There was a real feeling of being swept up. Submerged. Lost to everything except the unforgiving setting, the blue-black emotion, whenever I was reading. I liked maneuvering through the gory underbelly of this tale overall. It was beautiful in a tragically-scarred-yet-resilient way that felt genuine, if a bit painful and heartwrenching, in message. Perfect for fans of dark folklore! Many thanks to NetGalley and Avon and Harper Voyager for the ARC in exchange for my review!

4/5 stars

**Follow me on Goodreads

[vixiene]

the rewritten lore of the kitsune, attempting to rectify the many mistakes made on teen wolf. 

note: this heavily changes kira’s place in the show in the service of cultural accuracy and respect. if any of this information is deemed wrong or offensive, please approach me so i can change it (and learn in the process!).

GENERAL LORE + BACKSTORY.

kira begins our story as a literal fox! according to much of the kitsune folklore, all foxes have the ability to shapeshift, so it feels wrong to begin her story anywhere else. she is the result of a coupling between a young korean man and a shapeshifted kitsune, being born as a fox after her mother transformed back to her original form. 

her father eventually dies; kitsunes live for a very long time, and though noshiko loves her husband, she eventually has to let him go. 

ken is not kira’s father! her mother ascends before kira comes to beacon hills, where the tug of the nogistune draws her in; he is a kindly teacher who takes a liking to her and, through that, the two bond very quickly -- he has a father-like role to her, but he is not her father (i couldn’t just erase ken from her story, could i?).

she follows inari, the shinto deity of agriculture and harvest. meeting her is a sign of good luck! you are quite literally blessed when you are in kira’s presence. 

KIRA’S APPEARANCE.

kira is still relatively young for a kitsune! most kitsune only grow an additional tail after having lived for a hundred years --- kira has one tail, though her mother has all nine (indicating that she is more powerful). 

when kira is drunk, her tail comes out, which is a shadow - y orange colour. there is only one.

she has a natural fear of dogs! this makes her a little jumpy and nervous around werewolves on their first meeting.

her eyes glow a little orange - y when she’s mad. 

KITSUNE, POWER AND ABILITIES.

kira’s mother has the ability to see and hear anything happening anywhere in the world. with age and training, kira will eventually have this ability, but she is currently too young. 

in fox form, kira’s mother is a golden colour! or, well, was -- before kira comes to beacon hills, her mother becomes a tenko (a heavenly/celestial fox) and ascends to the heavens. 

being born originally as a young fox, she must transform into a human woman. only when she wears a small band of leaves woven into a bracelet can she remain in human form! without it, she changes back into a fox. her shadow is shaped as a fox and, sometimes, her reflection will warp too slowly and you can catch a fox in the mirror.

she is incredibly intelligent and wise! she cannot possess people. she can generate fire and lightning and, under extreme duress, manifest in people’s dreams. once she gains her second tail, she can hover a little, and turn invisible. this will take quite a few years. 

she is close to immortal -- unless she is killed, her only death will be through ascension.

she doesn’t need much sleep and is generally more content to wander around at dusk.  

[otherworldlybooksgoddess]

Five Exceptional Fantasy Books Based in Non-European Myth

Photo by Josh Hild

Don’t misunderstand me: I love reading well-written fantasy with roots in the familiar Celtic and English folklore of my childhood, but with the vast majority of High Fantasy being set in worlds closely akin to Medieval Europe, and a large amount of of Mythic Fiction drawing on legends of similar origin, sometimes the ground begins to feel too well trodden.  There is, after all, an entire world of lore out there to draw from.  That’s why I’m always thrilled to find excellent works of what I call “the Realistic Sub-Genres of Fantasy” based in or inspired by myths from other cultures.  Such books not only support inclusiveness, but also expand readers’ experiences with lore and provide a wide range of new, exciting realities to explore. So, if you are looking for something different in the realm of Fantasy, the following novels will provide a breath of fresh air.

The Golem and the Jinni by Helene Wrecker

In this beautifully written novel, Wrecker draws on both Middle-Eastern and Jewish mythology to tell the stories of two unwilling immigrants in Edwardian New York and the unlikely friendship that springs up between them.  Chava, an unusually lifelike golem created for peculiar purposes, has only days worth of memories and is practically childlike in her innocence.  Ahmad the Jinni has lived for centuries, but is trying to reclaim his forgotten past. The former is as steady and calm as the earth she’s made from while the latter is as volatile and free-spirited as the fire within him.  Both must learn to live in an unfamiliar new culture and find their places in a city too modern for myths even as they hide their true natures.  It’s a wonderful metaphor for the experiences of immigrants everywhere, who often find themselves feeling like outsiders—isolated and even overwhelmed— as they struggle to adapt to life in an alien society.  

Full of memorable characters, vivid descriptions, and interesting twists, The Golem and the Jinni takes readers on a journey that is driven as much by internal conflict as external action.  The setting of 1900’s Manhattan is well-researched and spectacular in its detail.  Wrecker blends two old-world mythologies into the relatively modern Edwardian world with a deft hand.  The result is not only fascinating, but also serves to illustrate the common early-twentieth-century experience of an immigrant past colliding with an American future.

The Tail of the Blue Bird by Nii Ayikwei Parkes

One part Detective Mystery and one part Magical Realism, this novel invites readers to experience modern-day Ghana in a way that is both authentic and profound.  When Kayo, a forensic pathologist just beginning his career, is pushed into investigating a suspected murder in the rural village of Sonokrom, the last thing he expects is to have a life-changing experience.  Soon, however, he gets the acute sense that the villagers may know more than they’re letting on. When all of the latest scientific and investigative techniques fail him, even as odd occurrences keep dogging his steps, Kayo is finally forced to accept that there is something stranger than he thought about this case.  Solving the crime will require more than intelligence and deduction; it will require setting his disbelief aside and taking the traditional tales and folklore of an old hunter seriously.  Because whatever is happening in Sonokrom, it isn’t entirely natural.  

This novel is brilliant not only because of its deep understanding of Ghanaian society and realistic setting, but also because of Parkes writing style.  The narrative is gorgeously lyrical and everything within it is described with a keen, insightful eye.  The dialogue is full of local color, and while some may find the pidgin English and native colloquialisms difficult to follow, I found that the context was usually enough to explain any unfamiliar terms. Sometimes the narrative feels a little dreamlike, but that is exactly the way great Magical Realism should be.  The Tail of the Blue Bird insistently tugs readers to a place where reality intertwines with myth and magic, all while providing an authentic taste of Ghanaian culture.

The Deer and the Cauldron by Jin Yong

During the reign of Manchu Emperor Kang Xi, China is in a state of barely-controlled sociopolitical unrest.  Many of the older generation remember the previous dynasty, and there still remain vestiges of a resistance movement hidden among the populace.  As his forces continue to hunt down the malefactors, called the Triad Societies, the boy-emperor turns to his unlikely friend and ally: a young rascal known only as Trinket.  This protagonist is a study in contrasts: lazy yet ambitious, cunning yet humorous, roguish yet likable, foul-mouthed yet persuasive. Born in a brothel, Trinket has made his way by his wits alone.  At age twelve, he accidentally sneaked into the Forbidden City—a bizarre occurrence in itself—afterward befriending Kang Xi.  Now, rising quickly through the ranks, he is on a mission to (ostensibly) find and weed out the Triad Societies, and he uses the opportunity to infiltrate various organizations, playing their leaders against one another for his own gain. With a dangerous conspiracy brewing in the Forbidden City itself, however, he is forced to choose sides and decide what is most important to him: friendship, fortune, or freedom.   Supernatural occurrences, daring escapades, and moments of deep introspection abound as Trinket struggles to navigate the perilous maze his life has become.

This novel is like a gemstone: bright, alluring, and many faceted.  At times it may seem somewhat simple on the surface, but looking closer reveals new depths and multiple layers.  Full of intrigue, action, horror, and even laughs, The Deer and the Cauldron mirrors not only the complexities of its setting, but those of the China the author himself knew during the Communist revolution. By blending together history, fantasy, realism, humor, and subtle political commentary, Yong not only beautifully captures these social intricacies but also creates a narrative that is as thoroughly engaging as it is unapologetically unique.

Like Water for Chocolate by Laura Esquivel

Magical realism related to food has almost become a movement in itself, with novels like Aimee Bender’s The Particular Sadness of Lemon Cake, Joanne Harris’ Chocolat, and Sarah Addison Allen’s Garden Spells all finding their places in readers’ hearts.  Originally published in 1992, Like Water for Chocolate helped create this fascinating trend, and it has become something of a modern classic in the fantasy genre.  

The narrative centers around Tita de la Garza, a mid-twentieth century Mexican woman possessing deep sensitivity, a strong will, and a special talent for cooking.  Born prematurely, Tita arrived in her family’s kitchen, tears already in her eyes.  It is in that room where she spends most of her childhood, being nurtured and taught by the elderly cook, Nacha.  The relationship that flourishes between Tita and her caregiver is a special gift, as it provides the girl not only with the compassion and support her own mother denies, but also with a passion and skill for creating incredible, mouth-watering dishes.  At Nacha’s side, Tita learns the secrets of life and cookery, but she also learns one terrible fact: thanks to a family tradition, she is destined never to have love, marriage, or a child of her own.  Her fate, rather, is to care for her tyrannical widowed mother, Mama Elena, until the day the older woman dies.  With a vibrant, independent spirit, sixteen-year-old Tita flouts this rule, falling deeply in love with a man named Pedro who asks for, and is denied, her hand in marriage.  Undaunted, the young man agrees to wed one of Tita’s older sisters, Rosaura, instead, as he believes this to be the only way he can be close to the woman he loves.  Thus begins a life-long struggle between freedom and tradition, love and duty, which is peppered throughout with supernatural events and delicious cuisine.  So great is her skill in cooking that the meals Tita prepares take on magical qualities all their own, reflecting and amplifying her emotions upon everyone who enjoys them.  Controlled and confined for much of her existence, food becomes her outlet for all the things she cannot say or do.  The narrative itself echoes this, by turns as spicy, sweet, and bitter as the flavors Tita combines.  At its heart, this is as much a tale about how important the simple things, like a good meal, can be as it is a story about a woman determined to be her own person and choose her own fate.

Cuisine is fundamental to this novel, with recipes woven throughout the narrative, but that is only a part of its charm.  In the English translation, the language is beautiful in its simplicity.  The characters often reveal hidden depths, especially as Tita grows up and is able to better understand the people around her.  Heartfelt in its joys and sorrows, Like Water for Chocolate glows with cultural flavor and a sense of wonder.  It’s a feast for the spirit, and like an exquisite meal, it never fails to surprise those who enjoy it.

The City of Brass by S. A. Chakraborty

When I first read this novel, I found the early chapters enjoyable and engaging, but felt the story was no more than a typical, if especially well-written, work of mythic fiction.  The deeper I got into the narrative, however, the more wrong I was proven.  The City of Brass is anything but ordinary. While basing her work in Middle-Eastern lore and history, Chakraborty nonetheless manages to create a setting and story that are both wonderfully unique. Lush, detailed, and bursting with magic and intrigue, this book spans the lines between several sub-genres of fantasy without ever losing its balance.  

Beginning in eighteenth-century Egypt, the narrative follows a quick-witted antiheroine. Nahri doesn’t live by the rules of her society.  She doesn’t believe in magic or fate or even religion.  Orphaned for most of her life, survival has required her to become a con artist and a thief.  As a result, she is practical and pragmatic, a realist who has never even considered donning rose-colored glasses, and the last person who would ever expect anything supernatural to occur. Which, of course, means that it does, but the way in which it is handled is intricate and interesting enough not to feel trite. When Nahri’s latest con—a ceremony she is pretending to perform and doesn’t believe in even slightly—goes awry, and the cynical young woman finds herself face to face with a Daeva.  Magical beings, it transpires, are real after all, and this one is furious.  To both of their dismay, he’s also bound to Nahri, who soon realizes that he has an agenda of his own.  In return for rescuing her (and refraining from killing her himself) Dara, the Daeva warrior Nahri accidentally summoned, wants her to pull of the biggest con of her life: pretending to be the half-human heir to the throne of his people.  Worse still, she soon realizes that Dara, whose mentality sometimes seems a little less-than-stable, actually believes she may be exactly who he claims.  He has something planned, and his intentions may not be in her best interest.  Dragged unwillingly into a strange world of court intrigue, danger, social upheaval, and magic, Nahri quickly discovers that some things remain familiar.  People are ruled by prejudices, the strong prey on the weak, and she can’t fully trust anyone.  The stakes, however, are higher than ever, and Nahri will need all of her wits, cunning, and audacity if she wants to survive.

This novel was thoroughly enjoyable, and in fact prompted me to buy the following books in the trilogy as they became available. Chakraborty’s style is lyrical, her world building is superb, her plot is intricate, and her characters are well-developed.  She not only frames unfamiliar words and ideas is easily-comprehensible contexts, but weaves those explanations smoothly into the narrative. The culture, mythology, and history surrounding her tale are all carefully researched, but the tale itself is nonetheless unique. What begins feeling like a fairly ordinary mythic fiction novel will pleasantly exceed readers’ expectations.

So, while we, as fantasy readers, love the works of authors like J. R. R. Tolkien, Marion Zimmer Bradley, and Charles de Lint, there is also a plethora of other enchanting books to enjoy.  Exploring magical realism and mythic fiction based in cultures and folklore from all around the globe ensures that our to-read lists will always hold something unexpected and exciting to surprise us.  So, if you’re starting to feel like you’re in a bit of a reading rut, or if you’re simply looking to expand your horizons, open up new realms of imagination by opening up one of the novels above.  Who knows see where it will lead you?  You may just discover a new favorite to add to your bookshelf.  Happy reading!

[anemonenemerosa]

27 with either wolfstar, jily, or deamus 😊

Thank you so much for the prompt. This is my first time writing Deamus and I hope I did them justice. Also the plot was mainly inspired by a converstation with @mooncat457writer, who kindly explained to me what B&Bs in the US are used for 😅

27: I run a bed & breakfast and you showed up for your reservation alone. Do you understand what the purpose of a b&b is?

Breakfast in Company

It's a bright and sunny day mid-October when Dean meets the most peculiar person to ever enter his life.

"Good morning! Please pick a table and help yourselves to some tea or coffee. I'll bring out breakfast in a moment" Dean smiles as todays only guests descend the stairs, still rubbing a bit of sleep from their eyes.

It has been a fairly slow week so far and Dean is grateful for it. His parents really needed more than a few days off and he is happy for them but that doesn't mean he would've enjoyed running their little Bed and Breakfast at maximum capacity on his own.

Quickly, he prepares the ordered pancakes and sunny side ups on toast with bacon and gets himself a cup of coffee with milk and maple syrup to indulge in on the way back to the little reception. Since two bookings were cancelled last minute, and he already sat up a room for the Irish couple arriving any minute, Dean is free from around noon to the next morning. He's invited to birthday party of an old friend in Chicago this evening and while a 20h ride seems to be a bit exorbitant to attend a party, let alone when one has guests to look after, Dean has his methods.

He is just working on an advert-commission he'd taken on when the little bell above the door announces someone's arrival. A backpacker around his age is standing in the doorway, which is not uncommon but a bit early for the folk from Otter Creek to arrive here on their way to Hunters Beach. The little B&B is situated on the coast directly between both places and very often, backpackers or hikers come in to either ask for the restroom, directions or to buy a sandwich, which Dean's mum usually sets up on a tray at the porch with a tin box for payment.

"Hello, there. How can I help you?" Dean put on his professional smile, as the short guy with a freckled face and cute smirk steps to the reception.

"Howya doin', I have a room booked here. For Seamus Finnegan?" Ah. The heavy Irish accent, however unfamiliar, sparks a warm feeling in Dean's stomach. But that's not important, he has to stay professional instead of flirting around. The guys that came here were taken anyway.

"Ahh, the guests from Ireland. Welcome" He replies politely, smile still in place. "Where's the other one, then?"

"What? Who?" The guy, Seamus, furrows his brows and stares at him in mild confusion.

Odd. "Your partner? The person you came here with?"

"I- I came on my own." The bewilderment on the freckled face turns into irritation, "Why are you looking at me like that?"

It was only then, that Dean realises he's staring in bewilderment, too, "You booked a room. Here. For you alone?"

"Yeah." It seemed that both of them don't really understand what the other was getting at.

"Do you understand what the purpose of a Bed and Breakfast is?" Dean asks eventually.

"A place to sleep and to have breakfast. Yes, I do know. It's in the name and we have those in Ireland, too." The other boy replies pointedly as if Dean thinks he was a complete nutter.

"Then you might know that most, no, actually all people come here in company, mostly with their partners. Romantic getaway and such? So, I just assumed that your booking..." ...was for a romantic weekend with your partner. Dean feels rather sheepish now and seems to be looking the part, if the smirk tugging on the backpacker's lip is anything to go by.

"I know nothing about romance." He declares, "I booked a place to sleep and eat in a good location to go for a few hikes before I head south."

"I see. Well, come on then, I'll show you to your room." Dean begins to appreciate the humour of the situation and conveniently forgets to mention that the Hotel in Otter Creek might be the much cheaper option for a single. He would rather like the guy to stay here for a bit more.  

When Dean opens the door to the little room to reveal a Queen size bed loaded with pillows and blankets that match the fuzzy carpet, the tourist seems to get onto something.

"Are all your rooms like this?" Dean only nods as an answer, "Yeah...okay, I get the couple-y thing now." But instead of getting mad or irritated, Seamus just chuckles "Oh well, good story to tell Ma and Da." With that, he leaves his backpack on the floor and asks Dean for things to explore around here abroad the trodden ways.

Dean, mentally prepared for a drama, is pleasantly surprised by the unbothered way of the boy and points him to some of his favourite places, which he never does with tourists. Usually, Dean is rather protective of his quiet spots.

                                                      oOo

It is 3 in the morning when Dean comes back from the party in Chicago, stepping out of the fireplace and dusting himself off with a quick spell. The house is silent except for a very weird buzzing sound that is muffled almost immediately. Maybe someone forgot to silence their phone for the night.

                                                      oOo

The other guests are long gone for a daytrip when Seamus makes his first appearance downstairs in the morning. He leans over the reception with an odd expression on his face. Not unfriendly but odd, nonetheless. "Keep me company for breakfast?"

It's unlike Dean, but he has absolutely no idea how to read the boy. What he knows, however, is that he never met someone like Seamus. "Sure thing. What kind of a host would I be to leave you all on your own?"

They get along incredibly well and time flies by in a whirl of laughter, funny anecdotes and interesting stories about the wildlife in Ireland and Maine.

"Seamus, why did you come to Acadia National Park, of all the parks in the US?" Dean asks. He switched to herbal tea after three cups of coffee.

"Oh, come on, you live here." Seamus exclaims while kicking Dean's shin playfully under the table, "There is no way you haven't looked properly! It's so nice here with the forest blending into the coastline. Also, I'm on quite a long trip and try to get to see all the big National Parks like Yellowstone, Yosemite, Grand Canyon and Mesa Verde."

The topic changes at the mention of Mesa Verde to ancient cultures and folklore, Irish folklore eventually. They keep on chatting and bantering until Seamus begins to make some weird remarks with ill-disguised hints of witchcraft in Ireland, always glancing at him, looking for something. He couldn't possibly know. Could he?  

Dean takes a nervous sip from his tea, completely at loss on what to do and tries to excuse himself under the pretence of the tea gone cold just to hide out and think. Should he call the MACUSA? Restrain Seamus? Obliviate the boy himself?

But before he even gets up, Seamus holds him back at his arm, "I gotcha." and stares at the cup, which sets on fire immediately. With a shout both boys jump away from the table and with another sharp glance, Seamus extinguishes the fire... by blowing up the whole table. Dean is frozen in place and stares at the scene, comprehending. Seamus, who turned very red in the face, keeps apologising as he pulls a wand out of his pocket and restores the mess.

"You- you are a wizard." Dean mumbles from where he plopped down on his chair again, still a bit perplexed.

"Yep, just like you." Seamus offers with a smile, completely unperturbed by the recent explosion.

"How did you know?" Dean's brain is focusing on the important questions again.

"Well," Seamus leans back on his chair with the disarming smirk of his on his face, "firstly, your place is connected to the Floo. And then, I've got this." He announces proudly and places a golden object on the table. "It's a recommendation of a former teacher of mine at Hogwarts. Bit of a nutter, even known as Mad Eye, but this thing detects magic that is worked around you and I figured it's practical on travels. It went on when you came back tonight." That was the humming! "I got really excited when I realised that you must be the wizard here. I've never met one from outside the British Isles."

"And you thought it's a good idea to set my stuff on fire to tell me?" Dean jokes and has the pleasure to witness the blush returning to the other boy's face within seconds.

"Nah... I just... I should give up on wandless magic altogether, honestly, this always happens." The backpacker waves a dismissive hand, but the blush stays in place.

"Always?"

"More often than not." Seamus admits and takes a deep breath before continuing, "Especially when uh.... when I like someone."

"Is that so?" Dean could swear that his heart just skipped a beat while a giddy feeling settled in his stomach.

"Apparently."

"Well, then keep it together, we can't have you constantly blowing things up on our date."

[princess-mei]

Mei 美美 Qin – Character Sheet

it’s like everything you say is a sweet revelation / all i wanna do is get into your head / yeah we could stay alone, you and me and this temptation / sipping on your lips, hanging on by a thread, baby

late night watching television / but how’d we get in this position / it’s way too soon, i know this isn’t love (no) / but i need to tell you something

i really really really really really really like you / and i want you, do you want me, do you want me too?

Archetype — The Explorer Birthday — July 9th, 2002 Zodiac Sign — Year of the Horse, Rising Leo, Sun in Cancer, Moon in Cancer MBTI — ENFP Enneagram — 2, the Helper Temperament — Sanguine Hogwarts House — Gryffindor Moral Alignment — Chaotic Good Primary Vice — Lust Primary Virtue — Charity Element — Water/Fire (she’s a Water Horse, so she definitely identifies with that but in Western tradition she is Fire.)

Overview:

Mother — Tanya Qin Father — Peng Qin Mother’s Occupation — Editor-in-Chief of the San Francisco Chronicle Father’s Occupation — financial diviner Family Finances — wealthy Birth Order — middle Brothers —  none Sisters — Ting-Ting (Gemma Chan, May 13, 1993), Su (January 22, 2003) Other Close Family — close to their mother’s side, father’s side lives in China, but they’ve taken trips to see them once or twice. do not have any cousins/aunts/uncles, but close to their grandparents. Best Friend — Daisy Zanetti, they grew up together. Met in school and were thick as thieves right away. Daisy is a half-fairy, so they both understood the whole “half” background thing. Other Friends — Lots and lots of friends~ Enemies — There was probably like one Mean Girl that Mei was always antagonizing and who was always antagonizing her. Pets — None. Home Life During Childhood — Relatively happy. Has nice, loving parents. Did a lot of Family Activities, since that was important. Mother was busy a lot with work, but her father was around a lot and Ting-Ting was always around (until she went to school.) Town or City Name(s) — San Francisco, CA What Did His or Her Bedroom Look Like — Posters everywhere! Very personalized and customized. Lots of reds and golds. Probably had like one of those net things around her bed. Always very messy, because Mei starts a project and then just jumps to the next. Lots of natural light too probably. Any Sports or Clubs — Dance and Gymnastics. Mei has kept up with both of these throughout the year. Does both ballet and hip hop. Her favorite gymnastics is rhythmics. Favorite Toy or Game — She wouldn’t consider it a toy or game, of course, but loves doing tarot and tea readings. Also enjoys a good board game, is very competitive though. Schooling — Public school. Favorite Subject — Physical Education ?? Maybe literature. Art classes… Popular or Loner — Decently popular. She wasn’t one of the people that everyone knew but she had a wide circle of friends. Important Experiences or Events — Discovering she had divination skills. Deciding her specialization. Moving to Swynlake! Nationality — American Culture — Chinese-American Religion and beliefs — Spiritual, borrowing from a spread of Taoism, Buddhism, Chinese folklore, and Confucianism.

Physical Appearance:

Face Claim — Cheng Xiao Complexion — Fair-skinned Hair Colour — Naturally a dark brown, but she dyes it a lot! Eye Colour — Dark brown. Height — 5’6 Build — Athletic, but slim. Tattoos — None. Piercings — Ears. Common Hairstyle — Likes to braid it or put it in two buns. Does a lot of half-up/half-down hairstyles. Clothing Style — Chic and trendy, lots of colors and patterns. Mannerisms — Very bouncy, doesn’t sit still much. Twirls her hair around her finger a lot. Usual Expression —

Health:

Overall (do they get sick easily)? — Pretty healthy! I’m sure this is due to Ting-Ting constantly balancing her Yin-Yang Physical Ailments — None. Neurological Conditions — None. Allergies — None! Grooming Habits — Rather good. Takes a lot of care with her appearance. Always makes sure to moisturize and exfoliate and change out of sweaty clothes. Sleeping Habits — Average. Eating Habits — Eats a lot because Su is constantly making things, but can forget meals if she is distracted or concentrating. Exercise Habits —  Exercises a lot! Does all sorts of things like pilates and swimming and jogging. Emotional Stability — I give her a 7/10, she loses points for being a stubborn, unreasonable teenager and for her temper, but otherwise is pretty even-keeled. Body Temperature — Average. Sociability — Very social! Loves surrounding herself with people. Addictions — Love? Drug Use — None, we will see. Alcohol Use — Has gone to parties where she’s drank before, but not often.

Your Character’s Character:

Bad Habits — Interrupting people, bouncing from topic to topic, meddling in things that she shouldn’t, talking back, being a general nuisance. Good Habits — Very kind, very caring. Wants to take care of all her people. Strong moral compass. Best Characteristic — Her certainty. Worst Characteristic — Her stubbornness. Worst Memory — Being told she would have to move to Swynlake. Best Memory — When her father told her that he was proud of her for completing her studies for being a sorcerer and accepting an apprenticeship. Proud of — Her magic, her family history, her looks, her sporting ability. Embarrassed by — Not much, probably the fact she isn’t very good at school. Driving Style — Probably was just learning how to drive. A speed demon, but surprisingly a good driver. Strong Points — Her moral center and her big heart. Temperament — Can be explosive, but general soft and sweet. Attitude — Generally positive. Weakness — Not knowing what she wants. Fears — Not knowing what she’s going to do with her life. Phobias — Anything unlucky, though I wouldn’t call it a phobia, more of a cautious regard. Secrets — None really? She doesn’t keep much from people. She’s very “This Is Who I am. Fight Me.” Regrets — Having to leave Swynlake. Feels Vulnerable When — People are angry or upset with her, she’s not following her heart. Pet Peeves — Being told she’s wrong, lol. Conflicts — Duty to Family v Duty to Heart Motivation — Following her heart. Short Term Goals and Hopes — Make friends and something out of her life in Swynlake. Long Term Goals and Hopes — Figure out what she wants to do with her life. Sexuality — As-is she is straight, but this can change. Day or Night Person — Day Introvert or Extrovert — Extrovert. Optimist or Pessimist — Optimist except she can be really sour when things don’t go her way.

Likes and Styles:

Music — Oh, gosh–where to start? Mei loves love songs, of course. Big fan of Elton John, Elvis Presley, Celine Dion, etc etc. She also loves modern stuff, of course. Taylor Swift, Carly Rae Jepsen, Ed Sheeran…if she’s really feeling it some Florence and the Machine. Loves KPop too. I’ll let Lauryl tell me who she stans. (Is that the phrase I feel like there is a phrase.) Anyway, anything that is love related, she’ll give it a listen. Books — Doesn’t actually like reading that much, tbh. Doesn’t hold her interest. Magazines — Do people read magazines anymore? Does Buzzfeed count as a magazine? Probably giggles over Cosmopolitan. Foods — Sweets! Chocolate is her favorite, but she likes licorice a lot too. Is one of those weird people that likes black licorice. Also, loves a good rice pudding. That’s probably her favorite dessert. She also loves chicken, any kind of chicken–she doesn’t care what you put it in or what you put on it. Isn’t much of a picky eater. Actually really enjoys being adventurous with her food. Drinks — Green tea, green tea, green tea! Mei loves tea, especially iced. She also surprisingly likes salt soda water–she goes back and forth on sweet and savory. Sometimes, she just really wants salt soda water because it is just crisp and refreshing and wakes her back-up and reorients her yin-yang when she needs it. Animals — Elephants! Mei loves elephants. She’s that girl that has like elephant shirts and an elephant backpack and an elephant stuffed animal probably. They have such a high emotional capacity and Mei really respects them for this. They are also just so cute with their floppy ears and their soft, sweet eyes! Loves birds too as most of them are symbols of good luck and good tidings–besides owls, which are harbingers of death. Sports — Gymnastics and dance. Social Issues — Magick Rights is the biggest one. Also feminism. Also all the “main” issues. Favorite Saying — “Better to light a candle, than to curse the darkness” - Chinese Proverb Color — Golds, yellows, reds, blues are her favourites. She loves gold because it is a Classy color. Most of her jewelry is gold. She loves yellow because it is bright and happy! Red is lucky in Chinese culture and it always reminds her of times like New Year’s! Also, it is the color of passion and love. Blues she likes because they are calming and gentle.  These are her lucky colors. She also loves pink, even though it is technically a color that she should avoid. Really hates white, because she doesn’t like what a blank slate it is. Also, hates brown because it is an icky boring color. As you can see, she has a lot of Opinions on colors. Clothing —Chic and trendy, lots of colors and patterns. Jewelry — Loves it! Wears mostly gold. Probably has a few staple pieces but then exchanges things depending on her mood. Websites — Tumblr, Instagram, Twitter etc etc TV Shows — CW shows and K/Cdramas Movies — All the great love classics: Gone with the Wind, the Titanic, When Harry Met Sally, Roman Holiday, all of Audrey Hepburn probably, the Notebook, Singing in the Rain…I could go on and on. She loves movies that tug at the heart strings and are full of that wild, amazing, passionate kind of love. They always make her swoon and if she is choosing a movie for movie night, you know it’s gonna be a romantic tearjerker. Though, she also likes romcoms. Doesn’t like action movies or horror movies or anything too intense, they freak her out Greatest Want — To figure out what to do with her life. Greatest Need — To grow up and learn things aren’t all about her, lmao.

Where and How Does Your Character Live Now:

Home — A three bedroom apartment with Ting-Ting and Su. Household furnishings — Rather plain at the moment, but will probably grow cozy as they settle in. Favorite Possession — Her pseudogrimoire where she writes down all the signs and stuff that she sees and puzzles out the meaning to. Most Cherished Possession — Her wand, which is a fan that was her mother’s, her mother gave it to her and her father and Ting-Ting help her imbibe it with magic. Neighborhood — Tortuga Place Married Before — No Significant Other Before — Non-serious boyfriends and Serious crushes Children — She iS a child Relationship with Family — Very close with her dad, even though he’s always yelling at her and being disappointed in her. They have a lot in common and she loves him. Her and her mother also get along more or less, she’s less stringent than her dad. Ting-Ting and her probably have the most contentious relationship, but even that hasn’t been that bad really. Mostly Mei being a nosy, annoying little sister. It will get more intense now that Ting-Ting is the authority figure and Mei is pissed about their situation. Su and Mei get along more or less well, they annoy each other, as sisters are wont to do, but Mei would def consider Su one of her best friends. Car — None. Career — Student Dream Career — She doesn’t know !! Dream Life — Married, with children, though she doesn’t know what she wants out of a career. Love Life — Nonexistant, which pisses her off. Talents or Skills — Excellent gymnast and very good with her magic. Intelligence Level — Decently intelligent, has street smarts, tbh. Very sharp in conversation. Finances — Wealthy

[sole-cuore-amore-e-droga]

How do I feel about Eurovision 2020 songs, shortly summarized.

Albania: every telenovela wants this as its soundtrack now

Armenia: ritch bitch raps intimidatingly about how she wants to "chainsaw you", adds a lot of hi-hats

Australia: clown ballerina being hurdled around by anxiety

Austria: when everyone forgets you, bring on a banger. trust me, it works

Azerbaijan: San Marino did it better

Belarus: that's just a nickelback store "Like It"

Belgium: that one song you hear in the movie during a grim scene that you forget the name of

Bulgaria: the one song Billie Eilish wished she wrote

Croatia: so generic it's hard to remember

Cyprus: it's titled "Running" to influence gym people to run on treadmills faster

Czech Republic: where begone the trumpets?! :(

Denmark: the summer love song written by the campfire

Estonia: the unexplored angle of being a boyband solo reject

Finland: if it was a color it'd be faint seagreen... because it's too okay to have any meaning

France: how many keychanges until I lose my will to live?

Georgia: how do I want you to make khinkali like a Georgian

Germany: wanting some of those Luca Hänni royalties

Greece: the quality of this song is like that cat stuck in the tree, but no one cared to save it

Iceland: SWEATERS! DISCO! CUTE SONG ABOUT CHILD!

Ireland: Avril Lavigne meets P!nk meets Disney Channel

Israel: when Amharic is not just for satanic Twitter memes

Italy: once in a while it's excused they didn't choose anything other than some male heartstrings-tugging ballad

Latvia: that dubstep drop you forgot to delete from your computer in 2010

Lithuania: middle aged man contemplates being middle aged, dances, dances some more

Malta: when X Factor runs out of inspirational background music

Moldova: genetically modified Sergey Lazarev's Eurovision entries

The Netherlands: you don't know how good is it until it kicks off that one last chorus

North Macedonia: walk into the club like wait nevermind can I go home

Norway: what's a Eurovision without a female powerballad... wait nevermind, she doesn't scream, jury can't vote this

Poland: sorry but Billie Eilish did record a Bond theme while being 17, and she didn't even need to sound very Bond-sy either

Portugal: a garden full of love, flowers, and occasional pixie dust

Romania: Bulgaria's confused sister

Russia: "Mom I want a latino club banger!" "We have latino club banger at home *chugs vodka*"

San Marino: if Ralph Siegel was asked to re-write "What's the Pressure"

Serbia: what if I told you that Sanja Vučić is the Terminator

Slovenia: here's a way to make Iceland 2017 more boring and time-wasting

Spain: when you're asking for forgiveness from that one bae that doesn't even care about you

Sweden: and you said they'll never send women!

Switzerland: the ultimate sadboi

Ukraine: takes the baton from Tulia for to continue the tradition of starting cults from folklore culture

United Kingdom: when everyone only comes for Wim Hof but doesn't vote the UK anyway because he's not allowed on stage

[un-pearable]

A City of Strangers

Hyrule and some thoughts about Warriors, an old live write from the LU Discord

Ao3

Hyrule was completely, utterly, and irrevocably lost. And for once, it wasn’t entirely literal. The city was just so, so big. There was no other word for it, if there was it was lost on him as he marveled at the towering buildings and soaring towers, the crowded streets and clamouring crowds. Everything was massive, as if some giant had haphazardly snatched the world at its seams and pulled, scaling the world up vertically and cramming the people and buildings and walkways closer together. It was bigger than the castle, larger than any town, or village, or forest he had ever seen - even in all their traipsing around and across time.

The cacophony of the busy market bored into his ears and overwhelmed him, the sense that he was trapped, he needed to get out, he needed to be able to- growing despite his lack of options to do so.

A tap on his shoulder and a tug on his hand pulled him out of his thoughts slightly. Shoulders tugged up to his ears and his bag clutched in a death grip beside him, he let himself be pulled along by the blue-gloved hand.

He could barely see his rescuer, the crowd’s commotion all but obsuring him. A small flicker of blue here and there and the comforting press against his hand grounded him as he let himself be dragged along. Absently, he heard a few gasps from the throng around them, and a path parted. With a kind but rough push and enough platitudes to serve an entire court, Warriors pulled him past the cluster of babbling streetgoers to emerge in a small alley.

Hyrule let go of his hand, face flushed as he muttered a quiet apology. His companion scoffed as he straightened his tunic.

“Nonsense, you should have seen Sky’s face when he showed up here.” Righting his scarf and casting a furtive glance up the alley, Warriors led him further away from the square.

A few messily laid cobblestones tripped them up as they walked, the quickly fading daylight doing nothing to help. No matter how many of these towns Hyrule saw, he never got quite used to them. The streets meandering and curling this way and that, mimicking the very weeds that grew between the stones. The buildings towering above his head, to heights completely impossible if not for the camaraderie of those surrounding them, each supporting the other in a grand display of solidarity.

They changed, of course, evolving over time as the kingdom grew and shrank, flourished and fell. It was awe inspiring, to see what the world had the potential to be. It was intimidating, to see what the world used to be.

It was interesting, truly, how much of a product of their times they all were. They may have shared that same spirit, that small spark of hope and confidence and bravery, that drove them all to do good and do it recklessly. To embrace it without abandon and dedicate themselves to helping as many as they could. Even if they didn't want it. Or appreciate it. Or know of it. But despite that common base instinct, that absolute dedication to being good, they all were still their own people. Each with their own instinct and motivations and methods. Each with their own history and family and, well, Hyrule. One that shaped them, in the ways that you don't notice until you finally get that outside perspective, although he was pretty sure that most people didn't experience that through literal time travel.

But he saw it, in the little ways Four watched the forest at night, Wild remained on edge when they met a traveler on the road, Wind lit up when they found those rare bodies of water deep inside the more landlocked Hyrules.

He saw it, in the way Time relaxed when they spent the night in a village, instead of the unending road of their journey. In the way Sky always looked to the air, and found relief in the birds as they danced about the sky. Those tiny details of their worlds that screamed normalcy, that all was right.

The way Warriors remained on edge, even as he led him through that crowd. Kept his guard up, even as he guided him back to the group, weaving their way from alley to street, tossing out hellos to unknown faces and shrugs to unheard questions. It was strange, sometimes, how such drastically different homes could produce such similar people. How isolated one could be in a place so overflowing with life and culture and people.

Because somehow, despite all that, one could still end up totally afraid.

It seemed strange, now that he noticed it, that he hadn't seen it before. It so clashed with their view of him, but maybe that was exactly why. Hyrule was so used to being the odd one out, the one who's world was... well, strange, to put it lightly. It wasn't until he followed him back through those wandering paths that he realized how exactly uncomfortable Warriors was, skeptical and wary despite his cheery voice as he explained where he had left the others. It wasn't until then that he realized how much of an anomaly Warriors' time was, a full and flourishing world that thrived and prospered and warred and struggled. But persisted. And he was responsible for it.

And how embarrassed he was of it, silently apologizing that they didn't get to have this, didn't get to live and thrive instead of fight and mourn.

Hyrule... could understand that. He saw the silent concern that they all shared when they spent the 7th night in as many days sleeping on the cold, hard ground, too far from any settlement that wasn't monster infested or struggling to support themselves, much less a gaggle of over exhausted heroes and too many mouths to feed. He could feel the looks they gave him, the terror Legend felt looking over that desecrated skyline, the buried remains of thousands of years of history, lost and burned and forgotten, willfully and terribly. Generation and generation of weaker and weaker leaders, poorer and poorer subjects, until the land was nothing but a scratched out word on a forsaken map, a murmured name scorned in folklore and blamed for every misfortune.

So, he understood, partly. He may have not quite understood the reason for Warriors' vigilance, that underlying note of wariness that followed every casual comment, the quiet skepticism that accompanied every order and attack. But he sympathized. They had all changed on this adventure, growing in response to a world that was slightly bigger, and went backwards as well as forwards.

That perspective shift was uncomfortable at first, a quiet tension that permeated their interactions. It took a while, as all things did, for them to get used the idea, especially those that had never done it before. Those who had gone it alone and unhindered. Unaided.

You'd have thought that Warriors would have been one of the first to adjust, he realized, given all this. But in that moment, as he walked through that unusual town, maybe their worlds didn't matter so much, and they were a bit more alike than he would have thought.

[intro2filmbitterrootcollege]

The Most Affecting Films of This Past “Year”

While gazing into the abyss of 2020, I don’t know if that hellmouth gazed back into me as Nietzsche envisioned it, because, like many, I fought this year’s monster in my sweats and talking to the walls while I scraped the barrel of Netflix for SOMETHING NEW to watch. 

But I damn sure threw out any organizing rules for what qualifies as a “film.” 

When called a “limited series,” long-form storytelling becomes cinema. And there shall be no argument. Thanks to The Queen’s Gambit and company, a number of these “films” by any-other-name delivered and found their way here. 

Plus, it’s now a good stretch into 2021 and the very-arbitrary rules of our Time Before the Coronapocene are being met with a weary “Fuck it.”

Then there’s the possibility, as you discover when screening Arrival, that time doesn’t work the way we think it does...

“People like us who believe in physics know that the distinction between past, present and future is only a stubbornly persistent illusion.”

- Albert Einstein

HONORABLE MENTIONS 

The Explicitly Genre, the Dark-Hearted, & the B Movies

The Other Ones

Doctor Sleep Director’s Cut*

(*released in 2020)

The Godfather Coda: The Death of Michael Corleone*

(*yes, this was technically released 30 years ago but Coppola’s new cut works like a new film)

IT GOES TO ELEVEN

11.  Let Him Go

Give me Costner and Lane in a neo-western all day. This is best viewed without knowing anything prior and far more somber than expected.

Loved the gender role-reversal as Lane dons the ten-gallon attitude typically worn by a male character.

10.  Promising Young Woman

Sadly spot-on in its enraged message. Dark, dark, dark, dark, dark comedy(?).

And not for everyone. 

But if you’re game, then this furious blast of filmmaking will be appreciated. Notice the foreshadowed symbolism spattered in neon and pink throughout (Saint Cassandra?) and the ending works. Mulligan being transcendent as always here.

9. Porno

Mileage will vary depending on one’s tolerance for/appreciation of severed male genitalia jokes. Being 14 years old at heart, I laughed myself hoarse.

A throwback with intelligent subtext about fundamentalist religious norms of repression and the dangers of a sex-negative culture.

8.  Taylor Swift - Folklore: The Long Pond Studio Sessions

The album = classic already. 

The documentary = downright magical.

7.  Bad Boys For Life

As an old guy who also has some gray in the beard, I love how far they lean confidently into the old guy-ness. Been riding with these bad boys for 25 years now.

Just take my money already for the next installment.

6.  The Queen’s Gambit 

Cinema-as-a-novel. Sports movie as character study. Evidence that when you give a writer movie-budget money and trust their vision, you can get a hit. And a last episode that brings ALL THE JOY!

Bravo, Netflix.

5.   The Outsider* 

(*cancelled after one season so I’m calling it a “limited-series” and thus a film)

Just the weird and dark adaptation of King that fits with HBO and excises what I assume to be elements that work better on the page. 

Its tone haunts and elliptical editing rewards patience, and Cynthia Erivo should be in everything.

4.   Extraction

As subtle as having a lead character named Tyler Rake kill a dude with a rake -- which definitely happens here. On paper, its armature of a suicidal gunslinger with a weary soul seeking redemption in John Wick’s stylistic shadow shouldn’t work.

But grit and kinetic craft and heart tugging father and son parallels and an impressive look at what constitutes masculine “courage” and what masquerades as it under the guise of violence give zero shits about “shouldn’t.”

3. Tenet   

“Don’t try to understand it. Feel it.”

“.ti leeF .ti dnatsrednu ot yrt t’noD”

A friendship love story at its core that’s going to live as an artifact and defy time, which is appropriate.

Branagh cooks the world’s largest ham and does so brilliantly.

So fun if you don’t try to play chess with Nolan (you’ll lose) and simply let it rip into the space-time continuum.

2.  Devs

It took three episodes (read: chapters) for this to wrap me in its embrace but, holy multiverse, did it ever. A noodle baker of the highest craft, Alex Garland shows again that whatever he touches is going to be a favorite. 

There’s multiple references to great poetry, a diverse cast reflective of humanity, and that many worlds theory to invite many more viewings.

1.  Portrait of a Lady on Fire

Gobsmacked, I kept telling myself there’s no way the next scene or sequence could top the previous...

Then the bonfire singing happened...

Then an Orpheus and Eurydice allusion reversal...

Then the opera scene and me having an out of body experience for almost five hours after the credits slid up the screen. 

Céline Sciamma’s film is the equivalent of Michael Jordan in an 80’s dunk contest: despite an abundance of competing talent, it can’t even be called a “contest.” 

Art shouldn’t be ranked anyway, but Sciamma and everyone involved are all, like…

[jenomark]

hi! just wanted to first say i love your writing. have you ever done anything about how each member would be while traveling with their significant other? i love traveling so much and started to think more into it

Taeil: Naps in trains and on planes. Moving through the early morning, the sun barely kissing the sky. Casual clothes and sweet airport snacks. His eyes are tired, but he’s so excited he can barely contain it. Minimal luggage and zero plans. Sweater paws. He spends all day adjusting to the time zones, with you cradled in his arm. Late-night room service, and a good movie. 

Johnny:  His camera is full of outfit-of-the-day photos of both of you: him leaning against pillars, thick vines snaking up the wall beside him, and you sitting on the steps of a cafe, looking down at your yellow shoes. He’ll wear beanies and sunglasses, a relaxed hoodie and a denim jacket. There’s a camera around his neck, a warm smile on his face. People watching in countries where you don’t speak the native tongue. 

Taeyong: Red-eye flights. Departing in pajamas and landing in fashionable clothes. A face mask for every fashion choice. Too much luggage for too little time. His phone sitting in the bottom of his bag because he counts on you to lead him. He holds your hand in places he feels anxious. Paying for food at the first available and open eatery. Impatience. Stopping to look at people playing music in the streets. Getting scammed because he’s too kind. 

Yuta: Stress-free trips. Makes sure you get enough sleep before traveling. Takes care of all the harder parts, like luggage and passports. Is friendly to everyone he meets. More excited than you thought he would be. Wants to try and do everything within reason. Couples massages and good food. Contacts home to tell them about the wonderful trip he’s having. A lot of late night swimming adventures. Kisses on the beach. 

Kun: Normally hates to travel but enjoys it if it’s with you. Watches planes depart. Asks you about your life goals. Takes things seriously. Sweet cheek kisses and him fixing your hair when it’s a mess. Goes almost entirely off of the grid when traveling. Only sees you in every passing face he meets. Lives to make sure you’re having the best, most relaxing time.

Doyoung: Plans an itinerary long before traveling. Is always punctual. Clings to you during romantic moments, holding your hand and smiling his gummy smile. Wants to know you’re having a good time. Wants things to be a learning experience, but also leaves room for fun. Takes breaks in the hotel room to catch your breaths. Talks about going back but never actually does.

Ten: Doesn’t care about being late, or on time. Always makes it to where he wants to go. Stopping to buy souvenirs in airport shops. Makes up stories about strangers to pass the time. Becomes friends with the locals. Surprises you with couples outfits. Makes the best of every situation. Can’t remember every place he’s been to, but remembers exactly how you looked in those places.

Jaehyun: Stands tiredly waiting to board the plane, your head on his shoulder, and your hand in his. Never gets enough sleep. Charms everyone he meets with his smile. Watching Disney movies on the plane. A few drinks, a cab already waiting to take you to a hotel. Luxury. Going out on the town at night, exploring places other people recommend. Using your own toiletries. Listening to a Bluetooth speaker to fall asleep.

WinWin: Has a count down until you both leave. Loves to get you hype about travelling with him. Takes you places he’s familiar with. Wants to impress you with his culture. Hugs you whenever he’s waiting for something, his mind slipping into daydreams. Takes pride in all that he shows you. There is no limit to the things he will do for you both to have a good time.

Jungwoo: No plans. Wants every footstep to be an adventure. Laughs with you about everything. Long discussions with random strangers on trains. Accidentally gets the both of you invited to people’s houses. Tries food he’s never tried before. Moves freely and unafraid. Tugs you along to the next thing that excites him. Wants the both of you to grow from the experience.

Lucas: Non-stop laughter and back hugs. Drinks and late night dancing. Moving through the world clumsily. Falling asleep on his chest after being so full from eating good food. Getting to know the deepest parts of him and realizing just how much you really like him. So much patience and enthusiasm for everything.

Mark: A list on his phone of everything he wants to do. Neither of you knowing quite where to start. Wanting to be spontaneous but being a little too high strung. Feeling happy enough just doing touristy things. Comfortable shoes and him holding your bags for you. Wandering away from each other and coming back again.

Xiaojun: Getting lost in airport terminals. Sitting on top of his luggage bag and asking you to wheel him around. Laughs everything off like it’s not that serious. Falls asleep in your lap as you’re waiting. Keeps translation books in his bag. Craves one big adventure. Ends up in the craziest situations you could imagine.

Hendery: Listens to your needs. Remembers everything you forgot to pack. Is into a really calming experience. Wants to get plenty of rest before you explore a new city. Wants to learn more about you and strengthen the relationship. Takes pictures of your side profile and never tells you about them. Has a lot of surprises planned just for you.

Renjun: Prefers doing things most people don’t do. Likes gimmicky attractions and things that make him laugh. A feeling of being with a friend. You resting your head on his shoulder in outdoor cafes, watching him play games on his cell phone. Getting into heated discussions about folklore and fairy tales. Stargazing and nose kisses.

Jeno: Sitting in his lap at train stations. Giving him the window seat because you know he wants it but won’t ask for it. Packed lunches and Boba. Him draping his jacket over your lap to keep you warm. Day trips and weekends to places not too distant. Walking through the cities hand-in-hand, him giving you his best eye smile.

Haechan: Has a travel playlist. Is terrified of getting sick. Wants to do things that scare him: skydiving in foreign countries, swimming with sharks. Never wants to go back to the room and sleep. Walks through the streets like he belongs. Good at haggling with street vendors. Keeps a photo of you from the plane as his phone wallpaper for months afterwards.

Jaemin: Does everything low key because he doesn’t like to show off. Only likes doing necessary things. Believes creating lasting memories is important. Is happy as long as he’s doing something chill with you. Pets every dog he passes. Plans his next trip with you while he’s on the current one.

YangYang: Racing him throughout the terminal. Acting like a big kid without a care in the world. Playing silly games to pass the time. Excited to tell you about all of the interesting facts he learned about a country. Is always polite to every staff member he encounters. 

[materializingthedisembodied]

Hello all readers! Given we are stuck at home, and theme parks reopening really is a bad idea overall (even with some having all ready done so, and I really hope visiting guests are responsible) it’s time for a thought challenge!

Anyone who knows me/knows this blog recognizes that I love horror/supernatural/folklore as basis for a themed attraction. With that in mind, if you were to be in charge of conceptualizing a new attraction for a theme park based around a famous cultural/’real’ ghost or monster or folkloric supernatural entity, what would it be? Which creature, what ride system, what tone? As detailed as you want to get.

I have a ton of ideas, but to go very twisted, I might opt for a trackless intimate scaled dark ride dealing with the historically bizarre anecdote of Spring-Heeled Jack, a possible alien (?) that somewhat resembled Jack the Ripper from a distance, shooting flames or poison gas from its’ mouth, leaping over high fences, and basically terrorizing the unprepared population of gaslight-era London. The attraction would feel tight and claustrophobic, along the piers, cobbled back streets, working districts and markets of London amongst a thick fog with Jack lurking out of sight, even including some humorous fake-out jump scares and scenes (a fishmonger and his cat, perhaps, having a tug of war over a large sized fish, and so on) to release tension amidst the eerie, lingering vibe of unease that would permeate it, and a ending whereby you ambush the spectral figure yourself, causing him to run off, leaving behind a few cryptic items - a gas mask, a fashionable hat, a walking stick, a pile of odd goop - and then entering a newspaper office touting new leads in the case of discovering who  - or what - Spring-Heeled Jack is. You don’t solve the case or fully find out, but you are involved in contributing to the story as it were, while still leaving an air of mystery to it.

I look forward to seeing other people’s concepts!