#you be the anchor that keeps my feet on the ground imagine

[yourmoonie]

DEALING WITH DOUBTS

Intro:

When doubts, fears, or anxiety arise, don’t fight with them or think that it is a dead-end. Instead, acknowledge them with gratitude. Recognize that fears are trying to protect you, doubts can motivate growth, and impatience signals your eagerness for good things. Invite your fears to wonder, -> "What if success is close?" Let doubts challenge limits and turn impatience into excitement for what’s coming. Rather than resisting old beliefs, shift your view on these emotions, give them a new purpose, and trust your intuition.

1. Shifting your POV

Instead of seeing doubts as barriers, let’s view them as part of our growth. When doubts pop up, it's because something within us wants reassurance or clarity. It’s a signal, not a dead-end. Now stay with me

2. UNDERSTANDING WHY IT APPEARS

Doubts don’t just appear for no reason; they’re often tied to past experiences or beliefs

Doubt -> an underlying cause -> why It appears -> how to reframe It -> moving forward

3. DONT FIGHT WITH YOURSELF

Doubts can actually help us to question, refine, & build more solid beliefs

Each doubt that you move through gives you a deeper trust in yourself. Like a good friend who’s honest with you, doubts can be useful if you listen, learn, and grow beyond them

The example:

✨️THE DOUBT: What if I am not good enough to get my SP's attention

✨️ LISTEN: Hear the doubt as f it's a friend being honest, pointing out where you might feel insecure.

✨️ LEARN: Ask yourself why this feeling exists. Maybe it's tied to a belief about self-worth.

✨️ GROW BEYOND: Use this awareness to focus on building confidence and self-love, reminding yourself that you're worthy and valuable just as you are

✨️ RESULT: Instead of letting the doubt hold you back, you're using it as a push to strengthen your self-image

4. PICK & CHOOSE

After acknowledging & understanding doubts, it’s time to release them

Imagine each doubt as a passing cloud

You notice it, see what it’s about, and then watch it drift away. You don’t have to cling to every thought

Choose which ones you want to keep

5. REMIND YOURSELF OF YOUR TRUTH

When a doubt comes up, gently remind yourself of your truth

Let’s say you doubt if you’re capable of achieving your desire

You could say, “I trust my ability to manifest & I trust myself”

It’s not about forcing the doubt away but bringing yourself back to your inner belief

6. Appreciating them & letting them go

The next time you catch yourself doubting, try saying, “Thank you for showing me what I need to work on.” This way, you honor the doubt but also make a conscious decision to not hold onto it. Acknowledging it without fear takes away its power over you

7. TODAY'S LESSONS

So today, we learned to:

✅️ To acknowledge the doubts without fearing them

✅️ Appreciate what they teach us

✅️ Letting them go and refocusing on the truth

Doubts don’t have to control you. They can be gentle reminders to dig deeper into your own strength

Trust that you’re on the right path

Some ground techniques for you:

Mindfulness Exercise (My favorite):

When doubts or overwhelm arise, bring yourself back to the present moment. Count your fingers, look around, and connect with your surroundings. Remind yourself that you exist in this moment, and that the thoughts passing through your mind aren’t truly you. Let these thoughts drift by and rest in the knowing that everything is working out in your favor.

Energetic Grounding Exercise (Another favorite):

✨ Start by sitting comfortably in a chair. Visualize roots, cords, or chains extending from your feet deep into the earth and from your base chakra. Feel as though you’re solidly anchored, like a tripod.

✨ Then, imagine a rope or pillar of light entering your crown chakra. This light can be any color that feels healing and powerful for you. See it flow through your body, traveling from your head to your feet, passing through each chakra.

✨ Declare out loud that you are grounded to the earth. Visualize toxins and negativity releasing through the roots into the soil, where they are transformed into energy. Allow the crown chakra connection to draw in healing energy that flows throughout your being.

This practice can help you feel centered, calm, and aligned with positive energy.

[depressedbagpipe]

Golden (King Caspian x fem!reader)

Chapter I - Voyages at Dusk, Treaders by Dawn

Words: 3404 Warnings: some angst and misogyny i guess (?) not too much plot for now, this is just the set up ;) A/N: alright, here it goes. i actually had a breakdown and deleted half the fic before posting so idk how to feel about this. i really hope you enjoy this fic, and I'm sorry for taking so long :( ALSO i haven’t proofread this 😇 Taglist: @sskhair, @sassyandclassyx, @thefictionalgemini, @glimmering-darling-dolly, @just-levyy, @noortsshift,

Series Masterlist

Dawn. Warm and alerting, bathing the clear sky in orange and red and pink and all sorts of sweltering colors I could imagine. The sea below the cliff was calm and shone with such intensity that it hurt to look at. Yet the scenery was beautiful. The wind hugged me and the sun’s rays welcomed me like an old friend. The top of the cliff was showered in green, the grass moving with the breeze, alive and inviting. Summer was finally here, and it cast large and nostalgic shadows over the ruins of Cair Paravel. Nature had taken over the stones once again, covering the past in colorful present. The altar where the thrones of the Kings and Queen of Old used to be remained intact, as if magic itself wanted to bathe the pedestal in power. Power that came and left, but also power that remained. 

Laughter reached my ears. I didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. Giggles and chuckles grew stronger until a pair of short arms wrapped themselves around my legs.

“Mumma, come play with us!” a little boy’s voice demanded, and the happiness in those words finally snapped me back to reality.

With a grin, I turned around, bending down, and picking the kid in my arms, earning a loud howl from him as I spun us. Before either of us could get dizzy, I put him back down, lovingly moving away one of the dark strands of hair that fell over his dark eyes. He looked a bit too much like his father, to no one’s surprise.

Speaking of, he now stood next to me.

“Having fun without me?” Caspian asked in a teasing voice, throwing an arm over my shoulders, using his hand to stroke the exposed skin of my –his– shirt.

I looked up to him. The wrinkles by his eyes were just a tad more prominent, but the same lively spirit adorned his irises. He looked somewhat taller, with his young naivité turned into experienced serenity. He carried himself like the king he was, and yet his lips still turned upwards by the right corner first, kind and amused, as they did when I first met him. His tanned skin glowed in the late afternoon sun, and despite having been married for years, he still managed to make my heart soar.

“Never, Dada!” the kid giggled, still grabbing my legs. 

Caspian laughed as he threw him over his shoulder. “Unfortunately, young man, we should get going back to the castle. It’ll be dark soon.”

The boy complained. “But I wanna stay here! I wanna listen to the stories Mumma tells!”

His annoyance didn’t last long, for Caspian quickly used his advantage to shake the boy in the air, earning loud chuckles in return.

I wanted to follow them, I really did, but my feet seemed stuck to the ground. I saw Caspian walk away, yet I couldn’t move. Something was anchoring me to the top of the cliff, and the only thing I could do was stare as the love of my life seemed to disappear before my eyes.

Again, I know I should’ve been scared, as the world around me seemed to crumble once more. I waved my arms around, my hands flexing trying to grab the air with trembling fingers, anything to keep me afloat. Another breeze engulfed me, equally as warm as the sun that was rapidly setting over the horizon. Out of instinct, I closed my eyes, allowing whatever that was to take me to wherever I had to go. Right before everything ended, a familiar voice resounded on the inside of my skull, bringing back that same serenity I had always felt at the top of that cliff.

Soon, my dear.

I woke up with a start. I immediately frowned as I stared at the ceiling, tracing the lines of the wood at the top of the high-posted bed, analyzing the details in the engraving as I usually did when I couldn’t fall asleep. That had not been the first time I dreamed about Caspian, and what could possibly be our son, but it had been the first time Aslan had made himself known. It had been three years since we last saw him, right after Caspian’s coronation and the Pevensies’ farewell, and despite knowing he was always around, hearing him for the first time after that long only intrigued me. Beautiful, amazing, scary, and anxious things happened during the first three years of Caspian and I’s ruling over Narnia, yet Aslan had never shown up before. I wondered what his message meant too. 

I pondered for a few minutes, still lying on the comfortable bed. The quietness of the room, which was starting to fill with light, made me realize I was alone. I raised my head slightly, looking around the room hoping to find Caspian hunched over some papers in a small desk we kept by the balcony, but he was nowhere to be found. 

My frown got deeper, and I finally sat down and took a look at the state of the room. Our suite at the castle was huge, bigger than any room I had ever owned. The high ceilings and big windows provided warmth and security. Back at Cair Paravel, I had insisted on a rather modest room, but that was no longer fit for me, or us. I was surprised that Caspian wanted to stay in his childhood castle; he always spoke about his home growing up, and how dark and moody it always was, but after a leap of faith and several peace treaties later, the sun seemed to be always shining over the old Telmar. Because the sun always shone over Narnia.

Yet my favorite part of the suite was the balcony; overlooking the kingdom with the sea at the horizon, with the ships docked at the harbor and the peaceful waves that blended with the sky. I know it wasn’t Cair Paravel, and it would never be, but different didn’t mean worse. Narnia prospered under Caspian’s rule, and I, the newly appointed queen, had had the chance to see the land flourish and rise from its ashes.

I was now outside, staring at the view, looking at the sun slowly climbing its way up, as well as the citizens living right under us starting their days, happy and undisturbed. My heart clenched a little, thinking about how much Lucy would enjoy the view, but I shook my head. I couldn’t think about them now. I couldn’t know if I’d ever see them again, at least in Narnia. As much as I loved remembering the past, I had to focus on my present to succeed in my future. 

And my present was now talking rather loudly outside the big wooden door to our suite. 

“But, your Majesty…”

“Nonsense. She’s my wife first, I’ll take care of this.”

“Let us help, your Majesty!”

I scrunched my eyebrows at the voices and flinched when the door opened a bit too loudly.

“My love?” Caspian called out.

“In here!”

His footsteps were rushed and heavy as he suddenly appeared before me on the balcony. 

“What are you doing up? You heard the doctor, you should rest!” he took me in his arms and gently guided me back to the bed, sitting me down on the mattress and taking my face in his hands, inspecting every detail.

I laughed. “Cas, I’m alright. In fact, I’ve been feeling great for the past few days,” I calmly took my hands in his and put them down. His thumbs automatically rubbed the back of my hands, which didn’t fail to give me goosebumps.

“I still don’t think it’s a good idea…” but I cut him off before he could finish.

“Don’t.”

“Please, my love, I just want you to be alright.”

“I’ll be alright once I have something to do, Cas. You seriously cannot expect me to lay around all day when there’s a world full of adventures out there!”

“Your Majesties?” Edith, one of the maids, interrupted us. “The bath is ready.”

“Thank you, Edith. You may go now,” Caspian looked up but didn’t move from his spot.

Edith bowed to us and left with a troubled expression, and I immediately turned to him again.

“What did you do?”

Caspian tried to look innocent but failed miserably. “Nothing! I woke up early and headed down to the kitchens to fetch you something to eat when you woke up! Then the maids found me and insisted on doing the work but I wouldn’t let them.”

I tried to fight off the smile. “Why did you do that?”

“Because I wanted to do something nice for you. I’ve been worried sick these days and just… wanted to be at your side as much as I can before I leave.”

That alerted me. “What do you mean ‘before I leave’?”

I took my hands away, bringing them to my waist. Caspian was looking at me with a guilty gaze from his place on the ground before me. He spoke slowly, almost testing the waters.

“I don’t think you should come, my love.”

“And why is that?” I raised an eyebrow at him, a bit too defiantly. It was too early in the morning for this.

“I don’t want you getting hurt.”

“So you’re keeping me locked away?”

“That’s not…” he tried to reason, but I wouldn’t let him.

I stood up from the bed, careful not to accidentally hurt him as I walked towards the small en suite, feeling the warm water from the free-standing bath, anything to prevent me from lashing out at him. 

“I don’t wanna hear it, Caspian. I’m coming with you. Now, I appreciate the breakfast but if you’re not gonna join me, I think it’s best if you leave me alone now.”

I usually hated being stern with him, but I was tired of the conversation. I wasn’t about to begin yet another fight about the same topic, knowing it would end in disaster. After a few seconds, Caspian spoke.

“I’ll be at the war room, then.”

He didn’t say anything else and left. I sighed, already feeling bad at our near-discussion, and let myself sink into the water. My eyes closed as I tried not to let the anger consume me. 

It hadn’t been the first time Caspian had suggested I don’t participate in the mission. Ever since I had randomly fainted during a training session he had been treating me like a child. And I understood his preoccupation, because I too worried about him every single second of my existence, but it had been almost two weeks, and I had been feeling fine ever since I woke up after the episode. Caspian had even called every single doctor, physician, and healer in the entirety of Narnia, and the verdict was all the same: I was fine. The day had been hot, and I had been tired, and there hadn’t been anything more to it. Yet now, after months of preparing our sailing around the Lone Islands, Caspian was willing to let me stay behind. And I was not going to let him. Narnia needed its queen.

Walking around the halls of the old Telmarine castle was always one of my favorite activities, and while I would normally stop and appreciate the many pieces of art that decorated the walls, I was a woman on a mission. 

Most of my armor was left at our suite, knowing I wouldn’t be needing it for what was about to happen, but for good measure my dual swords were at my back. Despite bowing and nodding at every person I saw in the halls, the sense of urgency in my steps was enough for them to leave a significant space between them and me as I approached the big doors to the war room. With a final breath, I opened them wide. 

Caspian’s face was priceless. He probably wasn’t expecting me so soon, and I definitely wasn’t expecting him to have a whole meeting without me. All of our counselors and fellow top warriors stood at the round table, where a large map of the entire Narnian territory was displayed for everybody to see. Little figures were being moved by Reepicheep, our mighty and beloved mouse, although he too stopped when I came in.

“Your Majesty,” he respectfully bowed at me, and it was only after he did that the rest of the room followed. 

Ouch. That stung.

“I see you’ve already started without me,” I noted, closing the heavy doors behind me and occupying my place at the other end of the table, facing Caspian directly. “Did I miss anything?”

Thankfully, Reepicheep answered. “Not at all, my Queen. We’re just revisiting the details of the voyage. I don’t think we should postpone it any more, my lords.”

I nodded. “Good. When do we leave, then?”

“Wait…” Caspian tried again.

“I believe the Dawn Treader is ready, so what’s stopping us?”

Lord Drinian, the captain of the first Narnian ship, spoke. “Well, His Majesty thought it better to wait until your health improved, my Queen.”

I glared at Caspian. “My health has been perfectly fine for the past week, Lord Drinian, thank you for your concern. Now I believe, as captain of the Narnian army, I have a say in this mission.”

“Of course, my Queen. And I can assure you, no decision will be made without your approval,” Reepicheep bowed his little head again, bless his heart. Yet the fact that a talking mouse seemed to care more about my word than my own husband did was something I wasn't enjoying at all.

“Then why wasn’t I informed about this meeting?”

Every head turned to Caspian after I fired the question. My blood was already boiling by that point. I didn’t want to place the blame on him, but, after all, he hadn’t even mentioned a meeting in the first place. 

Taking a breath to calm down, I continued. “Again, I appreciate the concern, but from now on, even if I’m on my deathbed, I should, no, I have to be informed about anything that involves my kingdom. I’m equally as useful out there as inside the castle.”

My eyes were glued on Caspian, who hadn’t moved his gaze off me. He could feel my anger, I was sure of that, and it was taking everything in me to not lash out completely in a room full of people. I didn’t want to give them another reason to think lowly of me as it was.

“Very well,” Caspian said at last, not without taking a big gulp at first. “Let’s begin, then.”

“I can’t believe you did that,” I closed the door to our suite with a loud bang.

Caspian flinched before me.

“I told you, I’m sorry!” he threw his hands up. “I don’t know how many times I’ve said that!”

“It’s not about what you said, Caspian, it’s about what you did! What you keep on doing, as a matter of fact!”

He lowered his voice, confused. “What do you mean?”

“Do you understand how hard it is for me?” I yelled. I knew I was letting the anger on him, but I couldn’t seem to stop now. “How hard it is to wake up every day and try twice as much to be taken seriously?”

“What do you mean?”

I sighed. “I’m not a queen, Caspian. I’m a joke.”

“That’s not true.”

“It is! I told you how life was back in the days with the Pevensies! So many people in court wouldn’t hesitate to question my worth every time I took the wrong step. It took years to show everyone I was as capable as any other man. It didn’t even matter I was knighted by Aslan himself! And now?” I walked to the balcony, suddenly in desperate need of air. Despite the high ceilings of the room, I was suffocating. “Now, I know that everything I do is being scrutinized. I can’t afford to spend a day in bed because now I have an entire kingdom to look after. I can’t miss a meeting, I can’t miss a training session; I really can’t give anybody the chance to believe that I’m not worthy of being a queen.”

A single tear fell from my eyes, but Caspian brushed it away with delicate fingers. He put his hands on my shoulders, making me face him.

I didn’t want to look at him after that, but he raised my head with a finger, pinning his dark eyes on mine.

“You, are worthy of every beautiful thing in the world, my love. You have nothing to prove to anyone. I know what you’ve done and what you’re capable of, and I love you with every beat of my heart. And most importantly, you know what you’ve done and what you’re capable of. So what if you miss a few meetings? Or a mission? You are my queen, you are the queen of Narnia. Nothing’s gonna change that. And I wouldn’t have anyone else by my side, not even given the choice.”

More tears kept flowing from my eyes.

“Then why am I always this insecure?” I spoke, almost in a whisper. 

Caspian smiled softly. “Because you’re human. And you have emotions, and this is no easy job, and you’re right. I don’t know what life looks like for you, and I’m sorry for keeping you away from the chaos downstairs. I thought I was doing the right thing. Now I know that I can’t keep you locked away, no matter how afraid I am of something happening to you.”

“Is that why you did it?” I asked, putting my hands over his.

I intertwined our fingers together, a habit I quickly picked up after being married to him.

He nodded. “Do you know how I felt when I saw you lying there, pale and rigid?” He moved a strand of hair behind my ears, and his gaze turned slightly darker.

I shook my head. I remembered the feeling, the gnawing knowledge that my legs were giving out, and praying I wouldn’t fall too hard on my head.

“My whole world stopped. You weren’t moving. And nobody knew why. It was a scene I had already seen once at the How and I had made a promise to myself that you wouldn’t ever be in that situation again… And there you were, on the bed, five doctors surrounding you and not one of them could say what was wrong. And I don’t care that I didn’t move for a whole day, left my duties to someone else, and just sat by your side waiting for you to wake up.”

I was frozen in place. I didn’t even know what to feel anymore. All my anger suddenly dissipated, leaving longing, confusion, and guilt behind. I had been a bit too focused on my own discomfort that I hadn’t even thought about what Caspian had felt when it all happened. Even though I had been the one to drop dead in the middle of the courtyard, he had never left my side, going as far as making me breakfast despite not knowing a single thing about cooking. 

“I…” I began, but he cut me off again. He somehow always managed to read my mind.

“And hey, I know what you’re thinking. It’s not your fault, okay?” Caspian said. “I don’t want you to blame yourself. I should’ve asked you first about what you wanted. And there is no way that I’m leaving without you now. I need my right hand, and I need my wife. Luckily for me, you’re both.”

I smiled. A genuine smile for the first time in hours. “Wherever you go, I go.”

“Together,” Caspian affirmed.

I brought his face to mine and kissed him, properly. The last few days we had shared quick and almost timid kisses, usually on Caspian’s behalf, probably not to hurt me. And every single doubt, fear, and hesitation was thrown out the window when his arms embraced me fully, keeping me impossibly close to him. His beard tickled my face, and my fingers got lost in his mane, a little tamer and lighter than it had been at first. His fingers trailed the light wool patterns of the shirt I wore, and I swore at that moment that no matter what came at us, I was always going to fight for him, and for us. 

We pulled back at the same time, breathless and smiling.

“We leave at dawn, then.”

Next chapter

General Taglist: @angiewhoohooo, @azaleaniath, @mishaandthebrits, @celestialcharles

[oliolioxenfreewrites]

osi’s midnight masquerade; a theatre troupe of queer vampires who play by their own rules. Would you be able to tell us a bit more about the vampires who make up this theatre troupe? 👀

I couldn't begin to understand the lives of these salacious vamps, so, I'll let Osi provide clarity ;)

a mini wip intro for chirstmas?? i think yes

WIP INTRO - Osi's Midnight Masquerade (narrated by Osirys himself)

Being a vampire isn’t a blessing. Let’s start there. It’s not the romanticized eternal youth nonsense you read about in books or see on glossy screens. It’s not the allure of satin sheets or the thrill of moonlit hunts. It’s a tightrope walk, every step one miscalculation away from falling into something dark, sharp, and impossible to climb out of. I would know—I’ve been walking that line for centuries.

To most, we’re the fantasies they want to believe in: seductive silhouettes cutting through smoke and shadows, predators with a touch of tragedy. People want us to be beautiful and dangerous, the ultimate contradiction. They want the dream of immortality wrapped in silk and sharpened by fangs. And we let them believe it. We have to. The truth? The truth is too messy, too raw for their imaginations to handle. Without connection—without others to keep us tethered—we lose ourselves. The hunger takes over. The walls of who we are collapse. That’s why I built the Masquerade in the late 70s. Not just for the performances or the power, but for the people. For the family.

And what a family it is. Deeply flawed, creative, brilliant, infuriating—but mine. Each of them brings their chaos, their hunger, their fight. Every single one of them keeps me grounded in ways I can’t always explain.

Milo is the heartbeat of the Masquerade, the one who keeps us moving even when everything else threatens to fall apart. Her music isn’t just accompaniment—it��s a command, shaping the energy of every performance, holding the audience in her grip. She doesn’t simply compose; she controls, her hands always in motion, her mind consistently several tempos ahead. Small-framed, but impossible to miss, Milo has a presence that feels like gravity, the kind that steadies the room while reminding everyone who’s really in charge.

Her sharp, hazel eyes don’t miss a thing, and her voice—measured but biting when necessary—can cut through the noise like a conductor silencing an unruly orchestra. She thrives on precision, on keeping chaos at bay, but she’s just as willing to unleash it if she thinks we’ve earned it. Milo doesn’t deal in softness, but when you’re spinning out, she’s the one who holds you steady, unyielding and certain, even if she’ll never admit that’s what she’s doing.

Still, Milo isn’t easy to know. For all her command, she keeps most of herself locked away behind a wall of sharp wit and sharper boundaries. You’ll catch glimpses sometimes—in the way her fingers drift over the piano keys during a rare moment alone, or in the weight of her gaze when she thinks no one’s looking. But the second she realizes you’ve noticed, she shuts it down, turning back into the unflinching architect of the Masquerade’s rhythm.

Vinscint is her constant, the foundation beneath her intensity. Tall, broad, and deliberate, he moves as if he's never rushed a day in his life. His calmness steadies the surrounding storm, and his strength quietly holds the Masquerade together when everything else feels like it’s falling apart. They create a balance—Milo’s sharp drive is softened by Vinscint’s patience, while the weight of his silence is anchored by her commanding presence.

Together, they’re the reason we’ve even lasted this long, the ones we all look to even when we won’t admit it. Milo keeps the rhythm, Vinscint keeps the ground beneath our feet, and between the two of them, we manage to survive.

René? René is my star, the one who steps into the spotlight and makes you forget the world existed before he arrived. He doesn’t just perform—he commands. When René moves, it’s with a grace that doesn’t feel learned, as though the stage itself bends to accommodate him. His voice has a richness that fills every corner with the theater, every word an invitation laced with danger, every glance a challenge you know you’ll lose but can’t help but accept.

His presence is magnetic and intoxicating in a way that feels unfair, like the universe cheated by putting that much beauty, talent, and raw hunger into one person. He burns so brightly it’s a miracle he hasn’t engulfed himself entirely, and yet there’s always the sense that he might. He leans into it though, weaponizing the tension, the risk, and the inevitability of his self-destruction. He thrives on it, and the audience does too. They adore him, worship him even, and René takes that adoration like it’s owed. Because to him, it is.

Tof is something else entirely. He doesn’t just stir up chaos; he is chaos, wearing it like a tailored suit, all sharp smiles and sharper edges. He steps onto the stage with a kind of careless confidence, like he owns it—and, in a way, he does. Rules mean nothing to Tof. He doesn’t just break them; he obliterates them, scattering the pieces for everyone else to trip over while he watches from the sidelines with a grin that could cut glass. He likes to see how far someone is pushed before they snap, and when they do, he’s there, ready to offer a smirk or a sharp quip that makes you wonder if he planned the whole thing.

But here’s the thing about Tof: he’s not as reckless as he wants you to think. Beneath all that chaos, there’s a mind that’s always working, always calculating. Every sharp word, every sly grin, every rule he shatters—it’s all deliberate. He’s not just ahead of the game; he’s the one running it, even when it looks like he’s spiraling out of control. That’s his brilliance. He’ll make you think he’s falling apart, but the truth is, he’s the one pulling the strings.

Now, of course, Tof does have one glaring flaw—or maybe it’s just part of his charm. He can’t keep his dick in his pants. It’s not just the sex, though that’s certainly part of it. For Tof, it’s about the game, the thrill of pursuit, the power of knowing he can have anyone he wants—mortal or immortal. It’s the tension, the chase, the way seduction gives him the upper hand before the other person even realizes they’re playing.

Moving on to Xaviyr, my baby. My soft spot. My reminder of what it was like to feel alive before the hunger sank its teeth into me. Xaviyr is young by our standards, still carrying a kind of softness the rest of us can’t afford anymore. His face, round and open, hasn’t yet been hardened by centuries of survival, and his wide, dark eyes still hold questions instead of answers. There’s a quietness to him, a gentleness that stands in stark contrast to the sharp edges of the rest of us.

But don’t mistake that softness for weakness. Xaviyr may not burn like René or cut like Tof, but there’s a strength in his stillness that’s impossible to ignore. He draws people in without demanding their attention, makes them feel safe without ever promising safety. It’s a skill none of us could replicate even if we tried.

Still, I worry about him. Xaviyr’s softness is part of what makes him so vital to the Masquerade, but it’s also what makes him vulnerable. This world isn’t kind to people like him, and I can see the toll it’s already taking, even if he doesn’t admit it. He’s learning, though. Learning how to navigate the hunger, the power, the constant push and pull of what it means to be one of us.

Pandora, the silent watchdog of our darkest secrets, her gaze defined by the weighty burden of her knowledge. She is known for her clairvoyance, an ability that survived her transition into vampirism. Her eyes, like deep pools of wisdom, perceive the fragile fissures in our lives long before they expand, a subtle warning etched in her expression. She is the guardian who steps in when we teeter on the edge of self-destruction, gently guiding us back from the precipice when our blindness threatens to consume us.

And last, but certainly not least, there’s me. Osirys. Osi to those who’ve earned it. I’m the one who built all this, the one who keeps it standing when everything else threatens to fall apart. I’m not the star—that’s René. I’m not the heart—that’s Milo. I’m the centerpiece, the one who holds the pieces together even when they don’t want to fit.

I’m not proud of everything I’ve done to keep the Masquerade alive, but I don’t regret it either. Regret is a privilege unbeknownst to turn off the century’s vampires like myself. The stage is what matters. Our family is what matters. And as long as I’m here, as long as the lights still burn and the audience still comes, I’ll make sure the Masquerade survives.

When we come together, we create something special that’s bigger than just each of us alone. On stage, we become unstoppable. The crowd feeds us their amazement, their curiosity, and their willingness to be swept away, and we soak it all in. That’s the real desire—not just our good looks or charm, but the presence we bring. It’s about being able to look someone in the eye and make them feel truly seen, wanted, and alive. That’s what makes us what they call, 'seductive.' Once they experience that connection, they won't want to let it go.

Neither do we.

That’s what the Masquerade is. A lifeline. A purpose. It’s what keeps not just me, but all of us from falling apart; no matter how sharp the line my children and I walk. If holding on to the spotlight makes me a monster, so be it. I’ve learned to live with that. Because at the end of the night, when the audience is gone and the lights fade, I’m still here. And that has to count for something.

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[strnilolover]

(I strongly recommend listening to the song as you read)

Reader x Matt Sturniolo

Trigger Warning's: Suicide (jumping off bridge), Mentions of death, being around as spirit form?, healing after death, mental health struggles (I think that's all?)

A/N: This is written from the readers Pov, not my own. You can imagine who you'd like since no name is ever specified, but this was written thinking about Matt as the male counterpart. There is no dialogue except for the lyrics.

———————————————————————

“Up with your turret. Aren’t we just terrified?”

I stood there in the middle of the bridge, my head hung back as I looked up at the night sky. I knew that this idea wasn’t going to be good, but I felt as if I was in this dark hole I couldn’t climb out of. My thoughts plagued me to a degree where my skull felt like it was burning.

“Shale, screen your worry. From what you won’t ever find”

My feet moved themselves to the edge of the bridge, looking at the waves crash against the pillars that were plunged deep into the water. I felt the bile of fear and guilt crawl up my chest, threatening to expel itself from my parted lips. I hope no one ever finds me.

“Don’t let it fool you. Don’t let it fool you down.”

But I knew this was for the best. The pain everyone else would feel would only be temporary as the memory of me would slowly dissipate into nothing. I couldn’t let myself feel guilty for what I was about to do, not after I’ve already written a note to those I love.

“Down’s sitting around. Folds in the gown.”

My white dress, wrinkled and worn, flowing around my body as the wind brushed across my skin. Tired of sitting around and waiting, I step forward.

“Sea and the rock below. Cocked to the undertow.”

The waves crashed over the rocks, disappearing and re-appearing as my foot stepped off the ledge. The weight of falling sending a shock through my body, it felt welcoming. I didn’t feel afraid, I didn’t think about anything else. I felt – free.

“Bones, blood and teeth erode. With every crashing node.”

My body hit the water, the sharp rocks cutting me before everything went black. The crashing waves send my lifeless body flowing through them, pulling me under and back up again. I didn’t feel anything, everything was at peace, everything felt right.

“Wings wouldn’t help you. Wings wouldn’t help you down.”

Even when the thoughts told me to stop and turn back, I knew once my foot fell over the edge, there were no wings that I could grow to save myself. No anchor I could throw back up to take me back to the one I love, the one I didn’t let help me.

“Down fills the ground. Gravity’s proud.”

Gravity had won. Smiling down at me as I continued to flow through the water, it’s feel of satisfactory. But it did do me one thing, when he went looking for me after finding my letter. Pushing me toward the shore for his tired blue eyes to see.

“You barely are blinking. Wagging your face around.”

He pulled me out of the water, my lifeless face staring back at him as the water spilled from my lips. His sobs tore through the night air, holding me close to him as he tried to wake me up. Whispering ‘sorry’ repeatedly as his forehead rested against my cold one. I tried to whisper, to tell him I’m okay now, that I don’t feel pain anymore.

“When’d this just become a mortal home?”

He hovered over my body as it lay in the casket. The funeral home was packed with loved ones and people who held me close to them. He whispered his speech to me, his face stained with tears, the dark bags evident for anyone to see. He couldn’t believe I would do this, why I didn’t come to him for help. I wanted to tell him I was sorry, but he couldn’t hear me no matter how hard I tried.

“Won’t, won’t, won’t, won’t. Won’t let you talk me. Won’t let you talk me down.”

He couldn’t move on. Even after all these years of me being gone, of my soul following him around everywhere he went. He never moved on from me, keeping my things close to him as many tried to tell him it was okay. But he was having none of it, he couldn’t stand the thought of letting me go completely, promising to keep my memory alive for as long as he lived.

“Will pull it taut. Nothing let out.”

He closed himself off. To his family, his friends, his brothers. The guilt of not being able to help eating him alive for so many years. But he finally learned to move on slowly. I was with him every step of the way, his brothers too. He learned to love again, but to make it known I was still special to him.

I was always with him, every step of the way. I knew he could feel it, up until his final breath, the end of his life. Finally re-joining me where we were happy once more.

———————————————————————

[lovrily]

Loved the Steve Harrington x shy reader ones, can you please make another where reader is shy but super kind inside? Like she rescues sick kittens or dogs from street and lets them be free after a good care when nobody's around? Really wanna see Steve's reaction after he accidently finds her doing so.

P.s-Hope you're enjoying the beach🫶

hi friend!! the beach was so good but there's sand everywhere and i can't get rid of it xoxo. thank you for ur request i hope this fits what you imagined <3

shy + fem!reader | 1500 words

"hey!"

your head snaps up at the sudden harsh call, but their next words are softer and maybe a little exasperated.

"what the hell are you doing in the road?"

steve harrington approaches like a mirage. the anchor of your stomach drops, nerves nearly pinning you to the ground. heat ripples off of the pavement and off the edges of his hair, ringer-tee tight around his arms. his BMW is parked in a gravel offshoot a yard or two away. for a moment, you forget what you're doing and your hands go free.

"hi," you muster. "i was..."

oh! you whip back around, surprised to find the dog you've discovered still meandering toward the far side of the road. it's limping on its back right leg, as if it keeps pushing forward, the injury will heal itself. it's a bully of some sort; not quite a pit, but definitely not a bulldog. its fur is completely white save for some dirt around its paws and nose.

steve slows to a jogging stop and flicks his hand at you where you kneel. get up, he's motioning. his brows are drawn in the sunlight, and likely in confusion, too. when you go to stand, he takes your bicep gently in his hand and pulls you the rest of the way to your feet. he even steadies you once you're up.

"good?"

your ears go hot as irons. you want to thank him, but it's hard to speak when he's around, so you just nod.

"is it yours?" he asks.

"no," you reply. "no, i just...i was on my bike and i saw it limping."

he throws you an odd glance. "we're on the interstate."

it's true. in the wooded part, at least- surrounded by trees and a metal barrier. but the road is windy, and if a car came around from the opposite side, it would have to be paying good attention to spot you at the curve.

you blink at steve, surprised at how much he seems to care. it's obvious that he does- you're quiet; not dense. but you still don't know what to say.

"it's okay," you shrug.

really? that's the best you could come up with?

steve shakes his head, a little frantic as he takes your forearm and leads you to the metal barrier, climbing over it and then offering his hands to you a second time. "c'mon. hop over."

you blink at him, a little stunned still. it's a bit of a ridiculous reaction, maybe. steve is one of your best friends. but he's also...steve. you can't really be entirely calm around steve harrington. especially not when he appears out of nowhere and drives his car off the road to check on you.

you take his hands and step over. once you've landed, his hands swipe across your shoulders; an almost extended release.

the dog lingers on the other side of the railing. steve swings his legs back over the barrier, and it teeters backward, frightened by his height or maybe just the drop of his feet.

"hey," he calls, frazzled. "don't...it's okay. c'mere."

the dog whines, wary.

the whirring of an engine catches your attention, and you're forced to speak.

"steve," you say. his name is foreign on your lips despite how familiar he is to you. "there's a car."

"it's okay," he replies, kneeling. his voice is a murmur. the dog is backing further into the road, its wounded paw drifting over the yellow median. steve's gaze is sharp, both of you afraid for the animal now. you feel a little bad for dragging him into it. if something happens to the dog, now steve will have to be sad about it, too.

a blue volkswagen comes around the curve too fast for your liking and you're propelled over the barrier, grabbing the neck of steve's shirt.

you yank him backwards, although he probably didn't need it. the dog scampers off just in time as the car shoots by. its back lights stay dim, the driver not even tapping the brakes as flashes of white fur disappear into the forest on the other side of the road. and just like that, the dog is gone.

"damnit," steve huffs. but his shoulders are rigid. breaths rise and fall quickly from his chest, hard and fast, as if he's trying to slow down his heart. he glances over his shoulder, but not quite at you, without moving to pry your fingers off of his shirt. "i don't see it."

your expression crumples.

steve locks eyes with you after a moment of silence. his brown eyes are wide, expectant, as if he knew what your wordless response would be. his head cocks to the side a bit before he straightens out and sighs.

"alright, alright. i'll drive around and look for it."

his neck is warm. you let go, wrinkles from your grip left in the shirt. he wipes a hand over the top of his spine like you've left a film and turns to you.

"you shouldn't just park your bike on the road, mother theresa."

you scoff at the nickname, turning from his gaze. "i am not."

"yeah, whatever," he huffs in return, as if he's ready to leave, although he hasn't moved to do so.

it's nice of him to offer to look for the dog, but you're sure he won't find it again just by driving around. why would it risk going out onto the road again? you needed to look in the woods.

"why are you making that face?" he complains.

huh? "what face?"

"that...oh, man, whatever. alright. quit ogling at me. i'm gonna do it."

you laugh before you can stop it, and if steve was tempted to smile by that, he scrubs the look off his face quickly.

"what are you talking about?" you breathe.

"you're looking at me all...helpless," he retorts. "now i have to do whatever you ask."

that does it. if your ears went hot before, all of you is on fire now. you turn completely around, pretending to look for your bike in the trees, but you had left it in the complete opposite direction and you're too worked up to pass by steve on your way there.

finally, you're forced to turn back around. there's nowhere to hide from the incredibly obvious diversion you attempted and steve is going to be standing there no matter how long you pretend to be searching for something.

he's standing with his arms folded.

"do you do this a lot?"

you stare at him, brows lifting. do what? he reads your expression.

"pick up lost puppies, brake for birds...that sort of thing."

"those are different things," you murmur.

"you get it," steve retorts.

but you don't. the notion that you're some sort of sweet and gentle creature is odd to you, considering how clunky and awkward you feel most of the time, and for steve to suggest that you just did 'that sort of thing' was entirely unexpected to you.

of course, to steve, it's plain as day; you are the sweetest thing he's ever seen, and he would camp out in a tent on the interstate for the next week until he found that dog. for you.

he has to bite back a grimace at how enamored he is with you to offer his hand.

"c'mon. you can put your bike in the trunk and then we'll go look for the dog." he clocks your concern and sighs gently. "on foot."

good.

you're greedy and take his hand before you can be afraid to, and when you step over the railing, it's clumsy; your right leg landing harder than your left. you stumble, and steve catches you, your torso folded over his arm.

when he stands you up, you can't even look at him. but you can see the amused grin on his face out of the corner of your eye, kind and surprised and maybe a little cocky.

"you know what? i'll get the bike. you just...stand there. and try to stay standing until i get back."

you shoot a glare at his back despite your nerves. he returns with your bike, looking weightless in his arms, and says- "think you can make it to the car by yourself, or do you need me to carry you?"

you grin, all embarrassment. "shut up."

"that dog would be shocked by your harsh words if he could talk."

"steve," you laugh breathlessly.

he chuckles, quiet and soft, like he hadn't meant to let it out.

"this should be fun."

[captainsophiestark]

Weirdest Day Ever

Daisy Johnson x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for Fictober 2023!

Fandom: Marvel

Day 12 Prompt: "I'm not saying I didn't like it."

Summary: Daisy and Y/N broke up a long time ago rather than attempting long distance. Now, with a nudge from a terrigen crystal, the very thing that tore them apart might bring them back together.

Word Count: 1,694

Category: Angst, Fluff

Requested by @trekkingaroundasgard! Thanks for the request Nicola, and I hope you like it!

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

The weirdest day of my life, to date, was the day I saw my ex-girlfriend on the news three times in the course of twenty-four hours, as a new superhero working for SHIELD. And until I bit into a takeout sushi roll from my favorite restaurant, I thought nothing could beat it for the number one spot.

Then I'd started transforming.

Inhumans and inhuman transformations had been in the news once or twice lately (at least one of my ex's appearances had been in connection with it), but I hadn't really thought much of it. I'd certainly never imagined I might be one of them, a latent alien gene just waiting in my genetic code. But as a chrysalis started to form around me, fear took over, and I knew what came next.

I didn't know how much time passed for me while I was totally crystalized, but when I came out of it, I collapsed in a heap on the floor. It had felt like floating, through time and space, with no anchor. My body was exhausted and a little sore, and my head hurt. I looked around, finally glancing at a clock to see about four hours had passed.

What the hell was I supposed to do now? Seriously, what did somebody do after a transformation like that? What was the normal reaction?

Slowly, I got to my feet, waiting for some crazy, obvious sign of my change. I walked to a mirror on unsteady feet to find that I looked the same as before, if a little shakier than when I'd been trying to enjoy my favorite food for lunch in peace.

I frowned down at my hands, experimentally shaking one out in front of me to see if anything happened. When it didn't, I flared my hand out, fingers spread wide.

That's when the new weirdest day of my life really kicked off.

A bright purple forcefield bubble appeared around my hand, growing rapidly in size the longer I left my hand extended. I watched it in fascination, until I heard a crashing sound behind me and whipped around to find the door of my apartment busted open. A dozen people in military tactical gear broke through the door, headed right for me.

Reflexively, I flung my hands up in front of my face. With my new powers, the forcefield responded, exploding in a circle around me and knocking the strangers backwards and off their feet. My sushi clattered to the ground, and I leapt over it as I raced past the stunned soldiers and through the door.

I heard shouts from behind me followed shortly by thundering footsteps. My pulse roared in my ears, beating a million miles an hour as I burst into the stairwell and ran down as fast as possible. I had no idea what my plan was, other than 'get away', which felt like a decent first step.

I barreled through the lobby of my apartment building and into the street, the people chasing me not far behind. I staggered a little, unsteady on my feet, more tired than I'd normally be thanks to the use of my new powers. I glanced over my shoulder, then flung my hands up to defend myself again as shots—hopefully nonlethal—fired at me. They bounced off my forcefield, but each hit still felt like a punch in the gut with the effort it took to deflect.

I screamed, flinging my arms out harder and farther away from me, sending another wave of purple force pushing my attackers back. It nearly knocked me to the ground, too, but I managed to stay on my feet and keep running.

I staggered around a corner and into an alleyway, hoping to lose them by going off the beaten path. I realized after a few steps, however, that I'd also just walked into a dead end. I turned around to go back the way I'd come, only to have my exit blocked by the soldier-looking people.

I stumbled backwards, almost tripping over my own two feet and going down. I managed to catch myself at the last second, heart pounding as my attackers advanced. I flung my hands out, but even the smallest forcefield had me seeing spots now.

I was trapped. No way out. And then, my day doubled down on the weirdness.

Like a fever-induced hallucination, my ex-girlfriend Daisy Johnson, formerly known as Skye, landed in front of me in a full superhero pose. She stared down my attackers, who hesitated at the sight of her, long enough for her to level a blast of her own superpower and send them flying backwards. She turned to me with a grin, and when I swayed a little on my feet this time it wasn't just because I was dizzy.

"Hey. Long time no see," said Daisy. She started walking towards me and I just watched her, still not totally convinced this wasn't a dream.

We'd only broken up because she was taking off with SHIELD, and I was moving across the country for work. We'd decided long distance with spies probably wasn't a good idea. To have her magically reappear in my life, right when some crazy latent superpower had been awakened in me... it felt too good to be true.

"Y/N? Are you okay?"

I shook my head as Daisy reached me, putting her hands on my arms and gently squeezing to try to ground me back to reality. It didn't really work.

"It's okay," she said, glancing over my shoulder before stepping even closer to me. "It's gonna be okay, I promise. We're gonna get you out of here."

I nodded. Despite not seeing Daisy for the past few years, I trusted her. I knew she'd get me out of here, that I could feel safe with her. As a result, the adrenaline quickly faded, and my light-headed exhaustion only got worse.

"It's... good to see you again," I muttered, giving Daisy the best smile I could muster. She returned with a confused frown, and I thought I saw her mouth my name, but the sound didn't make it past the encroaching blackness. The next thing I knew, I was toppling towards Daisy, the rest of the world completely slipping away.

****************

When I woke up, the first thing I noticed was the splitting pain in my head. I frowned before I even opened my eyes, memories of the events right before I blacked out only making my headache worse. I heard a snort, and my eyes flew open.

Daisy. Sitting on the edge of the bed I was laying in, looking at me with a fond smile. She'd swooped back in to save my life, and she looked absolutely fantastic doing it.

"Out of all the reactions of Inhumans we've saved, scowling before even waking all the way up might be my favorite," she said, a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. I sat up, my heart racing faster at the sight of her.

"You... saved me," I breathed. She nodded a little, her worried eyes scanning me from head to toe.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there sooner."

"No, Daisy, oh my gosh," I scooted forward, unable to resist the pull towards her. After everything that had happened, to have her suddenly back in my life after I'd literally been attacked? I didn't want to waste another minute without her. "You saved me. You came at the perfect time, please don't apologize. I- I'm so happy to see you again."

She smiled at me, the small, soft smile that had been reserved just for me for so long when we were together, and I found myself leaning forward, pulled towards Daisy by some gravitational force. I brought my hand up to the back of her head, tangling it in her hair as I kissed her softly, every happy moment from our lives together rushing back. After a second, she pulled away, a rueful look on her face.

"Y/N-"

"Oh my God. Daisy, I am so, SO sorry. I wasn't thinking, I shouldn't have just kissed you like that, I-"

"Whoa." She held up a hand, stopping me in my tracks before I could really get rolling and rambling. I stared at her with wide eyes, and she gently took one of my hands in hers before giving me a soft smile. "It's okay. I missed you too, and when you kissed me... well, I'm not saying I didn't like it. But we haven't seen each other in a while, and you just survived a really, really big trauma that's gonna take some time to process. I think it might be a good idea if we take things a little slower."

I nodded, breathing a sigh of relief.

"Yeah... yeah, you're probably right. But Daisy? I do still want to head that way, if you do, of course. You know, back towards... something like what we had before."

She sighed. "I want that. For sure, I want that. But maybe you should take a little more time to process, make sure it's actually something you want and not just the delayed adrenaline dump or something-"

"Daisy." I shifted a little on the bed, taking my turn to stop her worry train before it got rolling, taking both her hands more firmly in mine. "Honestly, while forcefields will probably be a sick power, this whole experience has completely sucked. Every single minute of it... except for the fact that it's brought me back to you. So... if you're sure, I'm sure."

A smile steadily grew on Daisy's face, mirrored on my own until we were positively beaming at each other. SHIELD had been the thing to tear us apart, but now, it had brought us back together. There was some interesting kind of poetry to that, but I didn't care enough to analyze it. All that mattered to me was that Daisy and I would be side by side, working through all the weirdness together, today and for every new weirdest day that was sure to come our way in the future.

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury

Marvel Taglist: @valkyriepirate @luv-ghostie @songbirdcannabe

[thewitcheslibrary]

Grounding 101

Grounding and centering are two of the most important things a witch should know, especially because they often work with energy. The purpose of grounding and centering is to stabilise your energy, draw energy from the Earth, and produce a positive state of being.

Your energy reflects your emotions. It's your "vibe", where your mind has strayed, when you get goosebumps, frightened sweats, or happy tears.

I am sure you can feel your vitality if you concentrate hard enough. Unground energy might feel "fluttery": a racing heart, butterflies in the stomach, and stray thoughts. Noticing your energy is the first step towards grounding, and the more you practise it, the better you will get at tuning in.

Your energy is the first line of protection for how you move through the world: do you recall the proverb "sticks and stones can break my bones, but words will never hurt me"? Words have the potential to injure or heal, depending on your energy level. Have you ever felt that someone's words punched you in the gut? They basically pummelling your energies (particularly your solar plexus). Sometimes the punch continues to strike even after the person who delivered it has left. Anyone who follows the news knows this for certain! But it's not only about the "bad" stuff; when we're very excited about something, it may be tough to stay in the moment as we wait.

Even if you don't receive one of those gut-punches, you might sometimes lose your energy. Have you ever felt like you arrived home but your thoughts was still in the grocery store? Grounding your energy in your area can help you set clear limits for who gets your energy and when. It might make you feel comfortable and supported rather than unbound. Grounding may help those who don't have a secure physical spot to call home, as well as anybody dealing through trauma and facing triggers, discover a safe place within themselves while they manage the issue.

How to ground yourself-

Take a deep, deep inhalation through your nostrils and hold for a second. Exhale through your mouth until all of your breath is out. Repeat as many times as necessary to feel present.

Position both feet or hands firmly on the ground and concentrate on the four corners of your palms or soles in succession. Focus on your base to feel as stable as possible.

Take a bath or shower and cleanse yourself from the top down. Focus on sending unnecessary or unbalanced energy down with the water.

Take a few deep breaths while picturing a ball of light at the base of your spine. Use your mental skills to imagine it spinning and spinning, catching any loose energy (like spinning cotton candy into a bundle), and then pushing it down into the earth. For a more in-depth ritual, repeat this process for each of your energy centres, beginning at the top and working your way down.

To anchor yourself in your environment, sprinkle salt on the floor and spend a few seconds visualising it shining with rainbow light, connecting with your own light and bringing down any unwanted energy. Then sweep up the salt and discard it.

Make any activity that needs your focus into a grounding ritual: making coffee, combing your hair, writing, gardening, cooking, or anything else that speaks to your spirit and keeps you in the present now.

Light a candle and focus your attention on the flame. Firegazing has been psychologically proved to help focus your mind and relax your energies. If you're using a scented candle, take deep breathes and enjoy the aroma and warmth.

Hold a grounding crystal or use a grounding essence during any of these tasks to summon extra help. Darker-colored stones tend to be the most grounding, although even rock from outside works (and may even work best).

[fog-n-dance]

Season 1 Episode 8

(Yes the rewatch continues. I'm averaging 1h05 per episode as I keep rewinding and losing my mind.)

You know that scene where Crosshair is half conscious, being patched up after having gotten fried by the engine, and the stormtrooper reports that ground forces have the Batch on the run ? See the way Crosshair’s eyes shoot open ? The way he jumps on his feet despite being in atrocious pain and covered in bandages ? In this very moment, as he says "Get me on the shuttle", I want to believe that he is not meaning it as "I have to arrest them", but rather as "I need to get the fuck out of here with them".

Look at it : his chip just got destroyed, or at the very least heavily damaged, his own thoughts are now pouring and covering the Empire's humming, yelling at him what's happening and what happened and what he's done under its influence. He is suffering in his entire body, his strong points as a sniper have been completely neutralised (face = seeing ; right arm = stabilising ; left leg = anchoring) and by definition so has he. He is waking up from a nightmare and the very first thing he hears is that the people he's been associating with safety his entire life are leaving, without him, I mean- In this moment, his tone and demeanour are completely spontaneous, there is not an ounce of his usual control and carefulness : he is deep into survival mode, like one would, and the instinctive reaction is to find his brothers.

Hell you could even say that there is a moment of panic when he realises he is surrounded by enemies : as he is now slowly getting back to himself, seeing stormtroopers and clones (that since Order 66 are not considered allies anymore -not that they were that much before-) all around him, there is that split second of fight or flight kicking in and telling him he needs to get far away from enemy territory. He knows that he is in no condition to make a run for it and that those are his real enemies, you can tell by the way he pushes the troopers away before remembering who he is to them here and now, and decides to use it to his advantage in asking for transport to the Batch’s location.

So imagine that : you just got second and third degrees burns on your entire body, are powerless as a sharp shooter, are surrounded by hostiles, the voices in your head are fading away and are slowly being replaced by your own, screaming at you everything that’s been happening while you were in mental jail, the weight of the realisation spreading in your limbs and drowning your heart, the guilt, the hurt, the not understanding… Where would the reptilian part of your brain want to take you upon the second you realise your life has collapsed ? If you answered "to the only place I’ve ever felt safe and loved", fear not for I did too.

So having to watch it leave without you, leave you behind even, would not only be soul crushing : it would make anyone dissociate.

As we all know, Crosshair is going to have A Lot of time between him and himself in the coming months ; the sewing back of his two fragmented minds (the echoes of the chip and the pleas of his heart) is going to be an incredibly challenging task and will leave many shards and splinters behind, ones that only the hardly won back love, patience and understanding of his family will help remove.

Rant over.

[decadentninjacheesecake]

This story is based off of a poem written by my friend @sideblogofanonymity d=(^o^)=b

Anchors to Life

The hill was a lonely rise in a sea of gray, the barren expanse around it cracked and lifeless. Nathan stood at its peak, the gravestone before him like an ancient sentinel watching over a world that had forgotten how to breathe. The ground stretched endlessly in every direction, parched and fractured, as if the earth itself had given up.

It wasn’t real—not exactly. Nathan knew that. The landscape was a projection, a metaphor for what churned inside him. His therapist called it his “mental terrain,” a way to visualize the emptiness that had rooted itself in his chest after the accident. He hated the exercise. It felt pointless, like standing in front of a mirror and trying to talk to a stranger.

But he came here anyway, in his mind, because the hill was different. On its summit, there was a gravestone—a marker of everything he had lost.

Nathan crouched in front of it, his knees pressing into the cracked ground. His fingers traced the carved words, though he didn’t need to read them to know what they said: “Someone was here. Someone lived.”

It wasn’t his gravestone, though he had wished it were many times. No, it was hers. Clara’s.

The accident had taken her two years ago, and with her, it had taken the light. Nathan’s life since then had felt like this barren land—dry, lifeless, suffocating. But there was something about this hill. He came here in his mind when the world outside felt too loud, when grief pressed against him like a weight too heavy to bear.

He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a single flower. It wasn’t real, just like the hill, but it felt real in his hands. A small violet bloom, delicate and bright. It was Clara’s favorite.

He placed it gently at the base of the stone, his hands trembling. For a moment, he closed his eyes and imagined her laughter, the way she used to weave flowers into her hair and spin in the sunlight like the world was made just for her.

When he opened his eyes, the violet was the only color in sight. Everything else was gray and muted, the land stretching out in desolation. But the flower stood out, its vibrancy defiant.

Nathan exhaled, his voice breaking the stillness. “I don’t know if I can keep doing this,” he murmured. “It’s like... everything’s dried up. Like there’s nothing left.”

The wind didn’t answer, but it shifted slightly, stirring the air around him. He imagined it was Clara—soft, gentle, a reminder that she had always found beauty in the smallest things. She would have told him to look closer, to see what he wasn’t seeing.

His eyes dropped to the ground, to the cracks and crevices beneath his feet. At first, they looked empty, just jagged scars in the earth. But then he noticed something—a tiny sprout pushing its way through a crack. It was small, barely more than a blade of green, but it was there.

Nathan blinked, unsure if his mind was playing tricks on him. He crouched closer, running a finger lightly over the sprout. It was soft, alive.

And then he saw another. And another.

They were tiny, almost imperceptible, but they were there—hidden in the fractures, growing in the spaces he thought were dead.

Nathan sat back on his heels, his heart pounding in his chest. The metaphor wasn’t lost on him. The barren land, the cracks, the sprouting life—it was all a reflection of what was inside him. The grief had carved deep fissures in his soul, but maybe those cracks weren’t just scars. Maybe they were spaces where something new could grow.

His gaze drifted back to the gravestone and the single violet bloom. “You were always better at seeing these things than I was,” he said softly, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I think... I think I’m starting to get it now.”

The landscape didn’t change—it was still dry, still fractured. But Nathan stood a little taller, his shoulders a little less hunched. The flower at the gravestone wasn’t alone anymore. The tiny green shoots whispered of possibility, of life pushing forward even in the harshest places.

As he turned to leave the hill, Nathan carried the image with him: the cracks in the earth, no longer just scars, but the start of something new. Something worth holding onto. Something worth living for.

[sacred-awareness]

Finding Balance: My Journey Through the Chakras

There was a time when I felt disconnected, scattered like leaves in the wind. My thoughts raced, my emotions swirled, and I struggled to find solid ground beneath my feet. That's when I discovered the ancient wisdom of the chakras, and through them, I learned to root myself like a willow tree – flexible yet unshakeable.

Grounding with the Root Chakra

My journey began where all journeys must – at the foundation. The root chakra. It sits at our base, governing our sense of safety and security. I remember the first time I truly connected with it, laying in hammock in a university courtyard beneath an old willow tree. As I watched its branches dance in the breeze, I noticed how deeply its roots must extend into the earth to support such movement.

I closed my eyes and imagined myself as that willow tree. With each breath, I sent my own energetic roots deeper into the earth, drawing up its stable, nurturing energy. Like the tree, I learned to sway with life's challenges while remaining firmly anchored. This practice became a daily ritual, transforming my relationship with the earth and my body.

Opening the Sacral Chakra: Permission to Play

For years, I had forgotten how to play. Somewhere between balancing grocery lists and adulthood. I had convinced myself that life wasn't supposed to be fun. My sacral chakra had become blocked, stifling my creativity and joy.

The breakthrough came during a rainy afternoon when I found myself alone in my living room. A favorite song came on, and instead of just listening while doing chores, I gave myself permission to dance. Really dance – wild, uninhibited movement that came from deep within. I twirled and jumped and laughed like I hadn't done since childhood. In that moment, I felt the sacral chakra burst open like a flower in bloom. My ideas around adulthood a d fun changed that afternoon

Finding My Voice Through the Throat Chakra

Perhaps the most profound transformation came through working with my throat chakra, As a child, I had always been told to be quiet, to take up less space, to keep my thoughts to myself. These messages had lodged in my throat like stones, blocking the flow of my authentic expression.

Writing became my salvation. Late at night, when the world grew quiet, I would sit with my journal and let the words flow out into poetry. At first, they came as a trickle – hesitant and unsure. But gradually, the stream grew stronger. I wrote about my fears, my dreams, my anger, and my joy. Each word felt like a small act of rebellion and liberation, clearing the energetic blockages that had accumulated over years of silence.

Creating Harmony Through Balance

Working with the chakras taught me that balance isn't a destination – it's a daily practice. Like a symphony, each energy center needs to be tuned and attended to. Some days, I need to focus on grounding through my root chakra, while others call for the heart chakra's healing embrace or the crown chakra's connection to higher wisdom.

I've learned to recognize the signs when a chakra needs attention:

- When I feel scattered and anxious, I return to those willow tree roots.

- When life feels too serious, I turn on music and dance.

- When words feel stuck, I open my journal and let them flow.

The practice has become as natural as breathing. Each morning, I take time to scan my energy centers, feeling where attention is needed. Sometimes it's as simple as placing a hand over a chakra and breathing into it. Other times, it requires more focused work – meditation, movement, or creative expression.

The Ongoing Journey

Today, I stand taller, speak clearer, and laugh more freely. Like that willow tree, I've learned to bend without breaking, to stay rooted while reaching for the sky. The chakras have become my internal compass, guiding me back to balance when life pulls me off center.

To those beginning their own journey with the chakras, I offer this advice: start where you are. Listen to your body's wisdom. Trust that each small step – each grounding breath, each moment of play, each written word – is part of your path to wholeness.

For in the end, working with the chakras isn't about achieving perfection. It's about coming home to yourself, again and again, with patience, curiosity, and love.

[fieldofdaisiies]

Elucien | Winnow Shenanigans

type: fluff warning(s): just pure fluff word count: 1.6k words summary: Lucien teaches Elain how to winnow. She is a fast learner and loves to use this talent to endlessly annoy her mate.

-all rights reserved-

“Focus,” Lucien drawls, his brow raising. Gritting her teeth and eager look spreads over the Archeron sister’s face. “I am trying to.” “Focus on winnowing, sweetheart. Not on my mouth or whatever keeps distracting you.”

The Autumn Court male gives his mate’s waist a soft pinch, having her squeal but then swat at his shoulder.

“I am not distracted by your mou—“ Said mouth closes over hers before she can finish her reprimand. Elain tastes apples and cinnamon, rich and lush spices –her absolute favourite taste in the whole entire world. She marvels into the feel of her mate’s soft lips against hers, his hand slowly stroking up and down her back, how he softly groans into her mouth, how warm and solid his chest is that presses against her own and…yes, she totally got distracted.

Hmpf-ing she pulls back, rolling her eyes and wiping the back of her hand over her mouth. Lucien is grinning, from one ear to the other, mischief glowing brightly in his eyes. “Told you.”

“You are so rude. I will definitely make you pay for that.” “I am looking forward to it. But now,” —Lucien spins Elain around so her back is against his chest— “focus on where you want to go. Close your eyes, imagine the place you want to go to.”

Lucien’s voice is breathy whisper against the back of Elain’s neck, his tone so gently, so kind. Lucien really wants her to learn how to winnow, he wants Elain to experience all the peaks of being fae, wants her to see how good it is to be fae and what she can do.

How easy it will be for her to tend to her garden if she can simply jump from one place to the other without having to walk for so long. Lucien’s big hands have a soft hold on his mate’s lips, providing her with the grounding she really needs in that moment. He is there. He is there for her. With her. Elain is not alone. She is never alone now that she has Lucien in her life. She never has to worry about ever being alone again. About having to deal with things on her own. She has a partner now. An equal. Someone who is her other half, who will always have her back, who is her anchor. 

“Good…” 

Elain closes her eyes, her fingers curling towards her palms when she focuses on the kitchen, the adjoint room, she wants to winnow to. She has already managed to winnow over very small distances, like from the dinner table to the couch, but she has never managed to travel to another room. She wants to change that now. She wants to do it. She wants to travel to the kitchen–winnow to the kitchen. Drawing in a deep breath, the middle Archeron sister braces her feet on the ground, bending her knees slightly so her body weight is on the palms of her feet. Her whole focus goes to the kitchen, on keeping her breathing steady and on the actual act of winnowing and then—

Blinking her eyes open, a loud squeal leaves Elain when she takes in her surrounding. Just a second later her own cheering is accompanied by clapping and the shouts of appraisal from her mate. The door to the kitchen being slammed open, Lucien hurdles in, lifts his mate of the ground and cradles her to his chest. “My perfect and lovely little mate did it,” he coos and buries his face in the crook of Elain’s neck, pampering her skin with soft kisses and taking in her scent. “Seems like you really are a fast learner.” “I am,” Elain says, pride lacing her voice. But also admiration and love about her mate’s joy about her winnowing. She revels into the embrace, burying her own hand in her mate’s silken strands and kissing the side of his head. 

Purely male pride and awe reach her through the bond as well, Lucien is nearly bursting with it and has to call upon all his restraints not to march across the Day Court and tell everyone that his mate is indeed the most amazing and stunning female that there is in all of Prythian. The world actually. But then he thinks that anyone anyways already knows this. 

“Should we try it again?” Elain eagerly asks, leaning slightly back in her mate’s tight embrace. A whole-hearted laugh parts the fiery male’s lips when searches his mate’s gaze, locking. “Calm down, my love. You might not feel it yet, but winnowing can be very exhausting. So go a bit slower, we can try it again in a few minutes.”

Pressing her lips in a thin line, Elain reluctantly agrees and nods her head. “Alright,” she says and quickly pecks the corner of her mate’s mouth. “But then we try something bigger. I want to winnow to my garden.”

As if Lucien could deny her any wish. He obviously agrees and so they try it again. And then again. And again until Elain finally manages to do it. Finally manages to winnow over larger distances and at one point even winnows to Helion’s palace and back to her and Lucien's shared home. 

Although winnowing should mostly or only be used to travel from one place to the other, Elain pretty soon figures out that it can be used for much more fun activities, namely annoying and scaring her mate. 

Oh, she loves nothing more than them sharing a kiss, Lucien already getting his hopes up high for what will follow their soft kisses and tentative touches, just for Elain to suddenly disappear. She mostly just jumps to another room where Lucien than can hear her laugh wickedly. 

And it is another day likes this. But maybe things are different, as Lucien has felt Elain’s sweet arousal through the bond all day. She is sitting on his lap in their shared bed, softly moving her hips against his while her lips drag across Lucien’s neck.

The male groans deep in his throat and throws his head back when she once again vanishes into thin air. “Elain!” he growls, one hand balled into the fist the other moving over his crotch. 

But he has been right, that night things are different. A moment later the door to the bathroom opens. Lucien’s mouth gapes, he finds himself unable to breathe. Because there Elain stands, dressed in the most stunning forest green lingerie he has ever seen her in, grinning from one ear to the other. 

“Just needed a change of attire. Don’t worry, I won’t leave again.”

And she really does not. 

But as mentioned before Elain also loves to scare her mate. When, for example, his is bent over his study in his room, skimming and scanning through all his reports and the future-High-Lord-of-the-Day-Court stuff, Elain just appears out of nowhere, saying her mate’s name or shouting “booh” before winnowing away again.

Not only once has Lucien already nearly had a heart attack, silently cursing his mate under his breath but also cursing himself for teaching her. He loves his mate more than anything else and obviously is still always filled with pride whenever she manages to winnow a farther distance because, well, look at her. This is his mate who has not been fae for all too long and she still manages to travel from one place to the other. 

But he also knows that he will make her pay at least a little for always either teasing and annoying him but also for scaring him. 

Lucien lifts his gaze, glancing out of the window to where Elain is tending to her garden. She seems extremely concentrated and deep in thought, currently planting something in a row. Lucien has to smirk to himself, knowing what he is about to do will scare the living shit out of his lovely mate. He waits just a few more seconds, before his magic transports him directly behind his mate.

“Booh!” Elain screams, startles and then topples over and falls, from her crouching position, face forward into the damp soil. “Lucien Vanserra!” she almost shouts, reprimand and anger lacing her voice when she rolls onto her back. Her face is covered in mud and she furrows her brows, glowering which Lucien finds hilarious. He has thought this would be good, but he has had no idea that it would end so good. Bending over with laughter, tears threaten to build in his eyes when he looks at his in mud-covered mate. “Payback,” he brings out in between laughs.

His chest still heaving and a single tears rolling down his cheek, Lucien stretches out his arm, offering his mate a hand to pull her up.

“Serves you right, I also meant to add,” Lucien says and pulls Elain, who has reluctantly grabbed his hand, up and into his arms. He does not care that the mud from her body now is also on him. He just wants to have her close now. So close that he can kiss the top of her head and then her forehead and then her nose. 

“I want to say I hate you, but you anyway know it’s a lie,” Elain mumbles, her voice muffled by Luciens shirt and chest. The male kisses her head again, his big hand softly brushing through her hair. “That was rude, but I have to admit that I maybe deserved it.” Tipping her head back, Elain blinks up at her mate and then grins. Lucien has to grin as well, holding her tightly in his arms. “I love you and I love that you learned how to winnow.”

“I love you and I couldn’t be more thankful that you taught me how to do it.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

tags: @rippahwrites @shadowhunter2003 @my-inner-crisis @ladyelain @acourtofthought @itwasalwaysaboutthetea @multifictional  @moonlightazriel @aayo-whatt @brekkershadowsinger 

[tavyliasin]

BG3 FicFeb SFW - Day 1

Hello darlings~ I shall be following ATG continuity for this one, so if you enjoy my sweet elven rogue and her usual exploits, expect to learn a bit more about her and see some potential scenarios explored with the prompts this month.

Short piece below the cut! ----- -----

Day 1: What was Tav doing when they were abducted?

It had been a long tenday, and it was only getting longer. Tav darted down a side alley, sticking to the shadows and changing direction several times as she pushed every ounce of strength and endurance into her legs. She cursed her foolishness, the hubris with which she thought she might get out of the overtly fanciful house in the upper city undetected with a haul that could last her a few tendays should she find the right buyers for the goods. No such fortune, though. She should’ve been used to it by now, scraping by, fighting for everything she could claw from an unforgiving world. Over two centuries of her elven lifespan and all she had to show for it was simply being alive... Although, all said and done, that was no mean feat for an orphan in Baldur's Gate. As she hopped a low wall and began to sprint up the wooden stairs on the side of a building she didn’t notice the distant screams behind her. Experience would’ve told her not to stop, either - by the time the sound of suffering was in the air it was often too late for whatever poor fool had found the pointy end of someone else’s blade. Scaling the sloped roof was more difficult than dodging people on the ground, but it kept her out of sight from most as she headed back to the lower city, to the draughty shack near the dock that she called home. The only place that held any memory, the one that kept her anchored to the shores of Baldur’s Gate rather than trying her luck as an adventurer… She was ill equipped for such a career anyway, not unless some deity or demon took pity and granted her good fortune enough to have armour that fit her properly, boots with soles that didn’t feel every rough patch of shale beneath her feet, a tunic that wasn’t half threadbare- Her thoughts were abruptly cut short by the shadow of the ship above her, the last thing she recognised were the tendrils that curled around her silencing any hope of a scream escaping her lips. That far flung dream of travel and adventure was finally about to begin, though in this case it would be more accurately described as a nightmare.

Several days later when it rained, a confused but delighted urchin found a satchel of silverware land in front of them in the alley. Enough to sell and keep them fed for a month or more. They praised every deity they knew for their good fortune, the source of which was now face to face with a destiny they could never have imagined...

----- That's it for Day 1 SFW! Poor Tav~ All she wanted was to scrape out an existence, as pitiful as it was, living from moment to moment... Perhaps her fortunes changed? Find out for yourself in my long NSFW ongoing work, ATG, which you can find on AO3 (linked in my pinned) or on @atavsguide here if you prefer to read on Tumblr~

[stayxlix]

AYY MOOTERS ON MOOTERS THEY KNOW HOW TO MOOT! TUTTER PULLING TO THE PARTY IN MY CRAZY PINK WIG!!!! BEST WRITER? BEST WRITER? BEEN A FAN SINCE PART ONE!

I was getting beaten to lunacy, depression, delusion, confusion even. I got the 1st grade knowledge beat out of me with this one, i couldnt count for a sec. My vision got all blurry, thought this was chapter 17 for a minute there👹

Bitch, out the gate you be coming in HARD. You know how to set the mood, I get scared for their asses! It feels like being on drugs or something (though i aint never been on drugs, but this is how i imagine it feels like👀) I visualize like I ain't ever visualized before, put on some music reading this at night, DAYUM🛐‼️

I reread this tasty ass story atleast once every week. It's tradition at this point.

1."The physical contact was grounding—you were grounding. A lifeline anchoring Felix to the reality he so desperately needed to return to." This fucked me up😪 So beautifully written!

2. "How he'd transformed from someone potentially willing to end your life, to someone committed to protecting it at all costs." Had to pause, take a breather, and look out my window to reflect on who I am as a person, then keep reading. Absolutely Precious.

3. "Some day," he dropped his voice, "When all of this is over, I'm going to carry you back into that palace." His lips found the curve of your jaw, trailing a heated path down. "I'm going to take my time with you, princess," he nipped at the sensitive skin on your neck, causing your core to flutter with anticipation. "And then," he whispered, "I'm going to lay the world at your feet." I was hyperventilating baby I couldn't breath for shit reading this 👀

4. "Minho sighed in annoyance, as if holding a conversation with you was some sort of burden. “I didn’t want to discuss it with the others,” he snapped." TIRED, TIRED OF THE WAY HE TREATS ME. (Jk lol I get his stress but chill out, damn.)

5. "You were always mine," Felix breathed, "before we met, before all of this, you were never their princess," he leaned in, pressing his lips to your forehead. "You were always mine.” I had to stop reading and get some water, my throat dried out.

6.“You can’t,” Felix emphasized. A distant look clouded his eyes, a flash of whatever it was that had crossed his features after the nightmare seemed to resurface. “You grew up with servants to meet your needs while the rest of us bled for every scrap of food and warmth. You can’t understand, y/n. And even if you could, it won't change who I am or what I've done. The blood on my hands will never wash away.” This is where the problem occurs. Cuz what are you implying? You ate this part so much you gotta be locked away like that one song. 🗣 IM LOCKED UP THEY WONT OUT, THEY WONT LET ME OUT IM LOCKED UP🗣

7. "Go collect your friend," the man waved a hand at the door, "I will shelter you for the night. You're young, exhausted, and it looks like you've been through quite a lot." I LOVE HIM ALREADY DAMMIT

8. You knew this would not last forever with him. Nothing ever does. And you wondered if you will ever be able to accept that, even when you no longer have a choice. But in that moment, Felix was there. You extended a hand, and he was warm. He was real, and he felt more like home than anything ever had. You loved him too, and it was a feeling you did not dare let go." MY HEART! RIPPED OUT MY CHEST! I CANT BREATH! IM SOBBING!IM DEVASTATED.

IM FEELING LIKE IM ON THE LAST BITE OF MAC AND CHEESE ON THANKSGIVING, IM GUTTED, I DONT WANT IT TO BE OVER!!

But as always, let me calm down and get a lil sensitive. I love you my pookie bear❤️✨️

Your adding some good into my world with this story that i really need. Its like the same day everyday for me, then out of the blue, you pop up and you give me something to look forward to.

Like most people, there's lots of things I need to be distracted from, and you do just that for awhile❤️ I appreciate this lil story more then you could know, and I always get SO happy seeing you posted a new chapter. I can tell how much passion and effort you put into this story, and I applaud you for that🫶❤️ Take your time, take care of yourself, and feel no pressure on when you need to put a new chapter out, YOU should always come first❤️ -👹

hihi my spicy little👹💕once again, i truly have no words for how thoughtful and sweet all of this is. im so grateful to have you with me on this journey (since part one, day ONE) and im so glad its been able to keep your interest after all these months.<3

"got the 1st grade knowledge beat out of me" literally had me CACKLING please!!😭✋ your excitement and the photos you send (which are hilarious too btw) always have me grinning from ear to ear. i swear my favorite part of reading feedback from you is that i will NEVER be able to predict whats coming next.😂 seriously though, im so glad youve been able to immerse yourself in the story like this (if we're being honest i definitely lose touch with reality a little bit when i get lost in writing it lol) but im so touched that it could evoke such a response in you too. (ps "i reread this tasty ass story atleast once every week. It's tradition at this point" might just be one of my favorite compliments ive EVER received about my writing. this is literally one of the nicest things you can tell someone who writes imo🥹).

MY HEART! RIPPED OUT MY CHEST! I CANT BREATH! IM SOBBING!IM DEVASTATED

(okay but why is this literally me reading any of your asks) this was also one of the most fun parts of the chapter to write omg. i love writing the end of a chapter so much that sometimes its the first thing i do.🤭

the detailed journey through each little part of the story that you go through in your asks always leaves me on cloud nine.!!! i love this so so much, i swear it does not get any better than when someone quotes the story back to me.<33 so thank you from the bottom of my heart for taking the time to share your thoughts on these specific moments. i loved reading every. single. one.💕

Had to pause, take a breather, and look out my window to reflect on who I am as a person I was hyperventilating baby I couldn't breath for shit reading this 👀 I had to stop reading and get some water, my throat dried out.

(also btw if it makes you feel any better i had a similar reaction to ALL of these after i typed them out. felix really does things to me, i probably need an intervention or some shit but here we are.🥹)

knowing that this story adds a touch of goodness to your world means more to me than i can ever express. :( im sorry to hear that you’ve got some challenges to face, but like you said i know we all do from time to time, so im just forever grateful that my writing can provide a little distraction for you in the midst of the everyday chaos.<3 (ps. if things ever get too rough, you know where to find me!!❤️)

okay okay i’m cutting myself off here, but i really do appreciate the little reminders to take my time and prioritize self-care too.<3 the way you express yourself is so unique, please never change. i love that you’re as insane and unhinged about this story as i am.🥹 as always thank you so much for the continued support, it is more appreciated than you could ever know.🤗💕

[mylittlesubtleties]

Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood by Rebecca Wells

Vivi and Jack's Story

Chapter 7

“Then, in walked Jack, Teensy’s brother. He came right into the beauty parlor, where boys never come.

“Hey!” he said, “Brought yall some donuts. Just out of the oven at Mr. Campo’s Bakery. Vivi, I got you a chocolate, like you like.”

That Jack is so sweet. Not sissy-sweet. Just sweet. He is the best pitcher in town. And the way he hits, people call him T-Babe, short for Little Babe because he can slug like Babe Ruth. Jack also plays the Cajun fiddle, but his daddy won’t let him play at home. Mr. Whitman forbids Genevieve to speak Acadian French around him. He says, “Speak English, Genevieve! For God’s sake, speak the King’s English!”

“Yall are a whole lot prettier than Shirley Temple,” Jack said.

Chapter 12

As Sidda bent down to study the photograph, she was startled to see a beautiful young man who was playing a fiddle. Lanky and graceful, he was leaning back against a large tree trunk. His eyes were large and dark, and he had the sensual lips Sidda had ever seen on a man. He wore a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, a pair of khakis and the expression on his face was one of happy concentration. To his left was a low branch, the kind that old live oaks in the South are known to grow. On the branch sat Vivi at age sixteen. She wore a white peasant blouse, a full skirt, and sandals. Instead of looking at the fiddle player, her head was tilted to the side and slightly down. Her eyes were closed and she was smiling, lost in the music. Whoever had taken the picture had captured a very private moment, and Sidda felt as though she should have asked permission to behold the image.

“No, that’s not my father,” she said, “that’s Jack Whitman. My father never played the fiddle.”

“I don’t know who was behind the camera on this one, but you can tell she loved her subjects,” May said.

Chapter 13

May was correct: the person who snapped the photo of Vivi and Jack on that day 1941 had indeed loved them. Genevieve St. Clair Whitman had captured the image without disturbing the two adolescents. She had snapped it fast and true, and when she advanced the film, she uttered a silent prayer for her son and Vivi Abbott. She did not doubt that the two of them were meant for each other. She had not questioned this since the afternoon she witnessed the two of them sitting in a swing together sometime late in 1938, holding hands, not speaking, swinging in an easy rhythm. She knew her son was born with a well of tenderness that was a curse in his father’s world. Genevieve could not imagine a stronger, more vital girl than Vivi to receive and embrace Jack’s tenderness. Not a women to second-guess her intuition, Genevieve accepted the fact of Jack and Vivi, and she did not stand in their way.

Oh, she had to keep an eye out every now and then. With Vivi constantly at the house, as close to Teensy as any sister, Genevieve had developed a graceful chaperoning – a kind of trust coupled with a few well-timed distractions. Both of them were so busy – Jack with basketball and Vivi with tennis, cheerleading, and the school paper – that she usually didn’t worry. In her prayers, she thanked the Virgin for granting her son love at such an early age.

Chapter 13

Vivi’s head tilted back as Jack kissed her lightly on the neck as they waltzed to “Little Black Eyes.”

“I will always love you, Vivi,” he said. “There is nothing you could ever do that would make me stop loving you.”

The words shot through Vivi’s bones and blood and muscle, and her body relaxed, so that when her feet touched the ground they met the earth differently, as though they had found roots that reached deep down and anchored to something tender and undamaged.

On that late afternoon in 1941, Vivi believed for the first time: There is more that is right with me than there is wrong with me. Jack loves me. He will always love me. To look at Vivi Abbott spinning and smiling, no one on the bayou would have perceived that she had stumbled into love’s seductive offer of bedrock, or how desperate she was to seize it, or how completely she believed that Jack Whitman himself was her terra firma.

With Jack’s love, everything Vivi had not been given could now be made up for. Every reflection of herself that was not mirrored in her mother’s eyes, every curious question her father had not asked, every visitation of the belt on her true-blonde skin could be redeemed. Vivi did not think of these promises on that afternoon with her skirt swirling and her hair swinging, but they curled inside her and attached themselves.

To look at Vivi, it would be difficult to spot the tectonic shift that took place in her that afternoon. But it would render her more vulnerable than a person wants to be.

Chapter 16

Vivi and Jack were sitting in Jack’s 1940 blue-green Buick and LeMoyne’s Hamburger Drive-In. Vivi was leaning against the inside of the passenger door with her feet in Jack’s lap, holding a Dr Pepper bottle in her shaking hand.

After he announced he had enlisted, the first thing she said was, “Why are you leaving me?”

“It’s my responsibility,” he said. “Besides, I want to fly.”

“You’re lying,” she said. “I’ve never even heard you talk about flying.”

Then she sat up straight and hit him hard with her fist. She sucked in her breath and tried to keep from crying. “You don’t want to be a pilot. You just want to impress your father.”

At first Jack did not speak. When he did, he could not look at her. “Mais oui.”

Vivi and Jack and known each other since she was four and he was seven. She had spent at least two nights a week at his family’s home for the past eight years. There was not a lot he could hide from her about his family, even if he’d wanted to. One the other hand, he also knew her well. Knew the unseen marks her mother’s blaming, jealous silence left on her, especially after her sister, Jezie, was born. And he knew the not-so-hidden marks her father’s belt left on her skin.

He looked at her, hoping he could make her understand. “Go to do one thing right for the old fellow, you know?”

Vivi did know, but she didn’t like it, had never liked it. She had always disliked Jack’s father. . . He refused to let Jack be called by his French name, let alone play the Acadian fiddle in his presence.

“There’s one thing right you could do, Jack.” She spoke in a near whisper. “Stay home and love me.”

The back  of Jack’s neck was magnificent to her. She had lived her life flirting with hundreds of boys, and prided herself on having as many dates as she had the stamina for. But the thought of losing Jack made her ache.

“I’m sorry, Bebe,” he said. “It’s already done.”

Vivi closed her eyes, and when she opened them, she could not regain her equilibrium. The dashboard in front of her seemed to undulated slightly; she could not make the objects around her stop moving. It was as if the sliver of fine wire on which her inner balance rested had just been imperceptibly bent. The sensation was vaguely familiar. She closed her eyes again and shook her head in tight, quick, hard little shakes.

“Vivi,” Jack said, reaching for her foot, pulling it slowly back into his lap. “You okay?”

She glanced at him briefly with a look of pure hatred, then turned away.

He began to rub her foot with his hand, a slow, stroking motion. Although she turned away, she could see his hands in her mind. The long, tapered fingers, the short, square nails. Large, graceful hands that knew how to handle a basketball, a fiddle, and her awakening body with gentleness and easy confidence.

“Will you come back?” she asked.

“Are you kidding?! You think I could stay away from you? Of course, I’ll come back.”

“Do you swear to me you will come back?”

He reached over to touch her cheek, but she did not respond. “I promise, Vivi.”

She sat soundless for a moment, perfectly still, staring out. When she turned back to him, she was smiling, her mouth open wide.

“I think I could learn to love a man in uniform,” she said and winked, working hard to sound flirtatious. But there was something in her gaze that was slightly off, as though she had seen something in the brief time she had been turned away from him and could not shake it.

Chapter 16

“When this war is over,” Jack said, stroking her face, “well, would you have me, Vivi?”

This question did not surprise her, and she answered almost casually, sounding utterly sure of herself.

“You are the only man in the world I would ever want to be married to,” she said. “If I can’t marry you, then I’m going to marry the Ya-Yas.”

Jack laughed. He looked into her eyes.

“You could do anything, Vivi Abbott,” Jack said. “You could be anything. Anything you want.”

Chapter 16

For a moment, Viv stopped feeling solid. And then she began a fast free-fall, which carried a shock of impermanence, a panicky jolt of her own temporariness. She clawed to hold on to the moist clouds, to the grand view. She did not want to return to earth.

Vivi thought: With Jack Whitman, my life will be different.

And then Vivi thought: If Jack disappears into the sky, I will shrivel up and die.

Chapter 19

Jack had arrived the afternoon before, home on leave, handsome and tall in his Air Corps uniform, a miracle that he’d been able to come home early for Christmas to celebrate Vivi’s birthday.

The perfect moment of the birthday dance had come just before the band took its first break. To end the set, they played “Deep Purple,” a song both Vivi and Jack loved. In Jack’s embrace, Vivi danced, floating, held safely in the frame of his arms. Her eyes half closed, a tiny smile on her slightly opened mouth, she felt royal. For a moment, the craving to hold on to a moment gave way to simple joy.

Chapter 22

Vivi had done her best to reclaim her old life when she returned from Saint Augustine’s. She had tiptoed back onto the tennis court, where her weight loss and exhaustion embarrassed her no end. She had hung out at Bordelon’s Drugs and drunk Coca-Colas with peanuts plunked into the bottles. She wrote Jack cheery letters at least every other day, and she tried to stay out of her mother’s way. Buggy had refused even to speak to her for the first month Vivi was back home, but as the summer passed, things began to return to want passed for normal life in the Abbot home.

Vivi said regular novenas for Jack, and tried to get excited about the other boys she still dated. But even after she began to eat again, to rediscover some of the energy she’d lost, there was something about her that hesitated, that held back, that hedged her bets. Now she did not know exactly when she stepped away from herself. She did not know if she would ever stop feeling tired. She learned to camouflage her exhaustion with a slightly forced vitality. She became a high priestess of self-presentation, and was rewarded for it at every turn. The town of Thornton, Louisiana, extolled self-presentation. It was a sort of religion.

It had been Sunday afternoon, the third week of June, 1943, not long after she’d returned from Saint Augustine’s. Jack was home for a visit before departing from a bomber based somewhere in Europe. Buggy had suggested that the gang come back to the Abbott home that afternoon for some homemade ice cream.

Jack sat in a straight-back chair in the middle of all them, his fiddle in his lap. Not just any fiddle, but the handmade Cajun fiddle his Uncle LeBlanc had made for him when he was nine years old. The fiddle his father forbade him to play inside the house because it smacked of the bayou, of a world unacceptable to the prosperous banker.

Jack’s French fiddle joined with the music of Harry James to break Vivi’s heart in those days. Once, after she’d sprained her ankle on the tennis court and was laid up in bed in the foulest mood, Jack had played under her bedroom window, making her feel like Juliet. Another time, she put him up to playing during a basketball game half-time in the Thornton High gymnasium. There Jack Whitman stood, waving that bow across the strings, his long legs flowing out of his gold-and-blue-satin basketball uniform, his head tossed back with the music, a wide grin sweeping across his face.

And now he was home again, his father’s pride. Never had Vivi seen Jack so contented. His father had bragged about him all week long. Mr. Whitman, in fact, had been the one to arrange several of the parties. His son was going to fly bombing raids over France. Jack was proud that his father was proud.

The sunlight hit Jack’s jet-black hair. His skin was tanned, and he was thinner than usual. Chiseled down to his essence. He tucked his fiddle under his chin and raised his bow. But before beginning to play, he paused. He glanced at Vivi and smiled. Then, for some sweet Jack reason, he looked over at Buggy.

“Madame Abbott,” he said, “how bout I play this little waltz for you?”

It was the most gentlemanly thing Vivi had ever witnessed. As she watched her mother’s face, she understood for the first time that no one – ever – had dedicated a song to Buggy Abbott. She watched as her mother raised her hand to her mouth, shy embarrassed, and utterly delighted.

Then Jack began to play.

[Vivi] could feel the notes enter her and settle deep into her bones. Jack’s notes tumbled over all of them that afternoon, as if there were an endless supply of music somewhere, waiting to be called forth.

As Vivi listened to the music, she glanced at Buggy, and she noticed a smile she had never before seen on her mother’s face. It was a smile of a girl with her own longings, her own pleasures. It was a smile smiled for no one else. . .For that one moment, Vivi saw Buggy as a person. The music and the fading afternoon light and the berries in the yellow bowl and the sun on Jack’s face, Vivi’s own bony body sitting in the swing surrounded by her friends and family, and the expression on her mother’s face – all of this seared Vivi’s heart for an instant, and she was filled with love.

She credited it all to Jack. That is what Jack could do: he could crack her wide open to more love; he could transform the face of her mother.

When the tune ended, everybody clapped. . .But it was Buggy who surprised Vivi most.

She stepped over to Jack and gave him a kiss on the cheek, something she never did, not even with her own children. “Thank you, Jacques,” she said.

Then she took the corner of her apron, wiped her eyes, and resumed cranking the ice-cream freezer.

It was a small thing. Nobody noticed in but Vivi. Even if they had, they might not have thought it special. But Vivi loved her mother for it. On the day Buggy died, almost forty years later, Vivi remembered the kiss her mother had given her beloved on that day and the tear she had wiped away, and she loved her mother for it. She didn’t forgive her mother for never loving her the way she needed, but she loved Buggy for that one kiss.

Chapter 22

As Pete pedaled, she looked straight ahead, and they did not speak. When they reached the bottom of the circular drive that led to Teensy’s house, Vivi felt dizzy.

“Turn around,” she said.

“What?” Pete said, continuing to pedal.

“I said turn around, Pete. I don’t want to go in there.”

Pete stopped pedaling.

Vivi jumped down from the handlebars, her breath coming fast. She could feel herself begin to sweat as though she had been the one pumping the pedals for eight blocks.

“What did you bring me here for?” she asked him, accusing.

“Cause Teensy wants you.”

“I want to know why. Tell me this instant.”

Pete set his bike down on its side. It seemed to Vivi that it took him an inordinately long amount of time to do it, like everything was happening in slow motion. She watched as he walked over and put his hands on her shoulders.

“It's Jack,” he said, the weight of his hands heavy on her shoulders.

Vivi appeared not to have heard. “What did you say?” she asked.

“Genevieve got a telegram,” he said, choking up.

“You’re crazy,” Vivi said, giving a small laugh. “You’re joking.”

“I wish to God I was,” Pete said.

Tears rolled down onto Pete’s cheeks. “You got to listen to me, baby sister. I am not making this up. This is real.”

Vivi stared at their hands. She stared at her tennis racket, which lay on the ground where she had dropped it. She thought of homemade blackberry ice cream and the way Jack’s face looked when he played music. She thought of the touch of his hand on her shoulder when they danced. A long thread of pain entered her through her feet, and worked its way up to her heart, where it knotted, twisting so tightly that Vivi had to drop Pete’s hands and rub her throat in order to continue breathing.

Chapter 23

Teensy sighted, then took a sip out of her drink.

“Do you miss him?” Vivi asked.

“I miss Jack every day of the world,” Teensy said softly. “But not in the way you do. He was my brother. I have spent my life with the man I love.”

“I can still close my eyes and see Jack,” Vivi said. “See him running down the court with the basketball, jumping off that rope swing at Spring Creek. Teensy, I can still see him – I don’t know if you even remember the time at the Gulf when – “

Vivi paused to look away. “God, am I crazy, still carrying on like this? Am I one of those nuts who never get over high school, for Christ’s sake?”

“My brother was your true love, Bebe,” Teensy said.

“Yes,” Vivi said, and took a sip of her bourbon. “And I would still give everything I have to smell his scent one more time before I die.”

--

I wanted to take a moment to highlight Jack and Vivi's story, which is so short and spread out throughout novel. Short, but absolutely heartbreaking and so sweet.

[xuchiya]

"Chapter 9: Kidnapped" || kang yeosang [a mini series]

|| next: chapter 10 || if you haven't read the previous chapter, here's the masterlist.

genre: non!idol yeosang. fluff. angst. violence. mentions: gun. knives. attempt murder/kidnapping. blood. anxiety attack.

"my lady as much as I want to drive that ... chariot as our runaway vehicle ... you're on your own."

"KANG YEOSANG?!"

The morning sun peeked over the horizon, casting a soft glow, the golden hour on this time of the day, on the wet streets as Yeosang's motorbike sped through the city. The storm had passed, leaving behind a crisp, cool air that whispered the start of a new beginning. The scent of rain lingered, mingling with the fresh morning breeze that filtered through the partially open helmet visors. 

The night was spent rather peacefully, a stark contrast to the turmoil of the previous days. Yeosang had done his best to lure your mind elsewhere, distracting you with stories and gentle humor. His presence had been a comforting anchor, grounding you amid the chaos. He'd even suggested, with a playful glint in his eye, that he might teach you how to ride a motorbike someday. You laughed at the thought, imagining yourself confidently navigating the city streets, with Yeosang's reassuring voice guiding you. 

The idea of learning something new, something thrilling, had brought a genuine smile to your face for the first time in days.

You clung to Yeosang, your arms wrapped around his waist as you gazed at the city waking up. The events of the previous night played on a loop in your mind—your father's harsh words, the chaos at the company, and the unexpected comfort Yeosang had provided. You leaned your head against his back, finding solace in his steady presence and the rhythmic hum of the motorbike.

As you approached the manor, the grandeur of your family estate came into view. The stately mansion stood tall against the backdrop of the morning sky, but today, it seemed to loom with a sense of foreboding. The weight of your responsibilities pressed down on your shoulders, each moment closer to the manor intensifying the anxiety knotting in your stomach. Yeosang must have sensed your unease. He slowed the bike to a stop just outside the grand entrance, he turned the bike off then dismounting the bike after pushing off the stand,  "Don’t pressure yourself too much," he said quietly, his voice steady and sure, taking your face gently in his warm hands "One step at a time." 

You nodded, his hands falling to the side as he watched you take a deep breath drawing strength from his confidence. After a mental pep talk, swinging your leg over, you dismounted the bike— somehow your pants got caught on the step tool. 

“Oh shit—!” Before you could hit the ground, Yeosang’s strong arms wrapped around you, catching you just in time. His bike clattering on the pavement, but he didn't seem to mind. The sun’s rays framed him like a majestic crown as he held you in his arms, his expression one of concern and relief while you found yourself momentarily lost in the sight, the morning light illuminating his features in a way that made him look almost ethereal.

No, he is already ethereal to start with.

“You okay?” he asked softly, his voice filled with genuine worry even his eyes ran over you for any discomfort yet he found you with a dazed eye, eventually chuckling at your reaction. You nodded, still a bit dazed, but otherwise unhurt. “Yeah, thank you.”

He helped you stand up properly, still keeping a steadying hand on your arm. "At least you know I’ll catch you when you fall for me." he chided gently but playfully. Your mood suddenly shuts down before pushing yourself off of him only to smack him on his arm, “Stop being cheesy.”

Yeosang laughs at your reaching as he pulls you back up on your feet, brushing off some of your dishevelled baby hair away from your eyes. Silence soon envelops both of you as your gaze turns towards the threshold of the manor; it was beautiful yet so ugly on the inside. You love how you grew up in such a humble big home but it lacks love and appreciation.

“My lady …” Hearing Yeosang’s alert voice, you straightened your shoulders, glancing at your father. He stood by the gates in his usual suit and tie uniform— probably on his way to the corporation to take care of all of the issues— his line of bodyguards on each of his side.

“Father …”

“Is there where you have been all night? Don’t you know how worried—” You scoffed, raising an eyebrow towards him with pure anger solid in your eyes, “Worried? Were you really worried?”

Your father clicks his tongue, walking towards you. His expression really shows that he has no time for this kind of bickering hence being early in the morning nor were you in the place of being accused and shouting in public once again. You had enough of being bossed around, putting expectations on you— the only reason why you took this part of being the heir was because your grandfather was bestowed to him by his father (your great grandfather) to run the corporation and while he did so, you came into his life. 

"Why do you insist on making things difficult?" your father snaps, his eyes cold and tired. "We can't afford any more mistakes."

Out of all people who have seen you grow, the person you are today is your grandfather. He gave you his role not because it is his duty to give you that kind of responsibility, no– it’s because you are the real heir, your great-grandfather had known from the beginning of his reign. 

“Mistakes are what makes the corporation stronger. He doesn’t care if multiple people try to bring him down, he didn’t give two shits if his closest business partners pulled out their contracts! He cared more about what he could do and pushed himself to learn more of what he had done.” You moved forward, standing your ground.

“Father, if you think for one second that I do not know anything— you are wrong. The corporation stands on its own because of the multiples of success and misfortune that great-grandpa and grandfather faced during their era, it is part of mine to face this too.He gave it to me because he knew I was the real heir. Not out of duty, but out of faith in my ability to lead and protect our family’s legacy. It's time you start seeing me for who I truly am, not who you want me to be.”

Your father’s expression changes, pauses, the weight of your words hanging in the air. For a moment, his stern façade falters, revealing a flicker of doubt. "Prove it," he finally says, his voice softer but still edged with challenge. "Prove that you're the heir he believed in."

With a deep breath, you nod. "I will. And not just for him, but for all of us. Despite everything, despite our disagreements and the way we've been at odds, I still love you, Father. I still look after you because that's what family does. I want to prove myself not just to Grandfather's memory, but to you too."

Your father's expression softens for a brief moment, a hint of vulnerability appearing in his eyes. "I know you do," he murmurs. "And maybe, just maybe, we'll find a way to see eye to eye. But until then, show me what you’re capable of."

"I will," you say quietly. "I will always make you proud."

Your father nodded his head firmly, looking at you with softness, even a small hint of tenderness. He knew of his actions— heck he knew of the words he said to you last night. He deeply regretted what he had done to make you feel as if no one in this world was on your side, he made you think that all you have to do is continue without making a mistake.

He deeply feels being an asshole for not considering your feelings and to go on without thinking too much about it as it is just a thought that your mind lets you think or something you read too much online. 

It was when he took notice of Yeosang beside you, his eyes were strained to you with proudness inserted in his features despite not working with you anymore but it was those eyes that remind him of someone he loves so much. Your father then soon noted why you felt a deep connection to Yeosang and why Yeosang took the chance of risking himself to make sure you were always okay and in good condition.

It prodded to him too of why he suddenly let Yeosang, including your old aide– NingNing. They took care of you, mentally and emotionally. 

Your father clears his throat, “Kang Yeosang …” Yeosang gaze flickered towards your father. He bowed his head, placing his hands in front of him out of habit, straightening his back,“Yes sir?”

He hid a smile on his face, even if he was so harsh with Yeosang, he still maintained being a respectful person. “After my daughter gets ready, take her to the corporation and please … take the car instead. Honey, be there at 30– meeting with Mr. Kim.” Your father gets inside of his waiting car before it drives off to the corporation. Meanwhile, your father’s lips rose into a small smile before grabbing his phone, contacting the third number on his list, “She’s back at the manor, you can hand me your paper when you both arrive at the corporation.”

Simultaneously, you and Yeosang gazed at the shrinking image of the slick BMW black car before locking eyes with confusion as the dramatic change of conversation just sinks in inside both of your heads.

“Am I employed again…”

“Did my dad just let you become my bodyguard again?”

You walk inside the manor, a few of the maids greet you and one of them is the head rushing towards you with a concerned look on their face. You chuckle softly when she throws her arms around you, “Dear! You do not know how worried I am, especially your father.” You hum as she walks you towards your room. You look behind you to see Yeosang trailing behind you, looking around the flourished hallway and potted plants on each side of the Greek pillars.

“I have never seen your father so hard on himself, it had been 12 years since he acted that way. All drunk and emotional.” It was more like murmuring to her but you still heard it. You frowned, thinking about what happened last night. 

It is true that 12 years ago, exactly when you just turned 12 were the time your mother went missing after being chased down by group blackguards. You never knew the story behind it but it was concluded that it was taken by people with dangerous intentions. Your father had never fully recovered from that night. He buried himself in work, perhaps to escape the pain. It has shaped his every decision since, casting a long shadow over both your lives.

"He blames himself, doesn’t he?" you asked quietly, more to yourself than to anyone else.

"Every day," she replied, her voice tinged with sadness. "He believes he failed to protect her, and by extension, you. It’s why he’s so hard on you. He thinks pushing you harder will somehow make up for the past."

A heavy silence settled between you, the weight of old wounds and unresolved grief pressing down. You thought back to last night, the sight of your father—usually so composed—now a broken man, lost in his own guilt and sorrow.

"I had no idea," you murmured, more to yourself. "I thought he just...didn’t believe in me."

"He does," she said softly. "In his own way. But his belief is tangled up in fear and regret. He’s afraid of losing you and your sister."

You nodded, the pieces of your family’s fractured past clicking into place. It didn’t excuse his behaviour, but it did help you understand it. You both stood in front outside your room, she took your hands in hers, looking at you fondly, “You have come so far my dear, don’t let words feign you to walk on a smooth road. You have the right to stop and cry, you are a person after all.”

You nodded, smiling at her, pulling her in a hug before entering your room and being greeted by Karina halting in her mid-bow before waving at you. You laugh at her reaction, turning to Yeosang who closes the door behind him, “Hi Karina-eonnie.”

She shakes her head, moving towards you, “You worried us too much last night but nothing worries her more.” Your eyebrows frowned, “Who?”

“Yah! I said to take care of yourself and here you are running off to hell nowhere and everyone is looking for you, don’t you know how high my blood pressure is when I found out you were missing!” Your sister walks in, holding a bunch of clothes in her hands with her aide following behind her, “Do even have any clue how high my blood pressure is that Seonghwa has to take me to the hospital and even threatens me that he will cuff me down on the hospital bed because I am hysteric which is true and you guys hated it…”

You laugh running towards her and cutting her ranting off by tackling her in a hug. She drops all the clothes on the bed before wrapping her arms around you, tightly. Her breathing shortens as tears trails down her cheeks, “I’m sorry I was not here to protect you.”

You shake your head, feeling the tears rising in the corner of your eyes, “You have your own responsibility, I understand you have to be across the world to do it.” You felt her head shaking in disagreement, “You are still my sister, I’m supposed to look after you.”

You both stayed in the same position before you pulled away, she looked at you moving a piece of hair away from your face, “I’m proud of you dear sister, come on now, let’s take down these fuckers.” 

Your eyes widen and so does everyone inside your room, gawking at her sudden profanity. Your sister is known to be well behaved and has a clean mouth including having long patience yet hearing her cursing for the first time must have hit a nerve to make her act this way.

The door opens and Seonghwa’s head pops in, “Heard that, dear Marquess.” 

It was like before that you were back in the car, a tablet in your hand as you went over your script and Yeosang on your right. Karina in the passenger seat, going over who the guests are during the meeting and the press conference in a day. Karina turned around in her seat, “Lady, sir Daniel Lee will be attending the meeting, he just called at the last minute. Will that be okay?”  You hum, “Yeah that will be okay.”

Karina nodded before, probably, messaging Daniel Lee. Yeosang, who heard the name, turns to you with a questioning look, “Daniel Lee? Is he still persistent?”  You nodded, looking outside the windows,”His offer for the company has been good ever since and his partnership with me didn’t falter after numerous articles.”

“But he said…”

“Someone was spying on us and altered my words and his. That’s also a privacy breach.”

Yeosang huffs, turning outside, “I just had a bad feeling of that guy.” You chuckle, nudging him, you tilt your head to look at him in a better angle, “Come on. You even have a bad feeling about eating my ramyeon last night yet you devoured it like it was your last meal.”

Your words did not only freeze Yeosang in his seat (adding the red hue on his cheeks), Karina and Mingi froze on their seats. Mingi cleared his throat to make the tension inside the car falter just for a little bit before announcing their arrival, “We arrive.” 

Karina was the first one out before Yeosang. It is as if days go on and on so fast that you barely grasp what was even happening, it felt like deja vu. 

No, it is deja vu.

“My lady ...” Yeosang turned to you, concern written in his eyes when he saw you dazed—in your own world. The car had stopped 5 minutes after arrival and Karina had already gotten out of the car, waiting for you also. You snapped out of your thoughts, glancing at Yeosang who had already had his hand out as he waited outside the car. Yeosang, his watchful eyes scanning the surroundings, before he gave you a nod.

You took a deep breath before stepping out of the car. 

Cameras flashed incessantly, paparazzi eagerly sipping on fresh gossip for their articles. The news of a powerful and intense partnership with the new heir would be the headline by morning. As you walk towards the building, the flashes from cameras almost blind you. Paparazzi swarm around, their voices merging into a chaotic symphony of questions.

“Is it true the company is facing bankruptcy?”

“Are the rumors about internal conflicts true?”

“What are your plans to save the corporation?”

You keep your head high, trying to ignore the barrage of questions, however amidst the crowd, you notice someone who looks oddly familiar. Just like you have mentioned before you settled out of the car, this whole thing is like a deja vu and particularly about that person is behind the issue happening. Before you can get a better look, security rushes you inside but Yeosang takes notice of your eyes and takes the walkie talkie clip to his pants, intercom about keeping an eye on a person dressed in a raincoat.

“My lady, this way.” As you entered the elevator, the door closed although a hand went in between, “Hold on!” Mingi pressed on the “hold” button and appeared between the doors of the elevator is Daniel Lee. You scoff, looking at him up and down, “Why are you in a rush?”

He huffed, straightening his suit before flashing you a smile, “Got caught in the mob, my lady. My deep apologies for being improper and undisciplined.” You waved him off, not really noticing Yeosang’s eyes twitching, out of all words Yeosang caught on the only nickname he calls you. 

As you both arrive at the floor, Daniel holds the elevator as you step out the platform, Mingi and Yeosang being the last people to step off, instantly Daniel blocks their path, clearing his throat and straightening his jacket. Both bodyguards glance at one another before Yeosang tries to make a turn but block off once again.

“Okay what is your problem man? I have been holding on for the longest time with you because I’m with Lady.” Yeosang spoke, formality flying out the window. Mingi had already turned on his beeper to alert a situation on the floor. Daniel chuckles, leaning on to the doors, “Really? That sweet of you to be considerate of the CEO of this company.”

Mingi raised his eyebrow, “Excuse us sir but we have to get going. Meeting will start at 5.” That is until a few bodyguards to the side came out of nowhere, alerting Yeosang and already pushing the beeper a lot of times. Daniel chuckles moving to the side to give space as the 4 bodyguards move in to push Yeosang and Mingi back inside the elevator, Daniel pressing all the floors before turning around.

“Don’t let them step foot on this floor,” he spoke, his voice falling into a malicious tone. He walked off as if nothing had happened, leaving Yeosang and Mingi back-to-back, surrounded by what Yeosang recognized as the same bodyguards who had chased you and him before.

Yeosang and Mingi stood back to back, their senses heightened and ready for the confrontation. The bodyguards, towering and imposing, closed in with menacing intent, “Any bright ideas?” Mingi muttered under his breath, his eyes darting around. 

Yeosang took a deep breath, his mind racing. “We need to take them down quickly. We can't afford that douche nearing Lady.” The bodyguards moved in, their faces set in grim determination. The elevator doors closed, the ding of each floor adding to the tension. With a swift nod to each other, Yeosang and Mingi sprang into action.

Yeosang deflected a punch aimed at his face, countering with a powerful elbow strike to the guard's ribs. Mingi, using his tall frame to his advantage, delivered a high kick that sent another guard crashing into the elevator wall. Yeosang dodged another punch, weaving to the side and landing a quick jab to his attacker's jaw. The guard staggered back, but another one quickly took his place. Mingi, meanwhile, spun around and delivered a roundhouse kick that sent his opponent sprawling.

The elevator's confined space made the fight even more intense. Every move had to be precise to avoid hitting each other. Yeosang ducked under a swing and retaliated with a knee to the guard's stomach, doubling him over. Mingi blocked a heavy blow, twisting the attacker's arm and flipping him onto the floor.

"Duck!" Yeosang called out. Mingi bends his body down as Yeosang sends a last one nose punch. They were running out of time, the floors ticking away. Mingi puffed looking at his hyung, “Thanks.”

Slight distraction caused Yeosang to groan as he was headlocked by the third guard of Daniel. Mingi was about to knock off the man but he found himself in the same situation, clawing on the forearm of the person he thought he had driven to deep sleep yet here he is– slowly losing air. Yeosang could see his younger brother struggling and soon he is experiencing it too.

Gritting his teeth, Yeosang forced his mind to focus. He couldn't let it end like this, not when they were so close. Summoning the last of his strength, he shifted his weight, managing to stomp down hard on the guard's foot. The man loosened his grip just enough for Yeosang to twist free, gasping for breath.

With newfound resolve, Yeosang delivered a sharp elbow to the guard's ribs, followed by a swift punch to his jaw, sending him sprawling to the floor. He turned just in time to see Mingi's struggle intensify, his brother's face turning red as he fought for air.

“Mingi, hang on!” Yeosang shouted, diving towards the guard choking his brother. He delivered a powerful kick to the side of the guard's knee, causing him to buckle. Mingi, sensing the opportunity, used his last bit of strength to break free, gasping for breath.

Yeosang and Mingi, battered but undeterred, stood back-to-back, ready for any remaining threats. The elevator dinged once more, indicating their arrival at the top floor. 

“If I would have known this is a requirement … I would have stayed in the gym with San,” Mingi panted, his voice hoarse. Yeosang chuckles, wiping sweat from his brow. “I told you.”

As the elevator doors slid open, they were greeted by Seonghwa and the rest of the division. Their hearts pounded with a mixture of adrenaline and determination. Mingi sighs in relief, “Right on time hyung.”, before slumping on the ground, groaning. Yeosang and Seonghwa’s eyes widened, Yeosang reacting faster already darting on his side, “Mingi-ah.” 

“Medic!” Yeosang lay Mingi down while he was clutching his side— his bleeding side. His eyes roamed his quivering figure, Mingi’s lips were slowly turning pale each second pass and Yeosang’s nerves were wrecked on how this slip passed through him and how come he did not notice the weapon.

Soon the medics came and tended to Mingi.  As they worked, Yeosang looked at Mingi's pale face, then up at Seonghwa. “We have to get going. Lady and the rest of the board are in danger up there.”

Seonghwa nodded, gesturing towards his division. “We’ll handle this,” he assured, and soon his team dispersed, moving efficiently to secure the area. Yeosang watched in dismay as the medics loaded Mingi into the back of the ambulance. The sight of the ambulance disappeared from his view, yet he could still hear the deafening sound of the siren wailing in the distance.

“Tell me what happened,” Seonghwa said, his tone more like a friend’s than a superior’s. It was a small comfort in the midst of chaos, and Yeosang was grateful for it. His mind was all over the place, trying to process the gravity of the situation. “We were ambushed—,” Yeosang began, taking a deep breath to steady himself. “Daniel’s bodyguards caught us off guard. We managed to fight them off, but Mingi got hurt in the struggle. I didn't see the knife… I should have seen it.”

 Seonghwa placed a reassuring hand on Yeosang’s shoulder. “Don’t be too hard on yourself and you did your best, Yeosang. Mingi will be okay, right now, we need to focus on securing the boardroom and ensuring Lady's safety.”

Yeosang nodded, pushing aside his guilt and worry for Mingi. He couldn’t afford to lose focus now. Seonghwa nods towards the car, “We’ll take it from here. SWAT will be here…” Yeosang shakes his head, “No. I’m not leaving, my Lady is in danger and I’m not walking away.” 

Seonghwa chuckles, his lips resting in a small smirk, “Did I command you to leave?” Yeosang already picks up what he meant, scoffing as he jogs outside.

Preparing the presentation for the meeting, you were outside taking a phone call from your sister as she spoke about flying to Manila in a few days and as you ended the call, you collided with someone as you turned down the corner, “I am so sorry— Oh Daniel I thought you’re already in the meeting room?”

“Oh my lady my apologies, is the meeting starting? My mother is quite worried about the issue going around” You shake your head, looking down on your phone before glancing back at Daniel, “Oh I hope she doesn’t strain too much on the issue and no, not yet but you should go in now.” He nodded, moving towards the room before you halted him upon realising you did not notice two of your bodyguards, absent from their post in the meeting room as usual. 

“I know it’s not a professional question but have you seen Mingi and Yeosang?” His eyebrow ceased together in confusion, “No I have not, I thought they were with you?”  

You shake your head, “They weren’t with me when I stepped off the elevator so I thought you were talking to them or something.” That did catch Daniel off guard but he masked it immediately, “Well I did see them getting off but I have to walk away first since my mom is calling me so I didn’t really know much about their whereabouts.”

You nodded, getting a hunch that something particular is happening inside,”Okay thank you.” you gave him a small smile bowing your head before walking away contacting Yeosang which only leads straight to voicemail.

As you turned down the corner, you were met with Seonghwa along with his division, frowning in confusion. “Is there something wrong?” Seonghwa took your wrist and gently tugged you back towards the meeting room without a word, entering as less as suspicion could rise; turning to you that his neutral mask is off.

It got you worried as he has never given off such emotions as this before and the amount of hunch you tried to push away just keeps increasing each second.

“Mingi was reported to have a stab wound near his waist and is currently in the ER along with other small injuries from my division upon encountering trespassers so the whole building right now is under tight and an increase in security.” Your heart fell upon hearing the news about Mingi. Seonghwa places a reassuring hand on your shoulder, “Mingi will be okay, he’s been through a lot of wounds.”

“But you never know if this can be critical for him.” You cried which in return made Seonghwa chuckle, “He's been under my division before you were declared as the heir, I have faith in him that he will be okay so should you.”

Reluctantly, you nodded, looking over at the boardroom, “What’s happening right now?”

He sighs glancing towards the preparing podium where your father is having a conversation with Mr. Kim before returning to you, “A security breach, Lady. The one that Yeosang and Mingi encountered was just the beginning of its plan.” 

Your worry deepened, but there was no time for hesitation. You needed to be strong, for Mingi, for Yeosang, and for everyone counting on you. The meeting had to proceed, and the threat had to be neutralized. Taking a deep breath, you steeled yourself for the challenges ahead.

You glance at Seonghwa, “If you have faith in your division then you have mine too.” He smiles at you, placing a hand on your hair before ruffling it, your mouth gaped open. He walks towards the door, looking over his shoulder, “I had faith in you Lady since the beginning.” 

Your heart warmed and nodded at him, “Thank you Seonghwa.” He gave you a small salute before he left the boardroom. You glance around, anxiety rises on your chest as the thought of the events slowly unfolding without you having any control to it nor power to stop this without steering more drama or …

Your eyes widened as you walked over to your dad. “Father.” It was then that the sound of doors opening silenced the whole room. The entire scene became a blur—literally—as smoke covered the room. A gas or smoke bomb had been ejected, causing everyone inside to cough and be temporarily blinded. Chaos erupted as people stumbled and tried to cover their faces. The acrid smell burned your throat, and your eyes watered uncontrollably.

Bodyguards of each board member rushed in, their movements frantic as they tried to shield and evacuate their respective charges. Through the haze, you felt a strong hand grip your arm, guiding you through the disorienting fog. You assumed it was your bodyguard, given the urgency and familiarity of the touch; roughness and large frame tightly on your wrist.

“Wait … my father—” 

“My lady, we have to go!” Blinded and coughing, you let yourself be led out of the meeting room, your senses overwhelmed by the smoke. The grip on your arm was firm but reassuring, and you stumbled alongside the person, desperate to escape the suffocating atmosphere.

As you exited the corporation building and were rushed into a waiting car, the realization slowly began to dawn on you. Something felt off. The grip on your arm was unfamiliar, and the bodyguard's face was not one you recognized. Panic began to set in as you glanced around the car, noticing details that didn't add up.

Your home or your route is always on the left side since you live in Gwangju and that is on the east side of Seoul. Your route now is in the South-West.The figure beside you wasn't familiar; it wasn’t your bodyguard. A cold chill ran down your spine as you turned to face the stranger. Panic surged through you, your mind racing with the realization that something bad was happening. The events that had been unfolding without your control were now spiraling into a nightmare.

"Wait," you said, your voice shaky. "Where's Seonghwa? Yeosang? Where are we going?"

The driver, face obscured by a cap and dark sunglasses, didn't respond nor the one who dragged you out of the car. The car sped away from the building, and your heart pounded in your chest as you realized you were being taken somewhere against your will.

Fear gripped you as the truth settled in. You were in the hands of someone else, and the safety you had sought was now a dangerous unknown. The events of the day had taken a dark turn, and you were caught in the middle of it, unsure of what would come next.

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[dollpartsandghosts]

time like a wheel

Nine moons ago…

Tick-tock, tick-tock.  “Time is a peculiar thing, you know?  People often think of it as a straight line,” the Doll began, the golden threads that spilled from her fingers drawn taut between them. “But in reality, time is more like a wheel.  There is no real beginning and no real end.  People think there is; they think of death as the end, but it’s not.  Time keeps going even if you do not.”  The dark, cavernous room was gleaming in gold, those ethereal threads weaving through the air, around the limbs of the scholar and through the pages of his tome.  The pages were held mid turn, just as the mage had been mid cast when time stilled around him.  

The Doll danced closer, plucking the book from his grasp and snapping it shut.  “Everyone forgets about time.  It feels inconsequential in the moment.  Most only think of it in grander terms.  In years, decades, centuries.  But the seconds, the minutes, the bells… those just slip through our fingers.”  There was a pause as she clutched the worn grimoire to her chest, pivoting in a graceful pirouette to stare at the man frozen in time.  She tracked the path of his gaze, watching him watch her, saw fear beside the reflection of her porcelain face in amber eyes.  

“I imagine you thought you had more time, didn’t you?”  With an elegant furl of her fingers into her palm, the threads tightened and, with a flick of her wrist she anchored them with gravity to the ground beneath him, holding him in place as she released her grasp on time.  

“How did you even find me?” The Doll continued to whirl and twirl, an eerily mesmerizing dance, and the mage found himself enraptured by the masterwork machinery that allowed her to move with a sense of melancholy.  The way she moved, threads of aether falling around her like stardust, pulled at his heartstrings and he didn’t understand why.  

“I walked through time to find you.  Followed the path of a life you could have lived until I found you here,” she sang to a song he couldn’t hear as she pranced around him, ribbons of snowy hair trailing behind her like the tail of a comet.  “I would tell you what could have become of you, but it would make you weep.” “Was my future so cruel?” “No,” she hummed, “It was happy.  A husband that loved you, three little children.  You would weep knowing you will never have it now.” The mage looked as if he had been struck, he stood anchored in place, in stunned silence, knots twisted in the pit of his stomach.  

“So this is the end then,” he muttered in resignation.

“The end? Your ending, perhaps, but not the end.  Time will go on with or without you,” she crooned as she spun, tossing the tome across the room, watching as it skipped across the floor like a flat stone across water.  

“Will you tell them I died with my head held high?”  A somber tone clung to his words.

“If that is your request,” she chirped as her dance died and she stood in front of him, her dress swaying around her knees.  Mechanical joints creaked as she leaned in closer to stare up at him.  “Very well.”  The mage stared down at the Doll, at the stars scattered across her eyes, at the softness of her features.  A work of art.  

“You should reconsider your profession.  Your eyes are too kind to be one of the Bibliothec’s hangmen,” he muttered, before the threads around his throat pulled him off his feet.  The Doll spun around, leaving the body to writhe and squirm as life left him and, for the first time, she did not feel a sense of accomplishment in fulfilling her duty to the Bibliothec.

She only felt empty.